Friday, December 23, 2016

Handymen

About three years ago, right in the middle of messy renovations in my house, I wrote a story in anger as a reaction to the crap I'd been dealing with from contractors and other tradesmen either working in my house or trying to secure work in my house.

There was the smelly guy who stole my utility knife, tried to convince me that my roof was leaking (it wasn't), and was taken off the job by his boss because he was "unqualified," before being reassigned again after missing the three days I'd taken off work. He wanted to work at night. He was fired.

There was the plumber who "accidentally" left items at my house so that he would have to come back for them later. He would sit in his van in front of my house from time to time, just watching. He didn't get past the "estimate" stage because it was all just too creepy.

There was the contractor who "forgot" a court date on the same day as my job so he didn't show up.

There was the guy who called me hon. He also left a few things at my house so he could come back for them. To date, that has never happened.

And then there was the guy who was a friend of another guy who worked on my place. This one was an equal mix of condescension, creepy inappropriate flirting, and angry political ranting while trying to sell me carpet. He also left a sample board at my house though I was clear that I wanted none of the selections he assured me were the ones I "needed."

So I wrote about it. Except, in my story, it isn't the single woman alone in the house that should be afraid of these guys. The story opens with blood soaking the upstairs carpet. A lot of it.

I didn't think about that story again for a long time. In the interim, I've had many good, decent people working in and on my house. I finished a kitchen renovation that took nearly 10 months. It's amazing! But when I saw a call for fiction submissions for "the monster within," I thought of this story. I pulled it out, dusted it off, and sent it over without much expectation.

The editor sent me a reply. Not a rejection. A reply.

She asked for some light revisions - a little less backstory, a little dialogue tweaking - which I did willingly before resubmitting. It was accepted immediately.

I'm a published author!

Not what I expected from this story, certainly, but I'm all for happy moments coming from less happy inspiration. If you are curious, the ebook anthology is available here. The print version will be released in 2017.

So next time you are FED UP, write that stuff down. It might bring you more than catharsis.