Readers!
If you’re a long time reader of Notes from a Hired Pen (this newsletter, or the ebooks), you know, I don’t pitch a lot. I have built a steady roster of clients who come to me with ideas they want me to cover; or I’ve worked with them for so long that sometimes a quick one or two line email will do.
But I do still pitch, especially if a story is important to me, and it’s something I really want to write. That happened last year after my dog, Annie Oakley Tater Tot, died very suddenly. Here’s how the piece I wrote about that experience came together.
The Story
“The Wide Span of the Rainbow Bridge,” Slate, December 9, 2023
The Back Story
I sort of knew I wanted to write something about Annie dying. The essay I wrote when Emily, my first dog, died in 2017 might be the most popular thing I’ve ever written. I don’t write nearly as many personal essays anymore, but I knew that if I decided to try here, I could probably write something that would help myself, and others.
The kernel of the idea came from looking at the brochure the animal hospital gave me after I put Annie down. Of course I knew what the Rainbow Bridge was, and read the poem again through bleary eyes while sitting at my dining room table, but my eyes stopped when I saw they credited Anonymous. Even from the worst depths of grief, I knew someone had to have written it. A little noodling on the internet showed me I was right, and that the author’s identity had just been revealed. I had no idea I was going to be able to talk to her, so I didn’t promise that in my query, but I had hope.
I had pitched a story to Slate on August 24, a few days before Annie died. When I finally got back to my computer, and started figuring out what I missed while I couldn’t work, I realized I had no interest in writing that story, so emailed my editor again and withdrew the pitch. I added: “The only other idea I have is a deep dive into why the concept of the rainbow bridge is so enduring, and comforting for even someone like me who doesn’t really believe in the afterlife. The pitch isn’t finished yet, but if that sparks any interest, I can wrap it up and send it over.”
She had seen that Annie died on social media, and said she’d love to see the pitch when I was ready, so I got to work. I’ve really enjoyed writing for Slate for a bunch of reasons, which made them my top choice: I like the editor, the pay works, and they also let me propose an idea then follow it wherever the story goes. I also suspected she’d leave the deadline open ended, giving me the time and space to write the piece I wanted when I was still grieving.
One note: I’ve redacted one person from the pitch because I really wanted to talk to them, and they ignored me. That’s annoying! But I also don’t want to make someone angry in this piece when I’m trying to help out writers.
The Pitch
Last month, my dog Annie Oakely Tater Tot, died after a short, swift illness. She was only nine, perfectly fine on a Friday, and dead by Tuesday. When I walked back into my house from the vet after putting her down, I screamed three times, laid on the ground and shoved my face into her bed.
When I caught my breath again, I got up to call my father and tell him it was over.
“Perfect timing. Sam just called,” he said, referring to his dog, who died three months before. “He wanted me to let you know that Annie got over the Rainbow Bridge just fine, and he’s showing her around.”
I am a 43-year old lapsed Catholic who has her doubts about any kind of afterlife. And yet, I almost believed my father, and in the awful depths of grief that have followed, when I lie again in her bed, shaking with sobs, I hold on tight to that call, as if Annie really is on the other side of a beautiful, colorful, sun soaked bridge, the liver failure that killed her reversed, and she’s waiting patiently to see me again. One a hike the weekend after she died, I even imagined her running towards me, and I fell to my knees crying at the idea that this hole in my heart would be refilled, and we’d be reunited again.
I’d like to write a piece about the enduring power of the Rainbow Bridge concept. The Rainbow Bridge poem – which was attributed to “anonymous” in the pamphlet the animal hospital sent home with me – was in reality written by Edna Clyne-Rekhy when she was 19 years old. She wrote the poem in 1959, when overcome with grief over the death of her labrador Major.
According to The Order of the Good Death, which traced the source of the poem in a story published this year, after she got married and showed the poem to her husband, she made a few copies to share. Those copies became more copies and more copies, and started to spread far from Scotland, where she lived. In 1994, it became a phenomenon in the U.S. when it was published – unattributed – in a Dear Abby column.
Of course that’s fascinating, but I’m more curious about the why of it all. Why did it spread so quickly, so far and why, and why do I belive it in when rationally I shouldn’t?
I would start with Nancy Saxton-Lopez, LCSW, who has lead a pet loss therapy group in N.J. for more than 25 years. She’s also co-author of The Pet Loss Companion, which I’m reading right now (she and her co-author also have a podcast about pet grief). Then I’d talk to [REDACTED]. I found her before Annie died, and have been sitting with her videos since – though I haven’t paid for one.
I may find more good sources along the way, but I would also try to speak to Edna Clyne-Rekhy, who is still alive.
I’d need some time with this one – not just because I’m going to Cape Cod the first week of October – but also because I know it’s going to be hard to write. But I think it’ll be worth it, for me and for everyone who looks at what is often portrayed with the kind of cheesy Hallmark trappings I hate, and embraces it.
I submitted my first draft on November 3, and then it ran just over a month later. Not only did I talk to Edna, but I just sent her pictures of the dog I recently adopted. I also got to speak to Rachel Bloom about her rainbow bridge song, because a friend saw her one woman show, and forwarded me the press information.
And, like when I wrote the 2017 piece, the response has been overwhelming. One reader said it validated her feelings, and gave her permission to grieve the death of her dog. Writing pieces like this can be draining, which is one of the reasons I don’t do so many personal essays or reported essays these days, but for this topic? Worth it.
You’ll also note that the lede of my pitch is almost exactly the same as the story. I haven’t done that very often (and even had an editor change my lede once to what I’d pitched him), but if it was enough to grab the editor’s attention, it was enough to grab readers too.
Recent Bylines
“Diana Cho ’21 is Reaching Young People Through ‘Letters to Strangers‘” for Princeton Alumni Weekly
What I’m Reading
- Four Seasons in Rome: On Twins, Insomnia, and the Biggest Funeral in the World by Anthony Doerr. Doerr wrote the (wonderful and stunning) All the Light We Cannot See. This slim book is a recounting of his time living in Rome on a fellowship where he started writing it. I felt jealous that he had that opportunity (wouldn’t we all!) but he barely worked on it at all and instead finished a short story, so even a Pulitzer Prize winner deals with the same blocks to writing what we want to work on.
- Trophy Hunt by C.J. Box. Still working through Box’s catalogue. In this book, his hero Wyoming Game Warden Joe Pickett finds strangely mutilated animals — and then the same thing starts happening people. There was a twist near the end that seemed a bit outlandish, but otherwise, it’s a tightly written thriller.
What I’m Watching
- Stalker, Lover, Killer. I knew the story of what happened in this documentary (it was also a Dateline episode), but I wanted to see how it was handled by another storyteller in a different format. They more and longer interviews, but also partial reenactments with the real people, which felt a bit sensationalistic.
- Funny Woman. This adaptation of the Nick Hornby’s Funny Girl just ran on PBS. It was mostly enjoyable, especially star Gemma Arterton, though a bit uneven. They also put Rupert Everett in a fat suit, which…why are we still doing this? Please, Hollywood and it’s international counterparts, stop.
Until next time,
Jen A. Miller
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Hi Jen,
Thanks for sharing this process, each step of which must have been difficult given the rawness of your grief. I’ve been trying for a year to write a piece about Lady (who just turned five and is very much alive) and the role she played in helping us through our grief when my ex-husband (and my kids’ dad) died suddenly. The difficulty is not writing about the grief – I’ve found ways to do that – but about the depth of gratitude I feel for Lady for keeping us on the straight and narrow. I become a blubbering wreck every time I start to write about how great she is.
I’m new to your newsletters and really enjoying them,
Martina