Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Invisibility Cloak

There are days when I wonder if I’ve inadvertently donned an invisibility cloak. You know, the Inbox is empty, the phone doesn’t buzz, and whatever good vibrations I had sent out seem to have faded at the universe’s horizon.

A good friend told me she just had one of those days. “I wondered if I actually died, and I’m the only one who doesn’t know it,” she said.


It doesn’t happen to me often. My inbox influx can testify to that. But when it does, it’s both eerie and unsettling.

My best way of coping with outer silence is to write, because that is a form of turning inward while staying wide awake to life. Another helpful action is to spend some time “liking” and such on social sites. (I keep it genuine, for to do otherwise would bring a feeling of spiritual demotion.) Facebook will immediately bring into my inbox others who liked the same.

Hey, it’s proof I’m alive.

The next day the floodgates open, and all those waves I had sent out come back to shore, seemingly at once.
This is good to remember: unlike earthly death, the invisibility cloak will slide off. It isn’t permanently glued on.


  1. I agree. It's an eerie feeling when the inbox is empty, especially from writers/editors/agent. I also see it as no news is good news.

  2. It's been several days since anyone called me. I haven't even gotten calls from strange numbers--the kind that I never answer. Maybe I've dropped off the face of the Earth.


  3. Yup, been there. To relate the invisibility cloak to my current querying experience, it's like having a gazillion queries in play but having a stretch of inactivity. The quiet usually pushes me to send out another letter or two to agents known for a quick response. Even a speedy rejection can feel like more progress than complete silence.

  4. Sometimes it's good to have that invisibility cloak. The silence can be very peaceful.

  5. I sometimes feel invisible in the new style public restrooms. I put my hands under the automatic soap dispenser, nothing happens. Under the water faucet, same story. When I finally get both working, the trickiest of all is getting the automatic paper towels to come out to dry my invisible hands. Notice I'm avoiding discussing my inbox, it's kind of like my closet, overflowing with old stuff.

    1. ^Wonderful description of "am I still here?" sensation. Yes, when even the machines don't see you.

  6. As I've had some really quick rejections in the past, I'm taking my current invisibility-ness (is that a word?) as a sort of good sign. Of course, that's probably wishful thinking. I also thinking in terms of real life friends, it's just how life is now. So much of socializing is done on social media--I miss the good old days of phone calls, writing letters, and stopping by.