I recently finished the rough draft of a manuscript for an "American Goulash" book. I mentioned it on Facebook because I was excited to be in the very beginning stages of the loooooong road of publishing, when I received a phone call.
Here is the transcription:
"Hello, my name in [Censored]. I've been reading your American Goulash story series online and I am impressed. [So & So] told me you were finished with a manuscript, and I am interested in potentially representing you."
Boy. Word travels fast on social media.
My heart started to race. "Well, I uh, ehhhh...I'm flattered. I am only in the first draft stages but-"
"Okay, good. Then I can talk to you about some of the topics. I LOVE the silly little things about your grandmama fighting robbers, but I cannot represent anything inappropriate like sex or getting your period."
"Uh-"
"I am very interested in your stories about Bible camp. Could you focus more on the spirituality aspect of going to Bible Camp and how it affected your relationship with God?"
"Uh, well...I'm not sure how much you read, but...
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I don’t lie to my mother – I omit the truth sometimes. This particular truth omission revolved around a little place called Seattle, where I was scheduled to attend a large gaming convention. Since my mother hates when I fly and does not understand what I do for a living, saying something like, “I’m going to
PAX to do
AVGN coverage and a
Mr. Bucket stunt,” would blow her mind.
After playing a delicate dancing game around my week’s plans, I set off for my Seattle trip without a hitch. I thought it was a bit odd that all of my friends’ planes were delayed due to “Hurricane Irene,” but I figured it was just an overly marketed thunderstorm and decided to hang out at a local brewery while I waited for them to land.
I turned on my phone for the first time that day – 12 missed called, 5 new voicemails. All from my mom. Ruh roh.
“Mom, is everything okay?”
“Vhy is it so loud? Are you at a bar?”
“Uh…”
“Vhat are you, a vacko? Dere’s trees flyink everyvhere...
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Growing up, bathing was always an issue. Nagymama felt that excessive baths led to:
-Red Hair
(which makes you look like a whore)
-All your hair falling out
(well, at least it won't be red anymore)
-Kidney infections
(resulting in death)
I was allowed to take a bath once a week, but showering was forbidden. Nagymama claimed that standing in shower would expose my organs and give me pneumonia. "Ve don't have insurance, so you'll die."
Once I became a teenager and aware of hygiene, this became a huge issue. I had to wait until Nagymama fell asleep and quietly wriggle out of bed, which was difficult since she tied the corner of the blanket to the mattress with shoelaces and surrounded the bed with high-backed chairs to prevent me from rolling out of bed
(see also: The Movie).
If Nagymama woke up and noticed I was missing, she would start screaming and banging on the bathroom door. I had about 2 minutes to finish the shower until she was able to pick the door lock, barge in, and physically pull me out of the shower, regardless of the fact that I was naked, soapy, and really pissed...
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Okay, so technically this isn't a video, it's audio...but at least it saves your eyes from reading :)
(Later in the week, I will upload the transcription of these stories for anyone that is hard of hearing or anyone that prefers to read along, but for now, I hope you enjoy listening!)
Stephanie Yuhas - Interview
Stephanie Yuhas - Reading: "The Radio Station", "Dah Cat" & Nagymama's Natural Veggie Wash.
Special thanks to the Leeway Foundation, Michaela Majoun, Erin Gautsche, and the Kelly Writer's House for broadcasting "American Goulash" to thousands of homes in the Greater Philadelphia Region!
