Came home after a long day to find a rejection note and returned manuscript from Rita Rozenkrantz in NY. "I would find this book hard to sell," was her hand written comment. As I walked to the front door from my car after driving home from a totally boring day at a bureaucratic grants training, I flinched from the dagger in my heart.
I know agents have to choose, but sometimes they are tactless in their honesty. The mail date told me she probably had the proposal in her hands for less than a day!
Okay that officially makes six rejections: batting 6 for 10.
These messages from the "world" can be one of two things: 1.) revelations about how out of touch I am with the culture; 2.) revelations about how out of touch the agent is with the culture. I suppose there is a third: 3.) they mean nothing in particular. That's even worse!
After two glasses of wine I feel appreciably inebriated to pass into sleep and get up to another day when my dream might have a chance.
It's hard to write after this. But, I am sure I will revive and write anyway. Come to think of it, I really don't give a damn. I write everyday regardless, and I don't know why. It's just part of me and the day, like the coffee I brew each day. It's all part of orienting myself to the universe and trying to make some kind of meaning out of my life.
Sobered Susan
Monday, February 27, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
Chance Encounter
Yesterday I met Ruby in front of the short order counter at Rincon Market.
She was dressed in a dark burgundy suit that contrasted with her dark skin and jet black hair, deep set and penetrating eyes. Our gaze met and for some unknown reason I could not look away.
I broke the silence with "There are so many choices, it makes it hard to know what to order!"
"Oh, I know what you mean."
It amazes me how small talk is the means of breaking down the unseen but very sturdy walls we each carry around with us. Our souls came scrambling out to meet each other.
We sat at my little table watching the short order cook prepare our meals.
"I just love this market," I remarked.
"Yes, me too," she said.
"Have you lived in Tucson long?" I inquired.
"Seventeen years! I moved here from my homeland of Pakistan," Ruby's explained, her dark eyes peering intently at me.
"Wow. I just read a wonderful book you might enjoy. It's written by a woman from what was Persia then...."
"Iran now!" interrupted Ruby leaning forward a little.
"Yes. It is a very funny book. It is called 'Funny in Farsi'...but it really is a serious book that shows how cultures can clash or be insensitive out of just plain ignorance!"
Why this book jumped into my thoughts is probably related to my own ignorance, just lumping everyone from the middle east into one group of people. But she did not seem perturbed by it, possessing that graciousness of people who have put up with it for years.
"Yes. You know when I was a young girl in Pakistan, we had what you call...oh I can't think of the word now...untouchables! Yes, untouchables. I was taught to never speak to them, that they belonged to another class. Then I fell in love with a man who was a Bahá'í. One day we were walking and he greeted them... the untouchables. I was horrified!
He stopped me and said, 'Ruby you know I am a Bahá'í and I believe in the oneness of all humankind. If that is a problem for you then let's stop this relationship right now.' That was the first time I really thought about this belief I held."
I found it rather miraculous to be talking so intimately with a woman I had just met. It seemed almost surreal how our few sentences connected us instantly on a profound vein of human behavior. But, I felt so glad about it.
"You know, I am so concerned right now about the violence around the world that is because of the same thing - lack of knowledge or even basic respect for others' beliefs," I shared.
"Yes. I was a speaker at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Day celebration here, and I told the story about my husband. Then I told them how my mother-in-law saw my revulsion at eating at the same table with untouchables invited to dinner with the family. I truly thought I would get some illness from eating on the same china! She saw that I was struggling and for a time served me on a different set of china just to help me through my struggle...so strong was my belief. It took a long time to change my reactions."
We were watching the young chef flip burgers and pat fish fillets sizzling on the grill. Shoppers passed us to pick fruit and vegetables from the mounds of produce in the little grocery section near our dining table.
Ruby went on enthusiastically. I was rapt with attention, amazed at our meeting....
"After I was married and accepted the Bahá'í faith, too, I was out shopping with my friends and greeted an untouchable. My friends pulled back from me and shouted, 'What are you doing!' I then did the same thing my husband did with me. I said 'You know I am a Bahá'í now, and I believe in the oneness of all humankind. If that is a problem for you, then let's end our friendship right now!' But of course it did not end."
She went on, "One person's conviction can bring about change. That's how it happens, just like Dr. King said."
"Susan, your order is ready," the loudspeaker announced.
We glanced at each other again. Two souls who encountered each other by chance.
Or was it?
She was dressed in a dark burgundy suit that contrasted with her dark skin and jet black hair, deep set and penetrating eyes. Our gaze met and for some unknown reason I could not look away.
I broke the silence with "There are so many choices, it makes it hard to know what to order!"
"Oh, I know what you mean."
It amazes me how small talk is the means of breaking down the unseen but very sturdy walls we each carry around with us. Our souls came scrambling out to meet each other.
We sat at my little table watching the short order cook prepare our meals.
"I just love this market," I remarked.
"Yes, me too," she said.
"Have you lived in Tucson long?" I inquired.
"Seventeen years! I moved here from my homeland of Pakistan," Ruby's explained, her dark eyes peering intently at me.
"Wow. I just read a wonderful book you might enjoy. It's written by a woman from what was Persia then...."
"Iran now!" interrupted Ruby leaning forward a little.
"Yes. It is a very funny book. It is called 'Funny in Farsi'...but it really is a serious book that shows how cultures can clash or be insensitive out of just plain ignorance!"
Why this book jumped into my thoughts is probably related to my own ignorance, just lumping everyone from the middle east into one group of people. But she did not seem perturbed by it, possessing that graciousness of people who have put up with it for years.
"Yes. You know when I was a young girl in Pakistan, we had what you call...oh I can't think of the word now...untouchables! Yes, untouchables. I was taught to never speak to them, that they belonged to another class. Then I fell in love with a man who was a Bahá'í. One day we were walking and he greeted them... the untouchables. I was horrified!
He stopped me and said, 'Ruby you know I am a Bahá'í and I believe in the oneness of all humankind. If that is a problem for you then let's stop this relationship right now.' That was the first time I really thought about this belief I held."
I found it rather miraculous to be talking so intimately with a woman I had just met. It seemed almost surreal how our few sentences connected us instantly on a profound vein of human behavior. But, I felt so glad about it.
"You know, I am so concerned right now about the violence around the world that is because of the same thing - lack of knowledge or even basic respect for others' beliefs," I shared.
"Yes. I was a speaker at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Day celebration here, and I told the story about my husband. Then I told them how my mother-in-law saw my revulsion at eating at the same table with untouchables invited to dinner with the family. I truly thought I would get some illness from eating on the same china! She saw that I was struggling and for a time served me on a different set of china just to help me through my struggle...so strong was my belief. It took a long time to change my reactions."
We were watching the young chef flip burgers and pat fish fillets sizzling on the grill. Shoppers passed us to pick fruit and vegetables from the mounds of produce in the little grocery section near our dining table.
Ruby went on enthusiastically. I was rapt with attention, amazed at our meeting....
"After I was married and accepted the Bahá'í faith, too, I was out shopping with my friends and greeted an untouchable. My friends pulled back from me and shouted, 'What are you doing!' I then did the same thing my husband did with me. I said 'You know I am a Bahá'í now, and I believe in the oneness of all humankind. If that is a problem for you, then let's end our friendship right now!' But of course it did not end."
She went on, "One person's conviction can bring about change. That's how it happens, just like Dr. King said."
"Susan, your order is ready," the loudspeaker announced.
We glanced at each other again. Two souls who encountered each other by chance.
Or was it?
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Waiting for Rain
I am waiting for rain this morning. Dry, dry desert here in southern Arizona. Sonoran Desert to be specific. Its been since October 17th since the last real drops of blue liquid fell gently upon the green figures of Saguaros and Barrels and Opuntia, all waiting patiently....
Fires are burning in Payson, in the White Mountains above the Mogollon Rim in Northeast Arizona. It's February and there is no snow pack. Rangers reported seeing fires burning under the little snow pack there was in December. Imagine! Fire under snowpack. How is that possible?
Waiting for rain is not a bad occupation; it causes me to synchronize with my surroundings and sit by my cactus companions. We are all in this together, are we not?
Fires are burning in Payson, in the White Mountains above the Mogollon Rim in Northeast Arizona. It's February and there is no snow pack. Rangers reported seeing fires burning under the little snow pack there was in December. Imagine! Fire under snowpack. How is that possible?
Waiting for rain is not a bad occupation; it causes me to synchronize with my surroundings and sit by my cactus companions. We are all in this together, are we not?
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Shattered Mirror
Bumping into Each Other
We are strangers in a crowded room of shadows…
Imagine a message flying across an ocean, gray pigeon weighed down with terribly important mail clutched tightly in its curled feet, winging over the vast stretches of sea. The letter falls onto an embattled landscape, desperate expression of a loved one separated from her son, her lover, her brother. She stands on distant shore at the edge of her continent.
Ideas fly across oceans down from the high Himalayas, up from the low valleys of the Mekong Delta, and crisply flying out off the deserts. Memes stream from the places of government, courts of law, gesticulations; soulful cries roll up from mosques, ring from churches and linger in peaceful temples. Across the world, prayers like flowers, pink hearts pumping. We call upon our gods.
Our bodies fly through space and clouds, transported around the world, going to jobs, reuniting with loved ones, seeking insight, fun…treasure; missiles and war planes, too, and car bombs and bouquets of flowers, and new poems and lost children. By the flowering tree a hand ripped asunder from its arm. Earth moistened with her blood.
For the whole of human incongruity is standing before us, exhausted, wide-eyed, a stranger wandering the Earth looking for some place, some reason.
We are not used to each other. No, for all our education, our high-minded ideals, we are not ready for this crowded room, this place of seeming shadows where strangers dwell….
I reach across the divide to touch I know not who. Behind your eyes what world do you know, see, and believe with all your heart is the one true world. Am I in it? Am I your enemy or your friend? Talk to me through this darkness. Can I come to know you and you me? Do we even want to try? Am I your infidel and you my nemesis?
In the shadows is one wearing a Crown of Thorns, a Heart of Compassion, and there is the Prophet of Love; an Earth Goddess and her peacemakers. They watch in silence as we bump into each other, recoiling then reaching out. We try to sense each other. Who are you? we ask. The soft chorus from the shadows says, Keep Looking.
Pieces of a shattered mirror lie strewn about. Pick them up! the chorus cajoles. Pick them up and see!
We are strangers in a crowded room of shadows…
Imagine a message flying across an ocean, gray pigeon weighed down with terribly important mail clutched tightly in its curled feet, winging over the vast stretches of sea. The letter falls onto an embattled landscape, desperate expression of a loved one separated from her son, her lover, her brother. She stands on distant shore at the edge of her continent.
Ideas fly across oceans down from the high Himalayas, up from the low valleys of the Mekong Delta, and crisply flying out off the deserts. Memes stream from the places of government, courts of law, gesticulations; soulful cries roll up from mosques, ring from churches and linger in peaceful temples. Across the world, prayers like flowers, pink hearts pumping. We call upon our gods.
Our bodies fly through space and clouds, transported around the world, going to jobs, reuniting with loved ones, seeking insight, fun…treasure; missiles and war planes, too, and car bombs and bouquets of flowers, and new poems and lost children. By the flowering tree a hand ripped asunder from its arm. Earth moistened with her blood.
For the whole of human incongruity is standing before us, exhausted, wide-eyed, a stranger wandering the Earth looking for some place, some reason.
We are not used to each other. No, for all our education, our high-minded ideals, we are not ready for this crowded room, this place of seeming shadows where strangers dwell….
I reach across the divide to touch I know not who. Behind your eyes what world do you know, see, and believe with all your heart is the one true world. Am I in it? Am I your enemy or your friend? Talk to me through this darkness. Can I come to know you and you me? Do we even want to try? Am I your infidel and you my nemesis?
In the shadows is one wearing a Crown of Thorns, a Heart of Compassion, and there is the Prophet of Love; an Earth Goddess and her peacemakers. They watch in silence as we bump into each other, recoiling then reaching out. We try to sense each other. Who are you? we ask. The soft chorus from the shadows says, Keep Looking.
Pieces of a shattered mirror lie strewn about. Pick them up! the chorus cajoles. Pick them up and see!
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Dinosaur! An Essay after the State of the Onion Address
Dinosaur
An essay after the State of the Onion Address
February 1, 2006
Visions of T-Rex intruded on my mind’s eye, twisting his Big Head back and forth, bellowing a putrefied roar in that grating Texas accent. I was actually brought to tears, again, at last night’s State of the Onion address on Capitol Hill.
Why I watch I do not know, but perhaps I hope I might catch a glimpse of democracy somewhere in the night’s dark drama.
Instead I am assaulted with that sound, that grating sound that haunts me whenever he utters the word “Whhiiinnn” (as in Whhiiinnn in EYE-raq or Whhiiinnn the American public will) and levels his beady eye upon his victims.
Fortunately the raging of a dinosaur on Capitol Hill is falling on more and more deaf ears. Dinosaur language about moral and military ascendancy is anti-democratic and promotes isolationism.
Citizens of the Real World feel the lasting tragedy of dead or maimed children coming home from a failing war. We struggle more to pay our bills, and we worry about the future while corporate giants benefit from dinosaur economics. Exxon’s $36 billion Quarter Profit is the latest example of corporate greed in the face of citizens struggling to pay increased gas costs. What’s positive about that?
The only sign of hope I saw was the Dems cheering their victory over stopping T-Rex’s assault on social security and medical insurance. I was thrilled to see the democratic forces finally rallying openly against the reptiles across the aisle.
Still, seeing T-Rex at the head of our great country makes me weep. As he tramples the world with his fetid breath, the odor of a dying ideology, the world is turning away from us and our opponents grow in numbers.
Last night I was reminded of the Big Headed British in India during the 1950’s. Facing the little, brown man of peace, the T-Rex’s of that era Just Didn’t Get It either!
George is bellowing as the meteor hurtles toward the Hill. Soon the small, resilient forces of truth will propagate a new American society. Indeed it is already making its mark on American soil.
Only two more years!
Susan Feathers Williams
Hunkered Down in Tucson, Arizona
An essay after the State of the Onion Address
February 1, 2006
Visions of T-Rex intruded on my mind’s eye, twisting his Big Head back and forth, bellowing a putrefied roar in that grating Texas accent. I was actually brought to tears, again, at last night’s State of the Onion address on Capitol Hill.
Why I watch I do not know, but perhaps I hope I might catch a glimpse of democracy somewhere in the night’s dark drama.
Instead I am assaulted with that sound, that grating sound that haunts me whenever he utters the word “Whhiiinnn” (as in Whhiiinnn in EYE-raq or Whhiiinnn the American public will) and levels his beady eye upon his victims.
Fortunately the raging of a dinosaur on Capitol Hill is falling on more and more deaf ears. Dinosaur language about moral and military ascendancy is anti-democratic and promotes isolationism.
Citizens of the Real World feel the lasting tragedy of dead or maimed children coming home from a failing war. We struggle more to pay our bills, and we worry about the future while corporate giants benefit from dinosaur economics. Exxon’s $36 billion Quarter Profit is the latest example of corporate greed in the face of citizens struggling to pay increased gas costs. What’s positive about that?
The only sign of hope I saw was the Dems cheering their victory over stopping T-Rex’s assault on social security and medical insurance. I was thrilled to see the democratic forces finally rallying openly against the reptiles across the aisle.
Still, seeing T-Rex at the head of our great country makes me weep. As he tramples the world with his fetid breath, the odor of a dying ideology, the world is turning away from us and our opponents grow in numbers.
Last night I was reminded of the Big Headed British in India during the 1950’s. Facing the little, brown man of peace, the T-Rex’s of that era Just Didn’t Get It either!
George is bellowing as the meteor hurtles toward the Hill. Soon the small, resilient forces of truth will propagate a new American society. Indeed it is already making its mark on American soil.
Only two more years!
Susan Feathers Williams
Hunkered Down in Tucson, Arizona
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
