The Rewards of Rejection

The Great File Cabinet Purge of 2012 had all the elements of an archeological dig. Uncovered? Menus from out-of-business restaurants. Bank statements. And, of course, rejection letters from round one of the literary agent search.

That's right. I wrote a book.

Turns out penning 300 plus pages was the easy part. A whole lot harder? Finding an agent to bridge that exclusive world between author and publisher. Hence, my rejection e-mail, which read in part:

"I apologize for taking so long to get back to you about your work. Several other agents and I read your manuscript, and while we found many merits in your work, including the lively and humorous tone of the text, we unfortunately cannot represent your work at this time. Despite its clear potential, we found the manuscript to be a bit heavy on dialogue and lighter in regard of development of the plot. Undoubtedly these comments are subjective, and should by no means take away from the merits of your piece.

We believe that you are an extraordinarily promising writer and, being that we are a multimedia agency and you have a gift for humor, we would be happy to see any scripts that you may be inspired to write…"

Epic fail? Hardly. Granted, there was no golden ticket of representation, yet, but truth is, there shouldn't have been. The criticism of my book was spot on. Truthfully, all of this could have a bit of something to do with the fact that this was my first attempt at writing fiction. Um, ever.

No, really. Ever.

There were no afterschool fiction workshops. No journals filled with short stories. No college electives. So, all things considered, I think I'm doing a-okay. The humor in my writing? Recognized as a gift, with an invite for a round two submission.

Not too shabby.

So, thank you rejection. I don't see you as a personal attack on my talents or an excuse to give up. Rejection is my reward. It's an opportunity to grow. And to learn. Rejection is a chance to regroup, to figure out how to make it better and how much you want it.

Watch out rejection. I want it bad.

Let's Start At the Very Beginning

When did I decide to become a professional writer?

The year? 1989, when the following essay snagged a top ten spot in the Providence Journal Reading Week Editorial Contest. At the awards ceremony at the Biltmore Hotel, I received a Cross pen, a cheesy wood grained plaque with my name engraved on it (that still hangs over my desk) and a belief that I had indeed found my passion in life.

So, without further adieu, I present one from the archives:

Substance Abuse: A Growing Problem?

Substance abuse has risen in recent years, the result of the overall increased use of controlled substances. Not all, but much of the problem lies in the sporting world, where the problem is publicized the most. Many athletes use drugs to enhance their performance. What these athletes fail to recognize is the strain that they are putting on their bodies by using these 'high-performance' drugs.

Some of the most exploited drugs of our times are anabolic steroids, composed mainly of synthetic testosterone, the chief male hormone. These drugs are banned in the United States, although they may be used by a qualified person in the medical field to treat a select number of patients. Yet, signs of steroid use appear again and again during athletic competition, most recently at the Olympic Games in Seoul, Korea, bringing the downfall of Canadian superstar Ben Johnson.

The case of Johnson should set an example for other steroid users, by showing the negative aspect of taking the drugs. But these athletes seem to ignore the warning signs, instead constantly making rationalizations for their use of steroids. They frequently argue that because everyone else is taking steroids, they must too, just to compete.

No longer is athletic competition based solely on natural ability. Some athletes believe that they cannot win without the aid of drugs. True, there appears to be positive aspects from the user's point of view. The increased strength, speed, endurance and self-esteem may initially improve their performance, but the dangerous side effects far outweigh the beneficial results of the drug. Severe health problems face the drug users, problems which normally would not occur until much later in their lives. These athletes give little or no concern to the ill effects of the drugs on their bodies, instead only focusing on victory.

Another problem which occurs when the sporting world is plagued by drugs is one that affects the general public, the fans of the athletic personalities. Children especially admire sporting superstars. They idolize athletes and give them heroic-like qualities. How can a mother explain to her young child that taking drugs is wrong when the child's role model is physically contradicting the mother's words?

Yes, drug abuse is a growing problem in today's society. To address this issue, we must first recognize the fact that drugs are not glamorous and neither are the drug users. Secondly, we must enforce harsh penalties on the offenders, setting examples for prospective drug abusers. An action directed specifically towards athletes is unannounced drug testing, given periodically throughout the year, not just immediately before competition. Offenders should be suspended indefinitely from their respective sports.

Regretfully our society will probably never be fortunate enough to be totally drug-free, but with immediate action and cooperation among the people of our civilization, maybe future generations will live in a brighter world.

The End. Or the Beginning? Writing Your Own Obituary

When I was eleven, I wrote my own obituary.

Don't worry.  I wasn't some sort of Adams Family dark child. Nor did I suffer from any type of incurable disease, although I have been told by amateur palm readers that my lifeline is short. (Anybody want to see?)

Composing my obit was an assignment given by my sixth grade English teacher. Somehow, I don't think this would go over well in the current mood of hyper political correctness, but thirty years ago, having middle school kids take a pen to paper to consider their own deaths went blissfully under the radar.

The truth is, the exercise wasn't about death at all.

It was actually a lesson in self-reflection. One that I am still hugely grateful for.

Here's the thing. When you consider your own ending, you're actually thinking about your life, legacy and what you're leaving behind. At the core of this slightly unconventional activity, was the concept of conscious thought, as well as taking ownership of your existence so you can live the life that you want, not the one someone else has in mind. Now granted, I didn't pick all of this up as a pre-teen. But the seed was planted.

A bit dark? Maybe. But, the purpose of the exercise greatly outweighed, any shades of accompanying morbidness, especially in this world where so many people just move aimlessly through.

This long ago assignment crawled out of the depths of my memory bank, in response to the obituary of Robert Spiegel. http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/hartfordcourant/obituary.aspx?n=robert-spiegel&pid=154840762&fhid=4309

Since his death on November 30th, the obit of the professor Emeritus at Central Connecticut State University, has gone viral, well, because of bits like this:  'At the end of his life, Robert battled with cardiac disease and dementia. Where as the disease did thankfully erase most memories of the '62 Mets season, it eventually also claimed his life.'

Eh. I'm unimpressed.

Not because of Professor Spiegel's life, which seemed to be an amazing one that was well spent. And certainly not because of the wordsmithing of his son Jeff, who created a humorous tribute to his dad, that clearly captured his spirit. I am underwhelmed because of the fact that obituaries like this should be commonplace, instead of exception.

But they're not. Instead, most are collections of frighteningly similar facts and mundane details. And I wonder, why? Does all the blame go to obit writers, for creating a standard template in the name of efficiency?  Or does it speak to the much larger and more serious issue of a population simply sleepwalking through the human experience? You're really the only one that can answer that. And perhaps writing your own obituary is the best way to take stock.

I honestly don't remember what I wrote about my passing, as an eleven year old. I'm mildly curious about the life that my younger self thought may have unfolded. But I highly doubt that my limited experience would have ever dared to dream the life that I'm living now. Yet, all that really doesn't matter. I know that I'm the one with the final word.

In Defense of Writing

I'm not an expert at fixing brakes or extracting wisdom teeth. I don't know how to till the fields, code a website or land a plane  You probably wouldn't want me to defend you in a court of law. (However, if you needed a kick-ass letter of support, then I'm your girl.)

I do however know how to write. Writing is my profession. I am a professional writer.

Capisce?

And, like the aforementioned occupations, my career is one that's required quite a bit of training, both formally and on-the-job, to get me to my present level. So what exactly is it, about my chosen livelihood, that not only makes folks think that they can do my job, but that they can do it better than me?

Part of the problem is that technically, everyone can write. There's no great mystery in taking pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. There's no licensing process, no test to take, no governing board to fine you if you aren't doing your job properly. And often with this, comes a complete lack of respect for what we, as writers do.

Oh, not from other writers. Writers love writers. They appreciate the effort it takes to compose a thought. To get out a message. To obsess, over for just the exact word, phrase or sentence needed to bring the whole piece together.

Writers know that writing takes discipline. And concentration. Writing takes intelligence. And commitment. Writing takes research. And patience. Writing takes the ability to be analytical. And to be critical. Writing takes self-editing. And the courage to toss it all in the trash and start again. Writing takes the ability to steel yourself from your critics, especially the ones without any credentials.

The act of stringing words together, does not a writer make. Good writing needs to have meaning. A writer, above all, is an expert communicator, responsible for relaying information, breaking down complex topics into easy to understand tidbits or creating a mood, all while motivating you to keep on reading. The only tools at our disposal? Words.

Good writing should look easy.

A good writer will tell you that it never is.

I NEED YOUR URGENT ASSISTANCE AND TRUST

For the past few months, I've been receiving an assortment of colorful e-mails in my freelance in-box. Okay, some would say scams. But, because they're inappropriately sandwiched between the very straight forward details of local events, I find them, for the most part, highly amusing.

Of course, as a writer, I am also slightly disturbed by the editorial quality, content and complete lack of attention to detail. So, as a service to, you, Mrs. Melina Mohammed (great name BTW), I took a virtual pen to your copy. You're welcome.


I NEED YOUR URGENT ASSISTANCE AND TRUST
 
[All caps? Really? And this is your idea of a title that I'm going to respond to? Weak. Better? LET ME RUB YOUR FEET AT MY BEACHFRONT VILLA]

FROM THE DESK OF MRS.MELINA MOHAMMED
AUDITING AND ACCOUNTING MANAGER,
BANK OF AFRICA (B.O.A)
OUAGADOUGOU BURKINA FASO

[What's the street address for this joint? Trust. I don't know that 348 Main Street is really a Kentucky Fried Chicken. And if a corporate bank makes you use a google account--mrsmelinamohammed1@gmail.com--I wouldn't have taken that job in the first place.]

DEAR FRIEND,

[HA! If we're such good pals, I think you'd know my name. At least first. That is, after all, in my e-mail address. My city's there too, if you were observant. Pardon me, but isn't being a good con artist about paying attention to details?]

(CONFIDENTIAL TRUST BUSINESS DEAL.)

[Because mockery of your intelligence doesn't have the same cache.]

I KNEW THAT THIS MESSAGE WILL COME TO YOU AS A SURPRISE; [No shit.] I AM THE AUDITING MANAGER IN BANK OF AFRICA (BOA) OUAGADOUGOU BURKINA FASO, WEST AFRICA . I HOPE THAT YOU WILL NOT EXPOSE OR BETRAY THIS TRUST AND CONFIDENT THAT I AM ABOUT TO IMPOSE ON YOU FOR THE MUTUAL BENEFIT OF OUR FAMILIES. [Way, way too late for that…]

I NEED YOUR URGENT ASSISTANCE IN TRANSFERRING THE SUM OF (USD$22.5 MILLION DOLLARS)TO YOUR ACCOUNT WITHIN 10 BANKING WORKING DAYS. THIS MONEY HAS BEEN DORMANT FOR YEARS IN OUR BANK WITHOUT ANY BODY CLAIMING THE FUND.

[22.5 million dollars?! This is the magic figure you think will call the masses into action? Maybe $250. Or $2500. But this number is way over the top. Do people actually fall for this? Don't answer.]

I WANT THE BANK TO RELEASE THE MONEY TO YOU AS THE NEAREST PERSON TO OUR DECEASED CUSTOMER, WHO DIED ALONG WITH HIS ENTIRE FAMILY ON SATURDAY, 6th DECEMBER, 2003 IN A PLANE CRASH.

[So even if I had relatives in West Africa, which I clearly don't, and even if they died in a plane crash in 2003, which they clearly didn't, perhaps a piece of authentication would serve well here. Like a name? Type of plane they went down in? This is exactly where your scamming empire could benefit from a creative writer on staff.]

I DON'T WANT THE MONEY TO GO INTO OUR BANK TREASURY ACCOUNT AS AN ABANDONED FUND,SO THIS IS THE REASON WHY I CONTACTED YOU SO THAT THE BANK CAN RELEASE THE MONEY TO YOU AS THE NEXT OF KIN TO THE DECEASED. PLEASE I WILL LIKE YOU TO KEEP THIS PROPOSAL AS A TOP SECRET AND DELETE IT IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED.

[But what fun would that be? Don't worry. I'm sure no one else is reading this.]

UPON RECEIPT OF YOUR REPLY, I WILL GIVE YOU FULL DETAILS ON HOW THE BUSINESS WILL BE EXECUTED AND ALSO NOTE THAT YOU WILL HAVE 30% OF THE ABOVE MENTIONED SUM IF YOU AGREE TO HANDLE THIS BUSINESS WITH ME, AND 60% OF THE TOTAL SUM WILL BE FOR ME THEREAFTER,AND 10% WILL BE SET ASIDE FOR ANY EXPENSES THAT ARISE ON THE PROCESS BEFORE THE FUND GET INTO YOUR ACCOUNT SUCH AS TELEPHONE CALL BILLS(ETC).

[So, I get 6.75 million. You get 13.5 million? And that's gonna make me think you're an honest human being? I mean, this is a scam right? None of what you're promising is going to come true in the real world to begin with, so why don't we split it 50-50 on paper. It's not like you're going to make good on your word anyway.]  

I LOOK FORWARD EXPECTING TO HEAR FROM YOU.

[I can't respond based on your bad, bad English alone.]

1. YOUR FULL NAME:
2. ADDRESS:
3. NATIONALITY:
4. AGE:
5. SEX:
6. OCCUPATION:
7. MARITAL STATUS:
8. PHONE NO:
FAX:

[Wait a minute...that's all you want? What about my Social Security number? Bank account info? Oh, I guess requesting that falls into universal scam tip-off. Right. My bad.]

N.B PLEASE I BEG YOU WITH THE NAME OF ALLAH, IF YOU CANNOT FINISH THIS BUSINESS DO NOT CARE TO REPLY, I DON'T WANT THIS MONEY TO HANG ON THE WAY.

[N.B.? That I had to look up. It's Latin for Nota Bene aka Note Well. Hey, I guess I did learn something from our correspondence.  Here in the good 'ole US of A, we opt for PS. And really? You had to go invoke the name of Allah? Not cool.]

BEST REGARDS
MRS.MELINA MOHAMMED

[PS Mrs. Melinda Mohammed. Do reach out if you need any help on future projects. I'LL QUOTE YOU A FAIR RATE HANDSOMELY.]