dog pound

This morning, I walked through the animal shelter in Orange County, CA. Pathetic looking puppies and oddly mixed breeds sat and anticipated my response from behind a caged door. Heather walked with me, taking time to coach the dogs - "you're cute, I wouldn't worry. You'll get out of here soon," she'd say. Or "just tilt your head to the side, that's it." Consultation at its finest.
I thought of the times I have consulted with clients to help them market themselves as writers. As an editor, I have insight into that secret world of the "they" that choose who gets to become published. And it's just about as subjective as one dog being chosen out of the many to belong to a particular home. Most of them will be chosen at one time or another. And some of them never, among those are the few who have given up altogether. They lay in the back of the kennel and don't even respond when you call. It's the same for us. There's plenty of resources out there. You don't even have to be the cutest or the most talented. You just have to keep trying and show up.
That's it. Save. Print. Send. You've got just as much of a chance as anyone. ::em::

an obssession

My son was sitting next to me today as I studied for a research paper I am currently working on. With a brightly colored box of 8 Crayola Crayons and a small Mead notepad, he set busily to work. He showed me one piece of work he had finished - a large yellow rectangular shape, Superman, he announced. Why not, I thought. He stood up and placed one hand on his hip and the other reaching into the sky - "Superman!" he insisted. I laughed. Of course. My husband and I are superhero fans. We collect comic books, keep up with the authenticity of movies portraying our favorite heros, and use examples from nonexistent universes as allegories to explain real life feelings and circumstance.
So he wants to be Superman. I couldn't think of a better role model for a three year old. Well, he also wants to be a rocketship, but Superman will have to do for now.

October 31st - they call it Halloween

I can't justify any good reason to celebrate halloween. Costumes are not my specialty. When people greet me today with "Happy Halloween", I feel empty in response. But this morning, I was greeted by two unwelcomed visitors. This is my story, and theirs.

I awoke this morning, ready to get out of bed, but preferring the warmth of my sheets and soft breathing patterns of my husband lying beside me, it took great resolve to finally step one foot, then the other. I quickly found energy to rush over to my closet and pull out my long chenille robe and bundle up. Down the stairs I crept quietly, so as not to wake sleeping children, and I softly closed myself into the bathroom.
There, I noticed nothing surprising. And here is where my story begins. I pulled back the shower curtain as usual and turned on the water, first hot, then cool, tiredly yawning as I reached my hand in to test the temperature. Pulling back in a jerk, I then composed myself. My peripheral vision saw one, then two, uninvited guests making themselves at home in my shower refuge. My mom once told me they were called Daddy Long Legs. I saw them only as very rude intruders trespassing onto my territory this morning.
A few moments later, I was scrubbing my hair with Bumble and Bumble Gentle Shampoo. The spiders had been easily transported swiftly and silently to a new home. And I was ever so slightly plagued by the wordless question of the past not so tremendous events of the day's start. I remembered, and briefly forgave the spiders, for perhaps they too had only wished to haunt me on this morning as a gift of Halloween rememberance. In that case, I reconsidered my response. Yes, I answered in kind. Fairwell thoughtful arachnids, until next year, I thought.