The Secret Sauce to the Dr. Seuss Success Story

A lot of people know the story of Dr. Seuss and The Cat and the Hat—about how his publisher challenged the author to write a book using just 250 words. Challenge accepted, challenge won! Three years another bet inspired the iconic Green Eggs and Ham, a nifty little book that boasts just fifty different words.

BUT, have you ever wondered how the ordinary Theodore Geisel became the famous Dr. Seuss?

Having grown up collecting Dr. Seuss’s many famous titles (he’s sold nearly 700 million copies), it’s hard to believe that publishers initially spurned Geisel. His first children’s book, And to Think I Saw it on Mulberry Street, was rejected almost thirty times. It’s a miracle he didn’t just give up and never write anything ever again.

I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but if you’re facing rejection—of any kind—keep in mind that Dr. Seuss, arguably the most famous children’s author of all time, heard the word “no” 27 times!

(For reference, J.K. Rowling’s first Harry Potter book was rejected just twelve times. But I’ll save the rejection commentary for a post on another day.)

So…

What happened? Who would take a chance on a guy that had already been rejected by nearly every publisher in town?

Funny story, actually.

One day, Geisel was walking through New York City, manuscript in hand, dejected and forlorn. He was thinking about how when he got home he was going to burn the manuscript to that book. (After all, it was obviously a dead end. Nobody wanted it, so it must be garbage, right?).

Wrong!

Istead, something magical happened.

Geisel bumped into Mike McClintock, an old friend from his college days at Dartmouth:

McClintock said, "What's that under your arm?"

I said, "A book that no one will publish. I'm lugging it home to burn."

Then I asked Mike, "What are you doing?"

He said, "This morning I was appointed juvenile editor of Vanguard Press, and we happen to be standing in front of my office; would you like to come inside?"

So, we went inside, and he looked at the book and took me to the president of Vanguard Press. Twenty minutes later we were signing contracts.

That's one of the reasons I believe in luck. If I'd been going down the other side of Madison Avenue, I would be in the dry-cleaning business today!

Mulberry Street was published in 1937.

And the rest is history.

Actually…

Geisel took a detour from children’s book writing in the 1940s. With the advent of WWII, like so many comrades, he began writing and drawing editorial cartoons for PM Magazine, then accepted an assignment with the U.S. Army’s documentary division, ultimately winning a couple of Academy Awards for projects he spearheaded during that time.

It wasn’t until 1947 that Geisel returned to children’s books, and he didn’t publish the famous Cat in the Hat until ten years after that.

So, what can we learn from the Dr. Seuss success story?

It’s hard to imagine a world without Dr. Seuss.
But perhaps Dr. Seuss couldn’t imagine a world without Mike McClintock!

The story is a reminder to me that it’s impossible to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps (Read more about that here!).

In the late 1950s, things had shifted, with Geisel’s old friend, McClintock, working on a children’s book of his own. Now, it was Geisel’s turn to encourage his friend. In a letter to McClintock, Geisel wrote, “You’ve hit something there that has more terrific chances of becoming a classic than anything I’ve seen in a hell of a long time. The basic concept of fear, and running away from things, has something to say. The reader grasps it instantaneously, and then it builds, builds builds.”

(You can read A Fly Went By by Mike McClintock here.)

As I re-read Geisel’s words to his friend now, I feel a bit emotional. When someone we admire validates something we hold dear, their words carry immeasurable weight. Those words can literally be the impetus to keep us going when the going gets tough.

A Hand Up

Stories like this are the reason why quotes like “Your network is your net worth” are so popular. It’s also a reminder to me that it’s rare for something wonderful to be created in a vacuum.

Because I am a homemaker and my kids are mostly grown, my opportunities to “put myself out there” aren’t as prolific as I’d like them to be. I have to make a concerted effort. And I’ll be honest, that’s getting harder and harder. It’s easy to stay home and just “do my thing.”

I have to remind myself that nearly every interesting opportunity I’ve ever had has been the result of a connection made on my behalf.

C’mon, people, let’s be more bold about sharing our dreams!

What if Theodore Geisel, embarrassed that he had been rejected so many times, had passed his friend on the street and decided not to tell him what had happened? What if he had tried to spin a tale to make himself sound more successful than he actually was? What if the two had just shared a cursory fist-bump and walked on?

These are Dartmouth guys, after all. It’s hard to imagine two ivy league men sharing a moment of vulnerability on a busy New York street corner.

In telling the truth, Geisel received a priceless gift.

Some Christians might call it a “God thing.”
Bystanders would probably chalk the whole exchange up to coincidence.
Geisel, himself, said he was just plain “lucky.”

But the reality is that people like to feel helpful.

McClintock’s position in 1937 gave him a unique vantage. Years later, the tide had shifted, and now Geisel was the man with all the influence. Geisel could make things happen for McClintock. And he did, ultimately editing A Fly Went By and inviting McClintock to write for his Beginner Books series for children.

“The need to be needed is one of our fundamental desires. We want to feel significant in the eyes of others, even if it is only one other person. We want to feel like we play an important role, whether in an organization, family, or life of another. The need to be needed is rooted in our need for a sense of contribution to something beyond ourselves.”

— Steve Rose, PhD,

The Need to be Needed

The Need to be Needed theory makes it sound like helping out a friend is a selfish thing. I don’t think so, though. I think that’s the beauty of helping someone else get what they want. In doing so, we get the very thing our own soul craves: validation.

In this season, I find more time available to me—time I can use to help others get what they want.

When mission and purpose intersect with position and influence, you get to experience the joy of generosity.

Maybe right now you wish you had a hand-up for a dream you’re carrying. Don’t burn it down just yet. In the meantime, maybe you can be the bridge for someone else’s dream.

To be fair, sometimes that’s more fulfilling anyway.

Anything I can do to help you? Let me know by replying to this email.

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WINSday on Wednesday--The Future We Create is Now

Loving People

“Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle”

— NOT Plato (although no one really knows for sure)

We have all read this quote, and every time we do (even if it’s for the hundredth time) we take a deep breath and act a little nicer because we know it’s true—everyone IS dealing with something hard.

My friend, Ashley Jones, is the inspiration for today’s WINsday on Wednesday. She’s the founder of Love Not Lost, an organization that celebrates life and supports people in grief by photographing families facing a terminal diagnosis. (You can watch our interview here.)

Ashley and her husband tragically lost their only daughter to Spinal Muscular Atrophy eight years ago. She has made it her life mission to help other families facing a terminal diagnosis walk through their own grief while creating lasting memories with the time they have left.

Ashley prayed hard that God would heal her beautiful daughter.

But when she heard very clearly that it was not to be, she resolved to walk right through the pain, knowing full well that God would use her experience of loss to help other families. Grief, she says, is unique to every individual, but there is power in being able to grieve free of judgment, fear, or expectations.

The question she challenges all of us with is:

“How can I love people better?”

And in grief, especially, it’s so hard to know what to do. We don’t want to do or say the wrong thing, so it’s tempting to do nothing.

But what if instead of doing nothing, we decided to do something that would make a difference not only here and now but for generations to come?

Am I creating the world I want to leave for future generations?

This idea is not a new one.

The Iroquois Indians, to whom we owe much of our current way of living, abided by something called the Seven Generation Principle: The Seventh Generation takes its name from the Great Law of the Haudenosaunee, the founding document of the Iroquois Confederacy, the oldest living participatory democracy on Earth. It is based on an ancient Iroquois philosophy that:

“In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.”

The Great Law of Peace protected freedom of speech, freedom of worship, and the rights of women. The tribes instituted three branches of government, including two houses and a grand council, and originated the notion of separation of powers and checks and balances. The founding fathers adopted many principles of the The Great Law of Peace, but notably they ignored the seven generation principle and the empowerment of women.

Big mistake, Benjamin Franklin. Big mistake!

I heard one time that when people pass away they are usually only remembered in conversation for about five years afterwards. As for generational legacy, we’re lucky to know our grandparents, it’s rare that we know our great-grandparents, and rarer still that we have ever even met our great-great grandparents. All of us want to live a life of meaning and purpose. We want to be remembered, not only for the things we’ve done, but for the human beings we are. We want a legacy that lasts!

I used to work with families who have kids with cancer. Those parents had two big fears:

1. That their child might die, and

2. If their child did die, that he/she would not be remembered.

For many of these families, stewarding the legacy became the driving force of their mission. They started foundations and wrote books and spearheaded campaigns that would keep the memory of the child alive.

Faced with mortality, they became obsessed with immortality. And it was beautiful. To see these legacies live on in the hearts of the people that loved them most was heartwarming. Not only that, but these mission-driven families ensured that their children’s lives, though short, were not lived in vain.

There is a connection between the emotional moments that happen to us and the creative moments that we make happen.

These emotional moments sometimes manifest as interruptions, inconveniences, or gross injustices. But if we live each day in holy expectation, the moments become invitations to join God in the work of bringing more hope and love into the world.

There’s a famous play called Our Town by Thornton Wilder. It chronicles life and death spanning twelve years in a fictional small town called Grover’s Corners. In Act III, Emily, one of the main characters, has died giving birth to her second child and is allowed to return to earth to relive one day, her twelfth birthday. The other cast members urge her not to go back, telling her the memory will be too painful since she knows what will happen in the future. Emily ignores the warning, and her pain becomes our pain.

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From the play, Our Town by Thornton Wilder:

Emily: “Oh earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.” (She looks off toward the stage manager, then abruptly). “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?” 

Stage Manager: “No.” (Pause.) “The saints and poets, maybe—they do some.”

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These lines are tragic, not only for their rawness, but for their truth.

The present is a gift.

We never know what courageous choice we make today will inspire another person. In one hundred years, no one will remember my name or yours. Like the generations that came before me—the ones I don’t remember and probably never knew—I, too, will be but a footnote in somebody’s attic scrapbook. I will never know my ancestors, but I am a product of their legacy— their faith and work ethic and family values and love of learning and courage.

Like my friend, Ashley, we all have the capacity to make life better for the next generation.

And that’s pretty cool.

What can you do to create a lasting legacy for your family and generations to come?

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