Pie-In-The-Ski Meets the Someday Pile Part 2 of 3

Welcome back. This is part 2. If you missed the beginning, check out part 1 here

Walking home from the Post Office, she felt a lightness to her step. Like the air was carrying her along the sidewalk. She’d just sent off the manuscript of an article she’d sold to a small magazine. As she walked back to the house she thought about the first version of the article sent to the magazine.

It was the first time she ever sent a submission out. The article was about 1200 words. She dropped it into the mail and put it out of her mind. Something told her not to get her hopes up. All the best writers were rejected, she should expect no less.

Two weeks later the article was sent back to her. The editor had made several notes on the manuscript and had attached a note with instructions to work on the revisions before calling her. She vividly remembered the shock, awe and wonder she felt as it dawned on her that this first time submission had gotten noticed.

Setting to work on the revisions, she wrote and rewrote in every spare moment she could find over the next week. Finally it was ready enough for her to pick the phone up to call the editor. Keisha asked her to read the revised piece to her, listening without interruption as she read through it.

There was a pause when she finished before Keisha spoke.

“How old are you? You sound much younger than I imagined.”

“I’m 18.”

“I was impressed when I read your submission and moreso now I know your age. I like what you’ve done with the revisions but, I have a few more ideas we need to go over before you can send a final copy for publication. Our rate for a piece of this length is $450. Sound good to you?”

“Yes, that sounds good. What revisions would you like?”

She’s not sure how she managed to stay focused enough to make notes as Keisha talked. She wanted to get up and scream her joy to the world. She was going to be published, on the first try no less. WOW!

She smiled at the joy the whole experience was bringing her. She hadn’t told anyone about the article while she was working on it. Now, as she returned from sending it out, she decided it was time to tell her mother.

Her mother hadn’t been at all supportive of her wanting to write. She was okay with it being a hobby but the notion of making money from it was just nonsense, just ‘pie-in-the-sky’ thinking. She had long ago stopped sharing stories she wrote with her mother, or anyone, unless they were for school.

She let the door slam as a warning to her mother someone had come into the house. Her mother hated being startled by someone walking into a room where she was reading. She was almost always reading.

Walking through the kitchen into the sitting room, she saw her mother engrossed in the latest novel. Her mother glanced up and greeted her as she settled onto the couch.

“What are you up to?”

“Just came from the Post Office. I mailed a manuscript out to a magazine. They are paying me $450 to publish my work.”

Her mother closed the book. Sat looking at her daughter for a few moments. The look was not of pride or even pleasure. There was a darkness on her face she knew to be wary of. She waited for her mother to speak first.

“How did they get this work from you in the first place?”

“I mailed a draft of the article to them a few weeks ago.”

“You didn’t tell me about that.”

“No, I didn’t expect anything to come of it. All the best writers are rejected on their first efforts. I just assumed I would be.”

“All the best writers… Aren’t you putting on airs. All the best writers.” She laughed briefly before the dark look returned.

She knew that look, that tone. She sat quiet, watching her mother place the closed book on the stack sitting beside her chair. The familiar twist was starting in her gut warning her that telling her mother was not a good idea.

“You’re not a writer let alone a ‘best writer’ and you need to get this notion out of your head. Getting lucky and selling something doesn’t make you a writer. Am I clear?”

She fought against the surging desire to scream “NO”. She knew better. She needed to push back though.

“Keisha, the editor of the magazine tells me differently. She was impressed with what I sent her. She told me I should write more.”

She tensed as she saw the dark look explode into a rage.

“Some two-bit so called editor calling you a writer doesn’t make you one. When are you going to get this pie-in-the-sky nonsense out of your head and get on to doing something sensible?”

She was trembling with the effort to appear composed. She knew better than to display emotions to her mother. Her eyes focused on the stack of books sitting beside her mother as she started to rise from the couch. Wanting to flee from the room.

“SIT DOWN” She dropped back down.

“I’ve had it with your nonsense. Writing is a hobby at best. You need to get a job and get on with life. You’re an adult now and I’ll not have you being a lazy lout pining after nonsense.”

“You know, someone has to write those books you love reading. Why not me?” She struggled to get the words out sounding even remotely calm. She dared not let her voice rise.

Her mother glanced at the books, pausing momentarily before responding.

“Those books are written by actual writers, not you. Get the hell out of here. I don’t want to hear any more of this ridiculous nonsense from you again. Get a damn job!”

She fled from the battlefield, wounded but still alive, as her mother picked her book up and resumed reading.

Tune in again next week for Part 3.

Shadowspub is a writer from Ontario, Canada. She writes on a variety of subjects as she pursues her passion for learning. She also writes on other platforms and enjoys creating books you use like journals, notebooks, coloring books etc.

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