Apex Books


The muse of hmming, Julie, is recovering and regrouping after Ike and so it may be some time before I inflict introduce another Hump Day Hmm for consideration. However, it has been a day or two since I put up a fresh blog piece and my life has not been that static, so I have decided to provide a bit of an update.

I am still working on the short story known as Kumari. It has garnered 4 reviews on the critiquing site and although not a single one of them had any idea what the story was really about (my bad totally, I know, and I am working on clarification), I did get some advice that was useful and have employed it to the betterment of the story.

The main complaint I received about Kumari is that the character isn’t likable. Not even a little bit. And hurray! That is what I wanted them to think but apparently the main character has to be likable or at least redeemable in order for the reader to want to read at all. I discussed it with my writing group last night and was reminded that I am the author and I need to stay true to my character. She is not likable but how could she be? She was raised to be indifferent and callous. Further, the point of the story is to do more than entertain but to make a reader think.

Thinking is asking a lot of readers these days. We are a society that expects to be entertained as passively as possible. No deep thoughts allowed. But I don’t think that sci-fi/fantasy should be mindless. It is a genre that was meant to allow authors to explore bigger issues and moral questions. 

So I am focusing on clarifying and beefing up existing content and we’ll see what happens next. One reviewer thought there was potential for a very dark story. Perhaps this is my Apex submission after all, eh?

Speaking of Apex, they are having their annual Halloween flash fiction contest and I am entering. The theme is “election horror” and I have a nice little piece that I tried out on the writing group last night which they liked. Of course, they are Canadians and it isn’t hard for anyone native to here to imagine the U.S. as a den of evil and conspiracy.

I have also been occupied with monitoring the condition of the family down south these last two weeks. And if we had a color code system we would be orange-ish.

CB had another mini-meltdown and I spent numerous hours on the phone trying to talk him off the paranoia ledges he sometimes talks himself up onto. He apparently spent a few days harassing our folks to the point that Dad had a breathing episode and Mom was in tears. I think I may have put a spot to that for the time being.

DNOS has informed me that when Dad dies, CB and Mom are my responsibility. She will handle the arrangements and BabySis. In other words she will take the easy stuff and I will be left to deal with crazy and exploding. It’s a good thing I used to teach public school. That was a typical day for me once.

That was a while ago and Dad has failed quite a bit even since we last saw him in June. He can barely exert himself physically without bringing on severe shortness of breath due to the demands movement place on his body. 

And I can hear the disinterest in life now in his voice. He told DNOS recently that he is “tired of making decisions”. 

My Dad, the ultimate Virgo, is tired of being the boss? That is so not good.

Rob has asked if I need to go down there now. I am playing a wait and see on a daily basis. If you had asked me even last year if I wanted to be there for the end, I would have said no – thank you  – but no. Deathbed vigils are hellish in an out of body experience way. The days or weeks leading up are torture because it seems like every fiber of your being is on red alert with sirens blaring.

But now, I feel a bit differently. Mom and DNOS are ostriches. They will not see or ask or do unless someone points it out to them. The truth is that I am the only one in my family who morphs into Action Girl when it is crunch time. I was born with the crisis management gene. I might fall apart but not in the middle and not when it counts. I always come through when it counts.

Now here is the kicker, the evil selfish daughter in me doesn’t want to put my life on hold to go down. I have things falling into routine now. I am starting my first writing course at University in two weeks. I just got elected to the board of directors of one of my writing groups. I am auditioning for another contributing writer gig at a women’s group blog I read. I have a couple of firm writing deadlines coming up – one for a workshop with real publishers who are reading and giving mini-interviews and critiques.

It’s not a convenient time for my Dad to decide to die in other words.

I am such an awful person for even thinking it, let alone writing it down. But my Dad would get it. When he was traveling back and forth from Des Moines every week to help me take care of my late husband, he confided to me that he would help as long as he was needed but he felt he was missing out on his life and the things that were important to him as a person. Not dad or a father in law. A person.

I talked with Dad this morning. It was the kind of distracted conversation I used to have with my late husband when the dementia was starting to set in for real. The voice was weak and breathy and gurgled with phlegm. My late husband finally succumbed to pneumonia. There are more painful ways to die but suffocating has to be one of the most terrifying and I am speaking from my experience watching my late husband and from my own dealings with asthma.

Once you’ve watched someone die, you can’t undo it. Erase the images. Ignore the truth. Pretend that it isn’t coming and there are things that need to be done in advance.

I took a long walk today. About 4 miles down and back from J-berg to the gymkana fields. No one was burning trash or leaves today and I didn’t encounter dogs. I have come to the sad conclusion that I can no longer run. Having just recovered from a painful bout of achilles tendonitis in both ankles, I just can’t risk damage. Power walking with the occasional jog and yoga it is. I don’t experience the same sense of freedom though and I will miss that.

And that’s all folks.


 

 

The second day of the new school year and I am enjoying a quiet breakfast while catching up on my blog reading and commenting. BabyD is at school. Rob is at work. And as soon as the harsh rays of morning light pass, MidKid will emerge and finish packing for her move back to the city.

BabyD did not get her preferred teacher for grade one but assures me that as long as Mr.S doesn’t raise his voice to her specifically, she is fine with the outcome. It’s funny but, in a way, she is living her own life now that she is in school all day. Hundreds of things will happen in her life now on a daily basis that I will never know anything about. Amazing how quickly we become individual entities.

After I dropped her at school yesterday, I did a quick workout and then raced back home to spend some snuggle time with Rob. He stayed home yesterday morning with a bad headache but was sufficiently well enough for snuggling. Later I told him he will have to take the first morning of school off every year. A nice rite of passage for us to look forward to as we commence countdown to the day BabyD heads off to university.

I didn’t get any writing done yesterday between first day of school duties, snuggling and a hair appointment in the afternoon. A much needed appointment. My previous hairdresser was not to my personal liking. There was just no rapport. But between traveling and camp and mothering and reno work, I haven’t had the time this summer to search out a new salon.

The young lady who did my hair yesterday convinced me to go with brown lowlights and I think the results turned out quite well.

 

 

Not the best photo but good enough for illustration purposes.

Not the best photo but good enough for illustration purposes.

 

Yes, the curl is natural. I am actually a red-head but went blond at 18 and stayed that way for the most part since.

However, I am too old to do the bleach-blonde look now. When you first get grays, going lighter is a good way to hide them. Eventually you just start to look haggard and Madonna cartoonish and something has to be  done.

On a writing note, I read my Kumari story at writing group last night and they loved it. I received the best compliment on my writing I have ever received too when someone (Nate I think) said,

“I never have to work at suspending my disbelief with your stories.”

That sentiment was echoed and I was giddy. I just love reading my work and hearing the reaction.

I was invited to tag along to a writers’ conference in Surrey at the end of October. Though it sounds like fun and could be a great opportunity for meet/greet with agents/publisher’s, I don’t have anything really ready for that yet and the drive is nightmarish. And would be with people I only know through the group. 16ish hours in a car with people I only see once or twice a month? Plus sharing a hotel room?

Yeah, I am a bit too faint of heart for that despite the people in question being very good and dedicated writers.

My plan is to do writing conferences in the coming year and spend the rest of this one finishing up projects and preparing a portfolio of work and querying a few agents via email or letter.

Today, I have lunch in town with Rob after stopping by school to pay fees and hitting the post office – need to get some subscriptions sent off for work related journals. Then a nice workout and home to finish Kumari. I think I might submit it to Apex, but I am not sure if it is dark enough for them. They like their sci-fi/fantasy dark. Says so in their guidelines. But maybe I will let them be the judge of that, eh?

My t-shirt Friday post is still generating a lot of traffic. Perhaps tee’s should be a Friday theme? I don’t want to steal Nurse Myra’s idea out from under though she only does it on the last Friday of the month. I will await reader feedback (and Myra’s thoughts) before deciding.

No hump day hmmm. Julie was busy at the convention in Denver. Perhaps next week.