flattery will get you everywhere

So I was at a restaurant the other day, and the hostess was admiring my Maggie Award. The conversation went like this:

Hostess: What a great necklace! Where did you get it?
Me: Actually, it’s a writing award.
Hostess: Oh, what did you write? A poem?
Me: A romance novel.
Waitress: You’re an *author*?!?
Me: (blushing and now wishing I’d just said, “Thanks. Georgia.”)

I love my Maggie, and it’s a beautiful necklace. I wear it every day. Sometimes, I think it’s the only thing that keeps me going. Does that sound awful? I wear it as a reminder, that I *can* do this, that I *am* good at it, that all it’s going to take is the right manuscript on the right editor’s desk at the right time, and I’ll be in business. When I get a rejection, I hold it, and I’m reminded. When I feel despondent, I look at it, take a deep breath, and plod forward. Restaurateurs tack up the first dollar they ever made, knights errant carry with them the colors of their lady loves. I have my Maggie.