I have been particularly reticent about some inner turmoil I have been struggling with over the past month. The company I have worked for over the last six years, Yellow Freight, is on the precipice of either bankruptcy or a strike followed by bankruptcy. They’ve lost a majority of their business, they’re sending 80% of the staff home everyday because they have no work, they are fighting with the union that we are all a part of and other trucking companies are taking advantage of the chaos by taking whatever business hasn’t been taken already.
Having more seniority than most, I have been able to maintain a shift everyday but it’s difficult to say if it’s a blessing or a curse. Because things have slimmed down so much, we’re being asked to make deliveries from one state to another and then make pickups in four or five different counties–all in the space of a curtailed workday. Curtailed, because some places close at 3, some at 4, some at 4:30 and we start at 8 and by the time we get rolling and to our first stops, it could be 10 o’clock.
Yesterday I was in Danbury, Connecticut and I was told to make a pickup in Bethel, Connecticut at 3:30 and another one in Poughkeepsie, NY by 4pm. Physically impossible. When I showed up for work this morning, the manager looked at me with a straight face and asked me why I missed the pickup in New York. He was serious. All I could do was laugh.
When I was in truck driving school, there was a sign on the wall that read, “The only thing you can do fast in a truck is get in trouble.” There’s quite a bit of wisdom in that. These dispatchers talk to us like we’re bike messengers. “Hurry up!” seems to be the common refrain. As a car driver, I’m sure it fills you with a warm sense of security to know that we are being whipped like racehorses from the start of the day to the end. The only consolation I can offer you is that a lot of these older guys slow down when they’re being pressured to rush. God forbid you run into the path of the garden variety people pleaser behind the wheel of an 80 ton tractor trailer. All that crap you see about “safety first” is just that: crap. If there was a death penalty for lying, a lot of these trucks would just say “Money First.”
All of that aside, if you know me, then you know that I have my own thing going on from the hours of 4 a.m. to 7 a.m. and this is how I am able to maintain a slight semblance of sanity. I have been working on short stories lately because they keep my brain limber without going one hundred percent in the way one needs to when writing a novel. I can’t go 100% in because I have been also querying agents for my first novel. Having lived through this with my first nonfiction book, I know what to expect: persistence. One does not send three or four query letters and sit back to watch the auction go into effect. You need to pound the pavement.
This last Tuesday, I was put into a straight truck (picture a large moving van) and given addresses from Pine Bush, NY to Livingston Manor, NY plus all points in between. Throw in a hospital where I sat so long waiting for someone to answer the door that three families of dumpster flies moved into the cab of the truck and refused to leave even when I drove 65 mph with the windows open, and a couple of Hasidic Bungalow camps. All of this is quite a bit different than what I have been doing for the last two years–a solid route in one single county. That was no prize, either but I knew how to arrange things logistically to accomplish the impossible. Which is generally what’s expected.
Somewhere in the middle of that day, I received my first query response from a young, up and coming agent in NYC. It was a rejection, of course, but it was one of the kindest and most encouraging rejections I have ever gotten. I was seriously on cloud 9. I printed it out and hung it on the wall by my desk. The agent basically said I have “a fantastic voice on the page” and although he didn’t have an editorial vision for it, “he really enjoyed reading it.”
I guess it made me very excited because I received a similar rejection from an agent on “Kickass Recovery,” and that, too, is hanging on my wall. I was rejected many, many times for that book, but that email kept staring me in the face every morning, imploring me to never give up. So that’s what I plan on doing this time, as well.
I did learn one thing that kind of took some of the joy out of it for me. Sometimes it’s best to keep these things to yourself. I had a few people who seemed to focus more on the fact that he wasn’t signing me than the fact that he loved my writing. This, I’m sure, is why traditional publishing is not something everyone can get into. If that’s what you focus on, you will never have the ability to make it through the trenches to that moment where you sign on the dotted line and receive a check for your efforts. Chances are, you’ll be writing a check instead.
Believe me: getting a check is a lot more fun.
Keep up the good work, Billy. It’s hard to soar with eagles when you’re working with turkeys. I *enjoyed* reading your post, too. From a storyteller and future published writer.
Billy, once again a winner. Thank you. You have the best titles and photos. Although I am sorry about your employer/company, I feel that is when the universe opens a new door. Time to seek another employer, or another line of work, one that pays what you need and offers more freedom to pursue your dharma. Agree about the rejection letters, kind ones encourage us. Rejection is high in the land of publication. We know to never give up on our dreams. Looking forward to next week.