Well, I got the word today - my once possible future agent wrote to say she was passing on my book. There was a moment of disappointment there, but I honestly would have been far more surprised if she had offered to represent me. She did give a brief explanation of why she was passing, and honestly it's hard to argue her point because she zeroed in on something that I also felt needed to be better.
This is something that I really think you have to be a writer to appreciate, but it's a little masochistic to be a writer who tries to get something published -- you simply are going to get rejected time and time again, and yet you just keep putting yourself in situations where you know you're probably going to get rejected. It's just how it works. No matter how hard you work or how good you think your work turns out to be, everything is subjective. And the simple fact here is that if I couldn't make her love it? Either she wasn't the right person for the job, or the manuscript wasn't ready yet. I'd say it's probably a little bit of both.
Honestly, I'm okay with this. I'm really very happy to get this news before the school year ends so I can get a more complete feeling of closure without having one more question mark hanging over my head as the summer begins, and when it comes to doing some rewrites on the manuscript, I now have a definite direction to take.
So I'm writing this to inform anyone curious about this as to what happened. I'm not writing this to have people tell me how sorry they are for me. Please don't feel sorry for me here. Even if it didn't work out this time, I've still reached a point in the process that many people never reach. I know I'm in a good position to continue pursuing this, and I know what I need to do to make the next time a better possibility. And let's remember that in the big picture, I haven't lost anything at all. Life is still good.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Target? Really? COME ON!
Okay. I need to rant.
Yesterday I went to one of my local Target stores. I'm one of these people (you likely are as well) who cannot walk into a Target store and only buy one thing. For me it's more like "Oh crap, I'm out of saline solution," and then $74.57 cents later, I find my way to the checkout.
One of the things I like about Local Target #1 (I'd claim at least 2) is that I know where everything is. I can go in, get what I'm looking for or the stuff on my list, and get out reasonably quickly before my weaker impulses take over and I'm noticing how much cooler that alarm clock is than the one in my bedroom, or wondering if I have enough OxyClean.
Local Target #1 is right on the edge of a school neighborhood, so I have as much chance of getting out of there without being spotted as... well, let's just leave it as a really small chance. And that's not a huge issue, but sometimes when you're just browsing your way through Target you'd rather not have to endure three impromptu parent-teacher conferences or spend even forty more seconds with that one kid who drives you up the proverbial wall. Because THAT is the only kid you ever wind up seeing. Which makes Local Target #1 so great, because if you go in there with purpose you can knock stuff off your list and get in and out in a hurry.
So I'm in there this weekend, and after I make an immediate right turn into the pharmacy section to find the aforementioned saline solution I start for the pet food and only then realize that THEY HAVE TAKEN EVERY ITEM IN THE WHOLE @#$%&*#*! STORE AND MOVED IT SOMEWHERE ELSE. Signs are posted every nine feet begging we the customers for our patience while they "remodel," and promise how the "new look" is going to make our Target experience even better than it was before, as if that were even possible. And here I am wondering which area code I have to travel to just to find the stinkin' Snausages, fer cryin' out loud. And it wasn't so much that they just switched aisles around, but they completely reorganized it all, repainted, even got rid of the old shopping baskets (which, okay, I'll concede wasn't such a bad move).
Now, this is like the third time Local Target #1 has pulled this stunt in the past five years. I would REALLY like someone to explain to me why this kind of mind game is necessary. I have half a mind to drive four miles to a different Target where I kind of know where things still are, or 5 miles in the other direction, or to one of the other 19 Target stores within 10 miles of my house. But I know I won't. I'll just wander aimlessly for a few months until I reacquire the layout, then settle back into my retail complacency.... until they do it again in nine months.
Yesterday I went to one of my local Target stores. I'm one of these people (you likely are as well) who cannot walk into a Target store and only buy one thing. For me it's more like "Oh crap, I'm out of saline solution," and then $74.57 cents later, I find my way to the checkout.
One of the things I like about Local Target #1 (I'd claim at least 2) is that I know where everything is. I can go in, get what I'm looking for or the stuff on my list, and get out reasonably quickly before my weaker impulses take over and I'm noticing how much cooler that alarm clock is than the one in my bedroom, or wondering if I have enough OxyClean.
Local Target #1 is right on the edge of a school neighborhood, so I have as much chance of getting out of there without being spotted as... well, let's just leave it as a really small chance. And that's not a huge issue, but sometimes when you're just browsing your way through Target you'd rather not have to endure three impromptu parent-teacher conferences or spend even forty more seconds with that one kid who drives you up the proverbial wall. Because THAT is the only kid you ever wind up seeing. Which makes Local Target #1 so great, because if you go in there with purpose you can knock stuff off your list and get in and out in a hurry.
So I'm in there this weekend, and after I make an immediate right turn into the pharmacy section to find the aforementioned saline solution I start for the pet food and only then realize that THEY HAVE TAKEN EVERY ITEM IN THE WHOLE @#$%&*#*! STORE AND MOVED IT SOMEWHERE ELSE. Signs are posted every nine feet begging we the customers for our patience while they "remodel," and promise how the "new look" is going to make our Target experience even better than it was before, as if that were even possible. And here I am wondering which area code I have to travel to just to find the stinkin' Snausages, fer cryin' out loud. And it wasn't so much that they just switched aisles around, but they completely reorganized it all, repainted, even got rid of the old shopping baskets (which, okay, I'll concede wasn't such a bad move).
Now, this is like the third time Local Target #1 has pulled this stunt in the past five years. I would REALLY like someone to explain to me why this kind of mind game is necessary. I have half a mind to drive four miles to a different Target where I kind of know where things still are, or 5 miles in the other direction, or to one of the other 19 Target stores within 10 miles of my house. But I know I won't. I'll just wander aimlessly for a few months until I reacquire the layout, then settle back into my retail complacency.... until they do it again in nine months.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Like vs. Love vs. Pity vs. Hate
There are 15 more calendar days until the last day with my students. If you go by the school calendar, it's even less than that: 10 more days when attendance is counted, and of those ten only 5 or 6 of them could really be considered complete teaching days. I have mixed feelings about the closing of the year. I almost always do, but this year finds them more mixed than usual. There are some students I will not miss even a little once they leave my class for the final time. There are some it will be hard to let go.
Maybe not all teachers see students in the same categories / archetypes / characterizations / whatever that I see them in, but I'm betting more do than don't. The thing of it is, most of the students that come through your room during any given school year -- you like them. You enjoy spending time with them, you have fun getting to know them, you learn to appreciate the quirky bits of personality they carry with them. These kids come to school ready to learn, they're generally happy, they get along with others reasonably well and most of the time they try to do their best. You send these kids off into the summer with good feelings, happy you had the chance to work with them and get to know them.
Not all are so fortunate. Some kids you just have to pity, and mostly you feel this because of circumstances that affect their lives so much and are beyond their control. I can't even get into the laundry list of problems that would fit in this category, mostly because it would depress too many people to think that children have to live with these problems. And if you're living a life that too often feels on the verge of coming apart, how much of a priority do you think it would be to study your spelling list for the week? Even the kids who push your buttons so hard they make you want to explode? The ones that seem to add to your frustration daily, and do so with a purpose? You get angry, but you ultimately pity them because you know what they have to live through. I won't say I'm sorry to see all of these kids go, because they are the ones that bring the most stress into your life. And letting that go is never a bad thing.
You really can't hate any of them. I don't think you could do this job if you ever truly hated a student. My first and still most defining teacher told me once as I was forming what my idea of a teaching career would ultimately be that "You have to find something in each student you can love." I still believe this. Some sure make it hard to find, but you have to do it. Even if the only thing you can love about them is the occasional moments of clarity they have when you get through to them or when you see just a glimpse of the potential they would have were they not hauling a trainload of issues. Finding that one thing to love can make all the difference, and helps you remember to pity instead of hate.
And then rarely, so very very rarely, you will come across those students that you love. They are, in some way, your shining stars. You would do anything these kids, even voluntarily give them a kidney if that's what was necessary. You have a connection with them that just doesn't come around often -- every five or six years if you're lucky. They often hover around you and demand your attention, they can read your mind almost as easily as you can read theirs, and they usually reflect the qualities that you value the most. They're more mature, more intelligent, they have a sophisticated sense of humor and a heightened sense of decency. They are the ones you wish you could keep awhile longer. You want to see what happens in the coming years as they grow, and see how the story develops for them. As I wrap up my 18th year of teaching, I can count on my fingers how many students I've had that have reached me at that level.
But the year ends, and they move on, and the cycle continues. And the new batch shows up in the fall and you begin with renewed promise and possibility. But this time of year you think about the end. You see it coming more clearly. And if you have any of those special kids, you feel a little dread over the idea of the end. They make it hard to close the year.
My students this year? I have a wide collection of goofballs. And believe it or not, I mean that in the most complimentary way. Even with the frustration that I have to wade through daily, the large majority of my 80+ students this year are kids who possess a goofiness that I truly enjoy. But as soon as summer settles in and slowly rolls along, the memory and the attachment will fade. I'll confuse their names for their older brothers and sisters. I'll struggle to recall last names. And my head will start to make room for the new group waiting on the other side of the summer.
But even with the domination of the goofballs?
I know it already -- closing this year won't be easy.
Maybe not all teachers see students in the same categories / archetypes / characterizations / whatever that I see them in, but I'm betting more do than don't. The thing of it is, most of the students that come through your room during any given school year -- you like them. You enjoy spending time with them, you have fun getting to know them, you learn to appreciate the quirky bits of personality they carry with them. These kids come to school ready to learn, they're generally happy, they get along with others reasonably well and most of the time they try to do their best. You send these kids off into the summer with good feelings, happy you had the chance to work with them and get to know them.
Not all are so fortunate. Some kids you just have to pity, and mostly you feel this because of circumstances that affect their lives so much and are beyond their control. I can't even get into the laundry list of problems that would fit in this category, mostly because it would depress too many people to think that children have to live with these problems. And if you're living a life that too often feels on the verge of coming apart, how much of a priority do you think it would be to study your spelling list for the week? Even the kids who push your buttons so hard they make you want to explode? The ones that seem to add to your frustration daily, and do so with a purpose? You get angry, but you ultimately pity them because you know what they have to live through. I won't say I'm sorry to see all of these kids go, because they are the ones that bring the most stress into your life. And letting that go is never a bad thing.
You really can't hate any of them. I don't think you could do this job if you ever truly hated a student. My first and still most defining teacher told me once as I was forming what my idea of a teaching career would ultimately be that "You have to find something in each student you can love." I still believe this. Some sure make it hard to find, but you have to do it. Even if the only thing you can love about them is the occasional moments of clarity they have when you get through to them or when you see just a glimpse of the potential they would have were they not hauling a trainload of issues. Finding that one thing to love can make all the difference, and helps you remember to pity instead of hate.
And then rarely, so very very rarely, you will come across those students that you love. They are, in some way, your shining stars. You would do anything these kids, even voluntarily give them a kidney if that's what was necessary. You have a connection with them that just doesn't come around often -- every five or six years if you're lucky. They often hover around you and demand your attention, they can read your mind almost as easily as you can read theirs, and they usually reflect the qualities that you value the most. They're more mature, more intelligent, they have a sophisticated sense of humor and a heightened sense of decency. They are the ones you wish you could keep awhile longer. You want to see what happens in the coming years as they grow, and see how the story develops for them. As I wrap up my 18th year of teaching, I can count on my fingers how many students I've had that have reached me at that level.
But the year ends, and they move on, and the cycle continues. And the new batch shows up in the fall and you begin with renewed promise and possibility. But this time of year you think about the end. You see it coming more clearly. And if you have any of those special kids, you feel a little dread over the idea of the end. They make it hard to close the year.
My students this year? I have a wide collection of goofballs. And believe it or not, I mean that in the most complimentary way. Even with the frustration that I have to wade through daily, the large majority of my 80+ students this year are kids who possess a goofiness that I truly enjoy. But as soon as summer settles in and slowly rolls along, the memory and the attachment will fade. I'll confuse their names for their older brothers and sisters. I'll struggle to recall last names. And my head will start to make room for the new group waiting on the other side of the summer.
But even with the domination of the goofballs?
I know it already -- closing this year won't be easy.
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