Knowing When You're Whipped: Part 2--Reb MacRath
I saw no way out at the end of Part 1. I was kidding myself to pretend that I sat on the fence with a glimmer of hope that I wasn't toast as a writer. I'd run low on time and still lower on luck. And there I was with a gimp knee and an unfinished new novel I'd abandoned for too long. For half a year I'd tried in vain to find the stuff to get back to it. But I couldn't imagine a way out from under the weight of the odds stacked against me near the end of my Seventies Show.
For two weeks I plotted my goodbye. By the day I grew more mindful of foolish decisions and choices--professional and personal--that sidelined a writing career that began with so much promise in 1988 (four books with two major publishers, an international award). Stubbornly, and against all advice, I persisted in writing short novels (don't call them novellas!) because I loved the challenge of mastering the short form, though no agent would even look at these works. By the time I felt ready to tackle the longer form and reboot an old genre...well, there I was with a gimp knee and no way, it seemed, to get back to my book.
At the start of the third week, my mind turned to thoughts of past odds that I'd tackled. In Canada, after years of rejection, I sold a limited syndicated series and enjoyed success as a freelance reviewer and journalist. I returned to the States, deciding to become a novelist. Eight years later, after a thousand rejections, I transformed a nonfiction novel about my life in Canada into a horror tale The Suiting--which won a Stoker Award and was optioned for film. I found work in San Francisco, then New York, as an advertising copywriter. I quit drinking and smoking. And, hey, I survived five procedures on my knee and agonizing kneehab.
Don't take any of this, please. as bragging. It's not. Thoughts of these accomplishments were necessary steps to offset the guilt and fear arising from past failures. One day like any other, I devised a strategy for returning to the WIP that lay half-completed on my desk, with sections in various drafts. To wade back in, I started processing the second set of 50 pages edited by Luke Romyn. He'd done brilliant work and I saw the pages start to rock. Screw the odds and past missteps, I had something here and I put in more time every day, going on to send a third set of 50 pages to Luke.
It's sweet to be back in the saddle again.
This is my report.
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