Updated: May 27, 2020
Originally Published: May 27, 2020
For six years, I’ve harbored the dream of securing representation from a literary agent, envisioning the first significant step toward publishing my work. I’ve penned five novels—or perhaps six?—and faced countless rejections from numerous agents. Rejection became my norm, a disheartening reality that I had grown accustomed to. Until recently.
Recently, I finally received my long-awaited affirmation.
I got the email I had envisioned for years, the one that sparkled with promise and excitement, the kind that would have me shouting my triumph from the rooftops. Yet, instead of celebrating, I shut my laptop and turned my attention to preparing lunches for my children, as if the monumental moment I had yearned for had passed by without impact. It was only later, when I shared the news with a few close family members and friends, their overwhelming enthusiasm transmitted through text messages, that I recognized how strange my reaction had been.
I can’t quite pinpoint why my response was so muted. Perhaps it’s due to the current climate of uncertainty and the collective pause we’re experiencing—where joy and celebration feel subdued. Or it could be that the moments we dream of often fall short of our expectations. The email didn’t arrive with a burst of excitement; to be honest, I’ve yet to see an email that does.
More likely, my restrained reaction stems from my past experiences, including profound grief and the reality of being a young widow. There is a harsh lesson I learned two years ago: things that bring immense joy can be taken away in an instant. A beautiful, fulfilling marriage can vanish, even when fought for with everything you have. When good things are snatched away, especially when you’re holding on tightly, the void they leave is profoundly painful.
I found my late husband almost by accident. A few chance encounters led us to meet on a dance floor shortly after my college graduation. It wasn’t expected to lead to anything meaningful—after all, one doesn’t typically meet their soulmate in nightclubs while adorned in red sequins. Our romance wasn’t whirlwind but rather a grounded, joyful existence that I never dared to hope for as a child of a father who disappeared and a mother who struggled to care for three children.
The life we built together was a real-life fairy tale, filled with laughter and love, despite the occasional arguments and stubborn moments. It was a life I had never imagined I would experience, a testament to dreams surpassed. I had climbed my personal mountain of aspirations and felt as if I could almost reach the stars.
Then, that vibrant life was taken from me, and I fell—far below, past the safety net, to a place where those stars faded from view. The lesson I learned was that the higher you climb in pursuit of your dreams, the harder the fall can be; the bruises from such a fall can linger, maybe even forever.
There is a certain safety in remaining at the base of your dream mountain. You don’t risk losing or getting hurt. Since that fall, I have slowly climbed back up, occasionally catching glimpses of starlight, but I’ve chosen to remain at a level that feels safer. Everything now seems so fragile, so delicate.
Yet, every time I think of that life-changing email, I am filled with a fierce hope, a brightness that nearly takes my breath away. Despite my fears, I am beginning to scale that dream mountain once more.
I also remember another lesson from two years ago, quieter yet just as significant. Sometimes, you don’t get a second chance to pursue what frightens you. It’s perfectly acceptable to focus on survival rather than ambition. However, there are moments when taking that leap allows you to touch the stars, even if just briefly. And those fleeting moments can be everything. They can fuel your resolve to rise again if you do stumble.
The reality is, I am terrified to celebrate this dream realized. Acknowledging it makes it real, and it places me at a height where a fall would be painful. I carry the scars from my previous fall. But I also know that if I do fall again, I have the strength to rise. That knowledge alone is worth celebrating.
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Summary:
The author reflects on the complex emotions surrounding the achievement of a long-held dream of securing a literary agent after years of rejections. Despite the joy of this milestone, she grapples with fear and past trauma that temper her desire to celebrate. The narrative explores themes of loss, resilience, and the delicate balance between ambition and self-preservation.
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