I submitted my essay for the 'confessions' issues [of a national women's magazine]. It was a true story of a practical joke a friend and I played on my sister-in-law, that took on a life of its own. Before you judge let me say my husband's sister was a teller of really tall tales ("I'm going on tour with Joan Jett," "Revlon is offering me a contract," that sort of thing), and I decided to call her on it. As for the confession part – we never even told my husband until it was over. Our excuse was that we wanted a 'clean' man on the outside in case anything went down (ie, someone who could pass a polygraph).
My essay was rejected. I'm used to rejection. But the only essay included that month by [another] Atlanta writer was in my humble opinion stupid. The point of her essay was that she always tried to make sure she wore a necklace every day, no matter how she felt, so people would think she had it all together. Right. Now what made it ridiculous to me, was that this gal is a local columnist, owner of a boutique PR firm with high profile political clients, and is often featured in the daily rag for her happy hours with the girls. You know, how their shoes cost more than most folks monthly car note, their cocktail tab (for 4 – 6 dames) hit just under a grand, yeah, like that. Her husband is a well known local celebrity in broadcasting who, according to the newspaper, made about half a mil a year. And I'm supposed to give any part of a rodent's anatomy that she wears a necklace to give the appearance she's together?
Now I'm really not one to toot my own vuvuzuela(sp?,) but this time I thought my story much more meaningful and entertaining. And if you would like to judge for yourself, it is the first post on my blog Memoirs Of A Misanthrope, and is titled “Don't F*%k With Me.”Is this essay worthy of publication in a national women's magazine? Thanks to The Misanthrope for sending it in.