I was asked to illustrate

A writer friend of mine, Mike Munsil, asked me about a month ago to try to illustrate his three newly accepted poems at Haruah. I told him that I would give it a try and he gave me an idea for each poem.

I finished the shot for poem #1 a couple of days after the conversation. I used my husband the boy I baby-sit as actors. We took a trip to the local park and Dan played football with Caleb. I ended up with a shot with Caleb’s feet off the ground. I emailed Mr. Munsil the shots so he could choose which one he liked. I submitted that one to Haruah, “The Handoff,” and they have accepted it.

I waited for about 2.5 weeks for the shot for poem #2. I need rain and a leaky porch. After three trips out in the rain and getting damp to very wet, I ended up with some shots. I emailed Mike the best ones I had, he picked one, and I sent it to Haruah. But they rejected it. They said the rain looked too much like ice. After looking closer, I saw what they meant. I told them that I’d give it another try.

Well, we were to have rain this morning (about a week after I found out the first one was no good) so I went to bed early to get up early so I could take some pictures before the kiddos got here at 10. But I woke up to a beautiful morning. It started to rain, once the kiddos showed up. I called Dan to see if he could come home and watch two of the kids while I took Caleb out to take some more pictures at the museum (the shot that Mike liked before). He wasn’t too thrilled about it, but he came home and set the camera up at 250 shutter speed. I went out, took some shots, came home, and they were no good. Dan adjusted the camera to a 500 shutter speed and I went out again. But the rain had died down. Dan then went back to work.

Of course then it started to rain again. I im’d him to see if he would humor me again and come home, but he was on the phone. I ended up putting on an adult disposable rain poncho on Caleb, a rain jacket on Anna, and a garbage bag with a hole on the top over Grace. I pulled the three children (ages 1, 4, and 5) in the stroller for about 3 blocks to Dan’s job.

I left Anna and Grace with him and Caleb and I went back to the museum to take more shots. After taking several, I came home and downloaded them onto the computer. Then we went to the grocery store to buy peanut butter and candy treats for each of the children for being so good.

After lunch, I went through the shots and I had maybe 5 decent ones. I emailed them to the Haruah editor who has been very helpful in helping me to get the rain shots. He said that they needed an “active” shot and sent me an example. I told him that I could have gotten one like that, but the author wanted a shot with a leaky porch.

I then told him that if the shots were no good, to either publish the poem without a photo or use one of his own (which he says he doesn’t want to do, since the other ones were going to be mine). I told him that I guess rain photography was beyond my ability. I hope that I didn’t sound too many or upset as I told him that it had been a hassle to get those shots as I’m preparing for vacation and as I drug all the children out in the rain. But I was a little perturbed. I just don’t know what they are after. I mean my shots aren’t 100% perfect, but I do believe that there is one there good enough to use.

Anyway to go on and quite ranting, I had taken several shots for poem #3 a few days after the ones at the park for poem #1. I then emailed Mike five shots for him to choose which one he liked best. He has been very busy with family life, but today I did find out which one he liked. He picked #1 and chose #4 and #5 as back-ups. I liked #1 because of the natural lighting, but I don’t like the glare off Dan’s neck. Mike said it something about “pesky red-necks” when I told him about it. I like #4 because of the boy’s expression. Well, I sent #1 to Haruah today, “My Heart Aches: But Good-Bye.” I’ll let you know what they say when I know.

I’ll also let you know about my rain shots.

So, keep coming back....to find out the answers.

"Home and Home Again" still being considered by Xelas

On November 9, 2006 I sent my story, “Home and Home Again” out to Xelas Magazine. They have an average wait time of 74 days and authors can inquiry after 90 days.

After 90 days, I think it was over 100, I send an inquiry email. I sent it on Februaray 14th.

I didn’t hear back from them. I don’t know when it is proper to inquiry again, but I sent a second one on March 19th.

Today, I finally got my answer....

[quote]
Joy,

I apologize for the delay in getting back to you. Scheduling conflicts between the editors have caused us some problems this year at Xelas, but your story is still under consideration.”

Regards,
Jennifer Armentrout, Editor
[end quote]

So, I guess I’ll just keep waiting to see what happens. They have had my story for 138 days now.

I would really love to sell this one, as it has already received 15 or 16 rejections.

This story is still out to five other magazines. (Though one magazine has had it for 137 days and they appear to be closed....so, I’ll most likely pull it after vaction.)

I submitted a Photo Gallery to Gambara

While I was searching some places that would accept reprints, I noticed that Gambara was looking for some more photo galleries. There is a church in the county that I call the castle church and I have wanted to take some pictures of it. I then thought of the idea of taken shots of several Pender Country churches and submitting them as a photo gallery to Gambara.

However, we had a weekend of living history right here in Pender County at Moores Creek National Battlefield. Re-enactors dressed the part and did normal colonial activities. Dan had to cover it for the Pender Post, so I went as well and took shots to make a photo gallery. I took several and I ended up with a few good ones. There are three that I really love.

One is a young boy dressed in colonial clothing standing in front of an old cannon. This shot looks really great in the antic brown. The other is of a man and his wife sitting on the ground eating their supper. On their right is a pile of logs with his hatchet laying against the stack. In front of that is a iron stand with a kettle and a wooded dish in front of it. In front of the couple on the ground is their metal bowl of low-country shrimp boil, a small hatchet, and a mug. The third wasn’t much until I cropped it down and turned it black and white. It is of a girl as she prepares the dough for an old-fashioned apple pie. Behind her is a fire pit with pots hanging from it. The girl has a beautiful smile on her face and the pots run up her arm in the background.

The shot of the couple eating that I really liked had some bad shadow to it, so I sent it to my mom. She works at a place that can help clean those up. After I got the cleaned up version, I submitted my seven shots as a photo gallery to Gambara.

Dan tells me that my shots aren’t what they are looking for. I do agree with that, but I’m hoping. They said that they were in desperate need of photo galleries and some of my shots are very good (or at least I think they are).

I now have five photo illustrations published at Haruah and two cover art photos accepted there. Though I love submitting photos to Haruah, I would love to get my name else where as well. I’ll let you know what Gambara says about my photo gallery when I find out.

(By the way, I’m still going to try to get those church shots.)

"Silent upon the Grave" is up

My photo illustration, “Silent upon the Grave” is up. This is the one that was accepted to illustrate J. M. Munsil’s poem “Speak to Me.” Go ahead and give it a look and feel free to leave me a comment here. (I love to hear from you all.)

"Home and Home Again" treks on

On February 14th, I sent two emails of story inquiry. As of yet, I still have not heard back from them. So on March 19th I sent another one. I have now been waiting 132 days to hear from Xelas Magazine and 131 days from Dicey Brown.

The story that they have, “Home and Home Again” is still out at 42opus. They have had my story 61 days, their average response time is 68 days, and authors can inquiry after 90 days.
Armada Quarterly also has had my story. They have had it 61 days with an average response time of 74 days.

On March 9th, I sent Avery Anthology this story was well. They now have had it 12 days with an average response time of 62 days and an inquiring time of 90 days.

Whistling Shade received my story on March 19th. This magazine is published in Minneapolis, MN. I grew up near St. Charles, MN (about 1.5 hours SE from Minneapolis). Their average response time is 59 days with a 90 day inquiry time.

Not only does it take time to write a story that is publishable. It takes time to find the right fit. This story has had many positive remarks from magazine editors, but they call claim that it isn’t for them. I will keep pressing onward until I find a fit for this story.

Creating-"A Mother's Love Letter"

So, where do I get my inspiration to illustrate stories? How do I get the shots that I submit? Well, let me tell you about my latest published photo illustration.... “A Mother’s Love Letter.”

After Haruah accepted my story, “A Mother’s Love,” Dan asked me if I was going to illustrate it. I told him that I had thought about it, but I didn’t know how – that I didn’t know where a psych ward was. He told me to take a picture of the letter.

He was referring to the letter the mother wrote to her son.

Thinking that I great idea, I lay in bed that night and figured the shot out in my head.

First, I needed a letter. That went from plain paper, to stationary (which I didn’t have), to making stationary on the computer.

Then, I wanted to add some quarters. I decided on two stacks of $2 each. This would have been the bus fare for a trip to the psych ward and back in NYC.

Third, I thought about having an envelope with Jose, the son’s name, on it.

I was trying to figure out how I was going to add some color to this shot. The only thing that kept coming to me was to add a silk flower around the letter (and of course the stationary).

So the next morning, I got up and went to the Print Shop program on the computer to find a picture suitable for stationary. I found one and then while trying to make it more like a water mark; I found a way to make the whole picture lighter. I printed off three versions to see which one I liked better.

Choosing one, I took lined paper and took a thin, black marker over them to make them darker. Then I sat and wrote the letter the mother, Maria, had written to her son. At first it my print was too large and then I made a mistake. After writing the letter two, well maybe three times, I had what I wanted.

Later in the day, I took the table cloth off the table and placed my letter, envelope, quarter stacks, and a silk flower upon it. In my story, Maria was crying has she wrote the letter, so I splashed some water droplets onto the letter I had written. I’m not sure if the Haruah editors noticed it or not, but they are there. I did several arrangements and different lightings.

I then download the digital shots to the computer to see which one I liked. I really didn’t like any of them, so I went back to my shooting session. After my second session, I looked on the computer again at the shots.

After picking one I liked, I submitted it to Haruah. And they accepted it.

Haruah is back up.

Haruah is back up.

This is what they had to say:

[quote]
Technically it wasn't a crash. It was a mess! A server farm technician, for all practical purposes, erased Haruah and took the machine off line back to the warehouse. The backup was flawed (our vendor is giving Haruah 5 months free hosting, BTW, as a result) and what we ended up with was from February 12, not March 7, when the crisis occurred. Fortunately, Rick Copple had most of the submissions as email copies, so we were able to rebuild the submissions database from that (we left out the declined submissions). Rebuild by hand, I should add.
[end quote]

You have read my first two rough drafts, now you can read the final product. Please do come back and leave me comments about what you liked or disliked about my story. I would love to hear from you!

“A Mother’s Love”

Haruah is down

I went to check what comments might have been left at Haruah about my story yesterday and when I clicked on Haruah in my favorites.....I got a surprise.

All of issue 10 and issue 11 were missing!

I went into the place to check on the photos and stories that have been accepted – they new ones were missing.

I looked at my personal submission record with them, and the photo I just submitted them was missing.

Even my bio page, which I had spent so much time updating, is now updated.

When I PM’d the editors about it this is what I was told:

[quote]
Yea, the server at the hosting company apparently had some kind of problem. We don't know exactly what yet, and I'm hoping they have a more recent backup than Jan 25th, which seems to be what's up now. So, we are just giving them time to see how much they can eventually restore. Bill said they were working on it, and I'm hoping this doesn't mean we've lost a month and a half of submissions and discussions. That would be bad. But I'm waiting, hopefully it will be back to normal in due time. It was down for the last half of yesterday. So something crashed over at the hosting company. If we need you to resubmit your photos, I'm sure we will let you know once the air clears and we see what we have and don't have.
[end quote]

So, if you have tried to read my first published story and the link was bad that is why. I’ll let you know when Haruah gets updated again. (And hopefully it does.)

First two drafts of "A Mother's Love"

Writing a publishable story takes time. I now have one story published, but it took awhile to get there. “A Mother’s Love” started out as a Liberty Hall challenge. We were all challenged to write a story that was exactly 500 words over July 4th weekend of 2005.

This is what I wrote:

[quote]
A Mother’s Love

Maria sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands. Paper and pen lay upon the scuffed surface. She knew her days were few and she wanted let Jose know that she would always love him. She had so much to say, yet she did not know exactly what to say. With blurred vision and shaking hand, Maria reached out, picked up the pen, and began to write.

My dear, dear Son,

I trust that you are well today. Jose, I love you and always have. Even through the bad years, I have loved you. Though you did everything I told you not to do; even though you beat me, I still cried tears of love over you, my Son.

My sorry runs so deep when I come and see you in madden fits. How I long to cradle you in my arms and tell you that all will be well. But the padded room stays firmly locked and all I can do is watch through the reinforced glass window as you throw your body from wall to wall.

But oh, how my heart soars when your mind is clear and you greet me with your broad smile. Oh, what wonderful visits those are! We sit and talk of the few good days of old. I tell you repeatedly that I love you; with teary eyes you tell me the same. Oh, those precious, precious words. They are like aloe upon the scars of pain that over lay my heart.

Oh, my dear Jose, my heart grieves. I feel that your being here is my fault. I’m so sorry that I failed you my Son. My days are few, yet you’ll live on. Please, oh please, don’t ever forget your mother’s love.

With the deepest love a mother can bestow,
Maria Juanita Castillo (your mom)

Feeling week from anguish, sorry, and poor health, Maria laid the pen down and rested her head on the table. A few minutes later, she slowly rose from the table and went for an envelope and her keys. Her letter was safely placed in her purse and the car keys were in her hand as she slowly, painfully made her way down the stairs and out to her old, rusted car.

The loud muffler of Maria’s car was silenced and she walked toward the door. She gradually opened the heavy door and signed in with the receptionist. She was told that her son was in the waiting room. Her heart soared. Maria entered the room expecting Jose’s board smile, but instead she saw her son just sitting there staring at the title floor. The doctor came to Maria and informed her that her son had had a stroke and was unable to see or speak. With a sinking heart, she gave her son a long embarrass and told him repeatedly that she loved him. After several kisses applied to his check, she then slipped her letter in his hand and left – never more to return.
[end quote]

I received 10 crits from LH members. In the voting I received 1 vote for Best Dialogue and 1 for Best Character Development.

I took those comments and worked on the story again. When I had what I liked, I submitted it to NoteBored’s Polished Stories Challenge. My story now had 879 words. There was only one other story entered into the challenge, and I received one crit and no votes.

Re-Write

[quote]
A Mother’s Love

Maria knew her days were few and she wanted let her son, Jose, know that she would always love him. She had so much to say; yet she did not know exactly what to say. Maria sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands. Paper and pen lay upon the scuffed surface. She thought about their lives, her’s and Jose’s. How she found herself expecting with no ring on her finger. Maria thought about the hard hours at the meat factory to provide for her son. Tears misted her eyes as she remembered the long hours way from the only special thing in her life. Her memories walked through her thoughts; they were all so clear, like watching a movie. Tears streamed down her cheeks when her thoughts rehashed her son’s drug use and his physical and verbal abuse. She had lost control; she had lost his love—she had lost him.

Quiet sobs shook Maria was she remembered the call from the police. Jose had been found passed out during a drug bust and had been taken to the local hospital. He spent a month in the ICU. The doctors informed her that the drugs had damaged his brain cells and he would never be the same again. Her memories rolled on. She had taken Jose back home to care for him. He had good days when his brain was clear. Jose also had his bad days when he would throw things all around the house, while Maria hid in her bedroom shaking with fear. As the months passed her son’s good days became fewer and fewer. With a heavy, grieving heart, Maria took her son to a psych ward.

Slowly Maria lifted her head and looked around her. She remembered that while she was a child, she had always planned on having a big, beautiful house. She had hated the dump she grew up in. But her dreams never became a reality. Her current housing was worse than her childhood one. She now lived in a two-room apartment and slept on the couch. There was no phone in the house and very little heat in the winter. She had sold her car a couple months ago to pay some of Jose’s bills. She had sacrificed all for her son. Maria once again lowered her face toward the scuffed table. With blurred vision and shaking hand, Maria reached out, picked up the pen, and began to write.

My dear, dear Son,

I trust that you are well today. Jose, I love you and always have. Even through the bad years, I have loved you. I cried tears of love over you, my Son.

My sorrow runs so deep when I come and see you in your rages. How I long to cradle you in my arms and tell you that all will be well. But all I can do is watch you throw your body against the padded walls through the small window.

But oh, how my heart soars when your mind is clear and you greet me with your broad smile. Oh, what wonderful visits those are! We sit and talk of the few good days of old. I tell you repeatedly that I love you; with teary eyes you tell me the same. Oh, those precious, precious words. They are like aloe upon the scars of pain that overlay my heart.

Oh, my dear Jose, my heart grieves. I feel that your being here is my fault. I’m so sorry that I failed you my Son. My days are few, yet you’ll live on. Please, oh please, don’t ever forget your mother’s love.

With the deepest love a mother can bestow,
Mom

Feeling week from anguish, sorrow, and poor health, Maria laid the pen down and rested her head on the table. A few minutes later, she slowly rose from the table and went for an envelope and her small pile of quarters. Her letter was safely placed in her purse while the quarters were slipped into her pocket; painfully she made her way down the stairs. She leisurely walked the block and a half to the bus stop.

As the bus bumped along, Maria was saddened to think that this might be her last trip. She wished she could see Jose more often, but it was such a struggle to afford the weekly trip. She reached up over her head and weakly pressed the yellow strip to signal for her stop. She descended the bus steps and walked the block to the psych ward.

She gradually opened the heavy door and signed in with the receptionist. The receptionist told Maria that her son was in the waiting room. Her heart soared. Maria entered the room expecting Jose’s broad smile. However, she showed just in time to see the beginning stages of rage grip her son and uniformed people dragging him off to a padded room. With a sinking heart, she walked to the viewing window. Jose looked at her for a brief moment and she gave him a “kiss.”

Then he was lost to her and the world. Maria turned and made her way back to the receptionist. She signed the letter into Jose’s possession and then turned to leave—never more to return.
[end quote]

In May 2006, I did another draft of this story. This time ending up with 894 words. This story was sent to Haruah and they requested a rewrite.

Which I did and I submitted the re-write back to NoteBored’s Polish Stories Challenge for more feedback, in case Haruah rejected it. The story ended at 964 words, I got to crits, and 1 vote for Best Polish.

Haruah liked what they saw, but still wanted another re-write to iron out a rough beginning. After struggling with understanding the comments and loving my story, I finally got a semi-re-write done. I really didn’t change any words; I just changed the order of the story. And that is the one that was accepted and now published. (The editors did change a few words, but nothing major.)

Want to see how this story looks now? Check it out: “A Mother’s Love”

The Check Arrived

The check for my first publication just arrived today! My first story and I got money, what a deal! My story is also in print on-line right now and it will be in print form later. I’ll let you know when the story has made print form.

I hope that Haruah will be able to pay for photos next year. There were hoping to this year, but the funds weren’t there. I have had a lot of photos accepted there.

It feels great to see my story on-line and to hold the check in my hands.

"A Mother's Love" and "A Mother's Love Letter" Are Up!

It’s up! It’s up! My first ever accepted story has now made print!!! It looks sooo good. Please do take a look at it. And feel free to make comments here (even if you didn’t like the story). Don’t forget to take a look at the photo – for it is mine as well.

"A Mother's Love" (lit story) and "A Mother's Love Letter" (photo illustration)