When Things Aren’t What You Expect

Sunday was my first Fourth of July in San Francisco. I was pretty damned sure the fireworks were going to be SPECTACULAR. I felt that excitement, like when you’re a kid and you know Independence Day is the one day of the year when your parents suddenly let you play with fire. (Was that just my family?) One of my favorite things to do in the city is escape to this lookout in the Presidio, and I knew that had to be THE spot to watch the fireworks show.

The Presidio is a former military base that has been converted into a little forest oasis with hiking trails and hidden delights around every corner. My first month living in SF I discovered Inspiration Point, a lookout offering an amazing view of the Alcatraz and the Bay. Most days when I go to Starbucks to write, I spend a few minutes at this point first, clearing my mind of the day’s tasks so I can write.

So the eve of the SPECTACULAR fireworks show, I drove up there armed with a blanket – because for some insane reason, it’s cold here in July. I had a prime spot, and for the next couple of hours, I watched cars roll in. I called my sister and my friend, Dawn, bragging about my front row seat for the show. And then I huddled with a load of perfect strangers in the brisk wind – including the prerequisite drunk guys singing God Bless America – and we watched the SPECTACULAR show.

Okay, that’s a huge lie. SPECTACULARLY DISAPPOINTING might be more fitting. The show sucked ass. Seriously. The fireworks shot straight up into the fog, and lit the clouds up like we were in a war zone. After 20 minutes of watching this…

Me: Is it always like this?

Stranger: Yes

Me: It’s kind of anticlimactic.

Stranger: (chuckling) Welcome to 4^th of July in San Francisco!

My cotton-candy dreams had been crushed. I called my sister back to report what a scam the SPECTACULAR show was. She didn’t answer because she was off enjoying a real fireworks show. Jerk.

My writing career so far has been a lot like that. Like a lot of naïve writers, I was sure I would be get an agent and become a SPECTACULAR success in less than five minutes. Now, I want to pat myself on the head and murmur, “Oh, you sweet, dear, stupid thing…” For most writers, getting published is not going to happen like fireworks, or at all. And if you spend too much time congratulating yourself on your front row seat to success, you are setting yourself up for disappointment. Cold, bitter, haggard, hungover disappointment.

I’m not saying to skip out on dreaming for big things. Who doesn’t love a great fireworks show? Don’t hang all your emotions on that dream, though, because you may get lost in the fog. It’s too easy to disappear into all the emotionalism that comes with this dream. Too many would-be writers give up their craft in anger. If you come to this dark place, the best thing you can do is write. Get a rejection? Write. Get an agent? Write. Get a hangnail? Clip it, and then write.

And remember, if you are feeling let down, there are a bunch of other writers huddling in the dark with you.