Never Give Up. Never Surrender.

So here we are. About eighteen years after first admitting to myself that I was interested in writing, I can finally hold a book that I wrote in my hands. My mind is officially blown. 

The first acknowledgement in A BETTER FATHER (did I mention it's on sale now?) is to the writers of Galaxy Quest, for that whole "Never give up. Never surrender!" thing. I know, I know.  It's such a cliché … but when it takes seventeen years to make that first sale, any and all mantras are needed. This one hit home for me because (a) it was short, (b) it was easy to remember, and (c) it was from a movie that was clever, funny, creative, and heartwarming – exactly the qualities I hope to infuse into my books. 

Never give up. Never surrender. 

Not that I always lived it, you know. I can't count how many times I gave up along the way. My agent loves to remind me of the five thousand or so emails in which I said to her, "I think I'm done." (Hey, she stuck by me for almost ten years before that sale happened. She's allowed to gloat.) But somehow, something always pulled me back. Sometimes it was an encouraging contest judge, or a new story that wouldn't let go. Sometimes it was something totally ridiculous, like being on the board of my local RWA chapter so I HAD to keep going to the meetings. Sometimes it was sheer stubbornness. Sometimes it was sheer laziness – as in, if I stopped writing I would need to take up something else, and the thought of starting over in a new field made me cringe. 

 

Sometimes, I just admitted that I wanted this too much to let go. 

Never give up. Never surrender. 

On that day when I picked up the phone and heard my agent say, "It's The Call," I dropped to the floor and sat there for an hour, sobbing. By some miracle none of the kids walked in. It was just me, alone in my office, crying out seventeen years worth of hopes and fears and frustrations and overwhelming relief. By the time I dragged myself back to my feet, I was shaking with exhaustion and could barely talk – but it was a joyful kind of depletion, much like after giving birth. Which is totally, absolutely appropriate. 

I'm glad I didn't know that it would take so long to make that first sale. I don’t know if I could have committed myself to a seventeen-year wait. But now that it's happened, let me tell you: it was worth every rejection, every sleepless night, every tear. 

Never give up. Never surrender.