I spent Sunday at my parents house, with the rest of the family, and at around 6:30 p.m., while we were watching a movie, I missed a surprising call that led to a more surprising bit of news. I got home well past 10:00 p.m. and saw "new message" shinning on my cellphone screen. When I saw the number of the caller, I realized that it was an area code from which I've never received a call before. My heart skipped a beat. I dialed my inbox and there were three messages. A "got-there-safely" message from the misus, a coworker asking for a favor, and then a new voice. A message riddled with excruciating pauses, um's, and errs' framing a baritone-tenor timbre and delaying the meat in the message. "...We'd like to offer you...um...a...uh, place in admission at the Warren Wilson Writer's Workshop."

  It was all I could do to contain an audible cheer, though I pumped my fist in the solitude of my bedroom. Then I calmly walked downstairs, put the phone on speaker and played it. She ran in place and threw her arms around me. I called the family to let them know and, since it was too late to call Warren Wilson back, we just poured a Kentucky Breakfast Stout into a snifter and shared a beer and a blessing on the living room sofa. 

  This morning I called the faculty member back and received something I did not expect. Yes, I'm in, accepted into the program. But, somewhere between my application being turned in literally at the last minute, and an extraordinarily large applicant pool, the positions they wanted to offer are more than the positions they have available. So, I've been accepted, to the January 2010 term. Apparently, they liked one of the stories in my application package enough to hold a spot for me next term even though I all but missed the summer term. If, however, someone opts out or differs their application, I'd be starting July 2, 2009. So, while I'm waiting for Boston and Bennington, I have the security of an MFA in my future...Lord willing. 

   I've submitted applications to my Spring round of MFAs. Regardless of results, I learned oodles and buckets about how tough fiction-writing is. With round one behind me, here is my shout-out to all the typecasters that inspired me, with their NaNoWriMo efforts, to try my hand at mechanical composition. 

   While my typewriter is not a particularly interesting piece, I think the paper is. See the purplish stains on it? That's because it is written on Polyester Film Carbon paper by Spirit (circa 1980). It is so old that the purple carbon seeped through the 6 lb. sheet between it and the master. So, this is my first, of hopefully many typecasts. Enjoy!

Written on a Smith-Corona Super Sterling