Writers wonder about a lot of odd things.
Can horses vomit?
How hard is it to turn around a jeep on a narrow dirt road?
What if jellyfish had teeth?
Can forgotten items in the back of the fridge develop sentience?
This morning, as my girls and I listened to morning radio blather, the DJs were talking about Oprah’s show yesterday. Seems like she’s giving her entire audience a week-long trip to Australia with her. And my first thought was, what if you went to the show with someone you couldn’t stand? Your mother-in-law, your boss’s spouse, your brother’s insane girlfriend, an obnoxious neighbor, that woman on the PTA who you’d like to strangle. So while you thought you could tolerate sitting through a taping of Oprah with this person (after all, it’s OPRAH), could you stand vacationing with them for a week? In a country on the opposite side of the world? With 300 other people you don’t know?
It could be like the world’s worst Girl Scout summer camp experience, only with grownups. And beer.
Personally, if anyone from the Oprah camp is reading this, I’ll go to Australia with you any time. Just saying.
Something else writers wonder about is our sanity. We work alone. We get a lot of rejections. We face a lot of misconceptions about what we do. Generally, if we’re having a bad day or we’re stuck, we can’t turn to the guy in the cubicle next to us and say “Hey, Sam, let’s go get a coffee.” Because there’s no cubicle and no Sam and no coffee that we don’t make ourselves.
Yesterday, though, I found a shining beacon to illuminate the dark night of my writing soul! It’s a book called “Rejection, Romance and Royalties: The Wacky World of a Working Writer” by Laura Resnick.
She talks about rejection. Persistence. Copy editors from hell. Good advice. Bad advice. Agents. Editors. Publishing houses that close right out from under you. Rejection…did I already say rejection?
The bottom line is, this book makes me feel less alone and less crazy. Well, a little less crazy. Ms. Resnick doesn’t know me, I don’t know her, but I’m going to buy a copy of this book and keep it on hand for those mornings when I look at the computer screen and wonder why the heck I’m doing this. For times when it can’t get any worse or can’t get any better.
In the meantime, I’ll stay off the phone just in case Oprah’s people call.