This past month was graduation month at our house. My eldest daughter graduated from 8th grade. My youngest from pre-kindergarten. It sounds ridiculous. Before we know it, they'll have graduations from the hospital, celebrating the 3rd day of a baby's life.

But --to be honest--I cried as much listening to the teacher talk about what awesome gardeners the 5-year-olds were as I did listening to the principal talk about what awesome thinkers the 8th graders were.

The graduations weren't all gooey and sentimental ,though. There were a moments of friction, in both. And, it all had to do with dress. In recognition of their heritage, I wanted my children to wear Chinese dress. My eldest wasn't interested. She'd already found her dress, while hangin' at the mall with her friends. She just needed me to taxi her back and pay for it. We discussed this back and forth for a couple of weeks. I did the taxi and credti-card thing.

With my little girl, I didn't even discuss it. I just went out and bought her a beautiful silk dress in SF Chinatown. I had forgotten her particular quirk. That she wears her brother's boxers and swim trunks. That she hasn't worn a skirt in over a year.

When graduation night came, she wanted to know where her suit and tie was. I told her that on special occassions even boys wore dresses, and pulled out an ancient gown of my husband's. I begged my son to help. We spent an hour trying to convince her that this was really the perfect choice.

Somehow we got her into that dress. Nevermind that she wore white socks and gym shoes with it.

As I sat there and watched her half-hour ceremony, I thought to myself, Why did I go to all that trouble? It's not as if they wouldn't let her graduate in a suit.

I had no answer -except that's how I was brought up--that's what I was always told was right.

Many of us, I know, are preparing for graduation in our writing. We're done--or almost. As one CWC member said, "I'm chompin' at the bit to get published."
We're only too ready to hear the congratulatory words of our agent, publisher, the public at large.

But, wait. There's a step in between. What do we wear to the graduation? How do we show up to meet our agent, publisher, the public at large? Do we go naked--and just send the work off as it is? Do we visit a book doctor or editor, first, and get a dress on? Or, like my daughter with her dress and gym shoes, do we do both? Contacting an agent while we're still working on the final drafts?

Agents tell us, "Don't come to us until it's perfect." But, some authors, like Tess Holthe of " When Elephants Dance" tell us they never went to an editor, but just handed ther manuscripts directly to a bunch of agents. So, who's right? What do you do?

I was bemoaning this dilemma to Martha Alderson, author of BlockBuster Plots, Pure and Simple.

"You're missing the point," she said, "It doesn't matter."

"It does," I argued. "What if you contact an agent too soon? Or, what if you don't need to waste all that time working with an editor? Or what if--"

"No, it doesn't happen that way," she said. "Besides, It's not about being published. It's about following the path our stories take us on. It's about becoming a better person, as a result.
Maybe you need to learn to deal with rejection.
Maybe you need to learn to hone your writing skills.
Maybe you need to think deeper about the message you're trying to convey. "

It wasn't the advice I expected to hear. It was better.

For as long as we're brave enough to keep going, to continue to discover and try, it doesn't matter what dress we choose to wear. We'll continue to improve; we'll still graduate. It may not be from "8th grade," the first time around. It may just be Pre-K, or even the hospital. But each step in our evolution as better writers--better human beings-- is an amazing and wonderful achievement. It's worth celebrating (and crying over).