Water Torture
February 3, 2000
6:19 a.m.
There's this symbiotic relationship between a writer and the mail. Ok. That's making it sound too glorious. In reality there's this pitiful relationship between a writer and the mail--especially a new writer and the mail, though I'm long enough in the tooth now that I'm beginning to wonder if it ever really changes. You wait. And you wait. And rejections come, and though you occasionally can convince yourself that they don't hurt, each one is like a drop in a water torture. Paradoxically, of course, if the mail for some reason either doesn't come or doesn't bring news of progress either way, then a new writer is wont to get ... touchy. We're liable to go to work and yell at our boss or plant a garbage can over the head of the next person who disagrees with us in our next meeting. Not that I would ever admit to having sunk to this tactic to get my way. Never. Well ... just that once, but I swear the janitor's cart was right behind the guy. Every now and again, though, something fun happens and a check falls out. But it happens so rarely that you figure it's just the powers that be setting you up for a long string of those danged drops. Yesterday the latest issue of Locus came. I was standing at the kitchen counter scanning the first few pages when Lisa saw a headline about the preliminary ballot. "Hey, you must be in there." "Must be," I said, thumbing to the right spot. Yep. There I was, along with all the others. That was nice. The mail, despite not bringing me news of rejection or acceptance had thrown me a bone, a little nod that it really did like me. It cuffed me on the head like a big brother giving grudging respect. I accepted it, and moved on. Yeah, it was nice--but though I hadn't thought of it, I realize stuff like this happens. No biggie. Later, though, while I was reading in bed, I came across the year in review. Skipping past all the dire business news of ugly circulation and whatnot, I came across the recommended reading list. There, in solid print, was "Stealing the Sun, Ron Collins." Now that was pretty cool. That was something I wasn't expecting at all. Praise is like the sun, you know? A little can make you feel good the entire day. So, I went to sleep feeling pretty good (and they say I'm unable to blow anything out of proportion, eh?). Here I am this morning, working on getting a few things in the mail. Bring on the water if you will, cruel mailbox. Or decide that you've had enough and give in. I can handle it either way.  Stick a pin in it, Ron Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence in society." Mark Twain (attributed) (and you thought I was deep?) |
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