The Death and Rebirth of a Dream
For years I've dreamed of being the next Toni Morrison. Okay, okay. I said "dreamed". When I would awake from my dreams, I would settle for being a pretty good novelist in my own right. I dreamed of writing the latest breakout novel. I could visualize my novel title on the New York Times Best Seller List. Well that was before my dream died... and resurrected. Here's the story of that resurrection... I boarded the airplane prepared and self-assured. My rolling suitcase contained khakis, a few colorful tops and sensible black patent loafers. I had packed my hair essentials and three-ounce bottles of Japanese Cherry Blossom shower gel and body cream. Most importantly, I was armed with my laptop and five copies of my novel proposal. My confidence at an all-time high, I spent the long flight to California gearing up for a packed week at my first major writer’s conference. This would be the week I’d be discovered as the breakout novelist of the year. I anti