A non-writing post (yeah right)

Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to another edition of my Weekend Update. This is comign on the heels of my previous post, an announcement of acceptance. To warn you, this post has nothing to do with writing in the beginning, and only a little at the end.

Today we hit the floor. Yes, I have joined the rank of Corporate Cubicle Cretins, assisting the elderly with their insurance policies. It's official. I have my own desk, a window view of the river, and easy access to the printer/coffee machine. Can life get better?

No, but it CAN get worse. This morning my wife told me she thought her water had broken. Thankfully, it seemed to be a reaction to some food she an my daughter had the night before. I escaped only by my refusal to eat bagged veggies, I believe. Considering she is 8 months along, though, she agreed to call her doctor. The doc had her go to the hospital, and my father was gracious enough to postpone his weekend trip with my mother to Michigan to get her there. This led, as my team and I were strolling down main street for our 2-hour celebration luncheon, to him calling me.

He then erroneously informed me her water had, indeed, broken. What he meant is the octor said that MIGHT be the case. We still have two weeks to go at the least, according to the doc, and that relaxed me. After two hours of sitting at work thinking my wife was in labor.

From that to Sunday when...I found out I need glasses. I'd been getting horrible headaches after squinting all day, trying to read the computer screen at work. My eyes were tired an bloodshot every night. So, while getting my daughter her checkup for school, I got my eyes checked as well. I now wear glasses, and am not happy about it.

Now for the writing mention:

Tomorrow, after mwoing the lawn, I'll be starting on another story for the Dark Jesters anthology.

See, told you it wasn't much.

Peace,
J.C. Tabler

Would you like to upgrade your policy?

Finished the Malpractice submissions first draft. Not a bad one, but I need to set it aside for a couple days before doing the revisions.

Basically, it's about an insurance salesman who sells "special" policies for those entering Bloom Memorial for treatment. I like it, as the entire story is basically told in description and one-sided conversation with a restrained, ball-gagged patient.

Clocked in the first draft at 2,268 words. I wanted it to be longer, it just didn't want to cooperate. Oh well.

As always, my call goes out for proofers if anyone's interested, thoguh I'll probably have it revised by the time any replies could get back to me.

Peace,
J.C. Tabler

Snuffed Out

Grab your ass, folks. I quit smoking. This is day one of "no cigarettes for Daddy", and it's been a doozy. What keeps me from flying off the handle? That small, flesh-colored patch on my arm delivering a constant stream of nicotine to my blood.

CRAP PILE MONTH has already resulted in one "gem", or rather a kernel of corn. Polished up (sorta) and sent off "Poppa Bear", a literary piece with a hopeless sort of dark ending to it (it made my wife ask what the hell was wrong with me). Johnny America got back to me in three days, sending a response that read:

"A good read, but just not right for us. Please remember us in the future."

That's not exact, but the gist. It was short and sweet, but obviously personal, so I view it as a good sign. Anytime a personal rejection has no real...well...criticism, I take heart.

CRAP PILE MONTH is continuing, but at the same time I'm working on a possible submission for the Necrotic Tissue Malpractice anthology. It concerns Medicare Providers and insurance companies. I'm enjoying it, working on it after work and some turd-polishing.

Yes, I really am that crude without a cigarette between my lips.

Anyhow, off to put my daughter to bed, get a bath, and change out this nicotine patch before bed. Christ, I want a cigarette BAD!

Peace (but not for me),
J.C. Tabler