Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Monday, June 28, 2010

Writing and Acts of God


It's been a minute since I've blogged, but that's partly because I wanted to set down this story.

So I've grown resigned--mentally, if not emotionally--to the fact that I haven't heard from, and may not hear from, the woman I thought was going to represent Resistance.

It's a bitter pill to swallow. I'd gotten used to thinking that the problem of actually selling my writing--the problem I'd once thought insurmountable--had been surmounted at last. I was in relatively regular contact with a woman from a reputable agency who had loved my manuscript. What's more, this agency also represents an author I really enjoy who wrote a novel that sparked my interest in--nay, my obsession with--the assassination of Reinhard Heydrich. It seemed like everything had wrapped around into a nice little package.

But I haven't heard anything from her in three or four months, despite the fact that she'd promised some time ago to send me a new round of comments and suggestions, and despite the fact I've since sent her a couple emails and called her office once or twice. Clearly I'm not as important as I'd imagined myself to be.

As usual, I have to keep in mind that when things don't go my way, it may be for the best. Getting what I want doesn't always make me happy, and not getting what I want can be a blessing in disguise.

Case in point: last summer, I took the train from Chicago to L.A., and then up to San Francisco, then to Salt Lake City to meet my friend Phil and go to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons together. (Side note: If you ever go to those parks, go to them in that order. Do not go to the Grand Tetons first, because Yellowstone will then leave you underwhelmed. Both Phil and I pretty much ended up thinking: "Ohh, big deal. Colored ponds and steaming hillsides" when we got to Yellowstone.)

ANYWAY, I wore myself out in San Fran by going on a long trek to track down that city's only In-n-Out Burger, and then I wore myself out yet again in S.L.C. by trying to run from my hostel to the mythical Great Salt Lake. So by the time Phil came and got me, I was nursing a raging head cold, which was exactly the last thing I wanted in the middle of a two-week summer trip that had been months in the planning.

We drove up to Wyoming. Or rather, Phil drove and I felt sorry for myself. We'd planned on camping most of the time, but I ended up holed up alone in a Motel 6 in Jackson, fighting my cold and my relentless self-pity. It was clear to me that God hated me, otherwise he would have somehow kept things from happening that way in spite of my bad decisions.

When I was finally well enough to do some exploring, we ended up driving in to a part of the park we probably wouldn't have gone to otherwise; we figured it would be better to explore by car than exacerbate my cold by going hiking too soon.

On the way in, I spotted a beautiful scenic spot next to a river, and we turned off to eat. The air and water were remarkably still, and I took the picture posted above. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, the wind had picked up just a little, and the water had started moving just a little, and the stilness was gone. Because I'd been sick, I'd gotten to see something I wouldn't have otherwise seen.

Now, I don't think God wanted me to be sick. That was something I basically did to myself. But God allowed it to happen, because God knew that something good could come of it. And I need to trust that the same goes for all the other things God allows to happen in my life--a life which, I gotta admit, is pretty good, most of the time.

I've been reminded recently that I won't be happy so long as I place dependence on people ahead of dependence on God. It's definitely a lesson I needed to hear again.

Now, if only I can learn to check my email without thinking about the agent...