Anthology

Decisions, decisions

I’m going to submit work for possible inclusion in an anthology. Good. The problem is what to submit.

I have a problem with submission and the judgment that it provokes. I suppose that’s why I loathe résumés. When I had to have a résumé to apply for a job, the hard part was deciding how I wanted to present myself, what to emphasize, what to omit.

This is a little like that, having to guess how a stranger will react to what I present. I like submissions better than résumés, though, because the submissions are my work. The essays I send in are what I actually do. My résumé is brief descriptions of what I’ve done, and although it and my work are both verbal and are examples of my wordsmithing, a résumé is not my work.

So how do I pick what to send? I know which book is my favorite, but From the Edge is close to 300 essays, and, frankly, they’re all a blur from here. Once in a great while a Gentle Reader finds some niggling reason to disagree with my views. Do I submit the essays that provoked a reaction? Maybe, but there have been few that anybody responded to at all.

Mostly, writing these is like kissing a battleship—there’s no detectable response—so maybe it might be better to stick to the pieces I like and not think about how the reader, this time an editor, might react, which is how I usually write them to begin with.

I don’t know what sticks in your minds, so I figure a balance of sorts is my best bet—win, place, and show. When I started going through my files I noticed how my political writing has dropped off. I read a couple of those old things, and, although I pretty much think the same way as I did when I wrote it, I don’t know that I’d write the same things today. I’d rather not think about, say, the Butte County Board of Avengers any more, but already I’m thinking about them, and now you are too. I’m sorry.

I feel like I should include one or two about my estate—the garden, dead cats, and all. I’ve got a couple of old ones about my sons that I like, except now my sons read my stuff and they’re a lot larger. I’ll send something about my practice and our old dog and excessive use of the word “but,” all evergreen. Or I could send the ones that still make me laugh. Absolutely.