When He Tried To Insult My Education, I said…

Let me tell you about the worst mistake I ever made in my life.

I attended Pepperdine University, and because my mother was afraid I’d fail as a writer, I tried to stop telling stories. I took classes in drama, composition, radio, speech…everything BUT creative writing. But one day they announced a writing contest, with the winner reading a story to the alumi. I entered (I think the story was something about a genie) and won, and read it. And watching the faces of the alumni shining at me, enjoying my words and images…I knew I had to write again.

So I took writing classes, and had one terrific teacher we’ll call Willie. He was smart, and funny, and encouraging. Really great. I was starting to open up to the possibilities of a writing career, to believe in myself. Then one day I was invited to Willie’s office. I noticed a big stack of typing paper on top of a file cabinet, and asked him what it was. It was a novel, he replied.

Wow! I asked his permission to look at it, and uncomfortably, he agreed. Looked amazing. I asked how long he’d been working at it. “Ten Years” he said. Thunderstruck, I probed a little more. No, he hadn’t published anything. He wanted to get this just right.

And…I panicked.

My teacher, my hero, the one who I hoped would take me to the promised land of publishing bliss, could not himself publish. I smelled fear. The work had to be PERFECT. And the longer he took to finish it, the more impossibly “perfect” it…