Living the adventure again

This afternoon, just for the heck of it, I read a  chapter in my book about being "ensnared" by Chaucer's words. When I finished the chapter, I laughed because I had found it so entertaining. It was like living the adventure over again. How wonderful!
     The first word that had ensnared me was "Host." It pointed so clearly to a covert image of Christ. The Host's actions confirmed that first impression: providing the best food and strong wine for pilgrims he would guide.

While working on my Master's in 1976, I wrote a paper about the Host and submitted it to a conference on Christianity and Literature. Sounds like the perfect place, doesn't it? Yes--and no. The paper was accepted. After I presented "Chaucer's Host in 14th Century Perspective" the audience had questions. I incorporated material brought out in the questions and sent the paper to the Christian journal that sponsored the conference. But getting it published would not be a shoo in. The reviewer's verdict said, "Do not touch this with a 100 foot pole." So much for a new and different idea.
     That paper, however, became the nucleus of my first book, Chaucer's Host: Up-so-doun. The "up-so-doun" hinted that the contents would be upside down compared to what might be expected. The writers' group I attended heard and critiqued the whole book. I wrote and rewrote until everyone understood. This group typified the average reader I aimed for.
     The internet did not yet exist! Writers relied on the US Post Office. I sent the manuscript and a return envelope with sufficient postage attached to have the manuscript returned to me. Once sent out, weeks (months?) would go by before a reply arrived. My manuscript came back repeatedly, with the typical rejection: Thank you for thinking of us; your manuscript does not fit our current needs; but good luck. I'd prepare new envelopes and send it out again. When I began I had an extensive list of publishers. A few addressees were academic presses, but mainly they were small presses. All were listed under "literary criticism" in the book called Writer's Market. The mailings--and rejections--went on for several years.
     When there were just two names of small presses left on the list--one in New York City, the other in Santa Barbara, CA--I chose Santa Barbara because it was the closer of the two. I lived in Southern California. That was 1997. On June 17th I received a letter from John Daniel, the publisher. He said, "I wish my brother had lived to read your book." Eureka! His brother had been a medievalist and chairman of a University English Department. John had understood my every word and, what's more important, he knew the value of the message.
     That's how our long, meaningful association began.