My recent blog about rejections drew so many responses I realize that being rejected is a common and demoralizing trauma. For those who didn’t see the blog, I wrote about being in a seemingly unending slump, where the stories I submitted to editors were reaping a monotonous chorus of “No.” It helped my morale to vent about how normal this is for writers and how many famous authors have suffered countless rejections.

But life is ironic. Less than an hour after I’d posted my rejections blog, I had an acceptance! The seemingly unending drought had ended – at least for the time being.

I’m writing this sequel for several reasons. One, obviously, is to encourage all of you not to give up whatever it is you’re reaching for. If you hold on long enough, the weather might change. However, my second purpose  is to point out that  persistence isn’t the total answer. Very often what’s called for is flexibility.

So let me take you on a journey about my oft-rejected piece. It tells the true story of one of the most difficult experiences I’ve ever had. My husband had died three years earlier. I had promised him that I’d make the trip to Italy we had expected to have together. I set out with enormous trepidation since I’d never traveled anywhere alone and it would be my first time in Italy. In some crazy show of bravado  I arranged to go  totally on my own, not even as part of a tour group. By a lucky (?) coincidence a friend was going to Italy at the same time with his girlfriend and he invited me to join them. Since their itinerary was different from my plans, this meant missing Florence. But I figured companionship was worth everything.

Or was it? The story I later wrote about this trip revolved around the choice I had to make when, after the first few days,  I realized that for a variety of reasons this was no longer my trip. It was theirs. The decision about whether to cling to them or go alone to a strange city where I didn’t know a soul was agonizing.

I wrote about this as a short story – and it was turned down 29 times. For a few years it languished in my files, until I decided that sometimes you have to be willing to try a new approach.  Since my story was true, why not forget the fiction category and submit it as what’s termed “Creative Nonfiction”? (As opposed to Uncreative…?) Again, it was turned down – several times.

It then occurred to me that I could look further afield. Acceptance finally came from a British publication. This highlights another way of not giving up. Sometimes a rejected story finds a home overseas or in hospitable Canada.

What we all need is skin that isn’t too thin, the strength to keep persisting, and the willingness to approach any problem from a totally different angle. This isn’t just true for writing of course. Persistence and flexibility are necessary ingredients for job-hunting, love affairs, troubled friendships, attempts to communicate with your teenager, ad infinitum. But that’s for another blog,


BOOKS: COME and GO – available through, WIDOW’S WALK –; TURNING TOWARD TOMORROW –, TEN WOMEN OF VALOR and ROLE PLAY- available through; also Amazon Kindle.



My e-mails are very busy these days, but not for a desirable reason. I’m getting an unending stream of rejections from agents and editors. The manuscript of my new novel, alone, has so many dismissals I’ve tossed it into a desk drawer. And I don’t want to count how many times my stories have been turned down by magazine editors. In the past I could surf rejections, confident positIve responses were somewhere on the horizon. But now the steady chorus of “No,” has worn on me. The problem with rejections of your work is that they can make you feel as if you’re a total failure.

I’m aware this is standard fare for writers. It’s some comfort to learn that Stephen King was rejected 30 times, not for some youthful failure , but for “Carrie “– the book that launched his career! Joseph Heller was in a “Catch-22” with exactly 22 rejections for the book whose title has become a byword. Then there’s “Chicken Soup for the Soul “ – 144 rejections. Author Jack Canfield’s recipe is to “reject rejection and just say, ‘Next’”!

There are scores of other examples. So I tell myself I’m in good company. It’s just that it’s a company I don’t enjoy being with. In a masochistic mood, I looked up synonyms for rejected. Unfortunately, what leaped out at me was one of my own traumas: for rejected also means “abandoned.”
Googling the Internet for a more promising word I discovered rejectionist. That doesn’t mean a callous editor, but “one who objects.” I will make that my secret self! Now when a manuscript gets the usual “doesn’t fit our needs,” I’ll object with a lofty rejectionist reply: “Your response doesn’t fit my needs.”

Of course, I won’t actually deliver that message– but it may give me strength to keep sending out my stories. Does this never-give-up attitude really help? One answer comes from the author of the aptly titled – “The Help.” Kathryn Stockett kept trying through 60 rejections. “What if I had given up at sixty?” she asks. For it was her 61st attempt that succeeded in attracting an agent.

We might also decide to take charge and self-publish our work, as even Proust did when he’d had enough of rejection. A current author, Lisa Genoiva, endured 100 rejections of her manuscript. She finally gave in and self-published. Then in a movie-style ending,that version was picked up and reprinted by Galley Books (subsidiary of Simon and Shuster). What was this fortunate book? “Still Alice”! As we know, it had a movie-style scenario, for real, as a profitable film..

So I’m taking out my manuscrirpt and submitting (terrible word) to agents again. There’s no guarantee that my book will be published, but it sure won’t if it’s kept in a drawer!

P.S. You don’t have to be a writer to find that persistence can pay off. Don’t give up trying to make contact with your adolescent, for instance! Keep demanding a raise from that elusive boss, or insisting on equal treatment with men, or any other effort that will put you on the winning side– no matter how many stubborn times it takes!

BOOKS: COME and GO – available through, WIDOW’S WALK –; TURNING TOWARD TOMORROW –, TEN WOMEN OF VALOR and ROLE PLAY- available through and; also Amazon Kindle.


Would you like to celebrate Parents’ Day? That was an idea floated at numerous rallies during the 1920’s and ’30’s . The goal was to honor both parents at once, rather than separately. But it failed to generate enough enthusiasm.

The truth is that although Father’s Day is observed in more than 70 countries, it’s never matched the popularity of Mothers’ Day, despite being originally inspired by it. In 1909 a Seattle woman, Sonora Smart Dodd, wanted to pay tribute to her father, a widower who had single-handedly raised his six children. Hearing about a new observance called Mothers’ Day, Dodd decided fathers should get equal time. She campaigned for this vigorously at local organizations and government offices. The result was the first Father’s Day celebration on June 19, 1910. (She had wanted the date to be June 5, her father’s birthday, but local ministers protested that they needed more time after Mothers’ Day to prepare different sermons!)

Initially, Father’s Day was only observed in Dodd’s home state of Washington. The custom became popular across the country, but not as an official holiday. Then in 1916 President Woodrow Wilson honored the occasion by unfurling a flag in Spokane, with the aid of telegraph signals. But governments can’t be hurried. It was another 56 years before Father’s Day became a federal holiday, via a 1972 proclamation by President Nixon.

The question is, why hasn’t Father’s Day gotten the same recognition and hoopla as the day for Moms? Retailers basking in lucrative candy, perfume and flower sales for Mom, report that profits are billions less from such unromantic items for Dad as socks and ties, or even power tools and golf clubs. (Liquor stores do report substantially more sales for men!)

But I think there’s more to this than the commercial aspect. There’s a sentimental image of Mom as the heart of the family. (Multiply ever-loving Marmee in ”Little Women.”) On the other hand, a majority of men think a day for expressing love to a father isn’t ”macho.” In my own family my mother was unabashed in her expectation and appreciation of the holiday attention, whereas my father scoffed at similar efforts by my sister and me as “ridiculous” – invariably followed by a gruff: “I don’t need presents.”

To be fair, men have had a tougher time being the loving parent because they were
traditionally the breadwinners, so had less time with their children . Of course,
these days the executive dashing off to work is often Mama! With fathers now sharing child-rearing, this shift may ultimately be reflected in a heightened importance given to Father’s Day. Yet I know that if my father were alive he’d still prefer to be ignored (a modesty his daughters didn’t inherit!)

I can’t resist pointing out one other thing: In my previous blog I protested the apostrophe in Mothers’ Day, which makes it look as though the holiday is for all mothers rather than a personal tribute to your own. So I’m glad to see that the apostrophe is right where it belongs in Father’s Day. Dads win that one at least!.

BOOKS: COME and GO – available through, WIDOW’S WALK –; TURNING TOWARD TOMORROW –, TEN WOMEN OF VALOR and ROLE PLAY- available through and; also Amazon Kindle.


As a writer who’s avid about correct punctuation I’ve been critical of the apostrophe in Mother’s Day, for it implies that the day is just for one mother. I now discover the placement was the decision of Anna Jarvis who was originally responsible for the holiday. Having recently lost her mother, Anna promoted the idea of everyone paying tribute to ONE mother, their own.

That was back in 1904. Since then Anna’s innocent tribute has grown far beyond her intention, like a faucet that overflows into a flood. Just 13 years later President Woodrow Wilson declared Mother’s Day a national holiday, to be celebrated on the second Sunday in May. The day’s popularity has been a multi-billion dollar windfall for florists, candy companies and card manufacturers. (Cynics dub the day the Hallmark Holiday.)

Anna, on the other hand, was horrified by the hoopla. She fought a strenuous and costly battle – using her own funds – to have the holiday deleted from the national calendar. Obviously, her efforts weren’t successful. She has been blessed – and resented – by women ever since.

The image of the day is of  a beaming mother wearing a corsage (a white carnation is the symbolic flower), while receiving hugs and gifts from her ever-loving, attentive children. But the reality is that this is a sitcom scenario in many cases.

It would be good for all of us to recognize that Mother’s Day is far from joyous for many women. I have a friend who has been desperately trying to conceive without success, and finds Happy Mom reminders painful, like most women  in her situation. Think, too,  of  those who are enduring the unspeakable – the heartbreaking loss of a child. Even when children are well the relationship might not  be, for our offspring may be estranged. And since we were once children ourselves, there are many women who, like Anna Jarvis, are mourning the absence of their own mother.

So I suggest that we remain sensitive to the varied feelings of other women. This doesn’t mean condescending sympathy where it may not even be welcome. It means treating one another with empathy and being willing to listen. Flowers wilt, but your words or embrace can have lasting impact – far more meaningful than a box of candy!



Siblings have been providing dramatic stories ever since Cain killed Abel. Shakespeare’s tragedies are rife with bloody conflicts between brothers. Women don’t get off Scot (or British) free either. Think of the Biblical hostility between Rachel and Leah when they had to share a husband! So our fascination with sibling conflicts is nothing new. What’s more modern is that it’s front-page news on both sides of what the British quaintly call the “pond.”

I’m referring, of course, to the current duo of royal princes, William and Harry. Multitudes tuned into the funeral of Prince Phillip, curious about how the brothers would – or would not – interact. TV focused greedily on the contrasting scenes. They’re walking separately! They’re together, talking!

At this point we don’t know what the third act will be. Happy, if shaky, ending? Permanent estrangement? I don’t have a favorite in this contest, although I think it must be difficult to be the “spare” when older brother is the heir. But does the future king envy the free-wheeling spirt of his less encumbered brother? And is there anyone among us who hasn’t known that who’s–getting-the-bigger-slice-of-the-pie rivalry

Truth Time: I have a personal reason for writing about this scenario. One year ago I lost my only sibling.

Through the years my sister and I ran the gamut of love and hate. Pride in one another alternated with competitiveness. In later years, both of us widowed, we recovered the closeness we had been careless with. To quote a wise woman I once interviewed, “You learn to maximize what you share and let the rest go.”

My sister was lively, intelligent, generous. She could also be petty, angry, unhearing. Or am I describing both of us?

I have long believed that as much as therapists harp on the trauma of what our parents did, sibling relationships are equally crucial. The fortunate among  us discover that although the bond may become frayed, it’s unbreakable.As the royal brothers may realize, it’s also a gift.

BOOKS: COME AND GO – available through;WIDOW’S WALK –; TURNING TOWARD TOMORROW –, TEN WOMEN OF VALOR and ROLE PLAY- available through and; also Amazon Kindle.


Like so much else these days, Zoom and similar tools are a mixed blessing. On one hand, they allow us to be in visual touch with relatives and friends who would become strangers otherwise. On the down side, seeing people we love on a computer screen is far from the same as being with them physically.

I’m writing this on a day when that difference is painfully present. I’ve just “zoomed” with my children. It was lovely to see their faces, but frustrating because, as another mother wept to me, “We can’t hug them.”

I confess that after the visit was over and my home silent again, I sank way down. All I could think was, how long will it be until I see them for real? How different will we each become before we meet again?

In a way, this parallels our mixed Pandemic view. Out of hopelessness, hope at last. Yet there’s still pervasive fear because the “light ” at the end of this long tunnel is threatened by the invasion of variants. Most of us are emotionally knocking on wood.

The challenge is to allow ourselves fleeting gifts of joy. To feel pleasure without obsessing about what tomorrow might bring.

It isn’t solely the connections with people we love that’s difficult. Our careers are, too. Too often I detour into anxiety: impossible to promote my new book when author tours are a relic of the past and book stores aren’t scheduling in-person readings. Then, as if I put on different glasses, I see the possible. Authors are doing readings virtually. Researching book clubs that welcome these visits is more productive than biting my nails.

Years ago when I was worrying about some problem that was down the road, my sister gave me seven-word advice: ”Don’t be there ‘til you get there.

Easier said than done? Yes. But focusing on whatever blessings we have now can make the difference between fully living each day – or losing irreplaceable time.

We can also plan something to look forward to when the screen goes dark. Isn’t that a metaphor for survival?

BOOKS: COME and GO – available through, WIDOW’S WALK –; TURNING TOWARD TOMORROW –, TEN WOMEN OF VALOR and ROLE PLAY- available through; also Amazon Kindle.


“Don’t forget the ladies, John.” That was the famed message Abigail Adams gave her husband as he departed for the conference (all male) that would write our Constitution. Despite her sage advice, the “ladies” were overlooked and marginalized for the next couple of centuries.

March is Women’s History Month. Only a month? We deserve a year at least to cover what we’ve accomplished. Even Abigail didn’t dream that a woman would rise to the top level of the federal government. Not as the chief honcho (honcha?), but certainly shattering that age-old glass ceiling. We also have more women in Congress and in executive positions around the country, than ever before in America’s history. (U.S. is also US. )

On a personal level, I’m betting that most of us owe a debt to some woman who helped us become the person we are today. Even our Madam Vice-President credits her elementary school teacher. So I want to pay homage to Miss Maher. (In her day there was no such title as Ms.) She was my English teacher in Junior High School. Small in stature, she was an odd figure with one shoulder noticeably higher than the other. This led the teenage boys in the class to refer to her as “the hunchback.” I‘m certain she was aware of the jokes and crude cartoons left too visible on the desks. Yet she stood with dignity in front of those boys, reading poems she loved and wanted us to know. She inspired me to revere the Romantic poets.

But I owe Miss Maher an even greater debt. One chilly autumn day at lunchtime I was alone in the school yard. A lonely kid, I sat on a bench and scribbled some words in my notebook. I was 12 years old and this was my first attempt to write a poem.

After school that day, I shyly asked Ms. Maher if she’d like to read my poem – and ran out. The next morning, she called me to her desk to tell me, “ You have a talent for writing.” The poem was amateurish, but that affirmation was everything to a young girl in a family that didn’t dole out praise and had no time for anything as trivial as poetry. Miss Maher then added three words that have dominated my life: “Honor that talent!

That teacher is long gone, but I wish she could know that her belief in me grew roots.
That even through the lonely struggle and inevitable rejections, I “honor” my writing by staying dedicated every day.

I hope if each of us looked back we could find at least one woman who lit a spark in us, a spark that ignited belief in our own possibilities.

(Who did that for you? Send the name to me at and have her acknowledged in these blogs.)

BOOKS: COME and GO – available through; Widow’s Walk –; Turning Toward Tomorrow –, Ten Women of Valor and Role Play- both available through and; also Amazon Kindle.


It’s a freezing February morning and I woke to see the world transformed by a blizzard. There’s pristine snow disguising so many familiar things; my neighbors’ garbage pails, for instance. If only the ugly schism in our country could be covered as easily.

January transformed us, too, for it was a month of stark opposites such as I’ve never seen before. First the hate-filled attack on the Capitol, followed two brief weeks later by an orderly change of power. ”Democracy has prevailed,” declared our new president.

As hopeful as Biden’s speech was, they aren’t the words that have been replaying in my head. Rather I’m challenged by the closing lines of Junior Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman’s poem.:
For there will always be light
““““` `If only we’re brave enough to see it
I““““` `If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Light is a metaphor in so many poems, songs, quotes. I’ve used the image many times, even as recently as a blog where I quoted J. K. Rowling about the need to “find the light” even in darkness.

But there’s a huge difference between finding light, and being it. For instance, suppose you’re handed a daunting assignment: create a meaningful inaugural ceremony in the midst of a pandemic, without the visual and auditory images of massive crowds cheering. So what do you do? Do you wait for an illusory fairy godmother to come up with ideas (she’s been on leave lately). What if there’s a light within you that assures you that you have the imagination to empower a novel idea. Instead of crowds of people, you’ll crowd the Mall with a dramatic sea of American flags. You’ll add rows of candles to memorialize those we have lost to Covid. Images so successful, there are already demands they be continued in the future!

Closer to home, the manuscript you’ve slaved over for years is rejected again and again. So what do you do? Sink into the darkest of moods and stay there? Or does a power within you illuminate the strength to keep trying? My first short story was rejected by editors   28 times. On the verge of giving up, I summoned up enough belief to submit the story again. On the 29th time it became my first published story.

I don’t mean to imply that belief magically makes things happen. What I do mean to say – and that I work at every day – is that the ability to rise above defeat does ultimately reside within us. We don’t have to wait for someone else to light a candle for us, we can keep our own light burning ; a light that can only be extinguished by a lack of faith in ourselves.

BOOKS: COME and GO – available through, Widow’s Walk –; Turning Toward Tomorrow –, Ten Women of Valor and Role Play– both available through and; also Amazon Kindle.



I doubt that anyone regrets the end of 2020. By any measurement it was a traumatic year. We can only pray that next year will be better. Actually, we can do more than pray. We can be proactive and bring something new into our life to make it more enjoyable and purposeful.

Looking back through my 2020 journal, I find things I wish I’d said or done differently. I wish I had written more and that I hadn’t wasted so much time. But now I have a new journal, blank pages waiting for me to inscribe days I have a chance of making worthwhile. I’m not talking about resolutions, they usually evaporate by February. I’m on to something different: putting something new and challenging into my life.

Coincidentally I came across an article in “Medium” about curiosity, as defined by “a desire for new experiences.” This can mean learning a new skill, gaining new knowledge, or finding a new friend. According to the article, research finds that people with this kind of curiosity lead healthier lives, both physically and mentally.

The article calls curiosity the “secret sauce in a happy life.” It reminds me of a friend who complained that while preparing routine meals for her family her mind was on the depressing problems the pandemic throws at us. Recently she signed up for an online cooking class. As she painstakingly followed the chef, concocting a Szechuan dish she’d never tried before, she found herself “so focused on making sure I had the right ingredients I couldn’t worry about whether or not I felt happy.”

Actually it doesn’t have to be something you’ve never done. It can mean reclaiming an interest dropped by the wayside. Another friend says she used to cut up photographs to form a collage, but hasn’t done that in years. She’s now taking an online course in Experimental Collage. “It’s on zoom,” she explains, “so even that is something new for me.”

Whatever your personal “ingredients,” I hope many of you will choose something that adds savor to your life during these difficult times.

To all – –a Healthy, Safe and Hopeful year!

BOOKS: COME and GO – available through, Widow’s Walk –; Turning Toward Tomorrow –, Ten Women of Valor and Role Play- both available through and; also Amazon Kindle.


“Happiness can be found  in the darkest of times, if we remember to turn on the light.”

Those are the words of J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series. Unlike the books, her words don’t refer to wizardry, but to magic of a different kind: the ability to find the light even when fate seems against us.

Easy for Rowling to say? After all, she’s  one of the most successful – and wealthiest – authors in the world. But it wasn’t all that bright for her years ago. She was a single mother struggling to survive, when her life changed. It wasn’t a wizard who did this. It was Rowling’s courage and determination to achieve – and her refusal to give up  even after a dozen rejections from publishers.

I hear such a wide range  of reactions to this Covid time. One former friend informed me she was miserable, adding, ”I’m sure you’re miserable, too.” Obviously this all-or-nothing negativity doesn’t help. On the opposite side there’s one of my students who lives alone (a challenge in itself), but said  of the recent holiday: “Let’s all try to embrace Thanksgiving.”

I swing back and forth between both ends of that spectrum. I could view the Pandemic though dark glasses  and say  how painful it is to be unable to visit my children . Or I can value the increased phone calls and closeness based on our mutual realization that life these days is more precarious than ever.  It’s we’re-in-this-together closeness I’m finding with friends, too. (I  also bless the technological gift of Zoom.)

I can curse the huge challenge of marketing my new memoir, when in-person book talks have become rare. Or I can  find other ways to make people aware of the book (e.g., this blog)!  I can also see that I have more uninterrupted  writing time than I‘ve ever had.  No taking time off to meet friends for lunch, since no one’s going anywhere.

Of course , I’d far rather be living in what used to be “normal” times, But since I can’t I can decide to live this “new normal” the best ways as possible.  I can’t go to a movie or eat in my favorite restaurant, and the traveling I’d planned is on hold. But there’s another aspect  to this waiting time. It provides a mental and emotional space to catch up with ourselves, to realize we don’t have to run-run-run and do-do-do. We can be quiet for a while (turn off the TV news!) and become acquainted with who we are and what we want and how we can  bring some light into our lives. The answer may be different for each of us,  but the power to ignite  that light is in our  own hands


BOOKS: COME and GO – available through, Widow’s Walk –; Turning Toward Tomorrow –, Ten Women of Valor and Role Play-bothavailable throughCreateSpace.comand;also Amazon Kindle.