You know how some bands take a decade off and then emerge out of the woodwork with a new album years later? Three decades after my first published book, I’m making my comeback! Sure it was a spiral bound, poorly illustrated, typo-filled ten paged paperback in fourth grade, but hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere.
Someone asked me this weekend when I knew I wanted to be a writer. What was the defining moment? Miss Trosko? Are you still out there?You are the reason I want to write. Miss Trosko was my high school English Teacher and when I received an A/F on my first paper, I knew writing was my calling. The “A” was for content, and the “F” was for grammar. In other words, I couldn’t tell the difference between a period and a comma, and a semi-colon was a body part that was half absent. All year long, I fought to learn the nuances of syntax, until my final research paper of the year received an A/A-. Yippee!
Senior year arrived and I made the decision to tell my parents that I wasn’t going to do the med school thing. I wanted to study English. I talked to Miss Trosko after school and with tear-filled eyes, I expressed my fear of letting my parents down. She couldn’t understand. I’m Indian, okay? When you come from India, acceptable career choices [at the time] were limited to doctor, lawyer or engineer. I was terrified to tell my parents that I had changed my mind.
Miss Trosko handed me a Kleenex and said the words that gave me the courage to be honest with Mom and Dad. “Life is full of change. We’re always changing. So changing your mind is not a crime.” Then why did I feel so guilty? Sigh.
Funny how even parents change. Now, as I try to launch my writing career at the age of forty, my parents are two of my biggest cheerleaders. After my husband and four girls who greeted me with a box of Crumbs when I returned from my first official writing conference. Nothing like coffee and cupcakes in between tapping away on my Mac. Don’t worry. I have no plans of eating all six. In one sitting.
Speaking of the conference, that’s why I sat down to write today. And what better way to kick off my blog than my revisiting fourth grade. Remember the “Fortunately, Unfortunately” books we wrote back then? Maybe it’s just a Canadian thing. Regardless, here goes my summary of this past week:
Fortunately, Wednesday morning, my alarm clock goes off and I wake up on time.
Unfortunately, I am sweating from wearing two sweaters, two blazers, two pairs of pants and my heels inside my boots. Creative packing I like to call it.
Fortunately the flight is on time.
Unfortunately, the attendant tells me I have a seat change seconds before I board the plane. O-Kay?
Fortunately, I end up sitting next to a State Trooper Commander from Maine who fills my ear with heroic stories and the time passes quickly. On a side note, halfway through the flight, I look two rows ahead to my originally assigned seat and it is, you guessed it, empty. Strange.
Just before landing, the gentleman tells me what he says to the new rookies when they get their first calls: “Don’t back down. Don’t hide. Don’t lower your gun. Remember — a lot of people are counting on you.” Talk about the ultimate pep talk! Thanks Mr. Inspiring Commander!
Unfortunately, when I arrive at the hotel and unpack my things, I discover that my new shoes don’t fit. My feet are swimming in them. Did I try these babies on with really thick sports socks? All I know is that when I put them on with knee highs, my feet slip to the front and there is an inch gap at the back which would have been fine except that simple testing of them around my hotel room proves detrimental. My feet keep popping out. Hmmmm. Not good.
Fortunately, the concierge points me to a Macy’s two blocks away.
Unfortunately, I can only find a pair that costs over fifty dollars.
Fortunately, I still have my Macy’s 20% coupon in my purse and it hasn’t expired.
Unfortunately, the shoes don’t qualify. Wah! Darn those “every day” prices.
Fortunately, I make it back in time to help with Registration.
Unfortunately, I have no time to change out of my jeans. The memo on the loops said, “Dress Professionally.” Talk about great first impression about to happen. Not.
Fortunately, almost everyone behind registration is dressed similarly. I guess the suits and ties come out tomorrow.
Unfortunately, I am super thirsty.
Fortunately, they have water and cups right there.
Unfortunately, I think I make fun of my future Agent, because he can’t figure out his name tag.
Fortunately, with a name like Rajdeep Paulus, he’ll never remember it.
Unfortunately, I leave registration and hang out in the book store and feel a sudden overwhelming sense of loneliness. I am all alone here.
Fortunately, I go up to the room and meet my future best friend. I just don’t know it yet. I guess I should ask her first and not assume that she feels the same. I got a feelin’ who-hoo, I think it’s gonna work out.
Unfortunately, one of my roommates snores so loudly that first night, I seriously contemplate murder for the first time. In fact, at three in the morning, my bed-mate and I are debating the jail time differences between pillow suffocation and plastic knife stabbing. Needless to say, the three of us that didn’t snore got close to zero sleep.
Fortunately, the hotel gave us free Starbucks vouchers.
Unfortunately, they ran out of pumpkin spice muffins. Double Wahh!
Fortunately, Stan Williams’ class on The Moral Premise is out of this world amazing!
Unfortunately, the three of us get kicked out of class for passing notes and giggling. Hey, we had to do something to keep each other awake. And he actually didn’t kick us out. I just can’t think of anything unfortunate to say about him or his lovely wife. Find out that they live only two blocks from where my parents lived when I went to high school. We shopped at the same Meijers. Small world.
Fortunately, I have the yummiest “design your own” pasta for lunch.
Unfortunately, we have five minutes to scarf it down else be late for the newcomers orientation.
Fortunately, we make it on time.
Unfortunately, no sleep and a tum-tum full of pasta makes a bad combination. And there is no time to use the second Starbucks voucher. We barely get seats, and when they ask us to break up into our genres, no one in my group talks to each other. Hello? Cut-throat! Just kidding. I meet a couple of really nice gals. Looking forward to their books someday.
Fortunately, my next class is with a cowboy from Texas that tells a great story and opens my horizons on writing a novel that a reader just cannot put down.
Unfortunately, it’s very possible that everyone in that class hates me, because I ask about thirty-one questions. I guess you could say I’m not comfortable with silence.
Fortunately, Mr. Cowboy Agent enjoys my inquisitive spirit and tells me he plans to hire me as his P.R. person next year cuz I kept the discussion going. Okay. So I was the discussion. What difference does it make? At least I was awake.
Unfortunately, I am now beyond exhausted when I go to my next class. But I stick skin-colored toothpicks in front of my eyes. I’m sure no one can tell until the speaker makes a Biblical reference about the log in your eye, and he’s staring right at me. I think the man has X-men powers, because I swear he sees the toothpicks. And he stares so intensely, one pops out and lands in the woman’s hair in front of me.
Fortunately, she has one of those teased out, fluff-fluff, southern dues, so she’s not feeling nuttin’.
Unfortunately, just as I reach across to pluck it out, she turns to look back and my two fingers float centimeters from her eyes. She freaks out and smacks me. There goes my other toothpick.
Fortunately, during the general session, I step out because the Agent I offended earlier is in the foyer and I figure, good a time as any to apologize and pitch my book right after.
Unfortunately, I am three, I do not exaggerate, THREE words into my pitch and he holds his hand up in my face. So I stop.
“Wrong genre.”
“What?”
“Wrong Genre. You can’t say ‘college student’ and ‘young adult’ in the same sentence.”
“Oh. Kay. Should I tell you the rest of my pitch? Like the storyline? Anything?”
“Can’t get past that mistake. What if we make your character five years older?”
“Then she would no longer be a college freshman.”
“What if we make her five years younger?”
“Then she wouldn’t be in college.”
“Is her age critical to the story?”
Are you kidding me?“Of course not. I can change the setting. The time. The time period. The dorm scenes. The college class scenes. The climax that happens on the campus. Yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem. Thanks for your time.”
“Remember, it’s just one person’s opinion. You don’t have to change a thing.”
“Okay. Sure. Thanks. So do you think you want to hear my idea for the story?”
He nods, smiling. I think he’s making fun of me. Remember, a voice inside my head says. Don’t lower your gun. Don’t back down. So I tell him my story and I tell him how I’ve written a prequel. And up goes the hand again.
“What this time?”
“You can’t do a prequel as your second book?”
“Why not?”
“Because your readers want to know what’s going to happen next after you leave them hanging in the first book. Not what happened a long time ago. You’ll lose your readers. In fact. They’ll hate you.”
Okay. Hate is a strong word. He might have said something different. But I heard hate. Sigh. My gun is down, and I’m hungry now.
“Thanks for your time.”
“Just remember. It’s just one person’s opinion.”
I walk into dinner with the pit of my stomach on the floor and my delirium at a record high. Where am I? Is the food on my plate moving?
Fortunately, my new roommate, soon to be best friend, greets me with a smile and we laugh the entire time over the madness of it all.
Unfortunately, my bed-mate informs us that she is leaving our room. She can’t afford another sleepless night.
“Take me with you!” I beg.
Fortunately, she does. Well, the sweet soul who let her in — let me in too.
Unfortunately, my new best friend is too nice to leave the room and puts up with another Jurassic Park soundtrack-filled night. She even had her headphones on with loud music playing all night. Did I mention we all had earplugs in that first night? But she couldn’t drown out the snores. She is really hurting after two nights of no sleep.
Fortunately, the hotel let us put a cot in the refuge room and now snoring sally (not her actual name) has a room to herself. Hey, that second part should be an unfortunately. Anyway.
Unfortunately, during my first appointment, the person doesn’t even read my writing.
Fortunately, the second appointment is from heaven. Not only is it with one of my favorite authors, the woman looks over my prologue and says, “Ooooh. You got something good going on here.” I don’t know if this is normal, but this author actually ends our fifteen minutes by praying for me. For God to lead me. And let’s just say it took me another fifteen minutes to pick my jaw up off the floor. I just read this woman’s book, and she is so talented and she’s telling me that I have what it takes. I am so humbled and flying higher than a kite when I leave.
Unfortunately, I run into Mr. Hand up and in Air Agent at the next class and I concede. I’m going to do things his way. I need to put the prequel first and redo my entire one page and come up with a new pitch. Yup. It is going to be a very long night.
Fortunately, my refuge roomie mom brought a printer and when I leave to go work on this ridiculously crazy idea, I run into the third angel in my story. She’s sitting in the lobby and she wants to know how things are going. So I put my laptop down and give her the low down. The ups, the downs, and even the snoring-caused mutiny. She loves me like she’s known me her whole life. A published author with the sweetest, most gentle spirit stays up with me until 2:30 and reads my first chapters of both of my books and gives me her honest feedback on my writing, my ideas, my approach, my everything. I am indebted for life.
Unfortunately, because we gab the whole time, I never actually write a single word toward my new one page proposal or the new one line pitch. I go from a very late night to a very early morning. If I’m going to pull this off, I have to get up at six or earlier to think, edit, and write, and squeeze in a shower before my agent and editor appointments.
Fortunately, I get up at 5:45 with my new one line pitch rolling off my tongue. If I don’t write this down now, it’s over. I’ll forget it.
Unfortunately, during morning Face-time with hubby and the girls, my littlest has olive-sized tear drops rolling down her face the whole time. There goes my make-up.
Fortunately, I pull back the computer and show her my outfit. “Look Sarah, Mommy’s wearing something pretty. I’m even wearing tights!” If you know my Sarah’s diva personality, a shnazzy dress is all it takes to perk her attention and distract her. At the age of four, this is an advantage. In ten years, I will be freaking out when she will want to spend as much money on clothes as I do on books. Hello? Priorities.
Unfortunately, the tears resume and I’m running out of time. Hubby prays and we all hug our screens to send virtual hugs across the country. I click off with the wailing sound of my princess still ringing in my ears. Sigh. No choice but to focus.
Fortunately, I somehow pull it off. Get all the print outs ready. Put on my best professional outfit on after showering and fall to my knees. I am overwhelmed by the awareness that I was made for such a time as this. This is my time. As I peel my pantyhosed knees off the floor, I hear the voice again. Don’t lower your gun. Don’t back down.
Unfortunately, I miss breakfast and I am hungry.
Fortunately, my new best friend roommate brings me a whole tray of warm breakfast to my room. Did I tell you how much I love her yet? She makes me cry. This time, I don’t have my make-up on yet, so I let it out. The other incident was from the morning before. Sleepiness has me all mixed up. Any-way…
I have the most amazing fifteen minutes of the whole week. The person I meet with likes my pitch. She reads my writing. Loves my hero and heroine. Likes my “voice” a lot.
Unfortunately, she hates the ending. I tell her I’m flexible. I wrote it at six o’clock this morning. I am not attached. She brainstorms with me a little, but in the end tells me I need to take some basic first steps and do things in the right order. I am humbled and grateful for her encouragement and words of wisdom.
Fortunately, it’s lunch time and I sit with another person who deals with my genre and I get a second chance to pitch my book idea.
Unfortunately, there’s little interest. Sigh. In fact, just as I start my spiel, I’m interrupted by the mike on the stage. I have no idea what the speaker is saying. I keep thinking I have to pick up where I left off and now my train of thought goes out with the pumpkin soup…that leaves my bowl in three minutes tops.
Fortunately, I eat that delicious soup while it is still warm.
Unfortunately, when lunch is over, the key person at the table reminds me how it is difficult to market my idea or something like that. Wahhh.
Fortunately, my second big appointment is around the corner.
Unfortunately, it’s a bomb. The person doesn’t read a word I wrote. Pushes everything back toward me without barely glancing at it, and pretty much shoots my confidence six feet under. I leave with a smile on my face. Then run across the street to the Arch to cry my eyes out.
Fortunately, I have a hubby who listens to me cry and knows exactly what to say. How could I ever have made it this far without him? I couldn’t have. He is my best friend and even when I feel like my dream is sinking, he fights for me. When he prays for me. Right before the day started, he sent me a text that read, “Operation Paulus Prayer is a go! Go gettem tiger!” I love him. So so much.
Unfortunately, I take too long to walk back and my new best friend roomie [I hope you’re comfortable with the reference by now. You know who you are.] and I walk down to the Gala dinner about five minutes late and every seat is taken or reserved. Sheesh.
Fortunately, one Carol finalist opens up her table for us as her new and upcoming fans who will read her book someday, and we’re cool with that. We sit together, and we have the best time over dinner. Especially as we contrive a mock pitch for a book that would get us arrested, but we won’t go into those details. All I know is that I really need to laugh and she is the best medicine eva!
Unfortunately, when the Gala is over, that lonely feeling I first arrived with returns and I feel profusely sad. I’m aware it’s over. What’s done is done. Time to head to the bar. Per tradition, according to some new friends who have come here past years.
Fortunately, a woman singing live music pumps out “R.E.S.P.E.C.T.” and the song lifts me out of the dumps. It helps that the last three people on my list of hope to meet are hanging out around the bar area as well. And one of my new friends pulls one of them over when I merely mention the name.
Unfortunately, I have completely turned off my “pitching” switch. I am toast and I haven’t even had a sip of wine. The conversation goes as such.
“Hi. What’s your name?”
“Ubudebedebebedeb… did you just ask me something?”
“Let’s start over. What’s your name and what do you write?”
So when I admit that I’m nervous, this guy actually steps out of the way. Literally. He does a ninety degree turn so he is no longer facing me. I give my pitch and he actually likes it. Miracle meeting number one.
Then, [this is my favorite FORTUNATELY], the last person on my list walks right in front of me, and my heart starts pounding. I am so not speaking. And then I speak. I thank him for all that I learned and keep my words to under fifty in hopes that he’ll keep moving to his table. He does the exact opposite of the first guy. He does a ninety degree turn and looks me in the eye.
“What’s your name?”
I swallow my Ubedebedebedebe that is trying to escape again and speak clearly. We have a two minute conversation. And I’m so glad we did. Because about half an hour later, he comes back to tell me something. And I hope I don’t sound arrogant because I know that when something good happens to me, it is so 100% God’s grace and love for me. No other earthly possibility.
“I have to tell you something. I’m over there with some friends telling them that I just met this girl, and she’s a breath of fresh air. And I haven’t even read one word that she’s written, but I have a sense that God is going to do something great through her writing. My friend said, ‘Well, did you tell her?’ So here I am. Telling you.”
If my jaw was on the floor earlier. Now it’s back at the bar taking shots of liquid chocolate. They have that right? If not, they should. I manage a “Thank You,” and now sleep is no longer an option so I stay up till past 2:00A.M. talking to anyone and everyone who doesn’t want to sleep either.
Oh – What a night!
Believe it or not, it’s not the end of the story. If you have to take a potty break, this would be the time. Intermissions should be mandatory for beginner bloggers like myself. Coming from the Bollywood tradition of five hour movies, I have my work cut out for me.
The next day, unfortunately, when I wake up, pack, and proceed to breakfast, I have a moment that I cannot relate to. I do not want to be with people. I am the ultimate people person. Meaning — high extrovert. Company energizes me. You get the picture. But this morning. I am my antithesis. My Avatar. Actually, that doesn’t work. I just loved that movie though. Those cool twinkly jelly fish thingies floating down everywhere. Enough. Sorry. Focus.
So, I walk down to breakfast and circle the room twice, not once, but twice, in hopes that the zone table I am supposed to sit at will fill up, and I can sit by myself at the empty table next to it. And wouldn’t you guess. No one else comes, and there is only one seat left at the table. I guess that seat’s for me. I sit down, and hope no one asks me my name.
Fortunately, the woman to my left does. And she is writing a story that I cannot wait to read. I think she’s thirty pages in, but I am too excited for her and our conversation starts when she giggles at my sarcastic remarks. Then asks, “Do you always find trouble wherever you go?”
“Trouble? Me? Nahhhh. I just like to mess around. No arrests yet.”
Had a great time goofing off, and go figure, we are in the front of the room. Sorry if I offended you and kept you from hearing the announcements. It’s bad when you’re already feeling rebellious and then you get an audience of one who finds everything that comes out of your mouth hilarious.Yes. This is a lethal combination. I’m surprised they don’t kick me out this time.
Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end, and we all have to go home, so I take the shuttle to the airport.
Fortunately, the killer security line moves fast when I spark up a conversation with two others in front of me.
Unfortunately, all the way through security now, shoes back on, and now at my gate, I realize the horror of all horrors. I cannot find my PHONE!!!!
Fortunately, the guy in line I chatted with is at my gate, and he agrees to call my phone. I even apologize and tell him, “Honestly, I am happily married. I’m not trying to give you my number. I seriously cannot find my phone.” Surely, it’s just in one of my three (I know I should technically only have two) carry-ons.
Unfortunately, it is not.
Fortunately, on the third ring, someone picks it up. The shuttle guy.
Unfortunately, he is all the way back downtown again. No, he cannot turn around and do a special drop off just for poor little me. And my flight is in less than two hours. I now take all my bags out of security and back outside and wait patiently for him to return with the next group of people. “Patiently” is not the right word unless I mean that I am soon to be a heart attack patient when this doesn’t work out and I have to call my hubby and the girls to tell them I missed my flight.
FORTUNATLEY! It all works out. Mr. Sweetheart Shuttle guy brings my phone back in time, I get through security quickly, and the icing on the cake: My new best friend roommate is in the line now too and I get to see her one last time!
Unfortunately, I’m feeling bad that I can’t tell Mr. Phone Guy thank you and let him know it all worked out because his flight left over half an hour ago.
Fortunately, [I mean who makes this stuff up?] Mr. Phone Guy is walking away from the gate when I arrive.
“Hey! What are you doing here? Didn’t your plane leave like twenty minutes ago?”
“They bumped me off the flight. Apparently, they overbooked and I was the last one to get on, so they gave me a free night at the hotel and a five hundred dollar voucher. I guess I’ll be a little late to work tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe it. I was hoping to thank you. You saved my life today! Thank you. Really. Thank you.” Awkward side hug.
“No problem.” Awkward silence. “Soooooo. I’m gonna head out and go kick my shoes off, maybe watch some mindless t.v., and … figure my life out.”
Unfortunately, when I board the plane, I sit next to a girl who is deeply into studying her papers with I think Chinese vocabulary on them. I was looking forward to one more good conversation.
Fortunately, nothing like dark chocolate covered pomegranates to bribe someone into some fun chatter to make the time go by. We talk for a while about our trips in St. Louis. Turns out her sister-in-law is a writer too so we exchange cards. I dive into Jenny B. Jones’ new unreleased book when she puts her earbuds in to study and I am cracking up and tearing up at the same time. I have only read the Dedication.
“You have got to read this.”I move the page in front of my seat neighbor and she pulls her earbuds out.
“What?”
“You totally need to study. But I’m serious. You have got to read this.”
She reads quietly. Then chuckles. “Who wrote this?”
I leave her alone. For two minutes I think.
“Hold on. You can so hate me, but you have got to read this part too. It’s just a one page prologue. READ IT!” Hello, control issues.
She reads silently and I am battling with a decision. Battle over, I know what I need to do. “Take it home.”
“What?”
“The book. It’s really good. You’ll love it. Just take it. And if you like it, pass it on. Read her blog. Especially when you need a laugh. Only if you need to laugh. Don’t read it if you need a good cry. For that, there’s Oprah. Was Oprah. Anyway. Take it.”
“I can’t. Didn’t you say it’s not even out yet?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And F.Y.I. She is a Christian author, so you’re gonna read ‘God’ here and there, but I promise you, she’s an amazing writer and you’re gonna love the story!”
“Okay. Thanks. Wow. Thanks.”
“Your welcome.”
AND Unfortunately, I wish I could end on a positive note, but I have to go to traffic court tomorrow. Speeding ticket. Long story. Wondering if the “Don’t back down. Don’t hide. Don’t lower your gun. Remember, a lot of people are counting on you” speech might influence the Judge to lower my fine. On second thought, I think I’ll exercise my right to remain silent. For once.
OH my gosh…that. was. hilarious. So much fun to read! Wish I was gonna see you next week, but alas, we’ll always have Nashville. 🙂
I guess I thought I told you about my mad first time. Glad you enjoyed it. Yes, we will always have the musical memories of Nashville! Till next year. Happy Birthday, almost, pretty girl! Hugs, Raj 🙂
I remember doing an Unfortunately/Fortunately writing assignment in your class 🙂
Love your blog!!
YOU have an amazing memory, Nan! 🙂 Thanks, always, for all the sweet words of encouragement!
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Thanks Joy! And totally thankful that yu asked me to go the bar with you guys that night. Else my story would have been totally different!! 🙂 Keep writing…and keep me posted as to all we dreamed about in St. Louis! 🙂
LOVE this, Raj! So funny!
I can totally picture these experiences! So happy that the Lord opened many doors for you, and I pray he continues to do so with your writing!
Write for Him. 🙂
Great to have a brownie writing friend! I’m so excited. 🙂
oh Pam! I wish I could have taken you home with me!! 🙂 I’m sure yur family wouldn’t mind! love how God dropped you into my life from the moment I arrived! And Soooooo glad He did!!
Hello to one of my new BFF!!!
Raj, this entire post was SO you! I could see your eyes twinkling, your captivating smile, and hear your giggle in every line.
I so enjoyed meeting you last week. Loved the chocolate-covered pomegranets and yakking the night away.
Didn’t care for the next morning so much. Ahem! lol
This was so much fun, reading about your exploits.
You should be a writer, girl! ha
Wow! Thanks! I so appreciate your comments! 🙂 🙂
I LOVE your writing. Although I feel out of breath after reading about your whirlwind trip! I wish I could have met you in St. Louis but I’m still a good 6 hours drive away. Anyhow, I’ll be looking forward to future blogs and cheering you on as you get ready to write. I’m excited for you.
And, BTW, my youngest niece is another Sara (5 years old). Her mommy and I are going on vacation together tomorrow morning while Sara and her siblings stay home with Grandma. Apparently tonight at bedtime Susan was cuddling her three youngest who were all sobbing and begging her not to go and Sara said, “Auntie Chelle has stupid ideas!” Thought you’d smile at that one.
Talk to you later, friend.
Rochelle