A hungry fox saw some fine bunches of grapes hanging from a vine that was trained along a high trellis, and he did his best to reach them by jumping as high as he could into the air. But it was all in vain, for they were just out of reach. So he gave up trying, and walked away with an air of dignity and unconcern, remarking, “I thought those grapes were ripe, but I see they are quite sour.”
Aesop’s point: it’s easy to despise what you cannot get.
While I don’t know the value system of the fox, I’m more optimistic than Aesop. I believe that “sour grapes” stem from reaching too high for something you can’t reach at the moment, but you can grow, and next time, you might succeed.
Poetry Rise founder and editor Jared Meland discovered my micro-poetry posts, a new genre created and popularized mainly on Instagram. Jared believed I had enough material to be published. After twenty years of sporadic writing, I finally heard the magic words. I didn’t question it. Naturally, I agreed. Less than two months later, Poetry Rise published a book of my 100 original sayings titled Fortune Cookies, which was the perfect name for my short and punchy style of writing.
Jared almost single-handedly promoted Fortune Cookies to number one for new poetry on Amazon, where it remained for a couple of weeks in August 2024. Just as Importantly, we garnered 50 reviews that were close to perfect. Sales were solid, but Fortune Cookies wasn’t going viral by any stretch of the imagination. While my goals were unstated, I had set them too high.
Sour grapes may not be the perfect emotional description, but I tasted literary success. I was motivated, focused, and determined I could and would do better. It became a compulsion to improve because, unlike the fox, I knew the high-hanging fruit would taste extra special. No excuses. It’s time to get serious about my writing.