Evel Knievel Didn't Get a Second Chance

This is my backyard.
I can walk less than 1/4 mile and stand on the canyon rim and see this beautiful view.
I can see parts of it from my living room window.

If I drive 5 miles, I can see this spectacular view from the Perrine Bridge that spans the canyon when entering Twin Falls. The lush green grass you see is a golf course. We've spent many hours there, enjoying a summer evening playing 18 holes.

This is Shoshone Falls.
It is about a mile from our front door and in the spring, when they release the majority of the water, we can, not only hear to roar of the water cascading over the falls, but can feel the mist in the air as the breeze carries it toward us. The evenings here are peaceful and quiet.

But that's not why I'm telling you about it. Something else happened here in the 70's, and for some reason, it bored its way into my head today and I've found myself drawing comparisons to the event, and what I'm feeling about losing my contract with Valor.

* * *

On September 8, 1974, Evel Knievel attempted to jump the Snake River Canyon.

The mound of dirt they used to build his ramp, still exists and is located about 3 miles from our home. For months before the actual attempt, preparations were made. There was a lot of hype involved with sponsoring this jump, mostly because of the anticipated crowds of motor cycle gangs and onlookers. But after a lot of hard work and cooperation from everyone, the day came for the big event.

When the time drew near, Evel was lifted by crane and placed into his "rocket" cycle.

Anticipation grew.

People cheered.

The countdown began.

And then it was time.

Engines were started and the rocket spewed, and finally . . .

Lift off!!

But then something went wrong with the chute. Just as he was leaving the ramp, it flew out the back of the rocket, keeping it from making its journey across the canyon and to the other side.
(If you look closely, you can see it near the flag)

He failed.

As the chute continued to open and Evel and his rocket drifted into the river, onlookers were shocked and disappointed. Rumors began to circulate immediately about how this could have happened. Was it a malfunction, or did Evel chicken out at the last moment and pull the safety latch. Nothing was ever confirmed, but there were a lot of people who traveled many miles, spent thousands of dollars and got nothing in return.

I find myself feeling the same way.
I've built myself up, dreaming of being published, listening to the promises of a huge launch party, national book tour, speaking engagements, book signings, and so much more, and then someone pulled my chute.

I'm sure the same kind of rumors are circulating, who's to blame, was it something she did? Was it a malfunction in the company? The fact is, it doesn't really matter. Time will pass and nobody will remember the reasons why, nobody will even care.
I'm just left with a broken dream and a few great pictures.

No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm just not sure where to go from here. Yes, I will finish the edits I started with my editor and muddle through. Yes, I will send out those query letters to agents and do whatever I can to find someone else who loves my book as much as I do.

But here's my question.

Evel only got one shot. What if that's all I get? What if that's it? It's rare enough for a writer to get published in the first place, but to find another publisher who wants the same book is nearly impossible.

So, that's where my head is right now. I'm down in the bottom of that river, waiting to be saved, knowing full well that I'll have to swim to the shore and hike out by myself. Maybe I'll get lucky and someone will throw me a rope, eh?