You might think I'm writing this post about Sister Little because she wrote such nice things about me yesterday. I can understand why you'd think that. Tit for tat, and all that, except that Blondie and I don't have that kind of a relationship. She can do a million nice things for me, and I will just laugh and ignore her, and vice versa. In fact, I have had this post half-written for about six months now, ever since she moved back to Iowa from Chicago and set up shop in Farmhouse Villa, but I was afraid if I wrote it then, she would think I was just trying to pump her up, and that would only serve to piss her off. And really, you don't want to piss my sister off. She can be something of a hellcat.
No, I write this now when she's in a good place and can appreciate it for what it is: a love letter of sorts.
There's this book I've been reading the little angel about a mouse named Sheila Rae and her little sister, Louise. Sheila Rae is fearless, and her sister Louise spends a lot of time watching her. Then one day, fearless Sheila Rae takes a new way home. Louise trails behind her, out of sight. After a while, Sheila Rae realizes she is lost, completely lost, and she sits down and cries. Louise pops out from behind a bush and tells Sheila Rae not to worry, because Louise knows the way home. When they get home, they are both fearless. That's kind of how I feel about Sister Little.
Growing up, I know Blondie watched me to see how I did things. Once she got to high school, she pretty much disregarded them, and by college we were barely speaking. But she calls me a lot for professional advice, and we spent a lot of time together on the phone when she first moved to Chicago and again when she and Rock Star Boyfriend broke up. Though we've had our ups and downs, we've counted on each other as a sounding board and emotional propper-upper.
As I started working on the book, though, I went to Blondie for professional advice of my own, for I think the first time. My sister has been in the publishing industry for years. I envy her this -- I listened to the world when they told me getting a degree in English would get me nowhere, so my undergraduate degree is in communications studies, and it took me five years after college before I realized I HAD TO HAVE that writing degree and went back for a master's. My fearless little sis got the English degree and accepted no job other than those in the publishing field. She's currently looking for a new one, and I applaud her singular vision, especially considering she's in Iowa. It's rough out there for an editor, don't I know it. It took me more than ten years of working in public relations, advertising and product management to admit DAMMIT I WANT TO BE AN EDITOR and got a job as an editorial manager. My sister -- straight to the point.
She walked me through how book proposals are viewed on the other side. She talked me off the ledge when I didn't hear back, or I got rejected. She lectured me on how the publishing world works, and she cheered accomplishments as small as a signed rejection letter rather than a mimeographed (and I am not kidding about that) half-sheet labeled "Dear Author," as painful to receive as a box checked "no" on the eighth grade "Do you like Rita?" note passed by a boy in study hall.
It's hard to find a new job. It's hard to move, to uproot your entire life, especially a life you shared for years with a guy. Blondie and Rock Star Boyfriend were together longer than many of my married friends have been with their husbands. She suffered an emotional divorce when they broke up. There were times I worried she wouldn't come back from it, but she did. She took up building dollhouses and growing orchids. She thrived in her job. She made the decision to move back to Iowa so we could all be closer. She has a whole house now, with a lawn to mow and everything, which is something I don't know I'd have the balls to take on alone. She's finding a new editorial job in a tough job market. And she's returned to our tiny hometown as an adult and is making an adult identity for herself there -- again, something I'm not sure I would be able to do. Louise is walking backwards with her eyes closed and stepping on cracks in the sidewalk, and Sheila Rae is so very impressed.
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Before you do your weekend shopping, read my review of Gorgeously Green on Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews.
