Catching Idle Butterflies

Trying to see good in the bad

Yesterday was not a good day. First, I discovered my little USB flash drive was missing. I looked everywhere. But then I realized I likely lost it when I tried on jeans at two clothing stores. I returned to both at lunch to see if anyone found it and placed it in Lost and Found. Nothing.

I searched again at home more thoroughly. Still missing. Here’s the problem. Everything I’ve written in the last two years, including my novels is on it. Now, they were only backups so I didn’t lose anything that way. But now someone else has access to all of it.

My hope and most fervent prayer right now is that the person who did find it had no idea what it was and tossed it, or if they did know what it was decided to keep it, but deleted everything.

I’m trying to convince myself the worst case is that they’ll read everything, delete the files and move on.

The chances of him or her publishing my work is slim indeed. After all, if I’m not having any luck, neither will they! Besides, much of what’s on there is in first draft or incomplete.

My bad day didn’t end there. Part of my next CWG lesson required me to talk to the owners or managers of up to three Christian bookstores and ask them how they choose their novelists, who they trust, who they don’t, and why.

I went to the one Christian store in town and asked to see the manager.

I knew I was in trouble when he didn’t crack a smile as I introduced myself. When I get flustered English is no longer my primary or secondary language. I may as well act like an excited orangutan, because the reaction of those listening would be no different.

I told him my intent, and what it was for.

“Is this a college?” he asked.

“Sort of. It’s an online correspondence course through the Christian Writer’s Guild.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do any surveys for people I know nothing about.”

“It’s not a survey, per se,” I said, “It’s for an assignment only. No one will see it but me and my mentor. It’s not for a newspaper or anything.” I then tried to explain what the Christian Writer’s Guild was once again, even going so far as to name drop by adding Jerry B. Jenkins owns the guild.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, “I can’t answer your questions, because I know nothing about who you’re doing it for.”

I mumbled my “Thanks anyway,” and hightailed it out of there. I knew I shouldn’t have been embarrassed, but I was. I can’t imagine I’ll be able to step foot in that store for a long time. I beat myself up all night wondering how I could have approached the manager differently.

Silly, huh?

I vented to Dave, and he told me he would have responded to me the same way as the manager, that they get tired of solicitations.

Gee, thanks.

Miffed I asked, “Okay, what would you have done in my place?”

“The same thing.”

He then added, “There’s no reason to be embarrassed about going back in there.”

Beyond miffed and now angry I said, “Yeah, well, that’s who I am. I can’t help it.”

“I understand,” he said, “I’m the same way. I wouldn’t want to go back there, either.”

I stared at him and he said, “But I’m just trying to be the voice of reason, here.”

“Thanks for trying,” I said, feeling better that my reaction wasn’t unusual after all.

Some good came of this, though. At least I know now I will never be a reporter.

Or, if you enjoy seeing a human being act like an orangutan, I'm your gal!