If you are a mathematician, a magician
or applying for a job to be a muffin maker, you have to sell your talent first.
In fact, nothing happens until you sell something. That’s why you have to learn
to cope with “No, no, no!”
How
many gazillion times did John Grisham hear “no” before his novels became bestsellers?
He had trouble giving away his first, A
Time to Kill. Then he wrote The Firm.
Dozens of novels later, the presses can’t print enough of Grisham’s books. Did
“no” stop him?
Think
about J.K. Rowling. She ought to have a flat nose from the countless times
doors were slammed in her face. Did “no” stop the British author? Harry Potter made her the first author
to become a billionaire by selling her words.
Closer
to home is one of my favorite writers, Rick Bragg. When you look at Rick, you
don’t think, “Now, there’s a muscle man.” There’s probably an F-150, a Silverado
or a Ram in his driveway, but I doubt you’ll see him squat by its back bumper
and heave the truck off the gravel.
But
if there’s a better Southern wordsmith than the Alabamian, I haven’t turned
those pages yet. I’ve put down a hot-buttered cathead biscuit, slathered with
mayhaw jelly, to read his column in the back of Southern Living. He sells his stories with words that pop. Rick’s
talent is as strong as three acres of onions. And I’m not talking about those
sweet Vidalias.
Sample
this line from GQ magazine following
a visit to a mouth-watering New Orleans eatery, Franky & Johnny’s:
“I’ve
always wanted washboard abs, but I love baby back ribs. Washboard abs are hard
to get, but baby back ribs are only $6.99, and they come with one of those sweet-smelling
napkins.”
Washboard
abs?
I thought I wanted
them, too.
When
I turned 49, I set a goal of getting in better shape. I had to do 50 pushups
before I hit the half-century mark. I did other exercises, too, on the way to
topping out at 63 pushups before my birthday.
Guess
what?
Once
I surpassed my goal, I slacked off. Now, I’m back to huffing and puffing. I
couldn’t do 70 on my 70th birthday, but I’m “selling” myself on
“Yes, I can. Yes, I can.” But as for the washboard abs, well, the only way I’ll ever get those is to duct-tape my
grandmother’s washboard to my stomach.
Physical
strength is something you don’t gain one day and keep while sitting down. Just
as you must keep toning your muscles, you have to strengthen your mind to deal
with rejection after rejection. “No” never stopped John Grisham or J.K.
Rowling, and it shouldn’t stop us from pursuing our goals, either.
And my friend Rick—a self-avowed
survivor of a white-trash childhood—could have given up in grade school. Early
on, teachers misjudged him and his abilities. Those rejections pushed him
harder to sell his eventual Pulitzer Prize-winning words.
“No”
can be a dream-dashing word, but it can also be the match to ignite your
determination. I like Buddy Jewel’s country song “I Wanna Thank Everyone.” Go
to YouTube and take a listen.
I
have zero expectations about becoming a best-selling author, winning a Pulitzer
Prize or ever having washboard abs. But my friend knows this: Any time Rick
comes for a visit, I’ll buy both of us a plate of baby back ribs.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
