So I turned 51 sometime before I woke up today (but I prefer to think of myself as three 17-year-olds in terms of size and general maturity level), and I’ve been receiving well wishes from lots of folks via the Book of Faces and such. In keeping with a family tradition started by my dad, I bought some Krispy Kremes and brought them to work. My 8 a.m. class (Seven Deadlies) took care of a dozen (Good thing we weren’t doing gluttony, eh?), and I dropped off another box in the faculty office. So even though Clan Mondo won’t be doing the full celebration until this weekend, it was already a good day even before I went to lunch with some of my colleagues in the college cafeteria.
During a slack moment, I picked up my phone and saw a message from a big-deal literary agent. Now as it happens, he isn’t my agent — I don’t have one, as I mainly deal in short fiction, which isn’t worth an agent’s time or effort (indeed, one wonders if the form is worth mine, but I like it, so there you go.) But we’ve had contact in the past, and when I see his name in my mail, I check it out. Here’s what he had to say today:
I saw your story “Bowery Station, 3:15 A.M.” was named a Distinguished Story in the Best American Mystery Stories 2016. I would like to congratulate you on receiving such a notable mention.
[Big-deal Agent] [Link added by me — Prof. M]
Well, this was a surprise to me. I mean, I knew the story had been published in a very fine anthology, but I had no idea that it had attracted anyone’s notice, much less this sort of approval. So I’m quite gratified, and celebrated by taking the Spawn for a sno-cone before the local stand shuts down for the year this coming weekend.
Thanks for cluing me in, Big-deal Agent, and thanks to the folks who found my story worthy of mention. It makes for a nice birthday indeed.