I’ll admit to having a couple of tiny superstitions. There are the basic ones—knocking wood, tossing salt, etc—but those aren’t really superstitions any more. It’s more like folklore fun. Everybody does it.
Artists of all shapes, though, seem to be a superstitious bunch. Just ask around. Professional athletes are, too. I have a long, drawn-out theory of superstitions among performance types that I won’t bore you with here, but when you have no other reason to understand why on some nights you hit the triple pirouette with no problem and on others you fall and break a foot, superstition seems as good a reason as any. It’s either that or worry about butterflies in the Amazon flapping their wings and bringing on chaos…
I have a couple left over from my dancing days. Big superstition number one: Red Carnations. For the love of dog, don’t give me red carnations. They’re Bad Luck. They give me the willies just looking at them. The Artistic Director of my dance company wouldn’t let the things past the stage door. I also will not wish you “Good Luck” if you’re going to do something physical or performance-related. Everyone knows that, right? But no one in their right mind would tell a dancer to “Break a Leg.” Instead, I will wish you much Merde. (Yes, your high-school French is correct. That means what you think it means.)
Until recently, I didn’t have any writing related superstitions. No lucky writin’ hat. No turn around three times before I sit at the desk. Nothing.
But I am now a believer in Lunch. But not just any lunch. It is Lunch with Lynn.
The first time was actually dinner. Lynn and I went out to eat and the next day she got the call that she’d won the Instant Seduction contest. A few days later, we go to Lunch and she comes home to a Golden Heat finalist call. We did Lunch to celebrate me finishing the revisions on my book, and the next day I got the email that said the editor loved it and could I send her my phone number. (Yes, I forgot to give the editor who had my book my phone number. Sigh.) Twenty-four hours later, I got The Call.
We figured we might be on to something.
We now go to Lunch every time one of us sends something off to our editors. Without fail, within a day or two, we hear back some sort of good news. Revisions, acceptance, titles, something good and writing related. (The only time Lunch has failed us is with the Golden Heart. We did Lunch on Saturday before the awards ceremony, but by then it was too late. Pity we didn’t know when the judges were actually reading her entry. Maybe we should have Lunched continuously during the judging process.)
Are we each other’s lucky charm? Does our Lunch somehow affect the Universe? Don’t know. All I do know is that Lunch is not to be skipped nor taken lightly. It has earned its capital letter.
Of course, it helps that Lunch is fun and a great way to break up the monotony of my days in front of the computer. Lunch with a friend is always good. The fact that it seems to have some kind of cosmic publishing power doesn’t hurt.
I’ve heard of Power Lunches before, but I’m a believer in the Power of Lunch.
(Sorry, Lynn, but you are never allowed to move away. I hope you like Alabama. Stay hungry, honey. My career needs you.)
Do you have a superstition or lucky charm?