Papa was a big man

My grandmother was married twice. Her first marriage ended in a divorce, scandalous at the time and not her choice. The men in our family have a propensity to abandon us and move to Florida. One of the first things I asked Bill when we met was : "Do you like Florida?" When he said "no" I felt safer.

Gram married her second husband before I was born. He was a doctor. He gave my grandmother a fancy life. Fancy houses. Fancy Intercontinental excursions. Fancy high society living.

He had three of his own children (well, four... but one was mentally incapacitated and lived in a facility). I think he loved my mother in his own way. She frustrated him. He was intolerant and she was strange. I know he helped her with money and other things. He didn't much care for my father. My father left us, why would he like him? I think he cared for his kids. I think he cared for their children (my step cousins). But you know what? I know he cared for me.

It was the oddest thing, in retrospect, our relationship. Papa was a big man. Huge. He had a bald head that I liked to rub. He taught me my multiplication tables. He taught me how to tie my shoes. He picked me up and swung me around high in the sky like a dad is supposed to do.

He let me quietly sit on his lap and watch TV. I snuggled down deep. You can really snuggle a big man when you are such a wisp of a girl. You can snuggle yourself away.

He peeled apples and pears at the dinner table and cut them into slices with a knife. Magic.

My papa loved me best.

He died when I was ten years old. The very same year my dad took off for his longest absence. The same year I started my period (Too frighteningly soon).

Twenty eight years ago today.

I wore a green dress with black polka dots to his funeral. I remember thinking that my dad would surely come walking over the green carpet of the cemetery and rescue me. I remember looking for him. Looking......

Later, when I was grown, I learned things I didn't want to learn about this man. That he was a bigot and a racist and a bully. It made me wonder if he would have continued to love me as I grew older, less adorable, and more damaged.

And then I realized... perhaps, if he'd stayed alive, the damage wouldn't have been so severe.

Who knows.

Good night Papa.

First line last line contest Winner!

I hate this. Oh boy. Why do I always forget that I hate choosing? But choose I must because I've made my bed and now.... yada, yada, yada.

The winner: Simon C. Larter

Mandy and I agreed (our seconds were different though!)

Why: The use of the lines. The top coat and wispy hair and candy in the pocket. Uncle George just... well he got us. And the use of Far Rockaway. I feel Simon did a ton of research. If I'm wrong Simon, just keep it to yourself. Email me your address and gift card preference and I will mail it out this week.

Okay, so if you would allow an un agented, un published writer a bit of an opinion corner, I have something to say to all the other entrants:

Justsomethoughts: We loved it! We wanted MORE!
Wym: Clean, concise. Fantastic and sarcastic. (in a good way). I'm a fan.
glnroz: I LOVED this story. I feel like it needs to be a chapter of a larger book! A chapter in your online work? Hmmmmmm.......“Dang Mona, you beat all I ever seen.”Was my favorite sentence out of all the entries.
Liza: Hey. You. *I'm knocking on your forehead* this is a BOOK! Not a short. Take this and use it as an outline. Oh my goodness the characters. You have a start point. A launching pad. I triple dog dare you to make a novel out of it!
Sharon: This too, a bigger story than can live just here. That notebookesque ending? Fantastic.
Sarah: I'm not allowed to let you win. It would be nepotism. I love you too much. And the people at the beach? You painted them the best. And the ghost? You know how I love ghosts.
LFG: So close. I am a huge fan of the dark. This was by far the meanest (and I mean that in a good way) entry. Again, I'd love to see this as a book.

Did I miss anyone? I hope not. Thanks to all for participating. I loved reading all of them. Truly.

I'm a little weepy now. So I'm off to write some more weepy scenes in my newest weepy novel.

XO

Marching Orders

Wake in the blue. The pink will stretch across the sky while you stir your coffee. I know the spoon doesn't sound the same against this other cup. Chin up. Your favorite mug will make it out of the car soon.

Get those lovelies ready for their day. No yelling. The yelling is inside your head, at the tip of your tongue. Bite it. Your present is not their fault.

Drive into the gold. Put on your sunglasses. The glare is too bright. The sea smiles at you. Why is the ocean a morning person? Remember you are lucky to live here. Remember the salt air heals people. Remember that whole novels have been written about a journey to one coast or another and you're already here. You. Are. Here. X marks the spot. Oh no, wait. That's not an X, just a middle age acne scar.

Drop lovelies off at school. Say something important. Make those words of yours matter. Be funny and interesting. You say..."Have a good day, your awesomeness!" and they skip into their own lives leaving you in your filthy car. Why is it so impossible for you to clean it out? Every other place in your life is so clean. But this crap hole... you could catch something in here. Clean it won't you? You have to find your coffee cup.

Get on the highway. Sun high in the sky high way. Didn't you wake in the blue? Is it still still there where you woke up and left them sleeping? Those other two wrapped around one another. Will they stay asleep in the blue all day until night when you come home? That would be nice. Big he and little she waiting for you to crawl back into the covers.

Don't cry. It's just a job. A job with a desk and a lamp. A job most would covet. Don't cry. Who do you think you are anyway? Spend your entire day trying not to be her. You won't do that. You won't parse your life out like a martyr and woe yourself into a size twelve. Remember that you are healthy. You have love. You give love. You can get water from a water cooler when you want it. Remember that you have money in the bank and a home and a car and a future you never could have dreamed up for yourself. Remember you thought you would be dead at twenty six. Try not to wonder if that would have been better.

Go teach your class. Be brilliant and irreverent and try to believe half of what you say.

Return to desk. Don't answer phone. Not your personal line. That's just a baby who is asking for the umpteenth time "When are you coming home?" If you DO answer it, say "Soon..." and then try to figure out why, when all your work is done, you are saying "soon" instead of "NOW."

Drive home. Into the western gold. Put on you sunglasses. Listen to the news. Sit in the traffic that makes a twelve minute drive an hour.

Run inside to the blue. It's been waiting for you. Wrap up and eat healthy and listen to the jabberings of days. Watch for the light in their eyes. Is it there? Good. You did it. One more day of magic.

Tuck them in. Tell them stories. Weave their past.

Creep away, into the black. Find the laptop. Click clack, click clack.... this is your time.

Find the bed. Go to sleep. Wake in the blue.


*Really hard contest to judge! Look for winner posted later.*

Deadline

Dead. It's one of those words I love. Not for what it means, for how it sounds. The word dead... in the English language... sounds like what it means. Say it. See?

So what came first? The deadness or the word? Language is a wonderful thing. And it isn't rocket science either. It's a symbol, a stringing together of symbols, that create the words we speak and write and use.

If we think about symbols, we usually see shapes. And those great artists who have put together shapes in abstract ways are the artists we admire. They show us a different way to use shapes, to see shapes. Writers do the same with words. We try to string them together, layer them, balance them in a new way. This creates something else, a way to see or use a word different from before. It's a magic puzzle. It's why I write.

And so the word dead in all its forms. Take the word deadline. Deadline means many things. The line on the screen that's flat when we die and are hooked up to beeping machines. The end of the road. The finish line for a project. It's a flat, dead word that means....stop. It's a red word. Not pulsating or vibrant. Still.

And here we are. The deadline for my contest is midnight tonight 11/9. Wherever in the world you are. Enter! Fun!

Midnight. Ooooohhhhh. I like that word. Don't you?

Cartwheels

I never learned to do a cartwheel. It wasn't for lack of trying. I tried for years. I watched taller, bigger girls turn them through green grass. Their bodies graceful upside down.

But not me. I ran and placed my hands just right and kicked up my feet only to fall down. Gravity has never been my friend.

If the devil is in the details, God is surely in the cartwheel.

Even now, when I have those months where I re-embrace yoga and vegetarianism (forgetting that I'm not one of those people and reaching for Doritos) I can do most of the poses well, but not the ones on my head. The most important ones. My body. Just. Won't.

My girls can't do them either. Tess can hula hoop three hoops at once for five minutes. Rosy can sail in regattas, and Grace... she can tantrum better than I ever could. (Quite a skill....) They don't seem to notice that they are missing the cartwheel gene. I'm glad. They might hold me responsible. I don't want to be the one who stopped their flight.

But in my mind, and on the pages I am doing cartwheels. Cartwheels for my life, my freedom, my comfort. Cartwheels that I made it this far without much damage. Cartwheels for decisions and for love and light and lingering laziness that makes me who I am and not some other mother.

Cartwheels as I watch my friends realize their dreams and without any shade of green accept the fact that mine are just around the corner.

Now... If only I could actually do a cartwheel or two, I'd make it around the corner quicker!

And so it goes... and so it goes

The warm light of bloggy love is all around us.

Lisa and Laura are having a Kindle Giveaway in celebration of their book deal.

Corey has great publishing news on her site!

Suzette Saxton of Query Tracker Fame signed with agent Brenden Deneen. (Both favorites and in my opinion a perfect pairing.)

Great bloggy friend Andrea got her publishing contracts in the mail!

I (ME!) am holding a contest... two posts down people, two posts down.

And, in other me news, the fall has brought on an unexpected wave of internal gratitude for my life, love and hobbies. I am one Lucky Woman. I'm tap dancing people. Tap dancing.

If you have good news, lay it on me! Tell me about the little and the big things that are going on right now that buzz with warm fuzzies!

*for a doom and gloom gal, this is a pretty upbeat post. I am very proud of myself*

Congratulations are in order

This has been a great week in the blogging/writing world.

Two of my favorite, talented, fantastic writers finally got the book deal they deserve. Their story is a great one. It teaches all of us that patience, persistence and a lot of Moxie pay off! Well done Lisa and Laura. Well done. Please stop by and show your support.

And though it wasn't this week, I'd like to give a big cyber hug and shout out to Sarah over at Sarah with a chance for scoring her fantastic agent! Again, well deserved! If you don't already follow her, please do. I mean, who doesn't need to read fantastic, funny, well written posts?

So there you have it. Dreams do come true. Thanks guys, for the reminder!

Also, don't forget about the contest posted below. I've had some entrants email me saying they can't post the stories there/. No worries, simply post in chunks and put Part 1 part 2 etc.

What I've read so far have been fantastic!

XO
S