Don't Listen To Assholes. Write.

Yesterday a repairman came to look at our refrigerator's ice maker, and I instantly disliked the guy. Ever meet a know-it-all and you can just tell from the first time they open their mouth? Yup, that was this guy. Anyway, the guy told us that the problem was the saddle valve where the fridge's water line hooks into the pipe downstairs. Apparently self-piercing valves are a no-no. Well, guess what -- That's all anybody sells. Even this dipshit didn't carry the valve he claimed we needed. I finally determined that the valve we have is defective and decided to replace it with another of the same type when I get a chance, which should be this weekend.

But that's not what I wanted to rant about. While we called every hardware store in the county looking for this non-existent saddle valve, I was flipping through the phone book and had trouble finding what I was looking for. Ever momentarily forget the alphabet when you're looking for something in a phone book? Sure. Happens to everybody. So then we have the following exchange:

Jess: Problems, honey?

Me: (mumbling) Not as soon as I learn my ABCs.

Jess: And what are you going to school for again?

Me: (laughing) Shhh! He doesn't need to know I'm an English major.

Repairman: So was I. Look where it got me.

Let's get something on the table right now. An English degree is essentially worthless. They might as well print it on a slice of bread so you'll have something to eat while you're waiting in the unemployment line. The only English degree worth a damn is a teaching degree, which is what I happen to be going for. I explained this to the gentleman and also explained that I'm a writer. Now we get to the part where my blood began to boil:

Repairman: Might as well give that up. My son's been at that for eleven years and nothing's come of it.

My wife admirably came to my defense and mentioned that I am published. I kept a civil tongue with the man and acknowledged that publishing is a lot like playing the lottery. And it is, honestly. A lot of it is your manuscript in the right hands at just the right time. And in many cases it is who you know. Sad, but true. He agreed and the subject eventually returned to the fridge.

It always irks me when people talk down to writers or about the profession of writing. Did he offend me personally? No, not really. I'm secure enough with my own (modest) successes not to let negativity get to me. Did he know what he was talking about? Sure, to a point. But just because his kid can't make it and he wound up a refrigerator repairman doesn't mean I'll suffer the same fate. Unlike the majority of young/new writers, I've learned from my mistakes and I know how to roll with the punches. If we all gave up when the going got tough then we wouldn't have any literature. If this defeatist (not to mention know-it-all) attitude is hereditary then I might have a good idea of why his son isn't on the New York Times Bestseller List.

Publishing is about two things: Persistence and adaptation. You have to be absolutely relentless. Submit. Submit. Submit! And when you get a response, listen to what they have to say. By all means get angry, but just don't get bitter. Turn your anger into fuel, and say "I'll show them." Don't say "What do they know?" You know what they know? A lot.

Take criticism with a grain of salt, but always look for the nugget of truth. You know what the best thing was for my E.R.A. manuscript? A rejection. An editor who also happens to be a friend of mine rejected it and told me the first chapter was boring. She was right. It was exactly what I needed to hear, so I went back and fixed it. It's a hundred times better now. Then there was another piece of advice she gave that I initially scoffed at, but over time the suggestion smoldered inside my brain until a candle flame ignited and I had an idea. I took the suggestion, tinkered with it, and wound up with an all-new opening chapter that brings the rest of the novel together exquisitely.

Yes, it is your vision, but sometimes you look at it with blinders on and can't see the bigger picture. Even if you take someone else's advice, it's still your words, your voice, and your book. After your sixth or seventh rewrite, rewrite it an eighth time just for good measure. Believe me when I say it's worth your time and effort. NO manuscript is ready for submission on the first, or even the second, draft. (More on this in a future post.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit with Scott and watch the pretty snow falling outside my office window.