Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose, to put his hand to. Old Marley was dead as a door-nail.
Well, I have gone back to the beginning. The paragraph above, as you are probably aware, is the first paragraph of the novel. It sets up many of the novel's main elements: death, money, a hint of something a little paranormal (insisting that Old Marley is dead promises that he will eventually make a personal appearance). Generally, ghost stories involve some kind of retribution or judgement. A living person learns something, and the world that has been out-of-balance becomes balanced once more.
I am returning to the beginning this morning. After learning last night that my book of poems did not win the poetry competition, I need to rethink, reevaluate, and resubmit. Like Marley's ghost, that book keeps coming back to me, shaking its chains and moaning, "I'm not done yet. Not yet. Not yet." I have to come up with another plan to put that manuscript to rest, short of cremation, which I have contemplated.
My current plan, as of 10:11 a.m., Saturday, August 11, 2012, is to talk to some of my poet friends and get some leads on publishers and university presses. Then, I will submit my book again. I'm not done yet. I still have hope for Marley yet.
Saint Marty is finished wallowing. He needs to get busy exorcising some ghosts, putting his world back into balance.
Confessions of Saint Marty