Noelle Sterne

After too many years, I was painfully getting back to writing. For four years, I’d faithfully scribbled my “morning pages” (per Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way), the only writing I could manage. As I struggled through countless tear-soaked journaling sessions, my fragile new hope told me it was time.

For weeks, in the local newspaper I’d studied the Sunday magazine feature called “Great Neighborhood Secrets” on terrific but little-known places and events in the area. Only 100 words—I could creep into that. But what to write?

One day, crossing Broadway from the market, I walked in front of the firehouse to get to the library. And between the two buildings, there it was! A small pond, almost completely hidden by tall rushes and overhanging trees, pristine, intact. I’d never noticed it before.  If I hadn’t, probably others hadn’t either.

Lily pads floated on the water’s surface, insects hummed and buzzed, and small birds flitted overhead. The pond was an anomaly, an oasis, and a comfort that all of nature hadn’t succumbed to concrete and strip malls. Like the bubbles from a small fish in the pond, my title emerged: “Hidden Jewel.”

I tapped out a too-long first draft. After weeks of editing, cutting, and polishing, on a crisp November morning I sent the piece out to the newspaper.

Winter dragged on. No reply. Spring emerged and grew warmer. Nothing. As I gained writing strength, I became preoccupied with other pieces. But my annoyance grew the more I checked my log. The paper could have at least replied with a form email.

Then, in late May, the phone rang. Seeing the newspaper’s name on the caller ID, I assumed it was another computer-generated, randomly dialed, automatic message subscription solicitation. I answered half-heartedly, with No already in my voice.

To my shock, the editor identified himself. “I apologize for the late response. We’d like to publish your piece—two months from now.”

I tried to form words but could only groan with paralyzed ecstasy.

“Oh,” he continued, taking my strange sound for assent, “where shall we send the $50 check?”

When I hung up and regained my power of speech, I ran screaming into my husband’s study. He was on a European conference call closing a big deal, but this was more important. He graciously put the CEO and CFO on hold and rejoiced with me.

The piece came out on a bright Sunday in July. We bought all 12 copies at the local newsstand and sent several to friends. One even sent it to the mayor.

Since then, I’ve published and sold many pieces and have written many more. The morning pages have delivered what Cameron promised. I write almost daily now, and the ideas and projects keep flowing. But “Hidden Jewel” was especially meaningful.

Maybe, you could say, I should have found the impetus to continue writing without creating this piece. Maybe, you also could say, I shouldn’t have needed the validation of the sale. But after the long dark days and nights of wrestling with the self-depreciation demons, I freely admit that first sale thrilled me, and more. It gave me the hope, inspiration, and impetus to keep writing.

© 2016 Noelle Sterne

Noelle Sterne (Ph.D.) publishes in many venues, including Author Magazine, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Children’s Book Insider, Graduate Schools Magazine, Inspire Me Today, and Writer’s Digest. Her Trust Your Life: Forgive Yourself and Go After Your Dreams (Unity Books) helps readers reach lifelong yearnings. Her handbook based on her academic coaching practice assists doctoral students: Challenges in Writing Your Dissertation: Coping With the Emotional, Interpersonal, and Spiritual Struggles (Rowman & Littlefield Education).  www.trustyourlifenow