“Featuring the work of Karen Fayeth” — a girl could get used to that!
Take a look at issue 32 of Lowestoft Chronicle, where my story Holy Water” has found a home.
Here is a direct link: Holy Water
You can also find a link on the right side of this page.
With much gratitude to editor Nicholas Litchfield and everyone at Lowestoft Chronicle.
I’ve been sitting on this one for a while as I wasn’t sure when I could go public with the news but…..
I am happy to announce my story “Human Sounds” was recently published in Existere, Journal of Arts and Literature, which is affiliated with York University in Toronto, Canada.
That’s right! I’m taking this thing, whatever this thing is that I am doing, over the borders and out to the world!
Since the magazine is published on good old fashioned paper and sold in stores, I don’t have an online link to provide, so I’ve scanned my story so you can read it here.
Here is a direct link: Human Sounds
There is also a link in the right column of this page.
If you like what you read, I encourage you to check out the rest of the issue. There is some amazing writing to be found in Existere.
Thanks for giving me a read and stay tuned, I have another story that is tentatively scheduled to be published in December.
Yay!
Volume 36, Issue 2
My parents were pretty strict when I was growing up, but I’m not here to complain about that. I think my brother, sister and I turned out pretty well, overall. Well, my brother and sister did, jury is still out on me.
But it’s true, my folks were a bit old fashioned and handed down strict discipline. They kept us in line.
One thing my Dad was all about was his kids answering “yes, sir” or “yes, ma’am” when addressed by an adult. It’s ingrained in me, automatic. It’s a show of respect for elders, along with respect for a person’s position.
And so when either of my parents would call out “hey Karen?” I would automatically drop a “yes, sir” or “yes, ma’am” without hesitation.
It’s carried into my adult life and usually has served me well. On a recent visit with one of my favorite Aunties in Michigan, she at one point called out my name and I dutifully replied “yes, ma’am,” and I knew it was right. I felt like a good kid.
As the digits in my age advance, however, I also notice that I get ma’amed here and there. At first I didn’t like it, but then I began to appreciate that for those younger than me, their parents raised them with that same value. Yes sir!
Here’s where it gets weird: My new boss at work? She’s my same age. In fact maybe a year or two younger. She was my peer for the past several years and was recently made the acting manager. It’s also very likely that she will soon be the permanent manager. And I’m okay with that.
I have nothing but respect for her and we’re working out the bounds of going from peers to boss and employee.
Yesterday, she came wheeling into my office, fresh off one of her many meetings each day and with something on her mind. “Hey Karen?” she said sharply.
“Yes ma’am!” I replied.
And she looked at me kind of strangely.
And I looked at her kind of sheepishly.
“Ahem. What can I do for you?” I revised.
It made me think maybe I need to change up the ma’am/sir thing. I mean, it still fits in many cases. For example, if I come across any of the distinguished scientists that I work with, I’m sure as heck going to ma’am or sir them, regardless of age. Or any dignitary.
But maybe I have to realize that I am the grown up now. I am the one to receive the ma’am treatment. I suppose it is time to finally own my own mildly elder status. Right?
It’s just so weeeird! And will take a while to reprogram my brain.
Hey, hey, excited to announce that my mildly creepy little story called “Bugging Out” was published this week in a wonderful literary journal called The Penmen Review.
Affiliated with Southern New Hampshire University, Penmen is a home for some incredible creative writing. Take a look at my story and then stick around and read the other stories too. It’s top notch!
Here’s the direct link: Bugging Out
There is also a link in the right column of this page.
And stay tuned, I have another story due to be published soon. 2017 has been a nice year for my work, and I’m very humble and super excited.
Image that accompanies my story in The Penmen Review
So yeah, I’ll just cut to the chase, I’ve been having a hard time lately. Moving, work, life, storms, general state of politics, hades-like heat in the Bay Area, all of it. Stress. Anxiety. Insomnia. It all just got on top of me, and stood on my neck.
Some days I’m stronger than others, but last week the final drop of strong independent woman inside of me got used up, and I broke. I had been in a prolonged email squabble with a really challenging coworker and I hit a wall. I totally collapsed into tears.
Sobbing, heaving, inconsolable tears. Not in front of the coworker, at least. But still. It was what I believe the kids these days call an ugly cry. Full on.
For a while I was so down, ragged and lost that I thought I might be losing that small tenuous grasp I have on sanity. I was actually pretty scared.
But through some tough love from The Good Man, some actual sleep (I swear lack of sleep would make the most calm person into a raving psychotic), and doing a much better job taking care of myself, I found my way back. Mostly.
I mean, it’s still there at the edges, the crazy I mean. This is the absolutely busiest time of year at my job and things always go a little pear shaped in September anyway. Tempers are quick for everyone and feelings are a little raw.
This too shall pass, it always does. I mean, October 1 is only three weeks away. I can survive three weeks, right?
Today, this lovely Saturday afternoon, when I should have been doing work but just couldn’t bring myself to sit in front of a computer, I instead sat on my back deck with camera in hand, trying to photograph hummingbirds. Not an easy thing, and I’m learning a lot about both the birds and who I am as a photographer.
I shared one I really liked on all the social medias.
Here is another:
Today as I sat and watched and listened and kept my eyes open for the hummingbirds, another animal caught my eye: A Monarch butterfly.
A sure sign of pending Autumn, the monarch. They are special to me in so many ways, not the least of which is how closely tied they are to Dia de los Muertos in the Mexican culture.
I silently wished for the Monarch to land and let me get some photos.
Well, I got my wish, just not quite in the way I expected.
The butterfly flew in listlessly, bumped into a wall, ricocheted and then landed on the side of the deck.
As I got closer, snapping quickly with my telephoto, I soon realized the issue.
“We have an injured warrior out here,” I texted to The Good Man.
I wondered what had happened to this beautiful animal. Did it go through a rough storm? Get batted at by a sporting cat? Fight for territory with another butterfly? Or was it just at the end of a good life?
What sort of hell had this little guy gone through, and how was it still flying?
After some Googling, I tried making some nectar and coaxing it into a box, but alas, no. It mustered up some of its last strength and flew off.
I was left sort of sad, wanting to give the injured insect a safe haven. Wishing I had just left it alone.
But as it flew off on one good wing, I couldn’t help but admire its tenacity.
A tenacity I wish I could find. Or perhaps find a little more of.
May I (and you and we) find the strength to fly on our own battered wings. May my poor ragged butterfly inspire you as it did me.