Two summers ago, our backdoor neighbors’ son lived with them. His baby, a pit bull, also lived with them. Now, I was not opposed to them opening their home to their adult child, but I was a wee bit disconcerted over the fact that my young children would share the same play space as his pit bull.
DH and I cautioned our children not to run and scream when the dog was in the back yard. We explained that they shouldn’t approach the dog like they would the other dogs in the hood. We talked extensively about the history of pitbulls and how they were bred as fighters.
My youngest, four at the time, took this to mean the dog was made of bread. And while we all got a chuckle out of it, the fact that the Bread Dog came with a killer instinct was never far from our minds.
The thing about pit bulls is that they never give up. Even as their life blood flows from them with a mortal wound, they clench their jaws and refuse to let go. And they always go for the jugular.
A writer friend of mine is a pit bull. Even in the face of disheartening news, she has refused to leave her keyboard and her next story. She is smart, talented and hardwired to never give up. Writing is her life.
She is a pit bull, tenacious and strong. Molded for one purpose. Bread to write.
Today I would like to honor all my writer friends and their drive to succeed. I would like to offer up some hope that hard work and perseverence do pay off. For if a manuscript is never written, it cannot be edited. And if an edited manuscript never makes it to an agent, it can’t be rejected or accepted. And if it is never accepted, it cannot be published.
Hang on to your dreams. Embrace your inner Bread Dog.