So, there I was in the Iowa City library, waiting to have dinner with my friend who had flown in from Tokyo to chat with his professors about his thesis. It was going to be the first time I had seen Tetsuya in five years, and I was excited about it. However, because of one of his meetings, we wouldn’t be getting together until 6:30 pm.
A quick trip into the House of Aromas and one bubble tea later, it was 4:30. Bryon and I went into the library to kill some time, because it needed killing. I’d already checked stray essays while drinking bubble tea, and I planned to scoop (more) snow later, so I wanted to do something that wasn’t too taxing for a while.
Bryon found a Peter David Battlestar Galactica novel that he had some definite opinions about. I started cruising the library. One of the things I do now is I look at the shelves for the books of people I know.
A library is a different kind of measure of a book’s success than a book store, measuring the belovedness of a book and its circulation, rather than its marketability and sales figures. Certainly, multiple copies on a library shelf mean that a book is popular. If it’s not on the shelves, but in the catalog we also learn something about its popularity.
Cool books by new authors are often not in the library until they have stood the test of time, unless they are widely known. There are exceptions, of course. Your cousin Bernie might work at the library, and that’s why your books are on his shelves, for examples.
I found myself musing for a moment if authors should buy their own books and give them to libraries for promotional purposes? That assumes, of course, that libraries are used by people who also buy books, and I’m not sure how accurate that assumption is.
Anyway, after I finished searching the shelves for the known, I tried to find something to read for a short time. My cruising time lasted half an hour before I figured out, after a long and tiring day, that the library would have a copy of the Amy Tan novel I’m currently reading on the exercise bike. Call my brain elastic!
Before picking up Tan, however, I cruised the shelves. I came face to face with overstimulation. Overwhelmed with hundreds of names, covers, and type styles, soon my search for an interesting read turned into a blur of uncertainty.
I actually found myself discarding books on the basis of assumptions about the books that may or may not have been true. (ie that book is hard SF because of the title, and I don’t like hard SF, so why pick it up?),
And then came a realization, like looking at myself through the small end of a telescope. Each of those authors is an author like me, delighted to see their name in print when it happened the first time, hopeful every other time it happens. They are not just names to be discarded. Who knew what hopes and dreams were encapsulated in the pages of those books?
To digress slightly, as a composition teacher, I do a similar thing to what agents and editors do when they are picking projects– I look for the best writing to assign the best grades to. I don’t get to simply reject the bad reports or the reports I’m not interested in. I try to nurture those writers and help them improve. But I always tell my students that when I grade, they shouldn’t take the grade personally. The grade is about how they put the work together, not about them.
As writing goes, I’m very good with rejection. I know that to some extent it’s subjective. In my own case, I’m also pretty confident in my own work. Yes, I know it’s not flawless, but I also know that usually the reason it’s getting rejected isn’t because of the technical. I took all the writers workshops an MA in fiction required before I decided an MA in tech writing would help me buy groceries. Nevertheless, all that workshopping helped me with technique and made me pretty thick skinned.
I keep the faith that someone is going to eventually pick me to be the first on the team, and then nurture and work with me. Heck, it’s happened twice already in the realm of the small press. Eventually it will happen with an agent or an editor. Time and persistence is what it takes for all of us. I believe that fervently.
So, I’m fairly objective about my own rejection process. I know, however, what sort of feelings and emotions are poured into a manuscript. We all do. I was confronted with the idea, as I gazed at all those shelves, of the books whispering at me.
“This is my eternity, this book. Pick me up. Remember me.”
“If you like this book, you will make me feel better about myself. Please, like me.”
“I need you to buy this book. This is how I pay my rent.”
“I’m so afraid if you don’t buy this book, they won’t let me publish any more books!”
All of these reasons for writing a book have gone through my head at different times. Usually I tell people that the reason I write is that I want to share my story. But oh my. How many people are going to gloss over my offering to the world on a library shelf or in a book store? I’m being glossed over now as I send out letter after letter. This will no doubt occur more often than I strike gold and success in the publishing business.
The only thing I could think, the only life preserver I could find, was the same one I use in my teaching: I won’t reach everyone, but I will reach someone. Is the difference I make in one student worth it, all the work and correction? Yes. Life is made up of one-on-one moments. That’s not all it is, but that’s a lot of it.
I guess the only way to keep from being overwhelmed to this fledgling writer is to remember that I’m writing my story and telling it to one person at a time. If I tell it to one more person, that’s enough. That might not be enough to pay my rent or to get me published again, but it is enough for me to feel good about myself and to feed my soul. And to keep me writing when I’m down.
And to all my brother and sister artists in the world who are looking for some sort of reaction to their work, for whatever reason, I offer you faith and hope and comfort. You are reaching us and succeeding. One person at a time.
Catherine
