Something tells me this maybe my year my book gets published. I have a book of linked stories called A Surprising Measure of Subliminal Sadness, and I have a feeling in my gut and in my bones this is its year. If not this year, oh well, maybe next year. But the idea that this is the year it’s going to be published is keeping me going because frankly, I’ve just lost a year.

My birthday is in July. But recently my daughter Carrie pointed out that I’m actually not the age I thought I was – I’m actually a year older! A shock? You bet! I lost a whole year! And these days, being in my sixties, that’s pretty major. It feels like I actually lost a whole year, and who can afford to lose a whole year of one’s life?

So this has to be the year my book gets published. I’ve been writing stories since I could put pen to paper. And long ago, my first creative writing teacher used to say I had Potential! Potential! Since then I received a fellowship in Prose from the Illinois Art Council, and some of the stories in this book have been published – one actually won first prize. But here I am, now rapidly approaching my seventies and still, no book.

I understand that I have to be tenacious and keep submitting, but frankly I’m pretty sick of doing that to hear nothing for years on end. Yes actual years that my book is still being “considered” and still no word from the publisher(s). (Yes, it’s alright and quite common to multiple submit.)

But recently I received an invitation to submit my book from the publishers where my story 13 Rules won first prize. Now how often does one get an invitation like that? Never. So of course I submitted.

So while I may have lost a year, maybe this is my book’s year. Fingers crossed and all that….

Hey, anyone have a good luck charm I could borrow?