Our town had its festival on Saturday, and the parade lined up down the road farther than I could see. My wife, my son, and I found a spot at the curb.
Right before it started, some people came down the line handing out bags for candy. They stopped at my son and asked if he wanted one. My son is eighteen years old and six foot two. He said yes, thanked them, and held a green bag out in front of him.
My first thought was not a generous one. I wondered if anybody would give the big kid any candy.
What actually happened
They did. By the end of the parade he was holding a couple of pounds of it.
The amount isn’t what got me, though. More than once, somebody walked right past us, looked back, saw the bag, turned around, and came back. And they apologized. Then they handed him candy.
The apology is the part. In their minds, the mistake was theirs. Nobody looked at him and thought, why does that grown man have a bag? They thought, I almost missed somebody.
The rule that candy is only for little kids was in my head. It was never in theirs.
The bag I keep setting down
I have been writing books and songs for a long time, and here is what is still foreign to me: expecting anyone to want to read them or listen to them. I can finish a thing. I can publish a thing. What I have a hard time doing is staying at the curb with the bag.
When I’m honest about why, it feels like I’m standing there with a bag I haven’t earned. There are people ahead of me. They’ve written more, sold more. Who am I to stand here with my hand out?
So I tried to put a face on whoever would object. The first real name that came to mind was James Patterson, whose books I enjoy, and I had to admit he would probably want me to succeed. The judge doesn’t have a face. I made him up.
And nobody at that parade earned a bag. The little kids didn’t. My son didn’t. A bag is not a prize. All it says is, I’m here, and you can aim this way.
My son understood that better than I did. He didn’t do anything impressive. He stood still, held the bag where people could see it, and said thank you.
Where this stops being true
I don’t want to oversell this. A parade is a place where giving is the whole point. Those people came with candy to hand out. Holding a bag doesn’t make anyone generous who wasn’t already, and it doesn’t make a book any good. Some people will walk right past, and that’s fine.
But here is what I would have gotten wrong. If my son didn’t have the bag, the story I’d be telling you is that nobody gave the big kid anything. I would have believed it, too. Some of what ended up in that bag came from people who had already passed him.
There’s a line in James that is about prayer, and I’m borrowing it anyway: “You do not have because you do not ask.” I have managed to publish most of my stuff without doing much asking. I put the work out and step back from the curb before anybody has the chance to turn around.
So here is my bag
I’ve rewritten my Christmas book. It’s called I Believe: A Christmas Tale. I think you’d really enjoy it, and I would like you to buy a copy.
That’s the bag, out in front where you can see it.
I’ll be at the curb through Christmas.
