RIP - HJ


I had a boss once. He was my favorite. He was not judgmental, fair, strong, funny, good looking. His heart was gold. He lived a life that reflected his deep held beliefs of chivalry and honor.

Friday, he put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

I found out yesterday that he had died. I knew when I read the short letter from two girls I used to work with. I read a letter telling me of the need to speak with me and knew HJ was dead. The letter gave no hint of the sudden reason for speaking with me and yet I knew in my core what it was. I even told Tony, "HJ is dead," I said nonchalantly, "Must have been a heart attack."

After all HJ was of the right age and worked his ass off.

Today, after one of my students had left, I sat down to read my email and within the first three sentences was over come with grief, anger and disbelief. "What a waste," rolled over in my mind as Tony rocked me and told me it was going to be alright.

The letter had started as I had expected, "I hate to do this over email but Friday HJ died." I sat thinking about celebrating his life and seeing his soul over to the waters of forgetting and on to his next incarnation. The letter continued and said, "all we know was it was a self inflicted gun shot wound."

I can't pretend I have never thought about suicide. I find it hard to believe that there hasn't been some time in everyone's life where the thought that sweet and peaceful death would be better than the life of pain being currently experienced. When you loose sight of the fact that today is but a moment and it will pass, death is the better option.

But HJ? Seriously, even knowing his death had occurred, all I could think about was celebrating a life well lived, if not cut a bit short. The HJ I knew was vivacious, alive, confident. Now they aren't even going to celebrate him. Old laws of the Christians seeping in to rob him of even the memory that there was something good and worthy about the life he lived, if not the way he choose to die.

Tony talk over all the possible reasons why he might have chosen this. I won't repeat them here because they would be rumor mongering and I won't pretend I knew HJ well enough to even guess. Tony and I have grieved that we lost touch with this man who knew my religion and told me once it just meant to him that witches must be "pretty all right" because I was in deed "all right."

I think of him every time I sign my letters to editors, agents and publishing houses. I end with "Cordially," a trick of HJ's that said set his letters to vendors, employees and the press out from others. It was warm. It was personable and it was still professional. I mark down "Cordially," and smile knowing I am only setting myself apart from other authors because I had been given a great example by a man who wasn't even an artist.

He came to my wedding and gave us a great gift. He was genuinely happy to be there. Happy for Tony and I and the love we had obviously found.

I thought of HJ this past weekend at my writer's conference. When I left his employment, he made sure to give me a genuine leather briefcase complete with a place to store a laptop. He was excited that I was going to try my hand at success defined in some other way than by the roads of corporate America. He wanted to support me. As I walked into the conference, nice briefcase slung over my shoulder, the monogram shining in silver LMC. HJ knew that gold is not my color, silver is. I found it hard not to feel completely grateful. Grateful that HJ had taken the time to so equip me. I passed other would be writers carrying batter briefcases and knew that HJ's adage that half the battle for success was to appear successful was playing out right there at that conference.

Being who I am and believing what I do, I have allowed the ideas that HJ's death although appearing wasteful to me was at least his choice. He wanted to die. I would not recommend this course of action because it's finality is so thoroughly complete. Yet, I have felt HJ in my house since the first email. He is smiling and looking at my altar. He was not burdened and happy. Out of the corner of my eye he was there. And as soon as the reality of his death stole upon me he left...in shame.

All I wanted to say then is this:

Don't leave me HJ. You don't have to. Stay. Stay and give me the wisdom of your life and situation so that the next time, that very next time I will have your insight to help me help someone else. I am not going to judge you or condemn your life or your death. I believe everything is a choice and who am I to ridicule yours. Stay so that when Samhein steals upon this land, you will be close at hand. I will light black candles for you and leave them on an empty altar. A silent tribute to your life which was a light to others. A tribute to choice, which you made. Remind me how difficult it is to find those you admire and respect and how important it is to keep them in your life. Don't leave in shame. Stay and know that Tony and I both respected you, loved you and have always found it an honor to call you friend. We are sorry. Sorry for our years of silence. Sorry that we lost touch. Sorry that in your final moments you didn't know all that I am telling you now.

Stay with our love,

Cordially,
LMC

Harriett Austin Writers' Conference, The Business of Writing and Its Adverse Affects, Harry Potter

People are beginning to email me, impatient that I haven't posted what my first writers' conference was like. Truth is I am trying to assimilate the information, decide whether I found it to be of benefit and what I would like to say about it. On top of all that, Harry Potter came out and I would be lying if I said that it didn't distract me. It has been calling me, "Dia...Dia....don't you want to know who dies???" Very distracting to say the least.

So last night I finished Harry Potter. Don't worry, there are no spoilers here. I will say I enjoyed the last half better than the first. I encourage people who are reading the first half with mounting apprehension, to keep reading and do not skip to the end and read the last few pages. Trust me, you are going to like the ending. It is all alright. Just keep reading. I will also say that my husband is glad I finished. Our house was punctuated with gasps and shouts of, "NO!" or "GET OUT!" last night for a good four hours. He was really tired of saying, "What? What happened..no wait, don't tell me." Dang, how can any writer ignore the release of Harry Potter this week, but enough of that.

I am completely bogged down in the business of writing and it is making me crazy. OK crazier than I would be normally. With contracts looming in front of me and some serious obstacles toward publication, I feel like I have landed on the planet of publishing and do not quite speak the language. I spoke with a lovely agent yesterday who said I was afraid of a "turnip contract."

Confused about this farming metaphor, especially since I was raised on one, she carefully explained that I didn't want to be the turnip that feel off the truck, got picked up and eaten alive. I concur. That is most certainly a fate I am currently worried over. Having a back ground in business does not help this. I feel like I know enough to see the pitfalls, or some of them anyway; however, if I do not find them in time, I could easily succumb to turnip syndrome.

I had high hopes that theHarriett Austin Writers' Conference would help elevate some of my stress and give me better bearings. I went looking for answers about how to find an agent, how to begin to submit magazine articles and enter contests and how to make myself more marketable. I learned many things; however, answers to these specific questions were not forth coming.

How to Find An Agent?

Evidently, you don't. I asked several published authors how they found their agents and got evasive answers as if they were protecting some vein of gold they had found to mine. The one who finally answered the question said, "I was sitting in the airport and we struck up a conversation." I am still not sure if I believe him.

I went to classes held by a guy named Chip MacGregor about agents and the business of writing. I found Chip to be personable, well, vivacious, well, a consummate salesman who has honed his pitching skills so that he doesn't come off as a used car guy. He has a small clientele that is made up mostly of authors who are Inspirational Fiction. Just in case you guys are as clueless as I am, Inspirational Fiction is code for Christian Fiction. I have NO clue why they would use "inspirational" to describe it; however, not being a Christian I suppose I really don't care.

Chip gave a session on working with an agent that I found moderately helpful. Filled with information I had already researched and received from other sources. The second class of his I attended was called "Making a Living at Writing." I had hoped to hear specifics about submitting articles and the like; however, he gave seven rules to becoming a successful writer. You know like "be organized," "be focused," and "be disciplined." I enjoyed this one better and was disappointed that it didn't address what I had hoped.

Other Sessions

Lucy Rosenthal gave a creative writing class. I got much from the exercises she sent us before the class; however, the class itself was a bit unhelpful.

I went to a copyright seminar with a law guy. I was amused to discover that something is copyrighted the moment that it is in it's final form. So this blog is, in essence, copyrighted.

I also attended a seminar called Money for Nothing and Your Clicks for Free where I discovered that I was already doing everything that the presenter was going to suggest about increasing traffic to ones website and there by increasing ones on presence on the web. She gave some suggestions that I hadn't heard of that she didn't really cover in depth. The class ended up being filled with people who were a bit electronically challenged. I felt like Hermione Granger with my laptop and hand up with an affirmative at every question.

Other People

At the Meet and Greets, dinners and in the corridors I met lots of nice people. Nancy Love, an agent from New York was extremely helpful and kind to give her time to me. I also met Chuck Sambuchino. Who was a pleasant guy who listened to me ramble about my challenges and was encouraging.

I met a man named William E. Bray who had written the book Your Spiritual Lineage: Researching the Genealogy of Your Soul. Bray was a fascinating man whom I enjoyed talking with him over dinner. I bought his book and he introduced me to his partner at Bilbo Books (no link available at this time), Bowman. Bowman was a hilarious guy and if I were single, skinnier and younger, I would be in Athens next weekend chasing him. All seriousness aside, he gave the impression of a driven young man who was passionate about life. He was a joy to talk with.

College Haunts

Sitting with Bray and Bowman the first time I met them was an extraordinary woman by the name ofGeri Taran. She was so engaging, friendly and passionate about all things writing. She has established an online group called In the Company of Writers to present webinars about writing to busy writers. I think the idea is brilliant and from what I have perused, something well worth the time and effort.

Geri and I also shared a "it's a small world moment." I was talking about my background, once again explaining why a bred and born Georgian didn't sound southern. "I took Shakespearean Theatre as a concentration in college," I explained. Geri sat straight up and demanded to know the name of my alma mater. When I said, "North Georgia College and State University," she squealed and said, "Then Brian Jay Corrigan was your professor."

Now I must say I was shocked that she would know this. I might also say that out of my many mentors and professors at my beloved NGC&SU, Brian would not rank as high as some thers. I found him to be brilliant, truly outstanding in his field. No bull here, I watched him carefully and come to deeply respect him. However, I constantly got the idea he would just as soon work with a toad than with me. My ex also had Brian in college and loved him. Brain inspired in him creativity and a drive few others could. I recently ran into Brian on the streets of Dahlonega, attempted to make a polite conversation and introduce him to my son. My ex has told my boy all about theatre and working with Brian, so I thought it might be nice for him to get a taste of my ex husband's favorite professor. From my perspective, I was completely snub which simply served to confirm his contempt for me years and years later.

As all of this washed over me, I looked into Geri's eyes knowing full well she expected me to gush about Brian's brilliance. Having had a glass of wine, which you all know I never do, I was very forthright about my opinion of the man, to my horror. So I tried to change the subject and drink more wine. I apologized the next day for my blunt, even if it was truthful from my perspective, comments. I continue to hope that Geri doesn't judge me too harshly for one comment on one day after more wine than I had had in four years.

Then today I went on line to see Geri's site and out of curiosity saw the link on that same site about Brian. I clicked on it and would you believe that Brian is the recipient of the 2006 Georgia Writers Association Author of the Year! I was shocked and a bit humbled. I never even knew he had an interest in writing. He has written a book called The Poet of Loch Ness. According to the link I have given, he has received rave reviews and it seems translated it into Gaelic. I was stunned to think how much he and I actually have in common. It occurred to me that we probably didn't like each other because we are in many ways, alike. I bet he is as mortified as I am at that prospect.

It got me to thinking about college and the changes that come after those formidable years. I look back now and see what I was involved with and where I was heading and shuttered. My life now is so completely different. It makes me wonder if professors remember to let their students grow up? I certainly did not allow Brian the room to grow, change and become something more than I had perceived all those years ago.

Well, enough about old places, times and people. Geri gave me one of the greatest comments ever. After listening about what my current project is she exclaimed, "But you don't even look like a witch!" Sitting there in my black pearls, long black skirt, conservative purple top and brand new heels, I was overwhelmed with thanks. I hope that I look like me, was my reply. I owe Geri a reading for her loving support, kindness and willingness to forgive a moment of weakness after my first glass of wine in four years.

Other Writers and Witty 86-year-olds

I also was privilege to meet the Southern Scribes, all of them. I met Genie first who thought she knew me. She provided me with the startling revelation that Harriett Austin was a woman who was still alive. I turned to her and said, "I wasn't sure she existed." In reply, Genie drug me over to a small woman of eight-six and introduced me. Explaining that I wasn't sure of her existence. Ms. Austin turned to shake my hand and said, "That's o.k., I am not sure that I exist either."

I also met Patricia and Kathy who have agreed to work with me on a small on line critique group. They were always ready with a quick smile and encouragement. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting them and look forward to continuing our relationship in the future. They both exposed me to the Atlanta Writer's Club. http://www.atlantawritersclub.org/

Conclusions

I liked it. I wish my fiction manuscript had been ready for review and entrance into the contest. It wasn't; however, it is a goal to shoot for. I wasn't blown away by the seminars; however, next year I have a better feel for what I might like to take and could choose better. So I don't know. I think time will tell.

For the record, Tony says it was worth it completely as do Sharon, my friend who owns her own business and is more business savvy than even I am. I, however, am concentrating right now on the looks of fascinated horror anytime I explained what my project was about. I have rarely experienced so much caution when it came to my religion than I did this weekend. It was like I had stepped out of my world where Wiccans and witches just are and into a world where I was an alien that needed to be avoided. ... or maybe they would just prefer to work with toads, too.