Announcing A Sell! Loving You Darkly!

I’m delighted to announce the sell of my short story Loving You Darkly to F(r)iction magazine. F(r)iction is one of the most artistic magazines I’ve seen around lately, and it’s truly an honor to be included!

Loving You Darkly is a tale of friendship, loneliness, justice, and death. I’m exceptionally fond of it and can’t wait until it releases in F(r)iction’s 8th issue.



Writing The Hard Stuff

I just finished watching “The Stranger Beside Me”, a movie made from Ann Rule’s book of the same name.  I read the book years ago and loved it.  If this title is new to you, then run yourself right down to the bookstore and pick it up. It tells about Ann’s struggle to become a true crime writer while a friend of hers is jailed for murder.  Her friend’s name?  Ted Bundy.

While Ann’s connection with Bundy seems like gold to a writer, I’m sure that she would have given anything to avoid such a terrible situation.  But she couldn’t.  The situation was there, and if she is anything like most writers that I know, writing is perhaps the best way to process it.

Fiction is my true love, and always will be.  But lately I find myself foraying into the world of personal essays.  My son was born with a genetic syndrome that I was, quite frankly, unprepared to deal with at the time.  Through the years I have battled medical emergencies, physical abuse in the school system, and mouthy jerks on the street.  I jettisoned the people who made our life more difficult and built relationships with those who make it wonderful.  When I write an essay about our experiences, I can see how far we’ve come.  It helps me put it into words.  I know there are a group of strong parents whose children are going through the exact same thing.

We’ve also lost one triplet and know that, without a doubt, we will lose another.  There’s grief in such knowledge, but there is also strength.  I know that the triplets will no longer be Winkin, Blinken, and Nod. There will be a single baby.  But I hope there will be a few brief minutes where I will hold both of my girls and tell them how much I love them before the one passes.  I know she’ll be extremely disturbing to look at.  I’m prepared for the nurses to look away.  I’m prepared to kiss her broken face because it is infinitely precious to me.  I’m sure I’ll write about it when the time comes.  I don’t know any better way to cope.

There will be many more difficult things to write.  We all have so many stories to tell, so many horrors that we’ve stood up to and faced.  Don’t sanitize your work.  Don’t take the difficult parts out because it’s too painful to write.  Sometimes the only way out is through.  These things make us strong, and they make our work shine.  And it’s all about the shine.

Finally, Good Baby News! Let’s Party!

Every time I go to the doctor, the news has been bad.  One of the triplets died.  One will most certainly die.  When the second one passes, it could very well take the third with it.

Well, enough of that! Today we received wonderful news.  Although sicky baby will almost certainly pass away soon after birth, for the first time we’re looking with optimism toward meeting her.  The doctor was surprised at how well she was doing.  “Delighted” was the word that he used,  and I’m delighted as well.  She’s doing so well that there isn’t a reason not to expect her to survive until birth.  The other baby is doing extremely well, also.  Hooray! Now I can definitely spend the day writing with a lighter heart.

Winkin, Blinken, and Nod: The Baby Update

I’m telling you what this post is about in clear, bold letters so you can choose whether or not you wish to read it.  There’s some difficult news, but as always, there’s a thread of hope in there as well.

Most of you know that I was surprised and delighted to find out that we were expecting a baby. YAY! Then we discovered we were having triplets.  YAY, but WHA-?!  We soon found out that one of the triplets had passed away, and we’re now expecting twins. Although deeply saddened by the loss of our child, we’re still excited for the twins, and hoped both would be healthy.

Some things are not meant to be.  At my last appointment, we discovered that while one of the babies seems healthy and shockingly active (hello, Olympics!) the other one spends her time curled into a tiny ball.  (We don’t actually know gender yet,  but in my heart, this dear one is a baby girl.) It turns out that this baby has quite a bit of fluid on the brain, as well as too much fluid in the spine. The doctor, an extremely kind man, told me that this baby most likely won’t survive until birth, and if she does, she’ll probably only live a few hours.

I didn’t know how to take this, quite honestly.  After losing the first child, it didn’t even cross my mind that we could lose a second.  While I was still processing the new information, he informed me that the death of the second baby could cause my body to go into preterm labor, and we could perhaps lose the third.

Carrying triplets and then watching them disappear one by one seems too cruel to be real.  It’s been an extremely difficult couple of weeks, but I’ve determined that there are still two babies at this point, and the game is still going on.  While there is sorrow, there is still hope, and I choose to cling to it.  After all, it’s what has gotten me this far in life, and I have never regretted preparing for the worst while hoping for the best.