The Magic of Laundry

She stood in the middle of the room and turned in a slow circle, looking at the furniture, the walls, the light from the window, for a sign. Any sign. Please?

Her expectations were lowering like the sun setting behind the Rocky Mountains. Quick like a rock. And yet she shouldered those expectations up again. Shoved them back to that magical place where anything could happen.

Nothing in the room had changed. Her body sagged. Everything looked the same today as it had yesterday and the day before, when she’d also completed the measured spin.

But it can’t be, she thought. It just can’t be. Something has to be different. There must be some kind of proof. Evidence.

She’d imagined flowers arriving daily. Invitations. Gifts appearing out of nowhere. Nothing like that had happened.

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Was it all a myth?

A quick check online told her she still had the same 798 Facebook friends. Her bank account had remained (sadly) stagnant at $323.16. And no one from anyplace prestigious had emailed her requesting an interview.

Clean laundry, which she’d had to do herself, was piled on the sofa in the family room, ready to be folded and stowed. Dinner was a mystery, but she’d better figure it out fast and thaw something. Plants needed watering and she needed to run three errands. Today. Because she’d put them off until they absolutely had to be taken care of.

There was one more place she could check. She sat back down at her computer and clicked a few keys, used the mouse to scroll down the page, held her breath.

There! Yes! She read the words carefully. Then again, committing them to memory. She had a review from someone she didn’t know!

She was a writer!

As she folded the last towel, it hit her. The flowers and the gifts, they were a myth. They weren’t proof.

She was a successful writer before that review. She was a successful writer before her book was published.

She’d become a successful writer the minute she wrote “The End” on her first draft.

Now, about that dinner…

 

It’s all better with friends.

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Author: Peg Brantley

With the intent to lend her stories credibility, Peg is a graduate of the Aurora Citizens’ Police Academy, attended the Writers’ Police Academy conference, has interviewed crime scene investigators, FBI agents, human trafficking experts, obtained her Concealed Carry Permit, studied diverse topics from arson dogs to Santeria, and hunted down real life locations that show up in her stories.

13 thoughts on “The Magic of Laundry”

  1. True. When people ask about being an indie author/publisher, I always counsel them to decide how they’ll know they’re successful. Anything from just publishing the book to getting on the NYT list. Doesn’t matter. It only matters what your own definition is. And never compare your success to anyone else’s … we’re all on a different path. Hopefully, with the occasional bouquet of flowers.

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  2. Fantastic post, Peg! I love mundane tasks like putting laundry away because they give me a chance for reflection, to just let my mind wander. I agree, writing The End is what makes a “successful writer” 🙂

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  3. Thanks! I do get a little thrill when the first draft is finished. For me, that’s the hard part. Editing is much more fun.

    Becky, I completely agree, each one of us walks a different path and we shouldn’t compare ourselves to anyone else.

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  4. Very interesting, Peg. I am a reader not a writer, BUT I do write reviews on Amazon and on Goodreads. I’m glad they mean so much to writers. I’ll try to “up my game” and compose reviews more often now. Thanks for reading them

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  5. There! Yes! She read the words carefully. Then again, committing them to memory. She had a review from someone she didn’t know! — HAHA. This is my favorite. I’m constantly checking.

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  6. Gussie Betty, you’re exactly right! And I would include people who can write amazing letters (remember those?).

    3 no 7, thanks for being one of those readers who takes the time to review books. It means a lot to authors.

    Keenan, I think I have a couple pair of workout pants that are still waiting for me to fold.

    Kimberly, me too. Like a moth to flame.

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  7. Great post Peg. Truly lyrical. And I tried to crawl into the flower photo. I want them! It is all a myth at the end of the day. It goes back to being satisfied with yourself. Becky, you are wise. We do each chose our own path. And if we are content, it is always the right one for us!

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