Thursday, August 11, 2016

That Not-So-Dry Spell

     I was thinking today about that 5-year period when nothing of mine was published.    It felt like such a dry spell.   I’d once read somewhere, “Just keep writing.”  So, I kept writing, even when it didn’t seem like it was amounting to much.   My agent at the time wasn’t able to get anything of mine picked up, which only confirmed that which I’d started to believe; my writing had hit the doldrums.   But, as painful as it was at times, and as monotonous as it had become, I kept going to my computer almost daily, working on those things which I’d started, or I started something all together new, and, still, nothing was published.  I honestly felt like none of my work had much color, brightness or substance to it anymore.
     As with everything in life, all things come to an end – both the good and the bad.  And after a 3-year go of it with my agent, it was time to part ways.  We did so amicably, and, I have to think, not without a little regret and sadness on both of our parts that maybe, in some way, we’d let each other down.  But, it was time, and I walked away with my tediously worked-on, sick-of-looking-at-you manuscripts, and tried to figure out where I should go from there. 
     Almost immediately, I was in touch with a wonderful publisher who wanted to see my work, and, needless to say, it was in her “In Box” that night.  She called me a week later and told me she’d like to publish 3 of my children’s stories, as well as my first adult manuscript.  Of course, I was elated.  After we hung up, I sat back and thought, “Wow!  Four books to come out in the next 2 years!”  And then it dawned on me:  From all of those endless days at the computer (when I felt like my writing was about as interesting as a manual for a new refrigerator), without even realizing it, I’d compiled quite a nice amount of work –  work that was good.  Good enough to be published.  And it seemed to come together without my even realizing it.
     Today, as my husband gave our 3 Basset Hounds a bath in our yard in sultry, 95-degree weather (yes, even in the Blue Ridge Mtns. of NC!), I noticed our wilting Hydrangea bushes.  We’re in the midst of not just a scorching heatwave, but a dry spell, too.   And then I saw it:  Nestled among some of the brownish-green, parched Hydrangea branches were some very brightly colored, fresh clusters of flowers, bringing great beauty to the bush – and my yard.  As a matter of fact, the more I looked, the more lovely ones I saw.  My bush was alive and well, and blooming quite nicely, indeed.  Standing too close to it, everything seemed to be dried up and fading.  But then I stood back, took a good look at the bush again with all of its many glorious blossoms, and realized that, all things considered, this dry spell of ours really wasn’t quite so dry after all … just like those 5 years of my work.



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