The Bargain Bin

When I was growing up the Bargain Bin at the bookstore meant that there was a heap of books to pick through, many of which I would immediately dismiss as I searched for the hidden treasure within.

Then I wrote a novel. And another. The Bargain Bin became a different experience.

I used to see people perform dance routines or give speeches and then give them a detached critique.

Then I spoke in front of 100 people for over ten minutes about writing. Then I spoke in front of 500 people for eight minutes without notes. Seeing any performance now is a different experience.

I'm reading a book on Fred Rogers from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood that I picked out of the Bargain Bin at the B&N down the street last month. It's life affirming and beautiful.

I remember standing in front of that long table that had box after box full of books wedged in haphazardly and thinking, "My God. People became these stories. Their whole lives revolved around these works of art for a significant part of their time here on Earth. And here they sit, cast aside.

"There's actually no need to search for treasure here. It's staring us right in the face when we honor the fact that these people had the courage to attempt to create something moving. To give a part of themselves. To accept the possibility of ridicule and failure. That's beautiful."

I watch these competitive shows on TV like American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance. There is so much pressure and the judges can be so harsh. The fact that these people got on stage in the first place is miraculous. To stand in front of all those eyes and give the best part of yourself even knowing that in a couple minutes it could face massive rejection is stunning.

Yes, we should celebrate the final product but let us not forget the journey.