Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

I am writer, hear me type?

I used to daydream about the day I would see my book in print.  I planned the party right down to the menu and my wardrobe.  The guest list was a veritable who’s who in the industry…total strangers, but since it was just a daydream, I didn’t care.

The problem was I hadn’t finished a single book at that time.  I had started several, but I hadn’t finished even one.  I was young…and probably not very disciplined…and I had pie in the sky dreams of book signings, cocktail parties, and hobnobbing with other “famous” writers. 

Boy, was I naïve.   

These days I have a better understanding of the business side of things—lessons learned in my days as a business banker—and I no longer daydream of parties and book signings.

I will again, I’m sure…someday. 

But for now, my dream is to get a reply to a query letter that doesn’t say, “No, thank you.”

As of today, I’ve seen my share of rejections. They used to make me cry. Ok, so they still make me cry. But for a minute there, I forgot I was a writer. I put the pen down, I saved the manuscript to a file and let the proverbial dust collect.

And boy did the dust collect.

Then a friend gave me a nudge. Or a push. Whatever. She reminded me that rejection is painful for a brief moment…brief only because it’s an expected and necessary bump along our chosen path.  Speed bumps designed to keep our heads from swelling. 

Reminders that I need to continue to perfect the writing…even when I’m certain I’m good at what I do.

So I sent out a new bunch of queries. A new set of hopes and dreams into the great beyond. And low and behold, I got a reply that wasn’t a, no. It was a maybe. Or better yet, it was a, so far so good. And I can live with that for now. It’s all just a big waiting game anyway.

And maybe…just maybe…it’s time to resurrect the dream from the place I buried it, thinking it wasn’t really attainable anymore. Because dreams are what keep us going when life starts to throw knives at us while we’re strapped to a spinning board, balloons popping all around our heads like gun shots in the dark.

And why dream if you’re not going to dream big, right?

Until the next time…I’ll be pulling out that guest list.

Copyright © 2000-2016, Erica Lucke Dean. All rights reserved. Any retranscription or reproduction is prohibited and illegal.