Time to make Mom Happy

Like many authors, my mom is my biggest fan. She gets almost as excited as I do when she sees my name in ink. Heck, as I’m writing this she is looking for a magnet strong enough to hold the anthologies to her fridge. This all came to a crashing stop with my story Christmas Lasagna. This is a horror/thriller about a family that helps at the local homeless shelter for the holidays. I’m very proud of this story, because this was the first time a publisher accepted me I didn’t know beforehand. There was a stranger I never met that liked my story.
Sidebar, writers are very insecure about our stories. (Well, I am.) I struggle A LOT from self-doubt. Yes, Biker, Writer, Legend – self doubt issues, let’s move on.
So when, The Shadow Over Deathlehem, came out I sent my Mom the first copy. As I’m sure you guessed from the title, this anthology was a little different. A collection of Christmas themed Horror Stories. I was at church with my pastor by my side when she finished reading my story and called me with her review.
SPOILER ALERT: The following may give away some story, but I bet you saw the movie Titanic. Over two hours into the movie and the ship still sank. Still a good movie.
ANYWAY, I’m sitting by my pastor at church. My phone rings, and I see it is from my Mom. When my family calls, I answer that is just who I am. I’m a little hard of hearing so I answer with the speaker phone. That is when my mother screams out… Remember I’m at church, my pastor sitting beside me. We were all just chit-chatting. My Mother screams out.
“YOU KILLED THE LITTLE BOY!”
All the talking in the room stopped and went deathly quiet. I looked at my paster, who was now starring at me slack-jawed. “I need to take this, I’ll be right back,” and hustled out to the hall way.
“Mom, I’m at church can I call you back?”
“NO! You need to stop writing these horrible stories. Why did you kill the little boy?”
“I didn’t just kill the little boy, I killed everyone, they all died.” Wait, that didn’t come out right.
“Why can’t you write happy stories?”
“Because, I had a traumatic childhood?” I was making a joke, but she didn’t get it.
“You did not! We all loved you.”
“Why are you using past tense Mom?”
I walked the halls of the church for an hour as I calmed her down and promised her I’d try to write something happy next time.
Well, I finished a submission to “Chicken Soup for the Soul.” Perhaps they will like me too and then my Mom will put another of my stories on the fridge.

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