Proof of Existence

My first job in the South was working as a Circulation Manager for a small daily newspaper in Cartersville, Georgia.  It mostly involved managing the newspaper carriers, who varied from boys on bicycles, to redneck couples in pickups, to retirees in jeeps.

It was a rough job for a young guy who was more of a creative type than a skilled, commanding manager. Fortunately, one of the aspects of the job was to run contests and otherwise motivate the delivery staff.  I came up with the newsletter you see in the picture above.  It contained information about routes, new hires, contests and more.

It also contained a fictional serial, cartoons, jokes and whatever else I could think of.  It was a  creative outlet for me in a job I was otherwise having a hard time with, and I though, hey, maybe somebody would notice!  Maybe the publisher would take notice and let me write for the paper!

Yes, it was just a hand-typed, pasted together, mimeographed mess.  But it was my mess, and I was proud of it.  So proud that when it came time for the Southeast Circulation Managers Convention, I proudly entered it in the Best Promotion Contest. I was so excited because, in our paper size group, there was only two entries and three awards!  Woohoo!  I was in like Flynn!

The big banquet and awards ceremony capped off the event.  It came time to announce the awards for our division.  The emcee announced the other entrant as first place, but then made a joke to the guy as he came up, that "he was the only entrant in the division".  Everyone laughed, and there was no second place.  There was no acknowledgement that I had even entered.  It was like I wasn't even there at all. Like I didn't exist.

That was 1979.

Flash forward to today.

I placed too many hopes on a story contest that I had entered.  Something to hope for and get me through tax season.  I entered Dark Day, the first Crowley story, and one that has gotten the best critical reception.  It has four times the number of reads than any other story I have on Wattpad, the amateur writing site.  I could feel in my bones that it was a winner.  Finally, my proof of existence as a writer would be confirmed!

There were three main prizes, all receiving quite a bit of money.  They contact these winners a week ahead of time, and the announcement to the public would occur on April 1st.  I found around March 19th that my e-mails from this group had been going to junk mail, so I straightened that out.  Still I didn't hear anything.  As the deadline approached, it became clearer to me that I would not get a monetary prize.

I waited all day yesterday, thinking that somehow I had missed notification.  The e-mail finally arrived late afternoon, and sure enough, I was not a prize winner.  But wait!  They also had a list of Top 25! I was not in that.  But wait!  They had a whole slew, I mean a huge raft full, of Honorable Mentions!

....but I was not in that, either.  It was as if I had not entered the contest at all!

It was 1979 all over again.

I admit.  I don't take rejection well.  It's been a flaw all my life I have tried to deal with.  Heck, one of the reason I am not a 'gambler", playing the lottery excessively or slots, or Blackjack, is because when I lose I take the rejection personally, and it will be a long time before I try again.

It's one of the reasons I have not been steady with my writing career.  I get fired up, write and write and write, and then I put it out there.....and it's like I don't exist.

Sigh.

Nevertheless.  I will lick my wounds and hurts.  I will get through this tax season somehow.  And this time, somehow, this time, I will reach inside me and try again.

I exist.  Someday, others may realize it.

If nothing else, I won't stop trying.

I hope.