When I was younger, I was a big roller coaster fan. My brother and I used to spend a day at Six Flags doing nothing but running from one coaster to the next. When my kids hit the daredevil stage, I was right there in line with them, willing and able to ride the tallest, fastest tracks we could find.
Then, I took a bad ride on a coaster with too many twists and turns. The damn thing boxed my ears, gave me whiplash, and left me feeling nauseated and disoriented for the rest of the day.
It also ruined the roller coasters for me.
When I boarded this wild ride we call a writing career, I did it with the kind of breathless anticipation one feels when they are winding their way through those endless queues manned by cartoon characters. In the four years since I pulled the harness down, I’ve experienced every kind of extreme—the highs, the lows, the twists that left me dizzy and the sharp turns I never saw coming. To be honest, I’ve been feeling a lot like I did when I stepped off the Coaster of Evilness.
As a matter of fact, just a month or so ago, I dipped into a valley so low I was ready to quit.
But then I climbed a couple of smaller hills and the view improved. Rather than trying to steer, I sat back and let the speed and momentum carry me along. Then, I pried my hands from the safety bar and sent out a fresh round of submissions. Last week, I signed my first contract with a New York publishing house.
That clicking sound you hear is the lift chain catching the undercarriage of this train once more.
How about you? How has your ride been?