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October 2006
I am happy to announce that I received my first rejection letter in the middle of September. It was a nice enough letter, informing me that my submission could not be used by them at this time. It's pretty much a form letter, and while it would have been nice to receive some feedback on the manuscript, I understand how time constraints are such that few larger publishers can afford to invest that kind of time in every manuscript they receive.
I joked with my wife at dinner this week that it was the first of many I would collect. She teased me about my "positive attitude", and added that I could collect rejection letters and she could collect non-qualifying scores for showing her dog in the obedience ring.
While that might sound cynical, we both smiled at it. After all, the only way to guarantee never receiving a rejection letter or a non-qualifying score is to never get out there and try. Even the best-trained dog can have a bad day and blow an exercise. Even the best manuscript can arrive on a day the editor just isn't in the mood for it.
Perhaps my perspective is helped by another message I received in September. Jerry, a friend of a friend that I never had the privilege of meeting myself, had this dream of riding his bicycle along historic Route 66. Along with Tom, a friend from our recumbent bicycle group, they planned the ride for Labor Day weekend, beginning in Ash Fork, just west of Williams, Arizona, and riding west to Oatman. The total distance was 141 miles, divided over 4 days. 20 riders from all over Arizona showed up to participate, enjoying the beautiful scenery and weather of Northern Arizona.
Close to the finish of the first day, Jerry had a massive heart attack. Though CPR was performed and the EMT's arrived, he died on the side of the road. The rest of the riders discussed it that night, and decided to complete the weekend ride as a memorial to Jerry.
Jerry died while living a dream. Perhaps he would still be alive today if he hadn't been out riding those hills in the high altitude, but we don't know. What I do know is that plenty of people have died while sitting in their easy chairs, watching on television as other people live their dreams. Death didn't find Jerry sitting around; it had to catch him.
I've quoted before the line from the business marquis here in town, "Goals are dreams with deadlines." I realized something this month. Our dreams have deadlines whether we set them or not. The problem is, we don't know when that ultimate deadline is. We'd like to think it's years away, and that we have plenty of time to chase after our dreams.
We can sit in our chairs, watching on television as other people pursue their dreams. We can watch other people pursue our dreams. We can tell ourselves that we'll make our dreams come true someday.
- Someday, I'll learn to paint. I've always wanted to.
- Someday, I'll learn to play the piano. I love the piano.
- Someday, I'll write that book I've been thinking about for years.
- Someday, I'll get the nerve to go to the Renaissance Faire in costume.
- Someday, I'll fly in a hot air balloon.
- Someday, I'll rollerskate along the Pacific Ocean.
- Someday, I'll try out to be an extra in a movie, just to say I did.
- Someday, I'll train a dog and we'll have fun working together.
- Someday.
Today, though, it's just too much trouble. I'll get rejected, or I won't qualify, or I won't be able to finish. Someone might laugh at me. Today, I'll just sit in my chair and dream. It's safe here.
I received my first rejection in September, and I imagine I will receive quite a few more, Lord willing that I live long enough to see them. Nancy has received a few non-qualifying scores in the dog show ring with her Australian Shepherd, Shiloh. I imagine she'll receive a few more in the future; Shiloh has a mind of his own, and occasionally seems to think it's funny to do something unexpected. Nancy and I have started living our dreams, even as Jerry was living his. He made death work to catch him.
I don't want death to find me dreaming; I want death to catch me living.
Rest in peace, Jerry, and thank you.
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