
When I fell for Sarah Getlost in the fourth grade, I was taking no chances. My father explained to me that women couldn’t resist a man in uniform. He told me this while wearing a white T-shirt, Bermuda shorts and drinking a beer, so I had to take his word for it. My plan was to wait for our little league candy sale and go to her house dressed in my new baseball uniform.
In theory, it was a good plan.
In reality, Sarah Getlost answered the door wearing her new cheerleader outfit, effectively neutralizing me. So, to impress her, I gave her my candy, a new baseball and all of my money. Although I wasn’t immediately rejected, it came swiftly once my mother found out and forced me to return to Sarah’s house to ask for all my stuff back. I don’t remember exactly what I said, only that it was awkward and involved a lot of gulping to keep the bitter taste of rejection from coming back up.
Although I think all that chalk I swallowed in the second grade helped a little.
Rejection is a part of life, particularly for writers. We set ourselves up for potential rejection every time we send out a query, have an article published online or in print, or post something to our blog or social media page. Thanks to the digital age, we have more ways than ever to receive rejection! Continue reading Finding the good in rejection (especially as a writer)



I don’t have good-looking legs.
Eight years ago tomorrow, I stood at the altar, watching as my wife crossed the courtyard toward the church. I remember smiling so much my cheeks hurt; I remember the pride and appreciation I felt knowing I was about to be her husband; and I remember a momentary breeze lifting a strand of hair away from her face, like God’s finger gently brushing it aside as she entered the chapel.
As I recently mentioned, I joined a men’s softball team after not participating in anything athletic since (conservative estimate) the golden era of dodgeball in the early ‘70s. In response, I have received letters and emails from readers offering encouragement, support and, in an isolated incident, a lucky athletic cup from someone named “Derek.”
Even though our Dempublican Party Convention was purposely held after the RNC but before the DNC, on Saturday afternoon, between 1:30 and 2:15 p.m., in the seating area of the Fred Meyer deli, it was still somehow overlooked by the media!
You may want to stand up before reading this. That’s because, according to a recent study published in the
During my mini book tour to 