Editors Rejoice

My life as an editor is over.
Or, at least interrupted. The critique group's anthology,
"Reckonings", by Quixotics, is on the street through Amazon.
It has been quite a slog for me - a different experience playing
Editor for this work. An indelible memory. It's not a role I'll repeat real soon.

But I do have a deep appreciation for those real editors who make
the writing life richer and better managed for us scribblers. Cat herders would
recognize the activity, the variability, the inopportune timing - they and editors
do much the same thing. They both try to reach a desirable result with a
modicum of effort, most of their hair, and reasonable sanity.

Reaching the 'finish' line with something to show for the couple of years
involvement has been frustrating and educational. Normally, obtaining
single pieces of work from writers has not been an issue. Going for a
collection of stories from seven authors has been eye-opening. I've had
to replace my scrivener guise and assume a lively, semi-Type A persona
to collaborate, encourage, plead, hassle, beg, cajole, demand, and soothe.

I'm not a Thesaurus of motivation. I notice I didn't mention 'threaten', which
is a good thing. All I had was carrots, not a stick in sight. Fortunately, the
"Quixotics" wanted to be in print again, and that made the task easier. Any
tardiness to ink was my doing, from my unfamiliarity and ignorance with
the editorial process in this day and time.

Yet, we got it done. Sentiment any and all editors identify, akin to "Hallelujah",
"Hooray", "Rejoice", "Amen"; "Let's all go get... paid". I lift my hat to
them, respectfully, and say Bring Them On [until I subject my next piece to 'em].

Chilly Chili Cook-off

This past week the church held a Chili Cook-off. I did not win-place-or show.

Just as well; it was more a bean soup contest and not an event to be associated with.

That reminded me of a 'flash fiction' bit I wrote a while ago. Here it is :

Flash Fiction

Texas History 1001

The dust from the Indian raid hadn’t settled and Cookie was ranting and waving his arms. He threw rocks and shouted curses after the half-seen departing savages driving a half dozen steers over a knoll. He jumped around the tipped-over chuck wagon. “Them durn injuns took my stuff, our flour and sugar.” His voice rose a shrill octave. “They’s got my pans and ovens.”

The trail boss whirled him twice round to a standstill. “Now, Cookie, you sure ‘bout all that?”

‘Yes-sir-ee. Look for your sel’.” He stabbed his trembling arm at the wounded wagon. “Theys boxes is empty, ceptin’ for a solitary, second class kettle. How ’m I gonna cook for this crew in that.”

The boss scratched his head and resettled his Stetson. “Jist throw everything in thar and heat it up.”

Cookie goggled at the boss, horrified. “You mean beans and chili in the same pot?”

The boss scratched the back of his head, hanging an arm by a thumb in his waistband. “Yep, I see what you mean. Well, lookit, we’re in Oklahoma territory, nearly in Kansas, so it don’t matter. But after we sell the herd and come back this-a-way, we’ll be sure you have pots enough to cook prop’rly before we hits the Texas line. You don’t want to upset the Texians putting beans in the chili. Theys jist as likely to turn over their tin pans and dump it on the prairie and call it cow pats.

Two Years Idle?

Lots of things have gone on; learning Blog-glyphics wasn't included.

Now that this web site is up, adding Blog bits will become necessary.

Bear with me as I learn; think of me as a five-year old on a new bike,
challenging directional stability and balance, savoring my contusions
as I gather a new skill.

Mac

Independence Day

The Fourth of July and I am giving up my independence.

I am assuming a responsibility to my next career and indenturing myself to its demands.
Only a nut would do that, right?