Contacts

A few months ago my wife and I both lost (nearly simultaneously) the complete list of our varied contacts stored in our electronic calendars.  It was as if the fates had a consultation and agreed to send forth a disturbance in the force.  We lost names, addresses and phone numbers of hundreds of people--including friends, family, and distant acquaintances.

I also lost a wealth of information in the publishing world . . . my many contacts with various editors, their phone numbers and email addresses.  I'm still trying to restore balance to the force, and toward that end I've picked up a light saber . . . just in case.

A couple of years ago, during a telephone conversation with my literary agent, she noted with surprise the number of people I know in the publishing ranks: editors in New York, publishers in Chicago, agents in Colorado, readers in Los Angeles.  She wondered how I had amassed such a wide-array of contacts.

I told her this is what comes from failure.  That, and the striving after wind.  It's not difficult to amass entire phone books littered with contact information when most of it comes in the form of rejection. 

Now, I have failed at keeping even these intact . . . and I'm trying to obtain a new heavenly host of information that I can stuff into a paper file . . . no more dependence upon electronic technology for me (or Becky).  Computers can crash. Cell phones can go bonkers.  Personal electronic devices guaranteed to last a lifetime can fail after the first month.  Entire civilizations can be wiped out.

One of these days I'll get back to New York.  I'll visit publishers, take the elevators to the top floors, and ask, "Hey, can I get your phone number?"

Should be interesting obtaining all of these contacts.