Back in the early days of this blog, I wrote a number of posts that nobody ever saw. “Sixty-one views?” I’d say, aghast. “For the whole month?”
So, with your permission, I thought I’d pull an old post out of the pile and reintroduce it to a (hopefully) larger audience.
Feel free, as always, to comment with reckless abandon! I do so love your comments.
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One of the ways I hoped to get my (then-three-year-old) son interested in reading was to leave him little notes at the breakfast table. After all, what could be more fun than getting a loving note every morning from your dear ol’ Dad?
But, since I am incapable of doing anything in a small way, I took my note idea to the next level. It’s always fun to get mail, so I sealed each note in an envelope; printed my son’s name and address on the front; and, for that extra dose of authenticity, drew on a stamp. (“Celebrate Cows,” was the first subject.) “There!” I thought. “That will get my boy interested in reading!”
Instead, it got my boy interested in stamp collecting. From the second note on, he carefully ripped the stamp off the envelope and stored it in a shoebox. The notes were glanced at briefly, handed to Mom to read aloud, and then discarded without a second thought. So while I’m pleased to report that my son – who is now six – reads with enthusiasm, my grand note experiment had absolutely nothing to do with it.
A couple of months ago, I wrote a post about the inspiration behind my picture book manuscript, Momma No-Nose. The story is about as dissimilar from Sarah Gives Thanks as you can possibly get.
Here’s the gist of it: After a petting zoo burro goes rogue and gets a bit too nibbly, our narrator’s Momma suddenly finds herself noseless. This turns out to be quite a problem. She can no longer keep her glasses on her face or tell if the milk is sour. Worst of all, the once happy and outgoing Momma no longer wants to leave the house. Just in time for Mother’s Day, however, her artistic son makes Momma an ingenious PlayDoh proboscis that, in one fell swoop, restores her self-esteem and improves the family’s fortunes forever.
Oh, and, in case you need me to tell you, Momma No-Nose is supposed to be funny.
Now, I knew this story had long odds for publication before I finished the first draft. I kinda figured Momma No-Nose was gonna be one of those stories “just for me.” I was cool with that.
But I soooo loved the results of my early writing efforts. So I put in more effort. Then I put in even more effort. Then I presented it at my critique group – twice – and revised the story accordingly.
I admit, I went a little daft. I caught No-Nose Fever.
Sadly, No-Nose Fever is not contagious. Editors aren’t feelin’ the love for this story in a way editors have never not felt the love for a story of mine ever before. I actually got a rejection one hour after I submitted No-Nose – a personal record I have no desire to break, but one that kind of dazzles and impresses me, nonetheless.
But like the coyote’s obsession with his roadrunner, I couldn’t quite put this thing behind me. The more No-Nose was rejected, the more I refused to read the writing on the wall.
“I just haven’t found the right market,” I told myself.
So I kept at it, tweaking the cover letter and looking for ways to punch up the comedy and tighten the word count. Oh, and I kept submitting.
The story’s editorial appeal is as plain as the nose on her face.
My son, Alex, is the only other person with No-Nose Fever; it must be genetic. He would sometimes ask me about Momma No-Nose’s progress – and was almost as amazed as I was that no editor on earth seemed to like it. So the other day I made him a solemn promise: “If Momma No-Nose doesn’t get picked up by the end of this year,” I said, “I will draw all the pictures and make the book just for you.”
“Mine will be the only one?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“The ONLY one?”
“The only one.”
“Wow. The only one.” He let that roll around his brain for a while. Then he smiled.
I smiled, too. Suddenly the idea that Alex would have the only copy of Momma No-Nose felt like a wonderful, wonderful thing. I decided right then and there to stop pitching this story. I didn’t want to do anything to mess up my promise.
Besides, in that little moment with my son, I had achieved my goal; I had found a market for Momma No-Nose. It wasn’t a large market, but it was big enough for me.
On September 1, the day my book was officially released, I could be found cooling my heels at a dealership, waiting for my car to be repaired. The stereo had decided to stop working after it had eaten my “Best of Frankie Yankovic” cd.
I suspect this was God’s way to keep me humble. “So you think you’re a big shot author, eh? Well, now your mechanic knows you listen to polkas. Not such a big shot now, are you?”
No, Sir.
It took a couple of hours, but Mr. Mechanic fixed the cd player and sent me on my merry way.
And then the radio stopped working. So this week I was waiting around the car dealership once again.
I get it, God. I’m humble now. Really!
As some of you may know, when I’m forced to humbly sit in a waiting room, I like to doodle for your enjoyment. So here you are! A doodle for you!
Unlike my other doodles, this one indicates what I’m going to write about in my next post. Wanna take a guess?
If not, feel free to tell me a car repair story!
Or feel free to tell me about the most embarrassing cd in your record collection!
Or tell me whatever you like. I enjoy hearing from you!
Hey, Look! A Writer Fellow! 