On baldness and other things out of our control...

While staring at the back of a bald man’s head in line at Albertson’s, I couldn’t help but contemplate how we handle things that are entirely out of our own control. My grandmother swore that her late husband had gone completely bald until she started massaging his head every night, which ultimately led to the return of a full head of hair. I have no way of confirming or denying her story, but always questioned its validity, especially after discovering two years later that she had early stages of dementia. Some men embrace their baldness or hardly notice. Others shave their head, which is a look I particularly prefer to the bald spot and, if I were a balding man, would also opt for. Bald men everywhere should thank their lucky stars, in my opinion, that it’s in style. When I was a kid, my mom had a friend who suffered from a combination of baldness and vanity and could talk about nothing else for months. He finally asked her for advice on the subject and she suggested “painting” himself some hair using liquid eyeliner. It seemed to solve the problem for a few days. Did I mention that I grew up in Seattle where it rains A LOT? Needless to say, there are reasons why that trend never caught on. Personally, my favorite look is the “sweepover.” It’s as if nobody will ever guess that a man is balding if he parts his hair just above his ear and brushes it all the way over to the other side.

All this to say we all experience things out of our control and the different ways we handle them is a psychology all its own. When I decided to dissect mine, it led to how I deal with the business of getting published. Surely anyone else would have given up by now if they had spent all of their free time writing and still had nothing they could call their own to place in the hands of the readers who would love their stories. In all honesty, my first inclination is to gripe about it to anyone who will listen. I do have to give myself some credit for hanging on this long, though. Fortunately, in my case, my determination outweighs my discouragement and I will continue to see this publication thing through. I guess now would be a good time to sign off, write something of significance, and perhaps also find someone to massage my head just in case.

Failure

Failure can define you or refine you. I met someone fascinating this weekend. It’s unusual for me to tear up in the first two hours of knowing someone, but I had a lot of firsts on epiphany Saturday. At the conference for the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, which I will probably never quit talking about, we had a breakout session where three authors shared their publishing experiences. One author, well-meaning, I’m sure, shared about how she did almost nothing to get swept up in the magical world of publishing. She wrote a book, didn’t bother to tell friends or family for fear of it never going anywhere, and sent it away. It immediately got picked up and there she was, happily telling the rest of us all about it. It was inspirational at best, but I can’t say that I learned anything from her story. The next author, however, will always hold a hero status for me. I’d been sitting by her during the whole group session and loved chatting with her, which made her story that much more endearing. Her husband, whom she described as a computer geek, had helped her make a chart of her experience submitting manuscripts. The chart indicated each novel she had written with x marks for rejection letters she’d received back. In the end, she received a grand total of 103 rejections. I want to say that the ultimate result was the one that mattered, since she’ll soon have a published copy of her book, but I can’t. Each rejection was important, too. To use an old cliché, each “no” was one “no” closer to a “yes.” I can tell you firsthand how frustrating it is to tell people that I write “what would be picture or chapter books.” It’s not a book if it’s not printed in book form. It’s just my own musing, which might not mean anything to anyone but me (much like this blog). My goal has been to be the 2% (the amount of submitted material which is actually published). I think it’s time to change that goal and get one step closer to 103 rejection letters. Fall down seven times, stand up eight.