A Year Ago

April 24, 2014

At this time a year ago I spent the next several weeks writing and rewriting my children’s manuscript for “my agent.”   I grew increasingly frustrated with her.  No matter what I wrote, it wasn’t good enough.  But I kept on trying without taking out my angry on the agent.  I edited a manuscript in one day.  I sent the revised manuscript to her at ten o’clock at night the same day.  She emailed me the next day saying that her mother was in the hospital dying from cancer in Wisconsin.  I emailed her back offering her a place to “crash” and offering her a meal.  I cared for her as a person.  After discovering that we had a lot in common — our fathers had suffered from depression — we developed a bond.  But she kept challenging me asking for more rewrites in an attempt to improve my children’s manuscript.  I didn’t quit. 

 

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