Village Squire, 1975-03, Page 11If you can't make it one way
try another
BY CARMAN SEATON
Have you ever read about those writers that
live in walk-ups and haunt the local greasy
spoons, trying their best to exist until they
become recognized for their true worth? It
really sounds far fetched, but believe me, if I
didn't have a husband to support me, my
home sometimes would be a park bench and
my "Plat De Jour" would be compliments of
the Salvation Army.
I wasn't always this way, I've had very
respectable jobs: first as wife, second as
mother. My days were filled with activity,
compassion and love. But then the kids grew
up, the cats and dogs were house trained and
the easy appliances made for faster
housekeeping. You find your husband and life
quite comfortable and discontent begins to
gnaw your bones.
You seriously consider the Foreign Legion
but realize they don't take anyone your age
and besides, your husband won't go. (He
claims he's done his duty, serving 25 years of
marriage.) The usual steps then are changing
your hair colour, dieting, or taking up a new
hobby, be it golfing, bridge or boyfriends. I
choose writing.
I felt there was a wealth of knowledge to be
relayed to the world by my delicate style and I
was determined to tell it like it was.
Well, after the normal reactions from the
family, such as "You are going to what?",
allotted special hours for special thoughts and
put them down on paper. My first article
seemed to be a little drab so I just coloured it
here and there with my active imagination.
Following the rules for lay -out, I hired a typist
and mailed the manuscript. It was sent 2,000
miles away as I couldn't bear the humiliation
of a local paper being foolish enough to reject
it. I waited impatiently and 3 weeks later a
beautiful cheque arrived in the mail. Imagine,
$25.00 for the first effort, what would the next
ones bring?
The family duly congratulated me and my
youngest, with the diplomacy of a rattle
snake, mentioned it was pure dumb luck and
the editor must be retarded. I knew they all
thought that, but I would show them I was on
the road to success and could repeat the sale.
My kitchen table became ladened with notes,
Thesaurus, dictionary and me.
After 1 had sold 12 out of 15, I became
self-assured and the human interest stories in
our local paper nibbled at my subconscious.
What a wonderful opportunity to meet people
and record their talents and character. I could
really tell it straight and wouldn't have to
camouflage Aunt Mary's and brother Ben's
personalities so they wouldn't know
themselves. (Up to now with my experience,
everyone had recognized the family and I was
in a little hot water.) •
My big break came with the 125th
anniversary of our local church. Now to me,
that was some story, being pre -confederation
deserved some recognition. I queried the
editor of a major newspaper and he was
interested. We discussed some details and he
was even going to send a photographer. out to
cover the day. I could hardly stand the
excitement and the looks on the family's faces
were something to see.
I entered that assignment with the
determination and enthusiasm of a tracking
dog, checking all possible references on past
glories. My interviews included a grand old
lady that remembered the original church.
Not only did I learn about the parish but how
to plant potatoes and the disadvantages of
.modern living versus pioneer life. I soon
became a walking encyclopedia for the
village, even impressing the relatives. There
were more conversations with the editors and
they were going to do art work on the old
church, copying from an antique post card I
had sent in. I could visualize a full page
set-up and a by line with my name appearing
for everyone to see.
Well the day arrived and I attended the
church services to get the feel of the
congregation. (Hadn't been to church for six
years.) I even put a $1.00 on the collection
plate feeling that's the least I could do for
what they were doing for me. There was no
sign of a photographer present but I figured
they had perhaps taken previous pictures of
the church.
After the services, I rushed home, grabbed
the dictionary and created my masterpiece.
My loyal friend who had deliberately stayed
home that day typed the "beginning of a new
career". I made the dead -line and presented
the article to the newspaper office, returning
home with the satisfaction of things to come.
Nothing came. I don't know whether the
editor died, got fired or just took a vacation.
The newspaper presented a three inch
announcement and there wasn't a word I
could recognize as mine.
I'II admit I was a little upset at them for not
realizing the opportunity they had passed by.
I had spent approximately 12 hours and $4.50
(including gas, church donation and typist
fees). But after a long and thoughtful
discussion with my practical side, I decided
who needs a newspaper article? 1 have just
touched my side of the family and there's a
wealth of stories on my husband's family
tree. It possibly means less relations to speak
to but in the field of writing, one must print
what people want to read. I have found
through this experience that cousin Marie's
weekend disappearances and Uncle Will's
gouty toe brings in more money than a church
celebration.
The only thing that troubles me is I'II have
to send my stories 3,000 miles away and I'II
never see them in print. Because if I don't
and my husband catches on to the exposes, I
doubt if he'll even feed me.
BEA UTIFUL FLOWERS
FOR YOUR
WEDDING DAY
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO PHONE US
FOR AN APPOINTMENT TO DISCUSS FLOWERS
FOR YOUR WEDDING.
THE HANDICRAFT
306 Josephine St..
Wingham
357-2023
After six phone 357-3262
VILLAGE SQUIRE/MARCH 1975, 9