By Charlotte K. Jarmy
Some challenges have to be met head on. I faced one yesterday - a desk drawer that remained tightly shut despite at least three years of finger-bending attempts. I know - I should have asked Howard for help or pried it open myself. Each time, however, I had no sense of urgency, shrugged and forgot that darned drawer.
Yesterday, I decided to work at that stubborn piece of wood. After all, that’s what a drawer is. If it has a mind, it may be punishing me for years of neglect. I thought only teenagers and mothers did that. (Kidding.)
With some concern for my expensive nails, I wanted to show my enemy who’s the boss. Eureka! Success, although my fingers ached for days.
There before my eyes was a large folder with innumerable letters, a manuscript from my college days, an article I had written for my collaboration with Stanford and some literary magazines that may or may not still exist. That folder showed my many forays into the publication world, all during the years from 1987 to 1990.
To my delight, there were many letters of acceptance, some for stories I no longer remember. My delight abated somewhat as I kept reading; there were also rejection letters. The letters that brought publication and some money were soon shoved into some far corner of my mind. However, as expected, the rejection letters stung all over again. “How dare they!” I said to my ever-loving muse. She didn’t answer.
But there was one rejection that actually made me laugh. It came from a small publishing company in Milpitas. Under the usual check-off of reasons why he didn’t accept my story, the editor penciled in a list of satirical questions all relating to the male object of the female protagonist’s desire. The story, called “A Beach Date,” tried to show a humorous account of the fully rounded girl’s wish to bribe the man into a date, despite her terror of appearing in a bathing suit. The editor mocked all the girl’s attempts to seduce the young man with fancy gourmet offerings.
At the end of his list of questions came the laconic comment, “Not bad writing overall.”
In a later submission, he commented the story was not his cup of tea. Whereupon I sent him several kinds of tea bags in addition to a new story.
To my amazement, he accepted this story and sent me $5 in cash. Wow! Was it for the tea or for my story? It didn’t matter; it was grist for my mill.
Another item I would call serendipitous in its belated discovery was a six-page critique by another reviewer of a story I had put a lot of work into. So much work that I thought it warranted his nominal fee of $10. His comments motivated me to dig up this 1990 manuscript and follow his advice. Revision is part of the art of writing.
My three-month role as teacher in Mountain View’s Adult School will come to an end this month. I felt lucky to return to teaching.
Interactions among the people in the class made for thoughtful discussion and helped the writing achieve higher standards. That being the case, I left myself wide open to their expertise and brought in a long story I had submitted many times only to receive that unloved rejection, “Not for us.” Last night it took at least two hours to incorporate some of the excellent advice into my manuscript.
Creativity is a drive that must be pampered and pursued. No matter where it eventually takes us, it taps into the potential for imagination and joy. Time spent and money received lose their allure in the face of creating satisfying means of self-expression.
It was worth the effort to unlock that drawer.
Charlotte Kaye Jarmy
is a Los Altos resident and longtime contributor
to the Town Crier.
