Like most of you, I hate Mondays. It brings the dreaded return of work/school and the halt to those too-short moments of freedom squeezed from Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday.
Sunday was glorious. I’m no longer a Word on the Street virgin. I’ve been, I saw, I heard, I did. WOTS offered opportunities to talk with authors, writers, publishers, and just fantastic people in general. I walked away with a sore shoulder beneath the strap of my book-and-brochure-filled bag, a head full of harbour air and new knowledge, and a heart skipping lightly in the joy of knowing that there are people out there like me. Okay, maybe not exactly like me, but in the sense that they too are bombarded with words and phrases by invisible beings that sometimes call them rude names.
Anyway, I got to chat with the cool cats at Fierce Ink Press, collect free swag, and had a quick visit with my old friends from the Elizabeth Bishop Festival.
Of course, leaving behind a spectacular weekend such as this only makes Monday that much more horrible. I was perfectly content to sit at home sifting through my newly acquired knickknacks and maybe write a poem or two, but alas, the days of the week are too well-disciplined, whipped into shape by that dirty jerk in the uniform who goes by “Time.” I mean, Time, SIR!
At the end of this unfortunate, terrible, uneventful Monday, I was greeted by the victorious red flag of the mailbox, standing high and erect and becoming closer by the hour to blending in with the colours of the changing trees in the background.
If ever I had a premonition, it was this.
My Hogwarts letter had finally arrived.
Kidding. It sort of felt like it, though.
No, instead it was two letters in one envelope, along with several other pieces of paper and a couple bookmarks. The letters were identical, with only a few key words changed. Turns out that I made the final round for the fifth annual Polar Expressions National Poetry and Short Story Contests, as well as placing at least among the top 33% — which means my poem Haying will be published in Harvest: New Canadian Poetry in December; as will my short story My Time in Setting the Scene: New Canadian Short Stories.
Did you hear that, Monday? Yes, I believe that was the sound of my boot landing firmly in your behind.
Oh, you don’t think that hurts? Here, let me try the other foot, which has “My prose piece This Place Where I Belong is being published in June 2013 as part of an anthology consisting of the winners of the 2011 Elizabeth Bishop Festival” written alll over it. Yes, I know it’s a big boot to have all that fit on it, but I managed.
So while we can hear Monday groaning and holding onto his buttocks in agony, I want to ask: Have you ever kicked Monday’s butt? Have you received any letters that just brightened your day?
Harvest and Setting the Scene are available for preorder, so if you’re interested in poetry and short stories by Canadians, add it to your cart. 🙂