Kyle is one of my oldest friends. I’ve known him since kindergarten. My earliest memory of Kyle is the day in third grade when he dressed up as George Washington on the last day of school. His earliest memory of me goes all the way back to kindergarten when, during story time as we were all sitting in a circle on the floor, I leaned to the side and nonchalantly vomited, then leaned back and continued listening, as if perhaps no one might notice.
Kyle and I truly became friends in the sixth grade. Like me, he wrote stories, but his stories took the form of little handmade comics. It wasn’t until junior high school that he started writing short stories and not until high school that he tried to get them published.
All my early impressions of what it was like to be a writer came from Kyle. First was what I learned when Kyle passed his stories around to friends. In second period one friend would say, “I hated the part where the parrot started smoking cigarettes and telling jokes.” Kyle would say, “Got it. Note to self: Remove part with cigarette-smoking parrot.”
Then later at lunch someone else would say, “Great story, Kyle. Loved the part with the parrot telling jokes!” This kind of contradiction would drive Kyle crazy. The lesson: Some people are going to like your stuff and some people aren’t. In the end, you must choose to keep what you think is best.
Watching Kyle send letters to magazine editors who published short fiction was also an education. I learned about the Writers’ Market Guide, what a SASE was, the proper protocol for submitting one’s work. Kyle was the first person I’d heard of making a collage of his rejection letters and pasting it on the wall.
My observations of Kyle’s efforts led me to a singular conclusion: Getting published is hard.
I wonder now how my own journey as a writer would have been different if I didn’t have that early impression. I know writers, more than one, who didn’t seem to know this when they got into writing and who met with almost immediate success.
Wait a minute, I’d think when this happened. Don’t you know how hard it is to get published?
If our beliefs do create our reality, or as Author Magazine’s tag line puts it, if we truly are the author of our own lives, wouldn’t a belief in easy success serve us better?
I’ve had the chance to interview many successful authors for Author Magazine and when I do I invariably try to determine how their mindset helped them manifest their success. Though articulated in different ways, what I’ve discovered is the concept of being in alignment with one’s success. In other words, if you are visualizing where you want to be but in your mind you’re saying, “I suck. My writing stinks. I’m not good enough.” Or in my case, “This is really, really hard,” then that is more than likely what you are going to manifest.
To create success, the idea goes, all parts of you must be in alignment: heart, head, body, soul. Let go of the beliefs that aren’t serving you. If thoughts are indeed energy, what thoughts are we putting out into the universe?
Kyle eventually did sell one of his stories. “Cuji,” which began as a spoof on Stephen King’s Cujo, was a tale about a demonically possessed Mickey Mouse balloon who was adopted by a boy during a family trip it Disneyland. Cuji, the balloon, eliminated the family members one by one in his effort to unite with Satan, who had incarnated into the physical form of a Beagle. Kyle was paid $7.35 for his efforts, though I don’t think he ever cashed the check. The check made a far better wall-hanging than that tapestry of rejections.
Brian Mercer is the author of Mastering Astral Projection: 90-Day Guide to Out-of-body Experience (Llewellyn, 2004) and the Mastering Astral Projection CD Companion (Llewellyn, 2007). A board member of the Pacific Northwest Writers Association, he is the webmaster of and occasional contributor to Author Magazine. When he’s not working as a programmer analyst or exploring alternate dimensions out of body, he can be found writing novels. He lives in Seattle with his wife, Sara.