Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Why Fast Isn't Always Better

     I'm coming up on 30 days with no word from any publishers on whether or not they want to take on my book. I'm trying to look on the bright side. Nobody has rejected me yet. The Fourth of July is coming up. People won't even be in the office the rest of the week. A lot of them will probably be out in the Hamptons or up in the Berkshires.  Do I really want an editor giving serious thought to my work with a Mai Tai in his or her hand? The kind with those little paper parasols?

     Damn right, I do!

     Scratch that. It isn't going to happen. So I will content myself with the realization that fast isn't always better. I'm reminded of last fall during Hurricane Sandy when my son was in Cambodia. Our phones and internet were out. We had no heat or hot water for two weeks. In the midst of the crisis, my husband received an email from our son at work. Here is the entire (and I do mean ENTIRE) message:

     In Cambodia   Ill   Call Later

     Our son? Half way around the world and so ill he can barely type out a message? We didn't even have a working phone to reach him on. There were gas lines everywhere. I wasn't sure I had enough fuel in my car to drive to JFK airport, let alone figure out how to get a flight to Phnom Penh (and yes, I had to look up the spelling. And no, I didn't have internet access to do it).

     We finally managed to get through to his college in California. I was sure he was already being evacuated to an ICU at the best hospital in Honolulu. But when I spoke to the director stateside, he told me none of the students had reported being ill. I insisted they try their direct contacts in Cambodia. A day later, word came back that our son was fine.

     When we had phone service again, I chewed my son out royally for worrying us like that.
     "I never said I was ill," he insisted.

     I reread him his text message.

     "Sorry. I dashed it off quickly. Forgot the punctuation."

     The message should have read:  In Cambodia. I'll call later.

     (Thank God he's not planning on becoming a copy editor when he graduates!)

     So--I will be patient--sort of. Failing that, make my Mai Tai a double and stick in two parasols...


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