July 21: In Search of Publisher, Remaining Positive, "Web" Dip

My wife told me this evening that she liked it when I was trying to be positive.  I told her that I found it exhausting.  It is not easy, at the end of a really rotten day at the office, to say to myself, "Wow, what a great time!  I hope I get to do that again tomorrow!"  When I get a rejection letter from a publisher, I don't immediately think, "Well, I'm one rejection closer to an acceptance."  That's just not me.

Well, I am going to start looking for another place to send my manuscript tomorrow.  I don't want to enter yet another contest, send money off with the dream that I will somehow be anointed a genius.  First, I don't have that much spare cash.  Second, I am not a genius.  I am a hard worker.  Part of my hard work right now is going in search of a publisher.  It's not as easy as it sounds.  Poetry is not a money-making venture for anyone involved.  You have to be a little off to call yourself a poet, and you have to be even more off to publish a book of poems.

So, I have to find some editor who has a soft spot for poems with a twisted spirituality.  That's my dilemma.  Sounds simple, doesn't it?

My question for this Web dip Monday is,

Will I ever find a publisher for my poetry manuscript?

Well, Charlotte says,

"That remains to be seen.  But I am going to save you, and I want you to quiet down immediately.  You're carrying on in a childish way.  Stop your crying!  I can't stand hysterics." 

OK, no more carrying on.  No more crying or hysterics.  I am going to be saved, and so is my manuscript.


Saint Marty needs to stop kicking and screaming and pick himself up off the floor.

I don't have no sense, either

July 5: Presents and Parties and Fireworks, Oh My!

Yes, you read correctly.  I did include the word "fireworks" as part of my title, yet again.  You see, last night, the July 4th fireworks got cancelled due to the rain.  (My wife and daughter also got drenched and had to huddle under a tree during a lightning storm.)  Therefore, the fireworks are rescheduled for tonight.  As of an hour or so ago, things look like they're on track.  After 5 p.m., there is a 0% chance of precipitation in the forecast.

The problem now is that we have to go to a birthday party this evening, as well.  That kind of sucks.  The temperature is pushing ninety degrees, and the last thing I want to do is go to a house filled with sweaty people and sing "Happy Birthday."  It's for my nephew's 18th birthday, and he has officially reached the "all he wants is cash" stage.  Frankly, when kids reach that stage, I reach the "I only want to send a card" stage.  However, I will dutifully show up at my sister-in-law's house; watch my nephew open his envelopes of cash like a scene out of one of the Godfather films; and then see my nephew disappear with his friends to spend his newly acquired cash.

The party itself will be hot and uncomfortable, unless it's held in the backyard.  If it is held in the backyard, I'll guarantee that my son will end up stepping in a pile of dog crap.  At t the very least, I'm hoping for some barbecued bratwurst.  It's the only thing that will salvage the entire affair for me.

Then, at dusk, my wife, daughter, son, and I will be sitting on a blanket, which will still be damp from yesterday's deluge, and watch the fireworks.  My son's first fireworks.  Hopefully, I will be able to get all the dog crap off his shoe by the time of the rocket's red glare.

Saint Marty is trying to remain positive.

Oh-oh, say can you see...