THE SECOND PHASE

One day in the late eighties, I was on the phone with the bookstore at the mall, asking if they had copies of Poet's Market, as I was finally ready to buy one of my own and start submitting. While I was on hold, my sister brought in the mail. A submission had been returned and I when I read the response, I almost jumped out of my skin. A small journal called Proof Rock had accepted a poem of mine called "My Ears." The editor had rejected it once, but said she liked it, so I sent other poems to her and re-included "My Ears." The poem used the length of my hair as a symbol to document and comment on the issues of the 70s and early eighties. I wasn't going to put any of the major poets out of business, but I had finally been accepted. When the clerk at the bookstore came back on the line to say they had a copy and would hold one for me if I liked, I told the clerk that I'd just had my first poem accepted.
To this day, I'm sure she thinks I'm insane.
When I received my contributor copy and flipped through it with shaking hands, scanning for my very distinctive last name, I could have died and gone to heaven a happy man. It was a modest volume, with a cardstock cover and xeroxed pages, but to me it might as well have been the Dead Sea Scrolls. I was a published poet.
I had realized a lifelong dream.
After college, and a stint in Los Angeles pursuing acting (including one line on General Hospital), I moved back home to San Diego and began writing and submitting in earnest. This meant mostly poetry, but I occasionally submitted a short story. An early one entitled "Brian's Bride" I began submitting in 1988. This story snagged me a hand-written note from the highly-respected journal Antaeus ("An interesting and well-written story. Just not right for Antaeus"). It may not be apparent, but I can still quote that note from memory. I was thrilled to get that note and knew that maybe, just maybe I was on to something. That story has been to nearly 30 journals since 1988 and still has not been accepted; however, I have added many more personal and hand-written notes to its history about how editors liked it. . .just not enough to publish.
In the last 18 years I have had nearly 20 poems published, a few of them in moderately reputable journals (Exquisite Corpse, Mudfish, Main Street Rag, et. al). I have also garnered a number of personal and hand-written notes about my stories from incredibly reputable magazines (Zoetrope, Boulevard, The Missouri Review), but so far no editor has been willing to take a chance on my prose.
Even though I have yet to place a piece of short fiction, I have written two screenplays, four sitcom episodes, one teaching methods text, a mystery novel, and about a zillion poems. I have also been married, had two children, and established my teaching career. Throughout, I tried to give my writing the time and attention it demanded (and deserved), but writers never seem to write as much or as well as they hoped.
Eventually, I also had to realize that as much as the poetry was for my spiritual health and well-being, it was never going to pay and, spiritual guy that I am, I wanted to make some money for my writing. Something about a family and a mortgage (and, I'm sure the dread of turning 40 didn't help) forced me to get serious.
So a few months before my daughter was born in 1998, I began work on my first novel. But first there was the teaching book. . .