Dear Diary February 17th

They say the Lord speaks in mysterious ways. I think he speaks pretty clearly myself and he has spoken loud and clear about my chartreuse dress. He hates it.

Bernice Williams stopped by with her two year old little boy, Zeke, who promptly ran over to the chair my dress was laying on and lost his breakfast all over it. Bernice felt really bad about it but Mama said it was okay.

I have to say it was satisfying watching the flames as we burned the dress in my backyard but it also meant I was back to having nothing to wear to the dance.

Mama and I looked in her closet to see if there was anything that I could wear. There was her church dress and the one she wore to funerals. Mama said she had something different in mind. She reached way back in the closet and pulled out a big flat box. Her wedding dress and when I tried it on I realized why Grandpap had called it a shotgun wedding and why Mama had always said I was at the wedding. Mama had a past and it explained a lot of the looks she got from the church ladies.

Mama says she can fix it and no one will know it was a maternity wedding dress.

Grieving For What You'll Never Have

There are times you have to give up on something. Even something you need is not always going to be obtainable. It doesn't matter what it is the answer is just going to be no. I think it is sort of losing something precious in your life and you grieve the loss.

When you realize you aren't going to get the something you need you go through a kind of grieving process.

Shock and denial-You cannot believe that something you need is never going to happen.

Pain and guilt-That you needed something in the first place, lowered yourself to ask for help and feel guilty for asking for help.

Anger and bargaining-You're angry because you aren't getting the help you need and you would do or say just about anything to get it.

Depression-You don't think you'll ever get over not getting what you needed.

Working through the grief-You know it isn't going to happen so you just go on with life.

Acceptance-You accept things are as they are.

Of course it isn't like the loss of a loved one but I believe you still go through a type of grieving process.

Dear Diary February 16th

A couple of the ladies from the church stopped by with what they called a “modesty panel” that is to be sewn into the front of the dress so I don't accidentally show any cleavage during the dance. They looked at the material for my dress and said it wasn't on the approved color list but seeing as we already had it they would overlook it this time.

Ethel and Edna Pole were twins but you wouldn't know it looking at them, all except the matching mustaches. Mama said some hot wax would fix that and I imagined sneaking in their house to do the deed. Neither one had ever been married but Edna had a boyfriend once. They were engaged and everything until he met with an accident involving a shotgun after being caught with Milly Stiles in the back of the Five and Dime. Nobody ever found the shotgun.

Mama was real polite to them, made them tea and put out a plate of cookies. The ladies talked about how important it was for a young lady like myself not to give the wrong impression and they hoped there would not be another incident like what happened at the talent show last year. Mama assured them I would not be acting out that scene from When Harry Met Sally ever again.

When they were gone, Mama took the modesty panel and blew her nose with it.

Dear Diary February 15th

Baily Bixby Barnaby The Third (3B3) invited me to the winter festival dance. I am so excited and Mama is going to make my dress. I even convinced her to sew one of them designer tags in so people won't know it is homemade.

We went to Sew Rite fabric store in Juniper Falls. They were having a special sale on material. Twenty five cents a yard on everything on account of the fire. The bolts of chiffon were all fused together but we found this chartreuse one with satin to match. The satin had melted spots in it that Mama said she could fix it with glitter and no one would even suspect a thing. First we have to get the smoke smell out of the material.

Three washings later and it still smells like a barbecue. Mama said it would go away hanging on the line outside so we hung it out to dry. While it was drying Mama and I looked through her dress patterns to find something that looked designer like. Mama put some different patterns together and came up with a dress that we both agreed looked like something them New York folks would wear.

Outside we heard a load of crows flying over to Elmer Wyatt's farm to check out what was left of his cornfield. Evidently they needed to make room for the food. I have to give them credit for their good aim. We washed the fabric and this time we draped it over the furniture inside the house. Just in case more birds came along. The fabric now has a barbecue bird outdoorsy smell to it. Mama says she can fix that with some cologne that used to belong to Granny Johnson once she can get the cap off the bottle. She'll have to use both hands.

Warping Young Minds Since 1978

One day my oldest daughter, Mandy, called me to tell me I had totally embarrassed her and she was mortified by it. Not knowing what she was talking about and pretty sure I hadn't done anything like that, at least not that day I asked her what she was talking about.

She was singing “Winter Wonderland” with some people and they got to the part about sitting by the fire and she sang it just like I always did.

Later on we'll perspire as we sweat by the fire.
We'll face unafraid the stench that we made
Walking in a winter wonderland.

I don't think she appreciated my laughing.

Thoughts From a Self Published Writer

I never set out to become a writer. I had other things in mind but when I was told I should publish my writing it put the idea in my head.

Finished the first book, published it and was asked when the next one was coming out. So again, I wrote and published. Now I am being asked for the next book.

My decision to self publish was an easy one. I will admit I did send the first one to a possible publisher and got back a rejection that pretty much said my writing was too weird for the publishing world.

Self publishing has drawbacks. You can't get away with grammatical errors at all, even though you will see them in books of traditionally published books. You're a nobody and how dare you think you are only the same level as King, Gaiman or any other popular writer.

Every review you get is scrutinized, criticized and downright accused of being fake if it is over three stars on Amazon. Until they changed their policy on Goodreads I was on the “I will never read this author, not touching this shit, and avoid this author” lists. I had a lot of company too. We didn't do anything other than just publish what we had written.

Someone was appalled that I didn't have at least fifty novels out. “You should be publishing a book a month at least!” I'm sorry, my brain doesn't work that way. I write when the mood hits me. I know I should be more disciplined but it is what it is.

I'm one of those who thrives on feedback. The more I get the more I want to write. It isn't an ego thing but rather a motivational one. The push I need to go on to the next chapter or story.

Finding Peace as a Writer

I think that maybe I have come to peace with myself where writing is concerned. None of it is about getting people to read my books or stories, it's about doing what I like to do.

Forget the days and months I've gone without a single sale. Forget the “I can't wait to read your book” and they never do. Forget watching others succeed where I can't seem to.

Write a story because I want to no matter if anyone likes it or not. Write, not to be read but write for the simple enjoyment of it.

I wouldn't give up writing but I'm willing to give up struggling and write because it is what I do. Let whatever happens, happen.