Oddiversary

Six years ago today I waltzed out of The Mountaineer newspaper office a free woman.
No more early mornings leading to late nights covering events. No more weekend work. No more deadlines.

I’d liberated myself from the tyranny of a regular paycheque.
No more social interaction either. Those days were behind me.
It took some getting used. For several weeks I had this posted on my refrigerator: “Do not go to the office. You don’t work there anymore.”
I was set to devote my time to writing. My plan was simple.

1. Write a book.
2. Get it published.
3. Earn royalties.

I was so sure that by now I’d have book on the shelf. It’s what I want.
Writing’s gratifying. Getting money for it is great. But it’s the satisfaction-–I presume—of wandering around better bookstores everywhere and seeing a book with my name on it that really speaks to me.

I recall reading somewhere on the Absolute Write Water Cooler about it taking 10 years from starting a manuscript to getting something publishable published.
Seems to me this was an average. Exceptions abound. Some writers get published right away. Others never.
I choose to believe I’m somewhere in the middle of the pack.

Just because I’m not there yet doesn’t mean I won’t ever be. If this average holds out for me, then I’ve only got four more years of writing, learning, editing, submitting, and being rejected to go.

Six years ago I though it was easy. I was wrong.
Today is the anniversary of that particular bit of cockeyed optimism. I will celebrate later by making note of the rejection from Kensington that I received the other day.

Seems fitting.

Thank You, Brian

I haven’t felt much like blogging these past few days.
My former boss, Mountaineer editor Brian Mazza, was found dead in his home the other day.

It’s hard to believe. Yes, we’re mortal; we die. That’s part of the deal we sign up for when we incarnate. But it’s still a shock when someone dies unexpectedly.

Brian was 45 and died due to a triple arterial blockage.

His sister Gail found him in his home on Sunday after the family became concerned when he didn’t show for Sunday dinner at his mom’s.

I was the senior reporter at the Mountaineer for 13 years. Brian had just taken over as editor in the fall of 1988 and I was his first hire.
We got along well enough although it took me nearly seven years to convince him Provincial Court ought to be covered.

He served the community and when he took on a project he got it done. He did it in his own time, which I often found frustrating, but it got done and that was what mattered.

His death’s an awful blow to his family. His dad, Lawrence, died just a few months ago. They must be reeling now.

His death stunned me, too.

I have a good life here in Rocky and I have it because Brian hired me 19 years ago. I’m grateful for that.

It was common when someone left the Mountaineer that we’d take a few minutes to say good-bye. We’d have cake, and then Brian would present the former staffer with a small parting gift and invite him or her to say a few words.
It was different with me. We had a huge chocolate cake and I got a gold watch, but when it came time for Brian to ask me to say something there was an awkward silence.

Maybe it was difficult for him. I don’t know. Maybe he was scared of what I might say as I’m usually blunt.
I’ll say now what I didn’t take the opportunity to say then, “Thank you.”