Everyone, I have finished edits for When Stars Die–at least, as much as I can edit. It’s not done yet. It’ll still have to go through copy edits, but it’s getting closer to completion, and I frankly can’t wait. I am so tired of looking at this dang book that it’s just one giant blur. I can’t wait until its in he hands of readers, and then the book becomes their responsibility, and it’s no longer mine.
I have also finished the rough draft of a short story I have titled “I Am the Bell Jar,” which is a part of a secret project. I am doing re-writes of it now as we speak. Then I’ll proofread or whatever and send it off to a beta reader. Afterward, I’ll get back to When Heaven Was Blue. I had hoped to finish WHWB before classes started, but that isn’t going to happen; however, I am comfortable with the idea of working on it during the semester. I just won’t be able to start the sequel to When Stars Die until December, but I can outline it. Luckily, the sequel to WSD is going to simply be a re-write. It won’t be a brand new draft or anything.
But this one, it’s not easy at all. It’s been a while since I’ve lost someone (human) that I care deeply about. I think I’m numb or detached or something. I don’t think it has quite hit me that she’s gone. I’ve known for months that she’s had pancreatic cancer, but I had hope that the chemo would do something and that she’d bounce back from it simply because she herself was just strong. She even held on in her final moments.
I visited her while she was in the hospital. She was in a coma. I don’t think I knew what to feel even then. I was shocked. I know that much. She was unrecognizable, and I had never seen anyone that way before. My parents never brought me to any of my loved one’s funerals because they were afraid I’d be scarred, but, the truth is, no matter how old you are, you can never be prepared to see someone you care deeply about so destroyed by their own dying. There is no preparation for that. Even seeing it a thousand times doesn’t seem like it’d prepare you.
Sure, I’ve cried a little bit here and there, but I just haven’t broken down. Not yet, anyway. I suppose I’m just waiting for it to really sink in. I heard about her death over the phone, after all. I plan to go to her funeral.
I know I don’t feel great, but I can’t even describe how I feel.
Hey, Stars! My literary magazine, The Corner Club Press, is looking for a new Prose Fiction editor. Basically, your responsibilities will include vetting submissions, rejecting ones you don’t approve of, doing final proofreads of pieces I’ve already looked over, and doing final proofreads of the actual magazine after Mariah and I have gone over it. This is not a time-consuming job. We publish every 3-5 months, depending on how many submissions are in the box. At most, you’ll dedicate an hour a week to the job.
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