Why Am I So Nervous?

Okay, I’m out of excuses — I need to send My Last Romance and other passions off to press AND I JUST CAN’T DO IT! I’m a nervous wreck. Why?

I wrote the eight stories that make up this book over a period of years and, though a few friends read them, they mostly lived in my desk. A couple years ago when Skye Alexander was working on Riptide: Crime Stories by New England Writers she invited me to submit a short story. “It can be about any kind of crime,” she said. I thought of Asa, which ultimately was printed in Riptide and is now in this collection. It was my first printed piece of fiction. I waited for the sky to fall but it didn’t.

Asa is told from the perspective of a woman in her 80s looking back on her still passionate love for her dead husband. They were married when she was barely 16 and he 20. He was killed in a hunting accident a few years later and she spent the rest of her life mourning him and involved in an extremely passionate and entirely imaginary affair with him. Since the story has already been printed I guess I’m not giving anything away when I mention the aside that she was the one who shot him. Small detail. He was a philanderer and she couldn’t stand the thought of sharing him so she found the perfect way to keep him all to herself — at least in her fantasies.

But as people read the story and talked to me about it, the thing they mentioned over and over was how much they enjoyed hearing a woman in her 80s talking about passion. That go me thinking about some of the other stories I had written which dealt with people at various stages in life dealing with passion — for the first time, for the hundredth time, and possibly for the last time.

Being over 50 and writing about passion is tricky stuff. A lot of people find that distasteful. I remember the comment of a teenaged friend who had just watched the move “Something’s Gotta Give” with Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton in a passionate affair. “It was about two old people trying to figure out how to have sex,” my young friend said. “It was kind of gross.” Si-i-i-i-ighhh. The conceits of the young.

So I pulled out my fat file of short stories and culled through them for the ones with passion as their theme. I knew that a book of short stories was a long shot in the world of publishing — if Alice Munro isn’t getting hers published, what chance do I stand. But, of course, that is the beauty of modern publishing. Small presses are making a dent in the publishing world — a thing I know since I own one. The way I look at it, if I publish this book and five people buy it that’s five people who wouldn’t read the stories if they stay in my desk. Right?

I picked out the ones I loved. The ages of the lovers vary widely. Guy, the principle character in Waiting for Lindy, is over 50 and hopelessly in love with 40-something Lindy. The lovers in Damian are young. The married couples in Danse Avec Moi and Treat Yourself to the Best could be any age. My favorite lovers, Ruby and Silvio from the title story My Last Romance, are 60 and 73 respectively and they both still smoke.

So why am I scared to send this off to press? I’m not that many years from 60 myself. Maybe it frightens me to have people know that a woman my age (horrors!) Wrote this stuff. Well, I’ll get it out there — I will! I promise..... tomorrow.....

Thanks for reading.