So while I
am in the shower—yeah, I think best there—I thought about how long it’s been
since I’ve written on this blog. Then I realized the blog counts down the days
to my birthday and more importantly, my graduation! YEAH! With that in mind,
and the title of this blog, doesn’t it makes sense I would fill the audience in
on what a single mother who substitute teaches, home schools her kid, rewriting my novel, and
manages to get awesome grades does? In a word it’s called “work.” That’s all I
seem to do. But it’s so much more than that.
In my class
of Publishing and Distribution this week we need to submit an unpublished short
story to at least 10 publishing companies with individualized cover letters,
each stating something a little different. Sounds time-consuming, but not too
hard, right? That’s because I didn’t tell you that in addition to that, we need
to have a page depicting the websites of each of the publishing companies and a
spreadsheet to keep track of our submissions. Yep, we need to turn that in too!
Today’s
Monday and we have until Sunday. As luck would have it… I can’t drive my car
until a mechanic takes a peeksy. I skipped changing the oil on time and may
have caused considerable damage to the engine. (Crossing my fingers I didn’t
totally screw it up.) This means I haven’t been working out at the gym. That’s
the bad news. I’ve re-opened the welcome wagon to a fat ass. I’ve gained back
about five pounds… (You can say “aaaah,” if you want.) But the good news riled
me up at my four a.m. start time where I popped into the living room and
started writing for class.
At first, I
was going to write an older person’s version of Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree, and I typed about five
pages before it dawned on me that it just wasn’t working right. Sitting in the
dark for a bit, I closed my eyes and thought back to my childhood. I attended
Kaysville Junior High with Davis High right across the street. Our school bus
would pick up both schools and deliver us at the same time. One winter day,
after getting us from school, the driver pulled up in front of the high school.
We called him “Gummer,” because he had no teeth and no one knew his real name.
(Let that be a lesson to you. If you don’t tell kids your name, they’re gonna
make one up.) The kids were pushing and shoving the way they always do when the
bus arrives. But this day was icy and cold with some fresh powder on the
ground.
The
screaming kids alerted the driver who backed up, running over the girl again
had been pushed under the bus. They filed us off the bus, walking forward to
board the bus ahead of us while the police came out to investigate. Pretty
sick, eh? Glad I didn’t see it. But it did give me something to write about.
Well, I’m
pretty hungry now. Lasagna sounds pretty good, right?
Oh, get
this! I’m applying for an internship in LA! Yeah! It’s for writing commercials.
I’m
having some of my favorite instructors write recommendations for
consideration and as soon as they make it to me, I’ll be able to complete the
process. I’ve always been a sucker for commercials, like the Cliff Clavin of
thirty-seconds. I could rattle off a commercial (performing the dance for extra
money) in a heartbeat. Now, if I land this gig, I’ll be bringing in $2,000/week
for a couple of months and possibly swing a deal to work there permanently.
After all, when the internship is over, I’ll graduate almost immediately. Do
you know what the low end of commercial writing is? According to the 2014
Writers’ Market, the pay starts at $60/hour and rises to about $99/hour. It’d
be tough, but I think I could manage. 
Isn’t it
funny how life turns out? I had high hopes of being a crossing guard when I was
a kid. A crossing guard! But I was the wrong gender for that, according to the
school. They gave me a position rolling the film projector from room to room
and showing films to the classes. Now look at me. Could you imagine me a cop?
Nah!
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