Meine Damen und Herren... Zee Dancing Monkeys of Dusseldorf

Received another rejection letter for my book. This one came from Simon & Schuster; after they had asked to see the manuscript. I suppose if you're going to be turned down by anyone it might as well be one of the biggest publishing houses in the world. The editor was very nice and supportive when I spoke with her. That, in itself, was a pleasant surprise and it gave me enough confidence to push forward. Where would be the reward and satisfaction if everyone could get published? The shelves are littered with books whose authors were repeatedly turned down and rejected before the right deal came along. Zane Grey, Margaret Mitchell, Harper Lee, C.S. Lewis, Bonnie Sue Vinyl. Alright, so Bonnie Sue isn't a good example since, as far as I know, she has never written a book. She was however my arch nemesis in first grade and I was always mean to her so now I try to atone for my transgressions by mentioning her name whenever I can.

A better example would have been John Kennedy Toole, who wrote "A Confederacy of Dunces." Depressed that he couldn't find a publisher he committed suicide. That should have been the end of the story (literally) had his mother not taken the manuscript, some 7 years after her son's death and pestered Walker Percy; then a teacher at Loyola, into reading it. Fortunately for my mother, my writing isn't in the same league with the afore mentioned authors so I'm not getting that emotionally ripped apart by the rejections. Secondly, her car has a lot of miles on it from driving back and forth to Jackson to look in on my uncle so if I did kill myself, either out of depression or just to see who would come to my funeral and what they would say about me, I wouldn't be leaving this Earth with the full confidence that my mother would physically be able to take my book around to whoever the writer in residence at Ole Miss is. I suppose she could call and ask if he (or she) would mind driving over to her house to look at this wonderfully enchanting and hilarious book that her clever and handsome son had written: God rest his soul. But her house is on the top of a steep hill and in the winter it's almost impossible to make it up without sliding back down into the ditch, and anyway, I'm pretty sure that Mrs. Toole lived on a cul de sac with ample street parking. Still, it would have been nice if her son had lived to see his book published.

As for me and my literary pursuits, I'm wrestling with the idea of going back and reworking the style of my story so that it reads more like a novel and less like a collection of e-mails which, essential it is. I'm also beginning to second guess my earlier decision to omit the chapters detailing my youth spent in a special school for wizards. Regardless of what transpires with this great adventure it has provided me with many new and wonderful experiences and opened my eyes to the world around me. Some people see the glass half empty. Others see it half full. Me? I'm just happy to have a glass. Besides, if things get too desperate I can always sell my signed, 1st edition copy of "A Confederacy of Dunces".