Still Waiting (Sigh) and More from “Call Girl”

while you are waiting

Happy New Year, a little belated. I am still waiting to hear back from various Literary Agents and small publishers.

I’ve had some bites, but nothing that’s resulted in a contract. Yet. I’ve been at this querying business for some time now. Publishing is a funny business. Lots of communication going one way. Relatively few responses. It’s standard for the industry, or so I’m told, so I must be patient, like the dog in the photo. Ohmmmmmmmm…..

So, for now, here’s another excerpt from my new book, Call Girl. (Part of Chapter 1 was already posted on this site.) It’s a women’s fiction comedy set in the late 80s about a young woman struggling to balance motherhood and work as a call center supervisor at the city’s daily newspaper. The characters in the call center are larger than life crazy, and the boss is a womanizing schmuck who’ll do anything to work his way up the corporate ladder, including some shady dealings with the publisher.


I drove down the freeway carpool lane with Trey crying in the backseat the whole way.

“There’s nothing I can do little man,” I soothed. Well, except maybe reach back behind the seat as far as my arm would go and stick my index finger, upside down in his mouth so he could suck on it. He’d pushed the binky out of his mouth on to the floor somewhere. Nice. If I could have felt around the floor, picked it up and sucked on it myself to clean in off, I would have popped it back in his mouth. A little mom germs and dirt never hurt. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.

So, I drove with one hand on the wheel, an arm twisted oddly behind me and a near dislocated shoulder. By the time I got to Kute Kid’s Korner, I was a frazzled mess. Plus, the daycare name bugged the hell out of me. If it were one kid, then “Kid’s” would have been grammatically correct, but for multiple kids, the apostrophe should have been after the “s” as in “Kids’”.

Call me a grammar bitch. Well, excuuuuuse me! But, I worked at a newspaper, where words and grammar actually matter. Yes, I worked in the call center, not the newsroom, but that’s beside the point.

I picked up my warm bundle of a napping son, walked towards the front door of Kute-Kid’s-Korner-with-the-Errant-Apostrophe, stopped and broke into a sweat, like the kind of icky sweaty feeling you get when your blood sugar is low. What in the hell was I doing there, deserting my not quite three month old? Trey deserved a full-time mother! Why, oh why had I been born in the mid-60s when most moms stayed home to raise their children, bake Betty Crocker cakes, make Jell-O with canned fruit cocktail and wear highly questionable polyester fashions in polka dots and gingham only to have a child in the late-80s, when most American moms had to drive down the freeway with crying babies and work to pay the bills? If Kute-Kid’s-Korner-with-the-Errant-Apostrophe had him from 7:00 am – 4:30 pm, that would be nine and a half hours. If I had him the rest of the time, and he slept six of those hours, that left me eight and a half hours. Gah! He’d grow up thinking these daycare women were his mommies, and wonder who the stranger was picking him up in the afternoons!

Trey stirred in my arms. Time to feed him again. Let me tell you, that boy was a chub! At his six week checkup, he weighed fifteen pounds. Did that register? Fifteen pounds! Some one year olds don’t weigh that much. Maybe it was all that good Mexican food. Beans and rice, chips, guacamole and an occasional Dos Equis were making my breastmilk especially fattening.



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