Affirmations

I worked yesterday with another teacher who is also a writer. Jeff is more of a literary writer than I am. He's in his mid-30s, no kids, wife finishing her post graduate degree. He grew up in New York City and went to graduate school in England. He wears a tweed blazer and sometimes speaks with a slightly pretentious accent. We have some interesting conversations.
He finished his first novel after a year and a half of writing, and has been shopping it around, including to some agent friends. So far he has had no takers.
"Do you have some sort of daily affirmation to keep going?" he asked.
I recognized the look on his face. I had it once myself when sitting at a table at a writing conference with an older woman who told me she had written six novels. She hadn't sold any of them. I wondered why she kept writing, how she kept writing when she obviously wasn't going to sell a book. I felt like she was desperate. I felt superior.
Now, that woman is me. I've written three novels and haven't sold them. Am I that hopeful, oblivious woman now?
I don't have a daily affirmation that makes me send letters to agents trying to sell my novels.
I have had some positive feedback from professionals, including an agent who said "We're sure you'll sell this work."
Jeff's comments got me thinking about the positive support I get from my family.

Just the other morning, my mom called and said she was sending a check for some expensive sewer work at our house. I protested that Earl and I were grown ups and we would take care of it.
"You can pay us back when you sell your first novel," she said.
That comment didn't even register until I was talking to Jeff.
My mom didn't say "if you sell your novel." She said "when you sell." She has no doubt that I will succeed.
I wonder how many affirmations I receive from my family that slide past me. I'm going to try to be more aware of the support I receive and try to make them proud with my work, and eventually the sale of a book.
I can't wait to hold that book in my hand and give a copy to the people who believed in me.

The "C" Word

No one has actually said the words.
Breast cancer.
Thud.
The words fall beause they have no meaning. I can't equate those words with my friend. Yes, I followed the saga from lump, no big deal, to mammogram, to biopsy, to now.
But that isn't my story to tell.
All I can say is that I'm scared for my friend, but I can't allow myself to think for a moment that she's not going to be the same person who meets me every Saturday morning at the trail.
This isn't some mother of a basketball player who I wave to across the gym. This isn't the woman who drives the silver car, you know, you see her pull into school a few minutes late every morning.
This time it's different because she is my friend. She's my friend who has spent years convincing me that I can run a marathon and I can write a book, no, I should write a book.
She has hiked with me on the Appalachian trail and she has run with me through snow and rain and beating sunshine. She has stopped to listen to bird calls, to watch geese take flight and to pick up a nursing bat that lay in the middle of the path.
She has listened to me whine about my marital issues and my kids' problems and she has shared her own.
Now she has to face something horrific and she will face it with guts and love, but I wonder what I will do. Because, even though my family has survived tragedy in the past, my modus operandi is avoidance.
And I don't want to be that person, the one who asks her other friends, "Hey, how's she doing?" because I've been too busy to actually spend any time with her.
So, I resolve to be there for my friend.
But I don't know what that looks like. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I feel like I'm floundering when she needs me most.
Is there a right way to do this?