I had a Sally Fields moment yesterday. It was one of those rare days every writer dreams about. It was the day in which every editor in the world, large and small, said, "Yes." Okay, it was just a single regional editor and one national one. They didn't say, "Yes," exactly either. But it was good enough for me to click my rejection-weary heals and howl like a wolf. I padded about my shoebox office, barefoot and pajama'ed (it was 4 p.m. ET, but 10 p.m. mine, okay?).
A regional parenting editor emailed to say she'd heard I write essays. She wanted to see one for her summer issue. All weekend I pulled thoughts from my cerebrum, cracking the code for tone and pace. It wasn't easy. When the essay was finally in a passable form, I left pools of sweat underneath my chair.
"This has to be gooooood," I breathed, remembering the last time they rejected a piece they had originally accepted. I felt so humiliated. So for them to approach me felt like redemption. I couldn't mess up.
The second editor dashed off a note congratulating me (and, most likely, three hundred other recipients of her form e-mail) on making her laugh. I had passed the first hurdle on the long chain of jumps to the executive editor's desk. "Give us your submission by Friday."
I could feel the perspiration forming on my brow as I wracked my brain for something witty to write. What could it be? Pleading with my girlfriends for some ideas in a collective email, I felt much better having thrust my hand upwards for assistance. I don't normally do that. But this one was huge: a chance to be a humor writer for a national woman's magazine with 1.5 million readers. On the way to pick up my husband, the kids' rowdy behavior gave me an idea. So I rushed home to record some thoughts and send it off to them.
"Deadlines are for the undisciplined," I cackled, flexing my writing prowess with arrogant delight.
Zipping off the e-mail, I thought for sure the editor would write me immediately, thanking me for having saved her so much time.
"Yes, you are the one, Christine!" I expected her to say. After checking my emails every five minutes day and night, I have learned the importance of patience and humility in a writer's toolbox. It's not all stunning prose and slick copy that gets us writers to the next level: it's an iron will, perseverance, and, of course, the 'yes' we all long to hear.




