• Skip to main content
  • Skip to footer

Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

  • Home
  • About Elaine
    • Privacy Policy
  • ALL BOOKS
  • Blog
  • Books
  • Contact
  • Storyteller
You are here: Home / Archives for Elaine Ambrose

Elaine Ambrose

Midlife Cabernet: A Reflection on Rejection

April 21, 2014 By Elaine Ambrose

I will never submit entries to the Boise Weekly Fiction 101 contest. J.K. Rowling and Stephen King won’t, either.

Personal coaches and self-help advocates often encourage people to take risks so they can face their fears, calm their critics, and win the adoration of friends and associates. That works – unless you’re a writer. Then the smallest rejection letter can cause a wave of insecurity so powerful that you’re tempted to tie your computer to your legs and jump into the nearest river of despair. Your fear of rejection becomes a bigger fear that no one will care. Ever.

Well, that might be a bit dramatic. But those who scatter words into sentences that evolve into paragraphs want readers to share the same passion that inspires writers to write. An author can devote years of arduous work to produce a manuscript that only languishes at the bottom of a slush pile. Then the form rejection letter arrives. Your talent is not good enough. Baby, you’re no good. (Sing along.)

My first national publication came fifty years ago when I was in elementary school. I’ve been fortunate to use my writing skills in career opportunities that included corporate communications, publishing, and writing for television, newspapers, and magazines. Every story, every news release, every report was an assignment written on a deadline, packaged, and presented for someone, everyone, to read. In return, I received a paycheck for validation and sometimes a writing award. Then I wrote books, and I held them like babies.

My rambling today was prompted by two recent rejections. I wrote a charming short story for a collection that celebrated Boise’s 150th anniversary. My story titled “The Gregarious Ghost of the Greenbelt” featured a sassy ghost that lived under the bridge on Capitol Blvd. I loved the story. The judges did not. My second rejection came from the Boise Weekly 101 Fiction Contest. I submitted two stories I thought were creative, clever, and mimicked the quirky samples of previous winners. Again, as in previous years, my stories weren’t chosen. But some of my friends won. That fact presents an entire new set of insecurities. They must be better writers. They know I lost. Will we still be friends?

Writers can find comfort by knowing about famous authors who also faced numerous rejections. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell was rejected 38 times before it was published. One of my favorite children’s books, A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle, was rejected 26 times. Beatrix Potter received so many denial letters that she successfully self-published The Tale of Peter Rabbit. Other rejected writers include Stephen King, Rudyard Kipling, J.K. Rowling, George Orwell, Agatha Christie, Louisa May Alcott, and William Faulkner. I am not in the same league with the talent of those famous authors, but I can honestly say we share something in common: rejection. Then we get up again and write more stories.

Today’s blog was fueled by a 1998 Cattiglone Falleto Terre del Barolo. If you can find this wine, buy it and drink it. It’s only $17 – but one sip will send you to a quaint sidewalk café outside Florence, Italy where you’ll dine al fresco while a charming man plays the mandolin and sings “O Sole Mio.” Ciao.

Filed Under: blog Tagged With: #Boise Weekly, #Falleto wine, #rejection, #writing

Today’s Cabernet

April 21, 2014 By Elaine Ambrose

Today’s blog was fueled by a glass of 2004 Moon Mountain from Sonoma Valley. This yummy wine is 79% cabernet sauvignon with a delightful blend of cabernet franc, merlot, malbec, and petit verdot that results in flavors of blackberry and currant with a hint of roasted coffee. It’s about $30 a bottle but worth its weight in gold after a busy day.

Filed Under: blog

And The Cow Jumped Over the Moon Mountain

April 21, 2014 By Elaine Ambrose

My wonderful, perfect 13-month-old granddaughter spent the day with me yesterday. We read books, emptied drawers, danced, crawled under tables, tumbled on the carpet, poked toys into little boxes, and played peek-a-boo with a silk blanket. I even introduced her to steamed cauliflower – so much better than the crap I used to feed my kids when they were small.I’d forgotten how busy a toddler can be. In desperate need of a toilet, I took her into the bathroom with me and it only took 10 seconds for her to open drawers and find the razor blades. These were not on her mom’s recommended toy list. Then she scampered away with a tube of lotion which she quickly squirted onto my hardwood floor before I could get my pants zipped. Just when I was ready to offer her a pony if she took a nap, she got tired and we cuddled in the rocking chair. Then she fell asleep in her little crib, and I watched in amazement and relief as she sighed and moaned her way to some mysterious dreamland. After my wonderful, perfect daughter took my wonderful, perfect granddaughter back home, I poured a glass of Moon Mountain Cabernet Sauvignon and sat quietly to contemplate my blessings. Hey Diddle, Diddle, it’s a good life.

Filed Under: blog

Midlife Cabernet: When’s Your Expiration Date?

April 21, 2014 By Elaine Ambrose

I have salad dressing in my refrigerator that dates back to the Carter administration. And there’s a plastic container in the back that’s growing a chemistry experiment but I’m afraid to look, so I just leave it there. I know when the milk turns sour that it’s time to throw it out, but I’m not sure about the eggs. How can I trust a cardboard container that tells me something fresh will last another month?

I recently rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and pantry searching for cans, boxes, and packages of food that have exceeded their “use by” date. It’s easy to toss out the old tin of unwanted sardines, but I have a difficult time parting with the gourmet pancake mix. The expiration date is 2010, but it’s a gourmet mix from a famous gourmet company that sends awesome catalogs. I’ll probably keep that mix for another five years, just in case some fancy guests drop by for breakfast.

I usually ignore expiration dates because I’m worried someone will slap one on my head. “Elaine is best before 2015.” That would be too much pressure to cram all my quality goodness and usefulness into the next 12 months. I would plead for an extension and then tap dance my way back into being relevant and valuable.

Would you want to know your expiration date? I don’t. Instead, I think we should choose to live every day to the fullest just to prove we’ve still got life and mischief. Each morning, slowly peek out of one eye to make sure you’re still alive. If you haven’t expired, you have another chance to go forth with fresh and worthy confidence that says your story isn’t over. Start another chapter.

Filed Under: blog

Today’s Cabernet is not a Cab

April 21, 2014 By Elaine Ambrose

Tonight’s blog was fueled by a glass of 2004 Trinitas Zinfandel from Bigalow Vineyard in Sonoma, California. It’s a gamble to dabble outside of my Cabernet Comfort Zone, but this wine is darn tasty and it’s only $28 a bottle. The wine offers hints of raspberry and chocolate (a great combination) but it’s not too sweet.

Filed Under: blog

Midlife Cabernet – Toenails on the Tablecloth

April 21, 2014 By Elaine Ambrose

I often experience profound humiliation with a daunting magnitude that would send most people screaming into the forest, never to return. After all these years, I accept the fact that I probably will trip and fall in a busy crosswalk, fart during a massage, drop my passport into a foreign toilet, or sprout broccoli in my teeth while giving a motivational speech. However, I still cringe at the memory of a recent embarrassment.

Due to stress, deadlines, and too much caffeine, I had attacked my fingernails like a crazed wolverine, leaving bloody stumps that were too painful to use even to shampoo my hair. Of course, this was on a day when I had a Very Important Meeting with some Very Important People at a Very Private Club in Boise. Not even my best St. Johns knit suit could hide my tortured hands. It was time to leave, so I frantically pawed through my drawers looking for some fake nails to glue onto my fingers but only found some press-on toenails. The instructions on the box guaranteed that I didn’t need glue because the adhesive would last for a week! I slapped those gleaming toenails onto the ends of my ravaged fingers, picked up my briefcase and dashed to the meeting, feeling smug that I had successfully survived yet another personal crisis.

At the Very Private Club, I was escorted to the premium table and introduced to a sophisticated woman who looked like a model in a Ralph Lauren ad and a man who appeared to possess all the knowledge of the universe. As she shook my right hand, the toenail on my right thumb suddenly popped off and landed on the white linen tablecloth. I mumbled something about “that darned broken nail” and plucked it from the table. After exchanging professional pleasantries, we ordered Herb-infused Tomato Bisque. As I took a sip, the toenail on the left hand snapped off and plopped into the soup. I tried to push it down with my spoon, but it kept bobbing up as if pleading to be rescued. Apparently, toes are wider and flatter than fingernails, and these things wouldn’t last the hour let alone a week. I resisted the temptation to say, “Waiter, there is a toenail in my soup.”

My table companions cleared their throats and started their conversation about how I should diversify my investment portfolio to take advantage of opportunities in emerging markets. As they talked, I held my hands in my lap, working quickly to pry off the remaining nails so they wouldn’t sporadically shoot from my hand and put out someone’s eye. Two of the stubborn nails validated the claim on the box and wouldn’t release until I ripped them off and the wounded fingers started to bleed again. I discretely wrapped the linen napkin around my hand until it looked like one of those bandaged fists from a war movie. By the time the elegant woman was displaying a chart of recommended international equity funds, I was sitting in a pile of discarded toenails, applying white-linen pressure to my hemorrhaging fingertips, and pretending everything was OK.

I want the dignified waiter at The Arid Club to know that I really regret leaving that mess. But, maybe he overheard some good hints about investing and will remove my name from the list of “Guests to Never Allow Back Inside.”

To ease my discomfort, I later settled my nerves with an extremely large glass of Coppola Cabernet. It’s about $35 a bottle and goes down nicely, with or without fingernails.

Filed Under: blog

  • « Go to Previous Page
  • Page 1
  • Interim pages omitted …
  • Page 116
  • Page 117
  • Page 118
  • Page 119
  • Page 120
  • Go to Next Page »

Footer

Awards

awards

Badges

badges from other sites

Awards

awards

©2022 Elaine Ambrose | Designed & Maintained by Technology-Therapist