An Ode To The EBWW

The time was here and it was time to go, Northward, and upward, to Dayton to show That I'm a writer, I belong, No apologies, you know? The phone rang at five with Sharon on the line, We're here in the bar with EB and the gang. Are you coming tonight in support of our Wanda? In case you forgot, she won Honorable Mention. Tracy, of Lost in Suburbia fame was the featured speaker, Another faculty member was there too, but I can't pronounce her name It's Wojciechowski of Wojo's World. Nice to meet you, she said. How do you pronounce your name? It's Gianetta, I said and I'll sit right there, Oh, no you won't, not in that chair. Could you move to the left said the feeble old voice, A gray-haired lady helped make my choice. A neighbor of Erma's, she turned out to be She hated going places where she just couldn't see. At the hotel with business cards in hand, I was hanging with Rose, EB and the gang Introducing myself to everyone I saw Another faculty member, it's Suzette, ya'll Then there was Donna, Steve, Bonnie and Jeanne Too many others, as I worked the scene Over to a table where they quietly sat Two ladies with journals and paper to pen I'm Gianetta, I said; it's sure nice to meet you. You're the middle-aged fat woman, one said and we read you! Unbelievable, I thought; it's finally happened Acknowledgment for my craft and they weren't even kin. Onward to dinner with Donna Louise and friends Which started a tradition; perhaps a new trend. For every meal of which I was to partake My table's food was absent, impossibly late. The ballroom was jumping, we were feeling alive When up stepped Zweibel from Saturday Night Live. Stories of Lorne, Gilda and he Comic talents unleashed for the world to see Morning dawned bright as I searched the round tables, Searching for an agent was the topic I chose No agents were there, we wondered and supposed. Off to the lectures of Lefler and Berk Beautifully talented women with knowledge to share Approachable, engaging with time to spare. Answering questions from a rookie like me Keep on writing, it'll happen, you'll see. The noon meal was spent with a Pulitzer Prize Winner You're a writer, she said, we need more women. More voices to spread the joy of laughter Oh crap, I thought, I've got to meet her. Gianetta, she said. Did I pronounce that right? Tell me about yourself, what is it that you do? Hello? Are you in there? Cat got your tongue? The silence was looming; I was completely stunned. Only once before had I lost my voice My first time on radio announcing the news Uh, Pulitzer Prize winner, I'm in awe, can't you see I'm the Middle Aged Fat Woman, people call me G. Well, I think you're beautiful, a fellow Buckeye too. Do you have a card, she asked? Why yes, why yes, I most certainly do. Lights! Camera! Video with the Bobblehead Dad Videos are great to add pizzazz to your brand. Let the readers know what you're all about This iPhone right here, I can't live without. No time to rest, no time to change gears We left the UD Campus with knowledge to spare. Back to the Marriott for another late arriving meal To hear Adrianna speak of growing up well Well represented in a big Italian family A Cosby Show Writer fresh from Indiana. Big Stone Gap and many others to follow Laughter, applauding making it difficult to swallow. The entrée of choice wasn't a favorite of mind Thank goodness for dessert, chocolate, my favorite kind. There I stood waiting patiently in the drink line When a Bombeck approached, with a thought on her mind. We spoke of our mothers, not so different Both women of Ohio; trendsetters and gifted. Little sleep in the night; I was too wound up Back the next day for some Hypnotic Recall. My visit from Dad and a message for me Hey, kid you're doing all right, I'm really glad to see. More chatting and visiting with my new found friends Geneva,Carolyn, Leigh and lunch with Ilene Beckerman The story of her grandmother and growing up in New York In Goldberg's candy store, where they ate no pork. Another book signed and me late for class I slipped in the back in the next to last seat. Soon I was joined by the lunch time speaker Ilene, my goodness sitting right next to me. Do you Twitter she asked, awaiting my reply? Not enough I'm finding out but I really do try. It's hard for me to get right to the point I'm Southern now, and I like things drawn out. We planted a spruce in honor of Erma A kid walked by and asked what's this, I'm from Burma. Celebrating a life that made us all laugh He nodded and bowed, what a life she had. Dinner that night was with Gina B. Whilst going steady with the toilet paper roll Is the funniest thing I've heard It 'bout made me pee. Astoundingly funny is all I can say What a way to end it; to wrap up the day. So there you have it My ode to the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop. Erma would have loved it …And poked fun at it!

Erma, Here I come!

Since I started this blog almost five years ago, it was my intent to provide insights, stories of memorable happenings and the occasional tidbit of useless information. I enjoy the process of getting an idea, working through the structure of the story and then trying to figure out how to get it to appear interesting on the blog. Deep down, I've always wanted to be a writer. About two years ago I watched a CBS Sunday Morning news report on Erma Bombeck and the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop held every two years in Dayton, Ohio. Of course, I had missed the deadline for the 2010 event, but what's another two years, right? Having said all of that, guess what? Yep, the event is this week and the Middle-Aged Fat Woman is going! Here are some of my thoughts on the trip: As a middle-aged fat woman, I'm preparing for my trip to the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop. This entails several things: making sure my mustache is shaved and how to introduce myself. Should I go with the casual, "Hi, I'm the Middle-Aged Fat Woman?" Or how about by nickname since childhood, "Hi, I'm G." and to really confuse people I can introduce myself by my Mother-given name, "Hi, I'm Gianetta Mia Palmer" and indeed watch all sorts of questionable looks appear on others' faces. I can see it now: "What?" "What did you say your name was?" "I don't think it's really polite for me to call you MA Fat Woman?" "Do you have anything else you go by?" "How do you pronounce your name again?" "Ohhhh, now I know why you go by G." "How do you spell that?" And so forth and so on... As I continue on into middle-age and watch my hormone levels go up and down like a ship on the high seas I am becoming increasingly aware of the many dark hairs sprouting on my upper lip; the worst part about it is that mustaches aren't even in style anymore. Such is the life of a middle-aged fat woman; always a day late and a dollar short as the saying goes. Hopefully, once the introductions are over and I've eradicated that last pesky hair I'll actually learn something. There are supposed to be some really famous funny people there. It'll be interesting to see if I can make any of them laugh... ...or better yet, they like me well enough to offer me a book deal. A girl can hope, right?

Are You Mad?

I was sitting around doing some thinking lately and the longer I sat the madder I got. You probably have your own things to be mad about but here's what is bothering me: I'm mad that my doctor charges me $220 for an office visit. And then all they want to do is send me for more and more tests. Yes, I have diabetes and high cholesterol, but quit trying to find something else wrong with me. I'm mad that every time President Obama wants to take a vacation every Republican, dead or alive rants that he doesn't have the right to do so. It hasn't been that long ago that President Bush spent the entire month of August at his ranch in Texas. I don't remember him receiving that much criticism. I'm mad at myself that I can't seem to stick with my eating plan. This new Walmart and its bakery has sure thrown a monkey wrench into my weight loss. Plus, the gym I joined a few months ago went out of business because of the economy. I'm mad that every agent that I've sent my book proposal to has sent it back saying, "It's just not for me." Okay, people, if it's not for you, who is it right for? Where are the readers of Erma Bombeck and Lewis Grizzard? Doesn't anyone want to laugh anymore? I love to read a lot of different genres but how many vampires does the literary world need? Okay, maybe Lestat, what about it Ann? Any new stories forthcoming? I'm mad at my new furniture. They sure look purty but it's more comfortable sitting on the floor. I miss my recliners! I'm mad that I can't seem to outgrow my montly outbreak of acne. Change, already, will ya? It was so bad this month that I looked like I had the chicken pox. Careful! I don't want to get confused with one of those Duggar kids. Well, these are a few of the things that I'm mad about. What about you? Feel free to vent in the comments section.