The Slippery Path

 My toes are swollen, my ears are deaf, and my legs are blue.

No... my husband hasn’t been beating me.

The teenage girls have.

Actually, I’m not sure the police would call it a true beating. Just a class one felony elder abuse statute violation. Or something like that.

I earned these bruises.

As you can tell from the photo, I was thrown onto the ground. Then my body was used in place of skis. (Rough economy these days. Apparently summer camp counselors are now expected to double as sporting equipment.)

My attackers were kind enough to place plastic and soap on top of the rocks, sticks, and thorns – so that when I hit those objects I could do so with much more speed, thereby picking them up in my butt tissue with much more ease.

As you can also see from the photo…

I am somehow still smiling.

I know it sounds insane. But flying down the hill at 65 miles per hour with the wind blowing in my face made up for all the discomfort.

Was I still hurting? Yes. Was I still having fun? Well…

Maybe you can relate.

Maybe you’ve been beaten, bruised, and swollen black and blue by the publishing industry (and in this economy, who hasn’t?).

Maybe your path seems slippery.

Maybe you’ve got more rejections stuffed into your butt tissue than you care to admit. The truth is – we all do.

This is your initiation.

Don’t just fly over the rough spots – learn from them. Avoid them next time.

Hone your craft. Grow your writing.

And enjoy the ride.