It's amazing to me sometimes just how many lessons the world around you and all the people in it have to teach you if you just take the trouble to actually listen. Yesterday, I attended the funeral of my cousin Terry, and it was a very mixed day - sadness at the fact that we were there to mark the loss of one so young, and so tragically taken away from us, mixed with the happiness of celebrating having been lucky enough to have known him, the silliness of the things we did to honour his fun-loving side (Hawaiian shirts being worn by half the attendees and the Top Gun theme belting out as we filed out of the church after the service) and the warmth that can only come from when you are in a room surrounded by those who unconditionally and completely love you, without question or comment.
Many things were said about Terry over the course of the day. My Uncle gave a heartfelt speech in which he told us of his pride as he had learned so many more positive deeds and influences that his son had achieved in the world in the days following his death, reinforcing just how modest and self-effacing a young man he had been. My Aunt finished her own speech with a quote which she said summed up the kind of sentiment that Terry himself would have used - "Don't be sad that it's over. Be glad that it happened." Terry's sister delivered a beautiful and moving eulogy, in which she recounted all of her most fond memories of growing up with her little brother, inlcuding his obsessive perfectionism as he lambasted the walls of her house for not being straight enough to accomodate his handiwork. It was, all told, a fine reflection of the man that my cousin was, and the legacy that he has left behind for the rest of us.
Today, I have been dealing with responding to the submissions to a fiction anthology of which I am the commissioning editor. Specifically, I have been dealing with the ones that I have to reject. Now, I had decided early on in the process that wth these rejected individuals, I wanted to give each of them some specific feedback. As a writer myself, as well as a human being, I know well the crushing emptiness that accompanies the feeling of putting oneself out there in whatever way - be it a writjng submission, a competition entry or even a job application - and getting no response at all. Worse even than a rejection, is that feeling that your efforts, however eranestly made, did not even merit the indignity of a simple 'no thanks'. I wanted to give these people, at the very least, the feeling that someone had read their efforts, had attenpted to engage and understand them, and wanted to try and help them improve and do better. It is a task that I have been slowly working my way through now for several weeks, a few entries at a time. It is long work, opening each entry in my file, reading through it again to remind myself, and then justifying - to me as much as to them - exactly why I am deciding to deny them this opportunity. There has been the occsional one that confounded me - switching from a no to a yes over the course of a re-read, and that in and of itself was reason enough to continue, loughing through the pile little by little.
Today, inspired by the number of times I heard yesterday how freely Terry would give of his time and knowledge to anyone who asked, I settled down and had a marathon session, powering through 10 of these entries and sending an individualised feedback email to all of them. It felt good. It felt like something that Terryw ould have approved of, but more than that it was a reminder of how privileged I am. Less than eighteen months ago, it was me sending in my efforts to be pored over and rejected at will. Only a few years ago, I recall well the sting of sending a story pitch that I was convinced was an absolute winner to an anthology, only to receive a rejection, albeit a personal, short one. Writing, to paraphrase the glorious Chuck Wendig, is bleeding. It's taking a part of yourself and literally squeezing it dry into the page, wrenching a very real and integral part of your soul out and pinning it to the page like a moth under glass for the world to gawp at. It is the most important skill of an author to be able to separate their ego from their work, whilst simultaneously being the hadest thing to do. I was lucky - I had the help of several authors who were happy enough to let me loose with my red pen on their work as they wrote it, and kind enough to feed back to me on exactly what of my suggestions they would use and what they wouldn't, and more importantly WHY. They gave of their time, returning me the the 'favour' I did them with my own paltry feedback tenfold, by helping me to hone and refine my own abilities until I could go from 'aspiring' to 'actual'.
And though I had not really defined it to myself in these terms before today, I realised as I worked and all those fine words I heard yesterday continued to echo around my head, that I had instinctively been trying to pay that kindness forward. To ensure that those who were rejected didn't just receive the anonymity of a no with no reason why. That they would not feel disheartened and decide to simply give up. I gave them reasons, I gave them detail. Most important, I tried to give them guidance - not a list of dos and don'ts so much as a sense of what they might like to consider in their own work and that of others. A suggestion here and there as to a different way that they might approach something, and encouragement that they might continue and develop further in future.
In the weeks that I have been doing this, I have had many responss from these poor rejected souls, and nearly every one has been positive, expressing gratitude for my having taken the time to give them individual feedback and telling me that they will take it on board and use it. One even asked if he could keep in touch with me going forward, so that I could see his future work and exchange ideas. Another told me that he was just about to start a creative writing course, and that my feedback would be very helpful to him as a jumping off point for that. Today alone, I have had responses from two individuals - one an English Teacher and the other an Editor and author himself - both positive, grsteful for the feedback and though admitting that it stung in places, agreeing with it all and affirming that they will keep honing.
Up until today, I had thought that I was doing this just to be nice. Now today, in light of all that has happened recently, and in light of the promises I made to the spirit of my cousin in the last week, I see it differently. It is not a chore to sit and write these detailed messages to these hopefuls. It is a privilege. It reminds me of how far I have come. It reminds me that others deserve all of the same breaks and chances that I got. It reminds me that the most important thing that you can do in life is give back to others that which you received.
I face the rest of the messages I have to compose and send, no longer with a sense of trepidation, or obligation. I face them with a sense of excitement, that I might influence a whole bunch of people to pursue a dream that little bit more. A sense that I might just make a difference in the lives of others. And it feels good.
Younger than me, better travelled than me, and far braver than me. I wonder if you will ever run out of lessons for me to learn, if only I take the time to stop and listen.
Thanks Cuz.
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