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For
my 26th birthday, my brother-in-law and his wife gave me Chicken Soup
for the Writers Soul, with the inscription, We figured
a good writer could always use some soul for the heart. Of course,
they were right. Four years after I began making serious attempts to publish,
I have accumulated 128 rejections, with very few acceptances (none of
which paid). This despite continual assurances from friends, family, teachers,
other writers, and even some editors that I should, could, and
more importantly would find publication. Given these statistics,
it is understandable that I often need more to keep me plodding along
than my wifes admonition to concentrate on the fact that I love
writing.
Elated
by the prospect of 385 pages of day-to-day encouragement, I wasnt
looking for a way into the business, or even anything amounting to specific
advice, just little bits of solace from people whove been in my
shoes, which speaks, I believe, to the intention behind the books
publication. Unfortunately, most of the time that I spent reading the
various stories left me feeling that, whatever the encouragement I might
really need, it could not possibly be that offered by Chicken Soup.
As is often the case with emotional or spiritual lessons, however, when
I put the book down, I realized that the extent to which it didnt
fit my vision of my needs, it accomplished exactly what I needed.
Sure,
there are many uplifting and inspiring essays in Chicken Soup for the
Writers Soul, but it seems as if the majority fall into at least
one of three categories. First are the instant-success stories, whether
through a lucky break right away or immediately upon the decision to give
writing a serious attempt. One of the books authors/compilers, Bud
Gardner, wrote what is perhaps the most depressing of these essays about
how his career as a writer began. I am just shy of incredulous that Mr.
Gardner believed that his story, in which the aspiring writers big
letdown was that his 15th submission turned out to be his first rejection,
would be uplifting. Face your fears, he seems to be telling
the reader, and begin writing. Personally, even my first 15
rejections hardly touched upon the fear Ive since discovered.
A second
category encompasses those writers who found success through personal
tragedy. The more literary of these stories are told by people who were
trying to become professional writers and failing until something happened
that dramatically changed their lives and forced them to reconsider their
positions and their writing… while simultaneously giving them compelling
subjects with which to kick off their lives as born-again writers. I do
not begrudge these writers their success, but theirs is not a route that
a young writer could choose to follow as a procedure. Moreover, this story
line is the less likely version to be trumpeted by popular magazines or
Oprah, on whose show a Finding Your Spirit segment was devoted
to a failed actor turned bicycle messenger turned published memoirist.
This more popular brand of the success story is, of course, so widely
publicized by virtue of the idea that it can literally happen to anybody,
writers or otherwise. To the extent that this is true, I suppose these
stories are indeed uplifting and inspiring, though
less so to people who have worked to hone their craft as writers and still
are failing.
The
third category of supposedly uplifting writer stories is often marketed
as one of the other two to capitalize on the inspiration factor because
their real lesson, success through luck or connections unrelated to writing,
is by now mundane. In a section that is one of the most encouraging in
the book, Chicken Soups editors offer a litany of failure-to-success
snippets, one of which relates that Dr. Seuss was rejected by 27 publishers
before he sold his first childrens book. When it is considered that,
as far as Im able to confirm, it was a chance meeting with an old
associate that led to the final publication of And to Think That I
Saw It on Mulberry Street, Dr. Seuss blend of luck and networking
seems too unmanageable to take as a tangible hope.
I've
gotten the sense that part of the problem is that the publishing world
has changed considerably since most of the essayists in Chicken Soup
got their start, but I think that writers strange opinion about
what is uplifting to other writers has deeper implications. Successful
writers are likely to concentrate on telling hopefuls about how they finally
made it. Oh, theyll say that they felt God supporting them or that
they always fell back on a love of writing for its own sake, but these
synopses, while indubitably true, are distillations of the day-to-day
mantras and interior dialogues that sustained them through years of rejection,
and that is what I wanted to read the daily justifications. Perhaps
the average person has no desire to hear about years of struggle, but
for a struggling writer, an inspiring figure would be an author who stuck
to his or her guns, fought, and succeeded.
Perhaps
I sound bitter, and perhaps I am a little, but my question goes further
than that. In a book meant to uplift writers, wheres the story of
what I hope to be? I cant be alone in wanting to be a writer who
writes on impulse, out of necessity the mad raving wordsmith
and succeeds… enough. Enough to keep on writing and not starve. Alternately,
when I picked up Chicken Soup, I would have liked to read an essay
by a writer who was just beginning to get his stride. Or a writer whose
essay tore apart every reason for ever putting pen to paper while simultaneously
confirming to herself, and to readers who are writers, the validity of
those very reasons.
The
inspiration that I eventually managed to derive from most of the vignettes
in Chicken Soup for the Writers Soul is like many other seemingly
spurious justifications for continuing to write. If there are no publicized
stories like mine, I guess Ive got one more reason to succeed: to
be that writer. I make this essay my pledge to do so (in the same spirit
as telling everybody I knew when I quit smoking so that Id be too
embarrassed to fail).
So
thats my motivation, at least for today and probably a few days
hence. I honestly do believe, like some of Chicken Soups
contributors, that it would be a sin to squander abilities with which
Ive been gifted, and, like others, I do love writing of itself.
But for the time being, the face that Im putting on these constants
is a desire to succeed and then write the essay that I would have liked
to have read before I did.
Canfield,
Jack, Mark Victor Hansen, and Bud Gardner, Chicken Soup for the Writers
Soul (Deerfield Beach, FL: Health Communications, Inc., 2000)
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