Keep Writing, Even When Someone Tries to Sabotage Your Dreams

Don't let anyone steal your writing dreams!

by Emme Gannon @GannonEmme

We can’t help it. Whether it be books or people, we are drawn to an attractive and commanding cover. First impressions are often deceiving. In fact, the dictionary defines cover as, “a wrap, cover-up, hiding place.” A quick rejection will often deny us the gift that is awaiting us upon further inspection.

A boy name Norman exemplified that misuse of judgment. Norman lived nearby in the postwar suburbs of Baltimore. Small bungalow homes lined the streets like a manicured Christmas garden. All except Norman’s family home. His home lay beneath the ground, with only two feet of cinder block rising from the grass-less terrain. The covering of the dwelling consisted of rough wood planking nailed side by side across the top. Norman lived in a basement with miniscule amounts of light squeezing through several small rectangular windows.

Norman’s dad was a WWII war-weary soldier, working hard to erase the horrors of war by building a life for himself and his family. He would come home from work each day and start pounding nails to build the home he’d dreamed of for his family. Then silence. The house sat in its present state while the family lived in the dark, damp quarters awaiting funds to continue the work.

Perhaps this dreary existence contributed to Norman’s shy demeanor, one can only guess, but the presence of his slow weary stride always brought taunts from rude and intolerant bullies. I would ride my bike by his house and wave to show support but regretted that I wasn’t brave enough to stand between him and his accusers and demand they stop. I knew the verbal attacks tore at him, word by word, but fear caused me to run.

There came a day when Norman rose to stand before the giants who had deemed him inferior. Each year our school had talent day, where the brave would stand before a packed assembly of students and faculty and perform. I sat with my class and watched as countless students acted out their Hollywood fantasies.

Then, Norman walked on stage. He stood back from the microphone that had been placed before him and looked at the crowd from a vantage point foreign to him. Giggles erupted from the darkness of the auditorium. Beside me. In front of me. Behind me. “Mole has crawled out of his hole,” the bullies yelled.

At once our music teacher walked on stage and shouted, “Quiet.” He stood, arms crossed, until an eerie silence took hold of the shocked assembly. After a nod in Norman’s direction, he walked off stage, leaving Norman alone. My heart jumped in my chest as tears came unbidden. Why would Norman subject himself to such humiliation? He should just go back to being what he was and make the most of his life.

Like his dad, however, Norman had a dream. He knew there came a time when you move on it or lose it. He knew that you start one small step at a time. In his case, one humiliating step at a time.

Norman moved in front of the mic. He inhaled deeply and started to sing, “Love Me Tender.” The words came slowly and then rose deep from his diaphragm. He closed his eyes as he crooned the Elvis song we all loved. He became Elvis. He was so good you’d expect he was lip syncing. But the singing was all Norman.

When the performance ended, Norman opened his eyes and looked at his accusers. They were as silent as the grave. Finally, one of the faculty rose and gave a hearty clap. Others followed. Then it began. The auditorium erupted with applause. Outnumbered, the fickle bullies looked at one another, shrugged, and slowly put their hands together. Norman had won.

He stood for a moment or two and took in the applause that had been long due him. Then a brief bow before walking off stage.

I don’t know what happened to Norman. I would love to think he grew up and started his own company, where he had occasion to hire at least one of his accusers. Whatever happened, he began his dream that day. Just like his dad had built their home, cinder block by cinder block, board by board, so Norman began his dream, one bold move at a time.

Have your writing dreams been sabotaged by others opinions of you? Have failures caused you to pull back and take the safe route? It was obvious Norman had practiced long and hard before appearing before the packed assembly. He had learned well. Learn your craft, practice, and then go to the next level. You may not get an immediate applause, but you’ll be on your way.

I’ll be rooting for you.

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Emme Gannon is a wife, mother, and grandmother who loves to write stories that stir the heart. Her award-winning writing has appeared in Focus on the Family magazine, several anthologies, and numerous newsletters. She just completed her first novel.