‘Lutheran Liar here with some late-breaking news’
Those of you who have followed my blog lo these many moons (thank you, and bless you all) may have noticed, popping up here and there in my stories of growing up in the Mid-Century Midwest or in my tales of cohabiting with The Dude and The Child in New York or even in my reports of tangling with snakes in the jungles of Africa and Advertising — a certain dream of mine. Which is a wish to be published. Well, published other than by me.
See, writers (writers like me, anyway) not only love writing, they love knowing that people are reading their writing. After posting these stories each week, I try not to compulsively check my stats to see how many readers I’ve snagged. There Writer Madness lies. But, every once in a while when I sneak a peek, I must admit that I get a complete and total rush when something that I’ve written strikes a spike-in-stats chord.
Ironically enough, when I was a writer of advertising, thousands of people — maybe even millions of people — read my writing. (Or heard my writing, if it was in a TV spot.) Only no one knew the writing was my writing, print advertising and television commercials not listing either credits nor bylines.
So. Crazy Me, for ages I’ve nourished this notion of becoming an Actual Published Writer. And I have had dozens of published pieces in the New York Times — don’t get too excited; these were Letters to the Editor and anecdotes for the Metropolitan Diary. (They used to give you a NY Times mug if your Diary piece got published; come on over and have coffee with me and I’ll show you my “collection”.)
Recently, I’ve taken the plunge and started (gasp) submitting some pieces. Which is terrifying. Somehow I find the idea of an editor reading a story of mine, rolling his or her eyes and tossing it in the “Reject” pile much more terrifying than in-person presenting to the scariest, frowniest, my-wife-could-write-that Kraft client.
Anyway. I screwed my courage to the sticking post (or whatever that saying is) and sent a story to the The East Hampton Star. And they published it! There, in real black-and-white newsprint, on Jan. 3, 2019, was my story “Lost Cat: Answers to the Name ‘Mango'”. I’ll save my printed copy till it disintegrates. But you can read the indestructible online version right here.)
But the Publishing News I’m most excited about so far — and the reason for my exclamation-point-studded headline — is that a story of mine has just been featured on the lustre.net website. Lustre, in case you don’t already know, is this cool resource for women like me (and quite possibly you) with loads of information on travel, health, style, fitness, and other topics of interest to us. And, they don’t just provide information (lots of websites claim to do that), they aim to motivate, inspire, and help us buff up our selves and our egos and, well, shine.
So. Without further ado, here is my ‘When Mothers Turn Grand’ piece, all gussied up and glam, ready to be read by even more People Who Aren’t Related To Me. Just click and enjoy. And do sign up to receive new stories by the wonderful writers who write for Lustre. Including (ta-da) me.
New York City. May 2019