Last Things

This morning, while snowflakes fluttered past the windows, Mom died. I held her hand and told her how much I loved her.

Several years ago she wrote a semi-autobiographical novel about her childhood called Afraid of the Moon, which eventually I'll get around to publishing. Here's a little excerpt that I keep thinking of; it's one of her own memories, and the little girl called Jessie in the story is essentially my mother.


Jessie and Mack had a record player, and Jessie's favorite record was "Thumbelina." She had a stack of yellow Golden records in paper cases, but Thumbelina was the record she played most often.

"Thumbelina, Thumbelina, tiny little thing,
Thumbelina, dance, Thumbelina, sing."

Thumbelina was a fairy tale princess who had grown in a pot for an old man and old woman who wanted a child. She was as small as a thumb.

One day while Jessie was listening to Thumbelina, a thought stole into her head.

She began to wonder about being sick and about dying.

People died, and there seemed to be no reason for it. It was like the day she had been singing, had felt sick, and then everything went dark. Was that like dying? Was it like falling asleep? Was it like the spinning red lights she saw when the doctor placed the black mask over her mouth at the hospital?

What if this was her day to die? She hadn't known the day of the May Day rehearsal would be her day to faint, but it had been. No one could help her, and no one could stop it.

Maybe tonight, when she went to bed, would be her last night.

She would lie down, go to sleep, and never wake up.

She didn't care about heaven. She didn't want to go there. She didn't understand things she couldn't see. Jesus was a painting over her bed, but he wasn't in the room, and Heaven was something they talked about, not a real place like her grandmama's house in Oklahoma.

Jessie turned off Thumbelina. The tinny, merry song had become eerie and unsettling. Was this the last time she would hear it?

She walked into the kitchen quietly, feeling cold. She asked Mother, who was cooking at the stove, for a cookie.

"It's close to supper, Jessie. "

"Please, Mother: just one. "

Mother gave Jessie a chocolate marshmallow cookie out of the jar. "One--and don't show Mack. I don't want his supper ruined."

Jessie carried the cookie back to her bedroom. She sat in her chair and ate it slowly. It would be her last cookie.

While they ate supper, Jessie asked Daddy: "Can we go for a drive tonight?"

Daddy liked to take the family out in the car on Sunday afternoons. Sometimes he'd stop at the A&W for frosted mugs of root beer.

"I don't think so, Jessie," he said. "It's a school night."

"Please, Daddy. I want to go, please."

"Why don't you take her?" said Mother. "You need to get milk, and I can give Mack a bath."

They drove along the highway, and Jessie looked at everything. The last time she'd pass that tree. The last time she'd pass the white church on the corner. The last time she'd pass the school.

"You're very quiet, Jessie," said Daddy. "Want some music?" He turned on the radio, and "How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?" was playing. "That's a song you like!"

Jessie listened to the song mournfully; it was her last time to hear it.

Mack was in clean pajamas, and he hugged Jessie when she came home. "Jessie!" he said. He smelled like baby soap. His hair was brushed and damp.

Jessie hugged him close: the last hug.

"It's time for your bath, Jessie," said Mother, "and then you need to get to bed. Tomorrow is school."

I won't be going to school anymore, thought Jessie bleakly. She went in to take her last bath.
After lights-out, she began to cry into her pillow. All the last things were done, and now it was time to go to sleep and die.

Mother opened the door a crack. "Are you crying?"

"No." Jessie wiped her eyes on her pajama sleeve.

"Yes, you are. What's wrong?"

Jessie began to sob loudly. "Am I going to die tonight?--because I don't want to!"

"You're not going to die. Where did you get that crazy thought?"

Jessie didn't believe her mother anymore. How could her mother stop her from dying? Was she stronger than God and Jesus? If they wanted her to die, she would.

Mother went out of the room, and soon Daddy came in. He sat down beside her on her bed.

"What's this about dying?" he asked her. "Do you think you're going to die tonight?"

Jessie nodded. Her nose was running onto her upper lip. She licked it off with her tongue.

"When I was seven," Daddy said, "I thought I was going to die, too."

Jessie stared at him. "You did?"

"Yes, I really thought I would die, but I didn't. See? Here I am!"

"Why do people die?" asked Jessie.

"Mostly they die when they get very old or very sick. But you aren't sick. You are very healthy."

"I fainted at school."

"You were just too hot. That isn't being very sick." Daddy patted her on the arm. "I think that young children are still new, still close to being born, so they don't know about things like dying. That makes it seem scary, like it could just happen for no reason. But there is a reason. You aren't going to die. Tomorrow you'll get up and go to school, and Sunday we'll drive around and then get a root beer at the A&W. Okay?"

Jessie nodded and smiled. "Okay."

"Do you want to hear a record?" asked Daddy, standing up.

"Yes, please: Thumbelina."

Daddy turned on the record player for her, and she listened to Thumbelina. He turned out the light and shut the door.

Looking into 2012

Things feel very unsettled for me right now. I don't know what to expect day to day with Mom's health, which makes it hard to plan for the immediate future. But my writing schedule is pretty well set for the year. Here's what I have coming up in 2012.

January 6
My steampunk novella Goldie will be released from Musa, for only 99 cents! I have cool bookmarks ordered that I'll be giving away as soon as they arrive next week.

April
My novelette "Never Be Alone" will appear in the spring issue of Strange, Weird and Wonderful Magazine, and I'll also be the Featured Writer of that issue.

July
I just found out (adding this January 1) that my novel Evil Outfitters, Ltd will be released from Double Dragon in July, more than six months ahead of schedule!

Summer
My novel The Weredeer will hopefully be released from BeWrite Books. We've had a lot of delays, none of them anyone's fault--my editor had to have eye surgery, my mom got sick, etc. But the editing is nearly finished and hopefully soon I'll have some cover artwork to show you. This is my favoritest book I've ever written. I can't wait to share it with the world.

Labor Day Weekend
I'll be at the World Science Fiction Convention in Chicago this weekend, where I'm hoping to meet up with some of the other writers still waiting to hear our final decisions from Angry Robot Books.

I've got some other stuff I'm working on, some rewrites and revisions that will hopefully bear fruit by the end of the year. I have a short story and a novella already scheduled for release in 2013, and if The Weredeer does well the sequel may be released in 2013 also. I'm also messing around with doing some self-publishing, starting with that misguided romance I wrote last year (I'm just not a romance writer). And I'm going to try to write more short stories this year, since I miss that instant gratification from sending a story out and getting a yes from an editor in weeks instead of months (or years).

All the best to everyone in the remaining hours of 2011, and good luck to all of us in 2012 and beyond. Assuming the world doesn't actually end next December, and I'm pretty sure it won't.

One thing I did right in 2011

I've flossed my teeth every single day this year. No matter what. Before, I was a floss-sometimes-but-not-every-day person. On January 1, 2011, the one new year's resolution I made was to floss daily. And I have! Even while I was staying with Mom at the hospital, I flossed every day. And now, I cannot imagine going without flossing.

With this success, I'm sure I will accomplish even more in 2012.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve

I guess I should update. It's not like I haven't been around, I just haven't had anything to say. Mom is not doing well. She's on hospice now, which is end-of-life in-home care. Yesterday a friend of hers visited and told me to call if I ever needed someone to sit with Mom while I napped or ran errands or whatever. She said she could read while Mom slept. I didn't say so, but reading while Mom sleeps, or just sitting with her and watching a stupid TV show, is precious time for me. Those are the good times. The times when I wish I could call someone in to take over are ones that I would never delegate to anyone else: like half an hour ago when I wished Mom goodnight and turned out her lamp, and immediately heard her start vomiting up her evening meds. I had to jump into crisis mode--crisis mode is a daily occurrence now, which is why I'm always exhausted--and get her cleaned up, the bed stripped and remade with clean linens, her back in bed, and now I have two loads of laundry to do.

So. Well, maybe I shouldn't have posted tonight after all.

I hope everyone out there has a peaceful and non-vomit-filled holiday season.

Cover time!

Oh, and after hitting "publish" on that long, rambling post a few minutes ago, I just remembered what I was actually going to post about. I have a cover for "Goldie," my steampunks Goldielocks novella being published in January by Musa. Isn't it beautiful?

The trouble with ebooks is that it's not practical to hold giveaway contests. It's not like a print book where you have a copy you can pick up and sign and put in an envelope and send to the winner. But maybe I can think of something else to give away when "Goldie" is released. Any suggestions?

Read like the wind

Goodreads is giving people badges for their pages if they meet their reading goals. That's it, I have to spend the next few weeks doing nothing but reading. Fortunately, that's precisely what I was wanting to do anyway. And I only have 21 books left to meet my goal!

Mom's started back on her chemotherapy this week, and her new schedule is miserable (although at least it's not giving me migraines the way it is poor Mom). Before, she went in once every three weeks for a session that lasted about six hours. It was a long, wretched day but I could spend most of it reading or writing while Mom napped or listened to her MP3 player. Now, though, she's been switched to a one-hour session every day for a week (M-F) and then two weeks off. That means that I have to drive Mom to her session in Knoxville in the morning, drive her home and get her settled, drive to work late (I'm using three hours of sick leave every day this week, more than I have, so I'll be into leave without pay again by the end of the month), and drive home. I'm putting over 100 miles on my car every day. And there's not enough time for me to read more than a few pages per her chemo session, and all my free time is spent in the car.

So if I don't get my Goodreads badge, blame Mom's oncologist. I plan to.

I've been reading a lot of mysteries lately, especially an awesome police procedural series I discovered a few months ago by Barry Maitland. They're the kind of books I was hoping to find earlier this year. Unfortunately for my book count, they're long and densely written. Maybe I'll make up my Goodreads numbers by reading a lot of picture books. That counts, right?

Read and finish

It's been a grim and exhausting week, and a few nights ago I opened Word and clicked on my Bloodhound file. I wanted to read something dark and bleak, yet full of violence with a noble purpose, and at the same time I needed it to be something I'd already read so I wouldn't have any nasty surprises. So obviously I chose my own book.

I'm giving it a careful reread with some revisions on the way. When I get to the unfinished ending, I'll just finish it. I know what I want to do with it, and I want to finish it before the end of the year.

The end of the year. How did 2011 flit by so quickly?