Disclaimer: I’ve spent the last two days babysitting the Grandpea and I’m exhausted. Hurricane Baby just blew through our house, and don’t get me wrong, it was fun, but it’s work. Chasing that beautiful two-year-old is nature’s way of reminding me that I’m freaking old. Yeah, yeah, she’s wonderful, she brings joy and bubbles and all that happy crap, but right now, I’m pooped.
I almost feel guilty for writing that. She’s hilarious and sweet and adorable and oh my gosh, we had a blast. But sometimes, just sometimes Mimi just has to gripe a little. Especially when someone removes the dinosaur head from her drinking cup and pours juice all over the carpet.
But on to happier things. Amadeus and I went CAMPING last weekend—our first trip of the season– and it was heaven. We had so much fun, casting our lines while standing on big boulders, mooning over the endless lake while trying to catch fishies. Amadeus had a lot more success than I. I ended up with one tiny, mocking perch, and have reached the conclusion that fish hate me. My husband reeled in several, and while happy for him, I’m beginning to take it all as a personal, gilled affront. I consoled myself by burning hot dogs at sunset. We built a blazing orange fire on the lake bank (thanks, Pres-to-Logs!), and passed a bottle of whiskey (thanks, Jack Daniels!) and quietly lost ourselves in tranquility. Snuggled in our tent, we jabbered until we fell asleep and in the morning we made coffee and fished some more. I took photos, and snapped some shots of Canada geese for Annie (Calliope’s Tablet), who recently wrote a post about birds.
***
The trip was a much-needed replenisher for both of us. I’m no mu-mu wearing, bonbon eating, middle class housewife who hobby 
writes to stave off boredom (but God, I wish I was). I work hard at being an uncompensated scribe. I write until my buns are numb and my shoulders ache, and then I write some more. I research markets and send query letters; I try to learn more about technology and constantly rack my brain for ways to help subsidize our impoverished little household via the Written Word. My eyelids are permanently puffy. My eyeballs, once so sparkly and clear, are now two fried brussels sprouts attached to some optic nerves. I thank Buddha and Oprah for my husband, who occasionally places a trail of M&Ms from the doorstep to the car in order to lure me from the house. I’ve barricaded myself indoors lately, and if he didn’t occasionally nudge me outside, my skin would turn pasty and sunlight would burn out my retinas.
Last night, Amadeus heard me say, “Haaaaaahhhhhhhh,” which is the way I sound when I’m sucking a lot of breath into my chest all at once, the sound that lets him know that I’ve gotten an e-mail from an editor or from someone offering work. In this case, it was the sound of discovering that the finalists for a memoir contest I’d entered had just been announced. It wasn’t a big contest, or a big deal, but in a way, everything regarding writing is a Damned Big Deal.
The contest was a call for entries about overcoming loss and grief. In my mind, there would be about twenty-five finalists, and I was fairly certain I’d be one of them. I don’t often feel such confidence, but memoir writing is my passion; grief and loss are as familiar to me as my knuckles. Lately though, I’ve been semi-depressed and dejected about freelancing. No one knows this more than my husband, who sweetly asked, “Do you want me to look at the list of finalists for you?” I nodded and stepped out onto the patio and smoked a Spirit (no, I haven’t quit yet). After ten minutes, I knew I’d been rejected. If I’d won, Amadeus would have been out there, hugging and happy dancing with me. I went back inside and the expression on his face was my confirmation. For some reason, tears welled up in my eyes. It’s been a rough few months.
I got my hug anyway. “You’re just a grittier writer,” Amadeus said. “More blunt. They picked more flowery, gentle stories.” Not only that, but there were only five finalists.
Later, while I was moping around, pity partying, Amadeus called out, “Moonbeam McQueen—you’ve got mail!” It was my beloved copy of The Portable Dorothy Parker, which I’d won in another recent contest. It’s sitting on the buffet, and I’m not cracking the spine until I’m through basking in its glow. Dorothy’s looking at me, saying, “Put on your big girl panties and get back to work.”
Still Life With Plant, Parents and Portable Parker
I felt a little better, but not much. As I sat next to Amadeus on the sofa, sighing every four minutes, he finally turned and said, “You’re a good writer. You’re not going to win them all.” In fact, he’s told me that I’m the best writer he’s ever known, and although I’m not sure that he’s ever known another, it counts for a lot. His belief in me often keeps me writing when all I want to do is hide under my blankie.
“You can’t let every little rejection get you down.” I could tell he was sort of laughing at my sadness. This really was not a Big Deal. But the Grandpea had just left the building and I was exhausted. My normal, “Something wonderful’s waiting around the corner” attitude has been waning lately.
“Listen,” Amadeus said, still trying to shake me out of my gloom, “you got three blog awards last week. Three. Apparently, someone likes your stuff.”
Oh wow. It’s true. I did. They do. My pity party ended right then and there. I put away the Triscuits and dried my eyes.
It’s crazy—blogging is the most rewarding, joyful writing that I do. If left to my own devices, I’d die of starvation with a laptop on my desk, WordPress on my screen and a smile on my lips. Every rejection slip is tempered by e-mails and comments from fellow writers and blog readers who enthuse and encourage and let me know that they appreciate what I do. It’s enormously meaningful to me. It makes a difference in my world. In a way, it keeps me steadfast and helps me believe in myself almost as much as others do. And for that, I truly thank you.
OMG, thank you for sharing those pictures. I would love to go camping there. So peaceful and relaxing. I can see why you love it so. And I totally get the exhaustion post-Grandpea. I have that every night circa 7:00 p.m. Sigh. And you ARE a good writer – no, a GREAT writer. I’m not just blowing smoke to puff up your spirits either. I speaka da trut. Love ya!
I was born of hotel-staying stock, and entered the camping game just within the last few years. Maybe I’m making up for lost time, after decades of Holiday Inns, but I can’t get enough of it. Many of my family members think I’m crazy– for them, nothing could be less relaxing than sleeping on dirt, with limited shower access. Any time you want to go with us, Claire, come on. We’ll leave the porch light on– or the lantern.
And thank you for speaking da trut! Intended or not, it really does puff up my spirits. Love you back!
It’ll happen, Moonbeam. If you are winning in tough times like this, imagine when things get better. It’s dog eat dog for work out there right now. Publishing companies are hurting in a big way. So count each win as something huge! It is!
You are a great writer. I’m not just saying it.
I love the photos. Glad you had a good time and with the Grandpea.
haha! “My eyelids are permanently puffy. My eyeballs, once so sparkly and clear, are now two fried brussels sprouts attached to some optic nerves”
Me too!
Awww…thanks beadie. I just found out I got another blog award after I’d posted this! That’s like um…four this week. And it’s been a bad week, so the timing couldn’t be better. I’m counting them as huge. Honor among peers counts for an awful lot.
Here is a big fat mama-kiss on the forehead from one of your older (in both senses of the word) fans: mmmmmuuuaahhhhh. Amadeus is right: you’re not going to win them all. Three awards is fucking fantastic. And Moonbeam, I have to say this, about editors, juries, grant selection committees, hiring committees, and contests: it’s all bullshit. I say that not just because I, too, have been rejected a bazillion times (and I have, god knows), but also because I have been on these committees, like on the other side of the desk, and I know it depends on who gets the submission, what they had for lunch, how many favors they owe to other members of the committee who might like entry #457 better than their choice of entry #874. It depends on how many cups of coffee they had, and whether they prefer agave or stevia in their soy latte, and whether they got what they preferred in the moments before they read your piece. And popular taste? Oh honey, don’t get me started. Kittens, flowers, and rainbows don’t do it for me. But they get lots of popular mileage. You are quirky, funny, wise, honest…and you are as good a writer as there is in the world, Moonbeam. These good writers in the world (and on a good day, which is rare, I count myself among them) never want to compete with each other. We just want to write our damn truth the best we can, and we hope it speaks to people when we do. And if they laugh a time to two, we won. You win all the time, Moonbeam. Even when you’re losing, you win, because you help us to know ourselves and to laugh. Power to you, girlfriend.
You always make me cry. Wahhhh. I must be hormoning. THANK YOU Kendall, for the words of advice, encouragement and kindness. You know, when I stopped being devastated, I went and read the final entries in that contest, and I still felt happy about mine. It kind of confirmed some of what you’ve said here. It’s all subjective, it’s all human, and if I won all the awards, everyone would be unhappy and hate me, and what good would that be?
And now I have the freedom to rewrite my story without their word count or guidelines, and I’ll be even happier with it.
Oh my gosh– I love these words. I want to frame them. Thank you for my mama-kiss. It helped, it really did.
And another thing. Triscuits? Oh girl, if the worst you do when you’re really depressed is eat a few Triscuits, you deserve sainthood. For me, it would be the chocolate-and-salt-covered almonds; the ice cream; the hazelnut wafers. Triscuits? A very minor self-soothing indulgence.
That was poetic license. It was chocolate cake.
I love and adore the pun in your title. As for the rest – you got to go camping! Lucky lady. And that last photo is marvelous.
This probably is a silly question – I’m sure the answer is “yes”. Do you have a copy of the 2012 Magazine Markets for Writers? If you don’t know about it, let me know and I’ll send you the particulars. There’s a wealth of information about contests, publications that accept non-or-newly published authors, etc.
Yes! It was so much fun! That’s our little tent in the last photo. And behind it was our view when we woke up the next morning. I love sleeping next to the water– that sound!!
Are you talking about the Writer’s Market? I do have that, thought not 2012′s. I do a lot of Internet sleuthing for publications these days.
So I was really worried about you but then I saw the little tent, and then the gorgeous rhododendron blooms, and the geese. Just keep writing–you’ll be fine.
I will be fine, linnie. I mean, I already am, but I’ll be finer.
Those blooms are from a Catalpa tree. Southerners sometimes call it a “Catawba.” They attract sphinx moth caterpillars– a bad thing for the trees, but a good thing for fishermen. Fishies love sphinx moth caterpillars. Since you’re a gardener, I thought I’d impress you with my vast knowledge. Actually, I had to look it up when I got home, because I thought it was gorgeous.
Awwww. Buck up dear brussels sprout-eyed lady! You obviously HAVE what it takes.
And thank you for this lovely illustrated post. Nice photos!
Thank you Amadeus for leaving the trail of M&Ms and cheering our heroine on in her journey of words.
As for the 2-year old grandpea exhaustion narrative … I’m scared.
Just you wait, David. When Lydia starts removing the dinosaur head from her drinking cup, your life will never be the same. It’ll still be wonderful, but frankly, I’d start a workout routine now, just so you’ll be prepared.
I’m bucking up, I promise. Glad you like the photos! And, yay Amadeus!
Oh Moonbeam, they are soooo wrong!!! I promise! Your story, NO, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR STORIES are THE VERY BEST!!! Sometimes it just comes down to being such a crap shoot. The right story, handed to just the right person, who’s in just the right mood, at just the right time. All planets aligned…
And boy oh boy did you NAIL the truth about writing and the struggle. Would you want to guest post on my site next week? Or link this story?
Thank you for the bird photo. You are too sweet
I’m so glad you had a chance to get away. Thank God for Amadeus and M&Ms 
LOL
“It” IS going to happen for you. I promise Promise … cross my heart and all that
I know I’m rambling but I’m in shock too. I’m going to do some thinking about this. You should be making money. Lots of money. You are that good! Always know that and hang in there. You just need to find the right place. A is right …
PS I don’t know why I’m asking this but have you submitted to The Sun?
HUGS!
Oh, thank you MS. FRESHLY PRESSED (congratulations about ten more times)!!! I guess the planets just weren’t aligned this time. What’s bothersome is not that I didn’t nab this one– this is all just cumulative frustration. It’ll pass. Soon. I hope.
I’d love to write a post for your blog. I think on top of all of this, my fibro has flared a little, so if it’s okay with you, this post can serve as a back up in case I’m too wiped out to tackle a new one. You are more than welcome to repost or link to it, or whatever the kids are doing these days.
Those baby geese were adorable! I thought about you as I chased them around, trying to get some shots. I even made a video, but my film skills are equaled only by my cooking expertise.
I did submit a story to The Sun once, a few years ago (it was rejected). I thought I was a good fit for them, but really Annie, I’m not sure where I fit. Figuring it out is my ongoing journey. HUGS BACK!
Without doubt, you are an excellent writer and storyteller.
Thanks, Time. You are too.
(P.S. I’m domaining soon, thanks to you and your advice.)
I know that feeling. You pour everything you have into something, re reading, editing, re reading again, and then when you think you’ve got one of your best pieces you get the “Nah…………………….next?”. Oh the disappointment!
Don’t ever think that you’re not as good as some. Writers all have different styles. This one particular time they may not have been looking for your style. Don’t let it get you down. I’m sure it’s nothing personal. They may have liked what you submitted, but it wasn’t what they were looking for as far as what kind of emotion or personal effect they wanted. So screw them. They’re loss.
I have no writing skills. When I read blogs like yours I pick up styles and wordings. You teach without knowing it. I try to use blogs like yours as examples. You have mad skills girl!
That’s the beauty of grandkids…you get to give them back!
What a great pep talk! Thanks, ((((((ryoko)))))). I agree with you– it’s all a matter of personal preference. It makes me wonder if dress designers get depressed each time a client chooses the Valentino instead of their label. You just have to pick yourself up and hope that the next one likes your style.
I was happy to hand the Grandpea back over to her rightful owners. Now I’m recharged and ready for her to come back for more mayhem!
You have some great friends on here – and we all love your writing. You have had the compliments and the pep talks – I am sending you a little whiskey money!
Pat, oh Pat. I read this a couple of hours ago, but I had to process it for a while (The Process Process: 1) Read. 2) Cry. 3) Tell Amadeus. 4) Spend the next two hours saying, “Wow. Can you believe how sweet Pat is?”).
I just cannot thank you enough. For the words and the $. Really. I’m sending you many hugs, and I’ll drink a toast to you.
Redirected comment from bead:
I remember posting something like this at my site years ago. Couldn’t find it, but found this one. Thought it would give you a chuckle:
http://www.chaosmatrix.org/library/humor/reject.htmld:
[...] A HIGHLY recommended, related post: : Camp Complain, by Moonbeam McQueen [...]
My goodness, this one blog could easily have been 3 separate blogs, which all would have gotten my life votes
. I have 3 thoughts.
Makes me want to go hug my wife right now, but she’ll think I got some bad secret behind her back…lol
1. No need to feel guilty about feeling little selfish when you have a 2yr old..lol. It happens to all of us, but we love them to death!
2. Apparently campsites you go to is MUCH better than campsites I go to. If I go to another campsite where there is loud music blasting at 2am, I’m gonna go crazy. I think I need to try one of those “primitive” camp sites. Love the pictures you took during your trip!
3. Every great writer deserves a great husband, and you certainly got one
See, Chris, this is why I love those blog awards. It introduces me to news ones like yours. About 81% percent of my posts could be divided into three-parters. I’m a hot air balloon.
1: I agree with you about the two-year-olds. Thank God for cuteness and hilariousness. I’ll bet they’ve saved many a tiny tush.
2: I’ve never encountered music blasting, thank goodness. Are you camping in the hood? I’m so glad you like the pics!
3: Awww.. thank you. I agree. Amadeus is an angel. Last night we went bowling, and he didn’t laugh at me one time. You SHOULD go hug your wife right now– keep her guessing.
I’m so glad I found your blog. I think that with a lot of blogs, I’m drawn to the personality of the poster. Yours is definitely one of those.
Meant to ask, does the title of this post allude to the Nickel Creek song “Can’t Complain”? If not that’s OK, but it IS a pretty nice song. Been listening to a lot of Nickel Creek lately which is why it was on my mind.
No, it doesn’t, but that is a really nice song from what I remember.
It’s fascinating how being part of the blogging community feeds one’s soul; it makes me feel sad for all the non-bloggers out there who don’t have this outlet.
I agree, Renee. It’s like a solid, longstanding friendship. You can leave and come back and it’s always there, waiting for you to pick up where you left off.
This is crazy– I’ve clicked on your name numerous times when you’ve commented here, in order to get to your blog. It’s never worked, and I’d assumed that you weren’t writing. Today I did it again, and voila! I have a lot of catching up to do.
There’s something to be said for that line from Pretty Woman: “The bad stuff is easier to believe”. I know that’s true for me. While I have plenty of good in my life, one bad thing – and whack! I’m down for the count. For what it’s worth, I love your writing.
It’s worth a lot Sara! I love your writing too. Your blog is incredible, and I certainly believe it all.
I really enjoyed this blog entry…especially your thoughts about the life of writing. I think perhaps you and I inhabit parallel universes. I’m really new to this whole thing, and haven’t figured out the details and processes that queries involve, or even whether it is actually POSSIBLE to get stuff published for money, but I persist! Hopefully, things will pan out eventually!
I’m glad you enjoyed the post, and that it struck a familiar chord. I promise, it’s possible to get published for money, and I hope that your persistence pays off. Thanks for stopping by!