On the Wagon

After last week's debacle, I've committed myself to not drinking. Or, because as both Jess and the boy said this will be difficult, I'm committed to drinking far, far less. The boy says three beers and two glasses of wine (and not at the same time). I agree. I'm crazy enough without having liquor in me. For the record, though, Hemingway was a drunk and look what he did. Fitzgerald liked to party it up. James Frey liked to go boozing. Ugh. So do Paris, Lindsay, and that chick from Real World Hawaii. Ruthie. Yeah, that's it. God, I don't want to end up like Ruthie.

So instead I will work toward getting one of the several jobs I applied for last week. I already got one rejection letter, but that was inevitable. I went way outside the pond with that application. I'm back to wanting health insurance. Of my own. So the boy doesn't have to pay $200 a month. I'm back to wanting to get the hell out of this house, away from crazy doggies who fight all day. And I'm certainly back to wanting money that is mine.

Eek!

I've been published!! For the very first time!! That's right, in bars and liquor stores and Hy-Vees across Mankato is my little piece of flash fiction.

The boy called me from the bar, forty minutes after his projected return time. "Sorry I'm late, but I have something really great for you," he tells me. Uh-huh.

I'm already in bed when he gets home. He tells me to turn on the light and throws a Static, open to page 22, on the bed. My name. My title. My silly story. I was shocked, to say the least. I sent this in almost two months ago and hadn't heard back from the editor. I figured it wasn't even worth his time to respond. So really, I had no idea it would be the flash fiction piece for the June edition. It fits perfectly with the theme: The Illegal Issue--Going against the laws of art, commerce, health and decency. My story falls under that health and decency part.

In my blurb I'm labeled a recent MFA grad. This happened at graduation, too. Dr. J thought it a sign that I should enter the program. I think it was because I was sandwiched between a bunch of MFAers.

I still have a stupid grin on my face. From the sheer surprise of the whole thing. For really, this little thing has given me validation. It has made me want to write more. To try harder. I remember giving Xtina a cheerleading trophy with a cardboard plaque and a Sharpied "Published!!" covering the real placement when she had a poem published in some fabulous magazine (the name escapes me). I feel like that little statuette, pom-poms in hand, so pleased with myself.