By age nine, I would delicately,
with my right hand, fold down the sharp fins of a Sunfish.
Why?
So I could use my left hand to insert the rusty pliars into the gasping mouth of my catch to retrieve the swallowed hook.
If I was lucky.
If I wasn’t lucky, I’d stare at my motionless bobber for hours.
*Some backstory: My older brother (third of eight) allowed me to fish with him if I did whatever he said, and didn’t cry. He was SERIOUS about fishing. I had glasses and greasy blonde hair.
**Some backstory about the backstory: My brother was born in September, and I was already a sprouted seed in our Mom’s belly by the next Summer.
I think I’ve used the bobber-watching metaphor before, but it is APT. Everyday, I wait for my agent to tell me to get the rusty pliars.
Why doesn’t he ever tell me to get the rusty pliars??
He just tells me to “hang in there.”
Oh, back to my Mom… She has 22 grandkids. This is her with the latest:
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!
Doesn’t Henry look ashamed?
Eight rejections so far… twelve still unresponsive. But don’t worry about me, I LOVE waiting, and see rejection as an opportunity to grow as a person.
They wouldn’t print it if it wasn’t true.
This card was also on the list, but I refused to pull it because I’m not afraid of her.
BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, I sent 20 little book samples to 
So now he can go pitch them to 20 publishers.
ALSO, I wrote/designed a new cover for my book… Kara is busily drawing pictures while I bark directions at her. I’m sure she’s already made a voodoo doll of me.
YOU MUST REALLY BE SUFFERING!
(I was just as stoic as the woman in the above illustration while they performed my surgery. Eyes wide open, no tears.)
But I’ll do it for you, reader, because I’m a giver. A GIVER.
“
(WARNING: The above image IS NOT AN ACTUAL BUTTON, MOM)
How could I have been so blind for so long?!
