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Alison Taylor-BrownTo the right is a picture of a young woman. She is thirty years old, and, as you can tell by her expression, she is utterly pleased with her life. She is doing the thing she has wanted to do since she was a little girl. She has become a writer.

Her book has been bought by a senior editor and vice-president at Simon & Schuster. She has never met the man, nor, at this date, does she understand just what a name he is in New York publishing. He is Donald Hutter, former editor-in-chief of Holt, Rinehart & Winston where he had his own imprint.

The woman recognizes that she has been incredibly lucky. She doesn’t even have a writing degree. She took an undergraduate course at the University of Arkansas. A graduate assistant suggested she send ten pages of her novel to Douglas Jones, a local novelist. She followed up with a phone call and Jones, who was ex-military and crusty, said, “Young lady, I’m not in the business of helping young writers get started. But . . . I’ll give you the name of my agent.”

To the agent, she send 100 pages and an outline. His name was George Weiser, and he was telling his client Dan Brown to write thrillers. Two weeks after receiving the young woman’s query, Weiser called. “I’m not taking any new clients. But . . . I’m going to take you.”

Two weeks after that, Weiser and Hutter were having drinks and the publisher asked the agent, “Do you have anyone new?”

Wiser said, “Yes, but her book’s not finished.”

“Send it over anyway.”

They flew her to New York, took her to a fancy lunch, talked to her about British rights and a television miniseries. Her life, Weiser said seriously, as they waited for a cab–her first–would never be the same.

She had a contract and an advance which, because she tried to be a good person, she donated to a children’s home in Honduras. She bought a KayPro computer and went to work finishing her novel. Her mom put the picture in her hometown newspaper. “Local writer signs with Simon & Schuster.”

Alas. Hutter was fired. Her book was orphaned. She didn’t understand. If Hutter thought it was good, why didn’t the editor who replaced him? There was a contract, but to pursue that she would have to hire a New York attorney. She didn’t want to sue. She wanted her book published. She borrowed the money to pay back her advance in order to regain the rights.

She was shattered. She didn’t know what to do. Her agent was kind but he didn’t shop the manuscript, and she didn’t push. She cried whenever she entered a bookstore. She gave up on writing. She would do other things with her life.

She started a company and two nonprofits, traveled, designed her house, taught in several universities, became a foster parent. But she never stopped thinking about writing. In middle age, she got a master’s degree in fiction to try again.

So, what can we learn from her story?

Never give up. The truth is that many books are orphaned for various reasons. I knew of an author whose books were printed and just a few days away from being shipped to bookstores. His publisher merged with another, and his books were shredded before he even knew it.

Do I think that my book might have been published if I’d gotten on a plane, sat down in Weiser’s office, gotten referrals from Hutter, TRIED? Maybe.

It’s never too late. I’m a poster child for resetting your life, returning to your first love. So you fell off the horse and broke your heart. Don’t give up.

Every experience informs the writer. I am a different writer than the young, happy woman above. I am practical. I understand what it takes not only to write a book but to promote it.

I am wiser. I am stronger. I have something to say.

She only wanted to be a writer, but I am passionate to tell the unique stories that rise inside me. She was called by the process. I am driven by the story. Those are two different things.

A lot of us have been rejected, felt defeated, given up. But the stories we have to tell now are wiser and better informed and truer than if success had found us early.

Are you feeling defeated today? Then I promise you, you’ll be a better writer tomorrow . . . if you don’t give up.