Dear Diary:

I used to
keep a diary. In fact, I had several. Once upon a time, these journals were
safely stored in some boxes at my parents’ house, but then they vanished during
a move. I often wonder if someone read those journals, then I try to recall if
I used any real names…



Anyway, The
Edge is my new diary, just not a secret one. I kind of like that better. You
all might not enjoy the ramblings, but I’m amused and really, that’s a good
thing. I’ve been horrible at keeping it updated lately and I apologize.
September has been a rough month and I suppose I just got lazy. But fret no
more. Here I am updating you on the exciting drama that is my life.



So during the
first part of this month I lost a few friends and—funny how we say that; ‘lost.’
I mean, they aren’t lost. No need to send out a search party or anything. They’re
exactly where they’re supposed to be, right? What I should say is I alienated
or offended folks and thus pissed them off and they will never speak my name
again because they hate me and spit on the ground I walk on and curse my
ancestors and whatnot. Yeah, that’s more like what I did. No matter. The point
is that started September off with a pile of bullshit. Live and learn.



Moving on.



The washing
machine broke around that time too. That’s all I have to say about the washing
machine. I’m to blame, and that’s all that we all need to acknowledge. The
little whatchamahoosit in the hot water tap for the tub is busted too, but it’s
been busted for a couple of months. Not my fault. So for the past month or so
we’ve had to shut the hot water off when we’re not using it, or it just pours
out of the tap. When we’d like to shower or wash dishes or whatever one might
use hot water for, we must go down to the basement and turn the tap on. Then
you’ve gotta do whatever it is you’re doing right away. With the tap constantly
running, you’ve got about 5.7 seconds of hot water so use it wisely. When we’re
done with our hot water activity, we must go back down to the basement and shut
it off.



I think we’re
fixing that this weekend. And by “we” I mean Kurt.



Speaking of
hot, when school started I realized, as I walked the kids up the hill on those
chilly September mornings, that I had no real shoes. I’m not naming names *cough—Court* but someone wrecked the
only real shoes I had left. So it’s flip-flops and freezing toes for me every
morning. I think we’re getting shoes this weekend too. And by “we” I mean me. I’m
getting shoes. I don’t even care what they look like. I just want to put socks
on and you can’t do that in flip-flops. My mom calls them thongs, and that’s
just wrong. Just saying. I have other shoes, like heels and shit. But those aren’t
sensible and they don’t look right with a hoody. You know, I like living the life
of a writer, but the life of a poor writer who can’t even buy shoes is not good.
But it’s not that I can’t buy shoes. I’m not that poor. It’s that I haven’t gotten around to it because you can’t
buy shoes in Tweed. You have to buy them online or travel somewhere else that
has stores that sell shoes. Winter is coming. I need real shoes.



Speaking of
school (yes, I just did like a paragraph ago), Kennedy comes home last week, barely
two weeks into the school year, and she’s all snotty and fevered and I’m all “Fuuuuuck.”
because she’s sick and I know she’s going to pass it on to me. (It’s all about
me) And by “going to” I mean she’s passed it along already. So now we’re all
snotty and fevered and it’s really quite gross. And at the school, a friend was
waiting for her kids and she looked really pissed when I arrived. She explained
that she was trying to fight the urge to punch one of the Breeders. (Never
mind, it’s a long story) Turns out this other woman was all angry and offended at
the school’s policies on sick kids and such. She’s like, “They sent my daughter
home today because she had a fever. I had to come pick her up and take her
home. For a fever! Well, my son is way sicker than she is. I sent him to school
with green snot coming out of his nose. I don’t care what the fucking school
says about it.” Or something along those lines.



Well I
wanted to wipe my snotty nose right across her face. What does she have to do
all day that she couldn’t keep them home? Work? Pfft. Not hardly. I understand
taking a day off work is not possible for some parents, I’ve been there. So
unless the kid isn’t breathing or there’s an appendage hanging off or massive
amounts of blood, they kind of have to try to send them to school. But when you
do nothing all day long but have kids and bitch about school policies and how
inconvenient not getting other people’s kids sick is for you, I think you could
manage to keep your kid home for at least a day. I kept mine home. Two days. I
work at home. Do you know how much work I got done those two days? None.
Exactly. And what about her poor kid? Green snot? He probably felt like shit.
How about Mom thinks about him for five seconds? Jesus woman, a day in bed
would make him so much better. And I don’t think his presence for a few extra hours
would kill you or put a damper on your busy fucking day.



Anyway,
amid all of this nonsense, I am writing. Stuff mostly. A little bit of such too.
I saw that one of the Harper Collins imprints is having an open submissions
period in October and I was all “Yes!”
but then I looked at my files and the glitter wore off my glorious enthusiasm.
Just a little bit. They really only want fantasy or sci-fi (I think…was sci-fi
listed? Don’t know. Doesn’t matter because I have no sci-fi) and I have one
manuscript that’s paranormal. Well, I have three but only one is worthy of
reading. They say in their guidelines we can submit other genres, but we have
to check “other” in the submission form. Now I’m thinking as I read that, I
could submit the other stuff and check “other” but then what happens? What if
checking “other” gets you a one-way ticket to the junk pile? What about that,
eh? So then you’re doing all the filling out of forms and getting your hopes up
for nothing. But if you don’t submit the stuff, and other folks do and they don’t
get sent to the junk heap and get the contract you should have had, well you’ve
just missed an opportunity because you’re a lazy asshole.



I’ll submit
anyway. Well I might. Depends on the submission form. If it’s like an hour long
filling out of nonsense, I may change my mind. That’s how I roll sometimes.



Moving on.



The Harper
thing is fantastic news. I’m happy to have the opportunity. Might be another
dead end, but I’m okay with that. Just another rejection for the collection and
I do so love those. Like getting punched in the face. Who wouldn’t go asking
for that? Did you know that the other night when I was trying to sneak out of
Kennedy’s room, I ran into the edge of the open door? Of course you didn’t.
Well, it hurt. The edge of the door is far worse than the front or back. It’s because
I can’t see in the dark. Not the worse part, the running into the edge of the
door part—that happened because I am dark-impaired.


Anyway, the
next day I was reading more bullshit on this sock puppetry stuff. I truly do wonder
at the common sense of anyone who puts too much faith in subjective opinions, but
anyway, it is what it is.  Personally I
think the “I’ll review yours if you review mine” shit that’s gone on forever is
just as skeevy. But maybe that’s just me. Did you know there’s talk of burning
Fifty Shades of Crap books in the UK? I mean, it’s bad yeah, but shit. Why you
gotta go burning stuff? It’s not THAT bad. You should all just stop that
nonsense now. You don’t like it, then don’t read it. Burning shit makes people
curious. Now sales are going to be nuts. Honestly…put the matches down and get
a life.






So back on
the home front, every time my dad goes to the doctor, they find worse news to share.
Yes I’m sad, but life is life and cancer is a bitch.



Moving on.



The other
night this strange number kept calling and I never answer those. Actually, I never
answer anything. So they finally left a message as I was in the garage trying
to ignore everyone. Kurt comes out and he’s all, “That was the Heart and Stroke
foundation. They’re looking for canvassers.” I’m like, “And? I’m not doing it.”
Kurt’s like, “It’s just River Street.” So I say, “Um…no. You can do it.” He’s
all, “But think about it, you can go meet the neighbors, and make new friends.”
I’m like, “I don’t need friends. Definitely not friends who live close enough
to irritate me.” And he’s all, “That’s what I thought.” and he leaves. So
whatever that meant. I’m all for the Heart and Stroke foundation and the good
that they do, but I am not a canvasser. Nope. I’ll donate but I am not the
door-to-door, nicey-nice type they need. I’m pretty sure most of my neighbors
don’t like me anyway. I don’t know, but it’s possible. I don’t talk to most of
them. Just like a handful. They’re all very nice people, but I don’t think
asking them for money is going to make us all closer and I don’t want to be
closer anyway. I like that they stay in their yard and I stay in mine. It
works. You know?


Speaking of
yards, that reminds me of the little asshole present we got in ours last year. Buddy
the Satanic Bastard cat still shits on my floor regularly. We’ve discovered he’s
found a way into the crawlspace—aka: his own private litter box—again. It’s not
the cleaning of the poop that’s so bad; it’s the fact that the crawlspace is
all of three feet high. I’m six feet …do the math. And that cat has giant
mutant shits. It’s not right. A little cat like that shouldn’t push out logs
bigger than the dog.






Yet, I
still can’t let myself allow him to escape to the mercies of outside. What the
hell is wrong with me? One open door and all of my problems are solved. Right? The
dogs, the cats, a kid or two…think of the possibilities. Except, they’d all
come back. I know it. And they’d probably come back with something terrible
like rabies. No I don’t need that thank you very much. I haven’t kept the kids
updated on their rabies shots.



Yes, moving
on.



I’ve
queried a few agents with Jack, and the frustrating general consensus is that
the writing (when I send sample chapters) is good, and the story is appealing,
but the concept just not marketable in their opinion. One of them even said
something about “overdone.” Gasp! What the fuck happened to taking risks,
asshats? Eh? Jack will sell. I know it. Frustrating so-and-so’s. I’ll show you.




Right now,
as I type this, there is much screaming and crashing and general chaos in my
house. I don’t know what’s going on because I’m in the garage. That’s where I “work”
and avoid things like the kids and the dogs and housework…anyway, it’s
troubling and something else might get broke. So inside I’ll go…



…and the
dogs pulled a box of vegetable crackers off the table. Bear is wearing it like
a muzzle. Nice. It’s all his now. The cats are on the table watching him. Cats
on the table. Sigh. The crashing wasn’t from that though. That is a mystery. Perhaps
I’ll find out later.



And speaking
of mysteries, can anyone explain how one loses a whole dress? I suppose a half
of a dress would be weirder…but that’s not important. I’ve lost a dress. Not
like you take it off in some random place and forget to put it back on because
you’re drunk or trying to escape, but like you took it off in your own home,
late at night, because you came home from a wedding, where you didn’t even get
drunk, and you were going to bed and so you took it off nicely and put it
somewhere, but that place obviously wasn’t anywhere in your house. Yeah, like
that. I’ve looked everywhere for this dress because it’s awesome and it was
expensive and I plan to wear it again someday and I really hate not knowing
where the hell it went, and I just can’t find it. It’s not in any of the
closets or under anyone’s bed. It’s not tucked under the couch or in the
garage. It’s not in the dog crates or stashed in the laundry room. It’s not
hanging or lying in the closet and it’s not in any dressers. Where did it go? I’ll
let you know when I figure it out. If anyone ate it, I’m opening that door.
Swear to God. I am.



So it’s
time to take the kids to school and I think that’s all that’s happened since my
last post. Sure, there were odds and ends, but those are boring. Not exciting
shit like I’ve just shared. What’s new in your world?