Don Rearden: Surviving Rejection and Writing Alaska's Literary History


The following is an abridged version of a speech given by author Don Rearden during Alaska Book Week.

Those of you who know me, also know that I claim to be a rejection expert. I
am. I actually have an advanced degree in manuscript rejection survival. It’s
the real MFA really, which stands for: Manuscript Failure, Advanced.
Today
I’m going to tell you a little about how I became so skilled at surviving
rejection, and then I’m going to teach you how to prepare, should you begin to
see the foreboding signs, the 4 horsemen, if you will, of a pending manuscript
apocalypse.
Then
I’ll show you how to live through the end times of your book and perhaps
salvage something and start a brave new world.
I began
surviving rejection early on. As a way cool letterman wearing jacket kid in
Bethel. When visiting authors came to our school I would give
them copies of my short story collection of tundra horror stories, hoping they
would magically help me get it published or would want to mentor me.

They didn’t do either. 

My mom submitted a story of mine to the Anchorage
Daily News
 writing contest. I
won first prize, but they didn’t publish an excerpt because of the mature
content of the story. I was a freshman. I took this as rejection.
Then I
wrote Stephen King a letter and asked if he would mentor me. 
From my
most admired author on the planet at the time, I received my first official
notice. An official Steve King fan rejection letter. As if I was asking for an
autograph.

I didn’t at all take that rejection personal.

From
there I discovered the best way to avoid having my stories and characters
rejected. I admit, this is the most genius way to avoid rejection. And still
works to this day. 

I quit submitting my work to anyone.  


I steadfastly maintained this dogma for all of high school and college. I wrote
the whole time, but submitted nothing for contests or publication.
 
My plan
worked, because it was so genius in scope and execution, magnificently.

I wasn’t rejected once. 

Then.
For a while, I found a way to write and not get rejected. I wrote for the local Tundra Drums newspaper. They were desperate enough
to let a high school punk have his own column and they even paid me a little.
Then when I became a high school English teacher in my
home town of Bethel, I realized that I could be the cool teacher and show my
students how to love reading and writing, but I couldn’t be inspirational and
convince them they could live their dreams if I wasn’t doing the same. I was
being a hypocrite. This really hit home when an author visited my class. Of
course I’d pondered trying to give her some of my own work, but that would be
breaking the no rejection rule, so I didn’t. The author shared her work, and
she talked about what it took for her to be a writer. In a round about way,
while I was sitting in the back of my own class, feeling like a fraud for
claiming I was a writer and not writing, that author threw the gauntlet down. 
I had
to start living my own dream.

So I first taught myself how to screenwrite and at about that same time I came
across an ad on a writing website. The unusual ad came from one of my favorite
authors offering his services as a writing coach. I emailed him, told him I was
a broke ass rural Alaskan teacher and unpublished writer, and I waited for my
Stephen King level rejection.
The next morning there was an email from Danie Quinn, the author of Ishmael.

He took me under his wing, free of charge, with the single powerful caveat: I
would dedicate my first novel to him.

I
finished three screenplays that first year and began submitting them, okay
spamming them, to anyone and everyone who had an email address and any remote
link to
Hollywood. I’m not lying. I mean spam and not the T-bone Steak of
the north stuff in the can, I mean bulk email spam. I filled those internet
tubes with pleas for someone, anyone, to read my scripts. Say you knew the guy
who mowed Mel Gibson’s lawns? Well, you”ve got mail!
For
each hundred or so emails I would get a request or two to read one of the
scripts.  (Sadly, I often I wouldn’t even follow through if they requested
to read them when the request was for a printed copy — but that is another
speech on trying to survive standing in line at the post office, perhaps
entitled, Writers who go Postal.).
In
screenwriting, rejection is the name of the game, lies and full scale
rejection, but mostly just outright rejection. I learned to survive avalanche
level rejection, to thrive on it. Even become good at it. Expect it. Maybe even
so much so that when I wasn’t rejected and someone wanted to see something of
mine I didn’t send it because surely they were delusional in not rejecting me.
About
this same time, I finished a non-fiction project about unleashing ones
creativity, and I began to spam that about, looking for a publisher or agent. A
couple agents and publishers requested the manuscript via mail, which I did not
of course send, but one wrote back and flatly rejected it, telling me that I
couldn’t be an expert on creativity if I wasn’t a recognized authority on the subject,
but then he asked if I had any fiction I was working on he might look at, as he
was curious about Alaska. 

I sent him a draft of the historic novel I was tinkering with and he kindly
rejected that, but then said he liked the writing and would look at something
in the future if I had anything.

Fast
forward many more years of rejection. I finished my MFA at UAA, and ran
straight home to begin spamming agents with my thesis project, a novella. I did
a search through my old emails and hit up that one agent who rejected me first.
He read the manuscript, and signed me that week. 

I was immediately suspect of him for not rejecting me.

Little
did I know, that novella would put me into the big leagues of rejection.
Editors at major houses read the manuscript, and actually liked it, and this
was exciting rejection. They said inspiring words like “Don Rearden has the
heart of a poet.” And then they flatly and openly rejected it, dozens of them
adding they would be happy to see anything else I had in actual novel length.
As if I could reach around and pull something novel length from my ass.
I had
little choice.

I began pulling.

A few
years later I had a manuscript called The
Raven’s Gift
 – all ready for
rejection. I won’t bore you with the details, as that is another long story,
but I had amazing responses at many of the big houses (Harper Collins, Houghton
Mifflin, Penguin)  and some of the kindest most inspirational rejection
letters and emails you’ve ever seen. With heart warming and motivating 
lines to my agent like “I’d be happy to see Don’s next novel.” As if I could
pull one from my buttocks.
Here is
where I saw the end of the world coming for yet another one of my stories. By
this time I was an expert at letting those worlds I had created just whither
and die a slow death in the digital hell that are the files on my computer.
Then a
strange and beautiful thing happened. A major house in
Canada picked up the book and suddenly the end of the world was
delayed. Or at least the world had only ended in the
United States. Then Australia and New Zealand came on board. The book was translated into Canadian,
Australian, and Kiwi. Then French.
So
there is lesson one for those thinking the world is ending with your
manuscript. Rejection in the
US, might not be the end. You need to start thinking about
world wide rejection — the world can not be over unless rejection worldwide
has been absolute. This is something to consider if you’ve hit the wall in the
US. Just like how people in other countries actually care
about the health and welfare of their citizens, people in many countries still
actually read.
So
let’s just say that you’ve finally exhausted every possibility for your book.
You’re still awaiting word from a small publisher in
Tanzania, but you’ve got to at that point, have an idea that
proverbial End is near.
Let us begin talking just a little about the End Times.
Don’t worry, I won’t get all biblical on you.  But I think a study of the
apocalypse is worth while, if anything it is a great metaphor for the world of
publishing right now.
Although
interpretations may differ, the four horsemen of the apocalypse are seen as
Conquest, War, Famine, and Death. This fits a writer’s life nicely. You charge
out with your manuscript, in conquest to get it published, you battle in war to
get an agent or to get anyone on the planet to read it, you starve and endure
famine along the way, and then you die, or at least your manuscript does.
Those
four horsemen are the harbingers of last judgement, which you can allow to come
from above, your agent, your spouse, your mom, or maybe you yourself will
realize this world (you’ve created) is over.
Now
Apocalypse means unveiling or revelation, and the bible itself has some great
insights for writers who aren’t sure what Jesus the Publisher would do.
If you
aren’t sure if your story has entered the apocalypse phase, you need only to
turn to the bible. 
Daniel
12:4 …’But thou, O Daniel, shut up the words, and seal the book, even to the
time of the end.’
Once
you’ve admitted the end has come, then you steel yourself against the forces of
evil that might tell you to give up. If you can survive all that rejection that
led to the end, you can survive into the post-apocalypse.
Here is
where you think about that world of your story and begin pondering the four
horsemen or four R’s: Re-vision. Re-newal, Rebuilding, Re-surrecting,
Reclaiming.
Renewal — think about what pieces of the story you can’t bare
to languish in your digital files. Is it a character? The plot? What made that
world fail in the first place. Where did you go wrong?
Rebuilding — here is where you study the story you created and
begin envisioning a new chance of life for what was destroyed. Perhaps a new
setting? Perhaps you look at the conflict that destroyed your world in the
first place and dig into that to see what your structure was — were your
characters real, did they have internal conflicts they were struggling with
outside of the plot?
Resurrection —Then, like the god you are of your story, you choose
which characters will be saved, and who will die with the rest of us. And then
you make sure those characters have an internal conflict — this makes them
real. They are conflicted. They want and need things. They struggle internally.
Here you resurrect those characters that are powerful enough and important enough
to live again.
Reclaiming — Finally you reclaim your story, your characters, and
your confidence. A new world has been established. You’ve restored order to the
world. You’ve created a new fresh world from the rubble, one that has more
heart and depth and complexity than the last. One that you care about a little
more, because you’ve lifted it from the devastation, and with it, hopefully
lifted yourself above worry that the apocalypse of rejection for a manuscript
is really the end.
It
doesn’t have to be. In fact rejection is a part of this profession and a part
of this art. Your name will be added to the scrolls of so many others who were
rejected countless times, yet who lived on and survived the rejection
apocalypse. 
Of course, you’re thinking that with publication of The Raven’s Gift by a major US publisher, it’s all fine and dandy for me to talk about
rejection, and mock it — but you’ve got to understand that I’m not joking,
but I’m not. 
Despite publication in other countries, my only hope to
get my book here was to smuggle it in, or just write another. I did both.
Thanks to
Alaska, this book is here in the US. Alaska‘s illegal demand for the book, caught Canada‘s eye. They pushed for publication here. At the same
time I wrote a new novel, and that was out to publishers at the same time I
received word that my Raven would finally be flying home. That put my new book
on hold, as publishers now would have to wait to see what happened in terms of
sales. 
And here is where all that history of learning to thrive
on rejection came in handy. In order for my new novel to not get rejected, I
would need to face a whole new avalanche of rejections to get The Raven’s Gift into the hands of readers, bloggers,
and critics. In the world of modern publishing, and it doesn’t matter if you’re
published by Random House or a University Press — or yourself or your mom
—the publicity, sales, and marketing team is You. This is just something to
accept if you want people to read your stories. You do this because you love it
and you believe in it. Because it’s important.

And yet —

Newspapers aren’t really reviewing books. Book stores
aren’t even selling books. Hell, people aren’t even really reading books.
Bookstores seem to be headed down the road that Blockbuster took. One
depressing look at the numbers of video game revenue verses publishing and it
makes you want to cry. Last year 27 billion in books to 67 billion in video
games. That does not bode well for us, my friends. This is an apocalypse of
reading and writing. 
And
just like those four R-s I suggested earlier — there is hope amongst the
gloom.
Alaska seems to be poised for something big. And folks bigger
than me, if that’s possible, have used words unimaginable a few years ago.
Words like “Alaska Literary Renaissance.” With ground breakers like
Seth Kantner and Joan Kane winning Whiting awards, with Eowyn Ivey getting a p
Those of you who know me, also know that I claim to be a rejection expert. I
am. I actually have an advanced degree in manuscript rejection survival. It’s the
real MFA really, which stands for: Manuscript Failure Advanced.
Today
I’m going to tell you a little about how I became so skilled at surviving
rejection, and then I’m going to teach you how to prepare, should you begin to
see the foreboding signs, the 4 horsemen, if you will, of a pending manuscript
apocalypse.
Then
I’ll show you how to live through the end times of your book and perhaps
salvage something and start a brave new world.
I began
surviving rejection early on. As a way cool 50 below, but still wearing a
letterman jacket kid in
Bethel. When visiting authors came I would give them copies of
my short story collection of tundra horror stories, hoping they would magically
help me get it published or would want to mentor me.

They didn’t do either. 

My mom submitted a story of mine to the Anchorage Daily News writing contest. I
won first prize, but they didn’t publish an excerpt because of the mature
content of the story. I was a freshman. I took this as rejection.
Then I
wrote Stephen King a letter and asked if he would mentor me. 
From my
most admired author on the planet at the time, I received my first official
notice. An official Steve King fan rejection letter. As if I was asking for an
autograph.

I didn’t at all take that rejection personal.

From
there I discovered the best way to avoid having my stories and characters
rejected. I admit, this is the most genius way to avoid rejection. And still
works to this day. 

I quit submitting my work to anyone.  


I steadfastly maintained this dogma for all of high school and college. I wrote
the whole time, but submitted nothing for contests or publication.
 
My plan
worked, because it was so genius in scope and execution, worked magnificently

I wasn’t rejected once. 

Then.
For a while, I found a way to write and not get rejected. I wrote for the local
Tundra Drums newspaper. They were desperate enough to let a high school punk
have his own column and they even paid me a little.
Then when I became a high school English teacher in my
home town of Bethel I realized that I could be cool and show my students how to
love reading and writing, but I couldn’t be inspirational and convince them
they could live their dreams if I wasn’t doing the same. I was being a
hypocrite. This really hit home when an author visited my class. Of course I’d
pondered trying to give her some of my own work, but that would be breaking the
no rejection rule, so I didn’t.  The author shared her work, and she talked
about what it took for her to be a writer. In a round about way, while I was
sitting in the back of my own class, feeling like a fraud for claiming I was a
writer and not writing, that write threw the gauntlet down. 
I had
to start living my own dream.

So I first taught myself to screenwrite and at about that same time I came
across an ad on a writing website. The unusual ad came from one of my favorite
authors offering his services as a writing coach. I emailed him, told him I was
a broke ass rural Alaskan teacher and unpublished writer, and I waited for my
Stephen King level rejection.
The next morning there was an email from Danie Quinn, the author of Ishmael.

He took me under his wing, free of charge, with the single powerful caveat: I
would dedicate my first novel to him.

I
finished three screenplays that first year and began submitting them, okay
spamming them, to anyone and everyone who had an email address and any remote
link to
Hollywood. I’m not lying. I mean Spam and not the T-bone Steak of
the north stuff in the can, I mean bulk email spam. I filled those internet
tubes with pleas for someone, anyone, to read my scripts. Say you knew the guy
who mowed Mel Gibson’s lawns? You”ve got mail!
For
each hundred or so emails I would get a request or two to read one of the
scripts.  (Sadly, I often I wouldn’t even follow through if they requested
to read them when the request was for a printed copy — but that is another
speach on trying to survive standing in line at the post office, perhaps
entitled, Writers who go Postal)
In
screenwriting, rejection is the name of the game, lies and full scale
rejection, but mostly just outright rejection. I learned to survive avalanche
level rejection, to thrive on it. Even become good at it. Expect it. Maybe even
so much so that when I wasn’t rejected and someone wanted to see something of
mine I didn’t send it because surely they were delusional in not rejecting me.
About
this same time, I finished a non-fiction project about unleashing ones creativity,
and I began to spam that about, looking for a publisher or agent. A couple
agents and publishers requested the manuscript via mail, which I did not of
course send, but one wrote back and flatly rejected it, telling me that I
couldn’t be an expert on creativity if I wasn’t a recognized authority on the
subject, but then he asked if I had anything I was working on he might look at,
as he was curious about Alaska. 

I sent him a draft of the historic novel I was tinkering with and he kindly
rejected that, but then said he liked the writing and would look at something
in the future if I had anything.

Fast
forward many more years of rejection. I finished my MFA at UAA, and ran
straight home to begin spamming agents with my thesis project, a novella. I did
a search through my old emails and hit up that one agent who rejected me first.
He read the manuscript, and signed me that week. 

I was immediately suspect of him for not rejecting me.

Little
did I know, that novella would put me into the big leagues of rejection.
Editors at major houses read the manuscript, and actually liked it, which was
so exciting. They said inspiring words like “Don Rearden has the heart of a
poet.” And then they flatly and openly rejected it, dozens of themadding they
would be happy to see anything else I had in actual novel length. As if I could
reach around and pull something novel length from my ass.
I had
little choice.

I began pulling.

A few
years later I had a manuscript called The
Raven’s Gift
 – all ready for
rejection. I won’t bore you with the details, as that is another long story,
but I had amazing responses at many of the big houses (Harper Collins, Houghton
Mifflin, Penguin)  and some of the kindest most inspirational rejection
letters and emails you’ve ever seen. With heart warming and motivating 
lines to my agent like “I’d be happy to see Don’s next novel.” As if I could
pull one from my buttocks.
Here is
where I saw the end of the world coming for yet another one of my stories. By
this time I was an expert at letting those worlds I had created just whither
and die a slow death in the digital hell that are the files on my computer.
Then a
strange and beautiful thing happened. A major house in
Canada picked up the book and suddenly the end of the world was
delayed. Or at least the world had only ended in the
United States. Then Australia and New Zealand came on board. The book was translated into Canadian,
Australian, and Kiwi. Then came
France.
So
there is lesson one for those thinking the world is ending with your
manuscript. Rejection in the
US, might not be the end. You need to start thinking about
world wide rejection — the world can not be over unless rejection worldwide
has been absolute. This is something to consider if you’ve hit the wall in the
US. Just like how people in other countries actually care
about the health and welfare of their citizens, people in many countries still
actually read.
So
let’s just say that you’ve finally exhausted every possibility for your book.
You’re still awaiting word from a small publisher in
Tanzania, but you’ve got to at that point, have an idea that
proverbial End is near.
Let us begin talking just a little about the End Times.
Don’t worry, I won’t get all biblical on you.  But I think a study of the
apocalypse is worth while, if anything it is a great metaphor for the world of
publishing right now.
Although
interpretations may differ, the four horsemen of the apocalypse are seen as
Conquest, War, Famine, and Death. This fits a writer’s life nicely. You charge
out with your manuscript, in conquest to get it published, you battle in war to
get an agent or to get anyone on the planet to read it, you starve and endure
famine along the way, and then you die, or at least your manuscript does.
Those
four horsemen are the harbingers of last judgement, which you can allow to come
from above, your agent, your spouse, your mom, or maybe you yourself will
realize this world (you’ve created) is over.
Now
Apocalypse means unveiling or revelation, and the bible itself has some great
insights for writers who aren’t sure what Jesus the Publisher would do.
If you
aren’t sure if your story has entered the apocalypse phase, you need to turn to
the bible. 
Daniel
12:4 …’But thou, O Daniel, shut up the words, and seal the book, even to the
time of the end.’
Once
you’ve admitted the end has come, then you steel yourself against the forces of
evil that might tell you to give up. If you can survive all that rejection that
led to the end, you can survive into the post-apocalypse.
Here is
where you think about that world of your story and begin pondering the four
horsemen or four R’s of Re-vision. Re-newal, Rebuilding, Re-surrecting,
Reclaiming.
Renewal
— think about what pieces of the story you can’t bare to languish in your
digital files. Is it a character? The plot? What made that world fail in the
first place. Where did you go wrong?
Rebuilding
— here is where you study the story you created and begin envisioning a new
chance of life for what was destroyed. Perhaps a new setting? Perhaps you look
at the conflict that destroyed your world in the first place and dig into that
to see what your structure was — were your characters real, did they have
internal conflicts they were struggling with outside of the plot?
Resurrection:
Then,
like the god you are of your story, you choose which characters will be saved,
and who will die with the rest of us. And then you make sure those characters
have an internal conflict — this makes them real. They are conflicted. They
want and need things. They struggle internally. Here you resurrect those
characters that are powerful enough and important enough to live again.
Finally
you reclaim your story, your characters, and your confidence. A new world has
been established. You’ve restored order to the world. You’ve created a new
fresh world from the rubble, one that has more heart and depth and complexity
than the last. One that you care about a little more, because you’ve lifted it
from the devastation, and with it, hopefully lifted yourself above worry that
the apocalypse of rejection for a manuscript is really the end.
It
doesn’t have to be. In fact rejection is a part of this profession and a part
of this art. Your name will be added to the scrolls of so many others who were
rejected countless times, yet who lived on and survived the rejection
apocalypse. 
Dear
Madam, I am only one, only one, only one. Only one being, one at the same time.
Not two, not three, only one. Only one life to live, only sixty minutes in one
hour. Only one pair of eyes. Only one brain. Only one being. Being only one,
having only one pair of eyes, having only one time, having only one life, I
cannot read your M.S. three or four times. Not even one time. Only one look,
only one look is enough. Hardly one copy would sell here. Hardly one. Hardly
one.”
Sincerely
Yours,
A.C.
Fifield
That
was a letter to Gertrude Stein….from Publisher AC Fifield. (from The
Atlantic)
Dr.
Seuss got rejection letters, too. Here is one:
“too
different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling.”
“I’m
sorry, Mr. Kipling, but you just don’t know how to use the English
language.” Editor of the
San Francisco Examiner to Rudyard Kipling.
Jean
Auel, author of “The Clan of Cave Bear” was told, “We are very
impressed with the depth and scope of your research and the quality of your
prose. Nevertheless … we don’t think we could distribute enough copies to
satisfy you or ourselves.”
Emily
Dickinson’s poems were ever published during her lifetime? A rejection early in
her career said, “(Your poems) are quite as remarkable for defects as for
beauties and are generally devoid of true poetical qualities.”
Jack
London heard, “(Your book is) forbidding and depressing.”
William
Faulkner may be a classic writer to this, as well as prior, generation, but
back when he was trying to crack the publishing market, he had to read letters
like this one, “If the book had a plot and structure, we might suggest
shortening and revisions, but it is so diffuse that I don’t think this would be
of any use. My chief objection is that you don’t have any story to tell.”
This was kinder than the rejection he would receive just two years later,
“Good God, I can’t publish this!” 
Twilight
Stephanie Meyer 14 agent rejections
Orwell’s
animal farm 4 rejections, 20 million copies sold
Chicken
Soup for the soul—100 publishers (130 mill copies)
Of course, you’re thinking that with publication of The
Raven’s Gift by a major
US publisher, it’s all fine and dandy for me to talk about
rejection, and mock it — but you’ve got to understand that I’m joking, but
I’m not. 
Despite publication in other countries, my only hope to
get my book here was to smuggle it in, or just write another. I did both.
Thanks to
Alaska, this book is here in the US. Alaska‘s illegal demand for the book, caught Canada‘s eye. They pushed for publication here. At the same
time I wrote a new novel, and that was out to publishers at the same time I
received word that Raven would finally be flying home. That put my new book on
hold, as publishers now would have to wait to see what happened in terms of
sales. 
And here is where all that history of learning to thrive
on rejection came in handy. In order for my new novel to not get rejected, I
would need to face a whole new avalanche of rejections to get The Raven’s Gift
into the hands of readers, bloggers, and critics. In the world of modern
publishing, and it doesn’t matter if you’re published by Simon and Shuster or a
University Press — or yourself or your mom —the publicity, sales, and
marketing team is You. This is just something to accept if you want people to
read your stories. You do this because you love it and you believe in it.
Because it’s important.

And yet —

Newspapers aren’t really reviewing books. Book stores
aren’t even selling books. Hell, people aren’t even really reading books.
Bookstores seem to be headed down the road that Blockbuster has drive. 
One depressing look at the numbers of video game revenue verses publishing and
it makes you want to cry. Last year 27 billion in books to 67 billion in video
games. That does not bode well for us, my friends. This is an apocalypse of
reading and writing. 
And just like those four R-s I suggested earlier —
there is hope amongst the gloom.
Alaska seems to be poised for something big. And folks bigger
than me, if that’s possible, have used words unimaginable a few years ago.
Words like “Alaska Literary Renaissance.” With ground breakers like
Seth Kantner and Joan Kane winning Whiting awards, with Eowyn Ivey getting a
Pulitzer nod? With Tom Kizia and Heather Lende hitting the New York Times
best-seller lists? With a journal like Alaska
Quarterly Review
 — which
just had an excerpt and photos published in the New Yorker, we are suddenly on
the map in a new and big way. These are exciting times, my friends. But a
renaissance can’t happen in a vacuum, and this would be a cold and dark vacuum!
Writers and readers aren’t born over night. We need to
step up and inspire and be inspired. That author who visited my class in
Bethel in the late 90’s was Deb Vanasse. Together, with her and
Andromeda Romano-Lax, Jeremy Pataky, Karen Benning, Eric Larson, and Kirsten
Dixon, myself, and countless vital volunteers we built the 49 Writers.
Organizations such as this are a start —- a start in terms of building
community for writers and awareness of our work for readers, but unless we do
our part as writers then this amazing possibility for creating a state that
fosters and supports writers will instead just be a sad footnote in a future
history of poorly written Alaskan history text book, perhaps right beside a sad
photos of remnants of glaciers and polar bears carcasses. Ouch. 
What we can do is this. First we can support one another.
Buy each others books, then read them, and blog and write reviews. Share the
books with your friends outside. And buy them locally, support your local book
stores. Don’t just ask them to stock copies of your book unless you’re also
buying copies of other Alaskan writers. 
Second, don’t reject someone who asks you to mentor them!
Even more, go do what Deb Vanasse was doing that day she inspired me to make
the leap —- visit schools. Volunteer at your local school to lead a writing
workshop, or even just go read to the elementary kids. If we don’t get those
kids who represent our future reading and inspire them to read, then they won’t
and we are finished. Perhaps not just as writers, but as humanity. 

Reading and writing are two simple activities that separate us
from our animal cousins. You saw the recent study that said readers of literary
fiction have more empathy. We can’t wrap ourselves up in arguing what is
literary. We need to focus on how do we get more people reading. If they aren’t
reading, empathy is at stake. Our humanity is at stake.

We have
an amazing opportunity to shape the history of
Alaska in our hands. I hope you’ll step forward with me and
support not just each other as writers, but support our future. Together we can
be a strong voice — this Alaska Book Week is an amazing start — but one
week a year is not enough. Our books need to be in our schools, we need to be in our schools, and perhaps
some of us need to be in
Juneau now and then to remind our lawmakers that the story of Alaska, is our story, and we’re writing it. And we’re not
afraid of rejection.

3 thoughts on “Don Rearden: Surviving Rejection and Writing Alaska's Literary History”

  1. I took Don’s excellent advice to support fellow writers. This afternoon I bought TWO copies of Dominion of Bears, one of them still in a hermetically sealed plastic shrink-wrapper.

    Why two? Because I’m going to read one now, but in my “living will” I’ve instructed my caregivers, twenty years from now—when my brain is REALLY gone—to hand me the other, pristine copy and tell me it’s a new book by my old friend Sherry Simpson. I won’t know the difference.

    Yes, it’s possible that Sherry will have produced another book in the intervening twenty years. But I’m not taking any chances.

    Ok, I bought the second copy as a gift for an Alaskan bear-loving friend in the Lower 48. Don’t tell Simpson.

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