The Family Album by Kerry Kelly

Author:Kerry Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2012-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

10

"Actually, I’m impressed, kid.”

Cynthia was sitting in her office with a despondent Abby, holding a very professional and not unkind rejection letter.

Dear Ms. Wilkes

Thank you for your recent submission to our New Young Fiction issue. However, I regret to inform it has not been selected for our magazine.

Good luck in your future endeavors. And keep writing.

Sincerely,

Marianne Holden

Fiction Editor

New City Magazine

“They didn’t like it.” Abby’s voice floated up from the floor, where she had been lying despondently since she had come into the room, tossed the envelope at Cynthia, and declared that she was quitting writing.

“It doesn’t say that anywhere,” Cynthia replied, waving the letter over her.

“They didn’t take it.”

“Well, you can get used to that, kid. You should be thrilled they even used your name.”

“You said it was good.” Abby rolled over so that she could extend an accusatory finger. “You told me that it was good enough for public consumption!”

Cynthia eyed her young pupil and wondered briefly if the hormones of puberty were beginning to rear their ugly heads, or if writing just turned people into divas. She could rattle off at least a dozen conversations similar to this one that she’d had with grown writers whose work she had reviewed over the course of her career. People either infuriated that she hadn’t like their books, or let down because she had and it hadn’t resulted in any kind of monetary windfall.

“I did. And I meant it. But what I meant was that the story was done and it was time to move on to the next one. I hadn’t intended to suggest that you should then send it off to a literary magazine and expect immediate publication,” Cynthia said.

“Matt did it.” The proof was right there on the wall, where hung a copy of one of his first published pieces. Cynthia had been so proud of him, so happy for him to have some evidence of the talent he was always questioning, always comparing to hers, that when the edition came out last year, she’d had the piece framed.

Abby’s tone was thoroughly heartbroken. Cynthia was both exasperated and amused. All the eggshell-fragile egos, hers included, was why she’d jumped out of the arts arena years ago, choosing instead to discuss current affairs and share others’ anecdotes of home life while she rested on the laurels of the words of her youth. “Not on his first story out the gate, honey, and please don’t take this the wrong way, because you know I think you are a very promising writer, but he didn’t do it at ten years old either.”

“So I guess I should just wait until I’m older to even bother trying?” Abby was now stilling cross-legged, her face in her hands.

“Well, you could. If you just want to write to see your name somewhere. Or if you love writing like you say you do, maybe you just keep on writing for you.”

Abby considered this. “I do like writing. Is that what you do? Just write for yourself?”

This was something that Cynthia hadn’t done for a very long time.

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