Virility NOW!

That's the subject of three emails in my bulk mailbox.

Spammers. Faugh.

Yesterday was beautiful; an unexpected high in the sixties. Mrissa and Timprov and Roo and I walked around Lake of the Isles. Roo, although tired from nappus interruptus, petted puppies, found sticks to poke things with, rode in a stroller and ate a scoop of ice cream at Sebastian Joe's.

When we came home, Mike had the chili on the stove. My sister and her roommate came over for dinner, and then we watched three episodes of Firefly. Because, you know. DVD! Firefly!

The car's in the shop today, and that's just fine with me. I have some things to do: balance checkbook, finish laundry, rewrite a story, go to the post office. I think I can get everything done by three, but only if I tackle the rewrites NOW. I've postponed synopsis writing until tomorrow; I'd rather watch Firefly, to tell you the truth, and I'd rather hear back from Mrissa and Catie and Bear and Jenni and everyone about what's wrong with the Not A Novel before trying to write a synopsis.

There's been a lot of talk on one of the lists I'm on about 'what is the best career to have to write'. I think the answer to that is that 'there is never a good time to write, because other things will always intrude, and you just have to do it'.

Then again, there have been a few threads in recent days about how best to get published. Seems like everyone wants a magic 'get published' button. But there's not such a thing, see. And the repeated queries along that line-- well, they make people acerbic. Like John Scalzi (and has everyone seen his 'rules for writing'?).

The facts are harsh: life is filled with disappointments. Anyone who writes and submits gets more disappointment than joy. Period.

And if you can't pick yourself up after each one and keep going, then maybe writing is not a good choice for you.

And if you ask me which is harder: medicine or writing, I'll tell you WRITING, every time. Because in medicine, the prevalent culture is full of big fish eating little fish. You get adjusted to put-downs and disappointments. You grow a callus. You learn to hide your heartbreak when bad things happen to other people. People knock you around until you get your ego shaved down to size, or you get the heck out of the field.

And if you don't break, you get used to it-- it's not you, it's what you've learned to date. Or not learned. It's not you, it's the course of the disease. It's not you, it's the guy who didn't take his insulin. Or it is you, but the pharmacist missed the error too. You learn to set your ego aside. Because it's not ALL ABOUT YOU.

In writing, at least for most people, it is all you. Every story has your little ego wrapped up so tightly in it that it's all about you. And when the rejection comes, it's YOU they're rejecting right along with the story, because clearly, if one cannot recognize the product, one does not appreciate the beautiful font of wisdom from which it floweth. (Ack, I think I'm getting acerbic now.)

But the point is, it's not something that's taught in writing, how to set your ego aside. Anyone that tries to do what a big name attending does on a routine basis to third-year medical students gets dogpiled on as being a horrible, horrible person. Because people aren't USED to the concept that maybe, just maybe, it's NOT all about THEM.

Don't get me wrong. I don't think the way it's done in medicine is all that great. But there has to be a way to teach this without being cruel.

Otherwise, I'm afraid that folks like PNH and TNH will leave the field in disgust someday.