Big things on the horizon...

Submission to The New Yorker-Check
Submission to Collier's Magazine-Check
Submission to Harper's Magazine-Check
Submission to The Saturday Evening Post-Check
Submission to The Yale Review-Check
Submission to The Missouri Review-Check
Big things on the horizon-Check and Check

2012 New York Book Festival

My new book, Not All Out of Love, received an honorable mention in the 2012 New York Book Festival!  Go to http://www.newyorkbookfestival.com/ and click on 2012 Winners.

Check out this awesome website, Addicted to Ebooks, at http://www.addictedtoebooks.com/

They were nice enough to feature my book on their front page today, 6/5/12.

Literary R&R: Charlene Reviews: Not All Out of Love by Jamie Sch...

Literary R&R: Charlene Reviews: Not All Out of Love by Jamie Sch...: ISBN #: 978-0615601953 Page Count: 140 Copyright: April 20, 2012 Publisher: One Day Description: (Taken from Amazon) Th...

Rejection

"The best part about having self confidence is in knowing that everyone who rejects you is just a stepping stone in the road to success." - Jamie Schoffman

Translation: I don't care how many people reject my work, I will continue to write and write and read and read and slowly become a master of my craft.

Just had someone buy my book from New Delhi, India!  Hope it gets there ok.

Short Story...Things My Father Taught Me

Things My Father Taught Me

            When I was ten years old, my father taught me how to swim.  He took me to Lake Beaumont as the sun was setting and he threw me into the water.  I wasn’t surprised.  This was what my father always did.  That is who my father was.

            When I was two years old, my father taught me how to walk.  He threw broken glass on the floor so that every time I fell, I cut my hands, arms, knees, and shins.  He said, “No son of mine falls down.”  It took me three months to learn how to walk.

When I was four years old, my father taught me how to catch a ball.  He threw baseballs at my chest until I cried.  He broke three of my ribs.  He said, “If you don’t want the ball to hit you in the chest, you’ll just have to catch it.”  It took three weeks for me to learn how to catch a baseball.

           

When I was six years old, my father taught me how to hit a ball.  He duct taped a baseball bat to my hands.  He wouldn’t let me loose until I successfully made contact.  My hands were burned from the duct tape and two of my fingers were broken.  He said, “No son of mine swings like a pussy.”  It took three days for me to learn how to hit a baseball.

           

When I was eight years old, my father taught me how to ride a bike.  He tied my hands to the handlebars and my feet to the pedals with rope.  He tied the handlebars to the back of his pickup truck and he took off.  He didn’t stop until I didn’t fall anymore.  He said, “No son of mine needs fucking training wheels.”  It took three hours for me to learn how to ride a bike.

           

When I was ten years old, my father taught me how to swim.  Three minutes after he threw me into the water, I drowned.  As my head fell under the water for the last time, I heard him say, “No son of mine would ever drown.”  That is who my father was.

Jamie Schoffman

4/1/12