September 21st, 2007



See my other blog for “What I Did On My Summer Vacation.” This entry brings everyone up to date on what’s been going on since I got back.

I found out that “The Ultimate Test” made the final cut for the Holy Horrors Anthology but alas, “didn’t fit the anthology as it evolved.” TM Wright and Matt Cardin are saints, nonetheless. Their submission blog kept the five hundred or so authors up to date on their progress through that monumental task and gave us a glimpse into how hard the editorial process is. That was a painfully close rejection after which it went something like this:

Woman throws herself on the floor, kicking and screaming. She gets up, stamps her feet, punches the wall a few times, thankful that only the dog is around. Takes a shower, applies makeup to cover the red eyes and when the family comes back from the grocery store, quietly gets in the car, goes antiquing and spends a lot of money on junk that has great emotional significance and perhaps some eventual re-sale value.

She meets Darth Vader walking through the show in full regalia, decided that this is an omen of sorts, poses for a picture with him, and ponders whether she should just chuck it all and forget about writing. Eats fried dough, slurps a super grande hazelnut cappuccino smoothie, feels sick but
doesn't throw up.

Wakes up the next day hating herself, packs to go back home, remembering Darth Vader patting her on the back wondering out loud why everyone is so interested in a guy dressed in a crazy costume. I wondered the same thing.

Then, I didn’t tear my MCL in the right knee while surfing, riding the Cyclone in Coney Island, not even dancing. I tripped over a f*&$%*& rug the dog pushed up while she was barking at the delivery man bringing $200.00 dollars of groceries to my house on Monday, 9/10.

I have an old skiing injury to that knee and it aches from time to time but nothing terrible. And it was a graceful trip, like a ballerina doing a jeté. But Carolina here must have twisted the knee, just so, because by 2 AM my pain scale was somewhere between appendicitis and labor. I hobbled around using my son’s old crutches and took so much naprosyn that I’m amazed that I have any stomach lining left.

It took me until Wednesday to get myself to the orthopedist. Each session of getting in and out of the car required about twenty minutes and multiple seat adjustments so that I could rest the foot strategically between the gas and brake. The travel from parking lot to office, X-ray to exam room (bathroom stop included), exam room to parking lot, reloading and unloading myself from the car, the walk across the parking lot to drug store for the Vicodan Rx, getting back into the car to go home, then getting up the front stairs finished me for the day.

I had to do it all over again Friday for the MRI (once I got insurance approval). The magnet therapy during the test seemed to help, along with two days of pain medication, homeopathic remedies, and a full leg brace. I have six to eight weeks of that and physical therapy to look forward to.

I will stop complaining because just as I got ready to post this, I heard about the death of Robert Jordan. A knee injury isn’t convenient, but I will live to write again. None of us knows when our time will be up and I often wonder if the frenzy with which I sometimes write is my sense that I don’t want my stories to go with me.

Experiences like this remind me what being a patient is like. They also reinforce that you should never hold back from doing anything for fear of getting hurt because most of the time it’s the mundane or unexpected that will get you. Nice metaphor for being a writer, I suppose.