Tag Archives: Publishing Rewards and Woes

Epitaph of a Fulfilled Poet

The Prompt: Quickly list five things you’d like to change in your life.  Now, write a post about a day in your life once all five have been crossed off your to-do list:

Find an agent/publisher
Get all children’s books published
Write a line of adult picture books
Lose weight
Find someone to dance with

“Epitaph of a Fulfilled Poet”

Fulfilling all these book orders just seems to keep me hopping.
Without the time to cook or shop, my weight just keeps on dropping.
My clothes just hang around me, from my body they keep flopping.
I’d buy some smaller ones if I just had the time for shopping!

Five children’s books are published and my agents want some more.
My grief book they can’t keep in stock—It flies right out the door.
Libraries and bookstores just keep clamoring for more,
and still my weight keeps dropping till it’s really quite a bore.

Now that I am skinny—lithe and trim and toned,
no one has to make excuses that I’m just big-boned.
And I must wrap this up soon for a suitor has just phoned
who wants to take me dancing—so perhaps I should be cloned.

Then one of me can write that line of adult storybooks,
while the other stays at home and plans my meals and cooks.
The third has time to shop for clothes and tend to things like “looks,”
and the other goes out dancing with a brand new beau named “Snooks.”

As you can see, my rhyming prowess now is wearing thin.
The last word of that last stanza I admit is just a sin.
Frazzled and with much to do, I’ve broken out the gin,
fell off my pool ladder and badly bruised my shin!

Okay, I’m really hard up for more sentences that rhyme,
so I think that I’ll stop now and just write another time.
Perhaps tomorrow I can write of something more sublime.
But for now, I think my drink could use a squeeze of lime.

Our goals just keep us going—they propel us through this life
and keep attention focused through the problems and the strife.
I’ve always kept on working as both single girl and wife,
slicing through my problems with my words used as a knife

to trim the boredom from my life and go wherever I please,
to make my living with my wit instead of on my knees.
Taking care to always mind my q’s as well as p’s.
and extract all the fun from life that I have found to seize.

Now that my life is near its end and I’ve time to reflect,
I do not choose to pray about it or to genuflect.
I don’t crave meditation or to join a church or sect.
I‘ll find my own atonement and a way to resurrect.

I’ll do it through my writing, for I’ve found that is the key
to figuring my pathway while remaining true to me.
I’m just as I have written. I’m exactly as you see.
My words have all been written, and I’m finished—“a” to “z.”

The Power of Grief

Grief has such enormous power that it is a shame to waste its energy.  If that energy can be channeled into a positive result, we finally have some victory over death. ––Judy Dykstra-Brown

This quote (I am quoting myself, what ego!) is opposite the title page of the book I wrote with Tony.  This is the book I celebrated having finished a week or so ago; but alas, I find the editing job goes on and on.  Just to be anal, we again had the printer print up a book and gave it to our most perfectionist friend, Sheila, who agreed to read it one last time.  She had done so before and found so many errors that we’d had to redo the pdf.  This time, we were sure, it would be perfect; but we had to check.  Well, we were wrong about the perfect part but right to check.  She still found 50 errors–mainly in the references and in the use of hyphens.  Who cares about such things?  We do.  And Sheila does.  So––most of yesterday and the day before, I rechecked the errors, made lists, shared them with Tony and Allenda, his wife, and we all checked and rechecked.  The result, somewhere around midnight last night, we had a perfect, we hope, 117th version of the book. It went off to the printer today.  if he again does a trial copy (it will be the ninth if he does) we will page through it quickly, looking for obvious flaws, and say “push the button” and this breech birth will finally be consummated. Then we get to celebrate again.  I’m afraid the earlier celebrations were all false labor.  Please put positive energy out into the air, willing this one to actually produce a child.