Insecure about self-made barriers

Don't forget to check out all the other Insecure Writer's Posts at Ninja Captain Alex's blog, hop on the Linky and thank this month's co-hosts: Julie Flanders, Shannon Lawrence, Fundy Blue, and Heather Gardner!

This has been a heck of a year for me professionally and personally. On the writing side, I’ve done more new things than ever before.

I joined SCBWI

I went to a writer’s retreat

I went to a writer’s conference

I went to a class visit

All of these were terrifying to me, but I went and did them anyways. And, I didn’t die. I’d even be willing to do repeats on all of them. But the funny thing about these items were these were all items on my list of markers that denoted a “real author.” These were all things I had seen other writers posting about and feeling jealous about. And, like most things viewed from the outside, they are different once you do them.

I’m a little suspicious of Moving Target Syndrome, the sensation that you long for a thing, but once you achieve the thing, you long for something else to feel gratification. I’ve experienced this before with writing, and well, it’s real. But somehow these markers were a litter different:

I was the one lurking in the shadows not joining SCBWI for more than a year after publishing—you can join at any time, by the way! I just hadn’t felt worth it, somehow. Going to a writer’s retreat was amazing because there were people at literally every stage. There were people with multiple books, people with agents and sales, people with agents and no sales, people with no agent, and people who had never written a book. It was awesome. And that was another barrier I had given to myself, thinking that I needed to be wildly successful to participate in that.

I could go on (the class visit was fun, and I’ve taught a lot, so I already knew how to handle a group). My point is, these markers of success that I had were all things I could have done years ago, but I felt too much like an imposter to do them. If you can learn one thing from my fail, please learn this: if you’re writing, wherever you are in the journey, don’t write yourself out.

Anyone else suffer from False Barrier Syndrome?

Life After The Contract: Which Manuscript Was That?

I’ve mentioned that some things change when you sign a contract. Today is life after contract, the endless edits keep me from writing my next book edition.

I tweeted earlier today that within 14 hours of finishing a round of edits on one book, I received another round of edits for a different book, and this is now my life. My plan had been to draft between when I'd finished one set and received the next set. To be clear, I didn't write a novel in those 14 hours...

As of this exact second, I am juggling what can only be referred to as a ton of novels. A list:

MS 1: in pre-publishing edits

MS 2: on submission with publisher

MS 3: in the query trenches

MS 4: being drafted on lunch breaks with a wireless keyboard hooked up to my phone (this is the only time I can’t work on edits as I can’t take my computer to work without being willing to submit it to time consuming inspection by IT peeps—yes, my work is sensitive, but not at all how you think)

MS 5: in development

MS 6: waiting to go into the editing grinder

Yes, I have six novels running at the same time. Six. So at any moment, I could have good or bad news from an agent, an editor, or a crit partner, and I’m trying to stick words to the page. It’s a lot to manage. (and my email is officially a ticking time bomb).

Now, I don’t say this to brag, but I think sometimes we don’t consider what consequences our actions have. Action: I’ve written a lot of books. Consequence: finding a home for those books takes time. I wrote MS 2 in 2016. I wrote MS 1 in 2009 (yeah, it’s been a long haul with that book).

At one point, I looked up from my writing work and realized I knew exactly what I needed to be writing for the next three years, and that hit me in the creative noodle. I’d never been under contract. I’d just been frolicking about in the land of dreaming up the next great big book to lure an unsuspecting agent into my snare. Then suddenly, I know what I’m trying to put together creatively for the next few years. That’s a heck of a commitment.

I don’t regret any of it. I love the work I’m doing, but it sort of shocked me to realize that I started my publishing journey in 2009, I’m two books in, and my writing docket is all tied up until the end of the decade.

So I did something big name authors do all the time: I stole time from somewhere else to develop another project. MS 4 in that list has nothing to do with any of the other novels. Literally nothing alike. It’s not even an explosion filled action piece (but it does have dragons!). I found a piece of time I had, lunches and breaks at work, and figured out how to convert them into words. So far, so good. I’m averaging about 2K a week on drafting while I’m working on the endless edits for projects under contract.

Because here’s another hard truth: once you’re published, you still have to do EVERYTHING ELSE you had to do before you were published, plus revise, edit, and polish a manuscript. Market, prep, write a sequel, and do it again. And if you’re lucky, do it again. All the while, cooking dinners, cleaning house and fulfilling the whole full time job gig too. I’m lucky in that my SO picks up the slack when I’m ready to throw poptarts at the family, but I have to admit, my ability to create new work in the crunched time was one of the hardest adjustments.

So there it is, folks, find a way to steal time and write the next book. If that advice sounds familiar, it should. Writing the next book is almost always the answer. 

One Year Later

It's sort of insane to write this, but one year ago, my first book was unleashed on the world.

Like Wow. I don't even have words. That statement feels simultaneously long ago in a galaxy far away, and like it happened just a couple days ago. And it's still such an honor to have my work out in the world, and supported by the amazing people at Curiosity Quills. I am amazed and humbled by the reception my book has received. Fan mail and reviews, all of it has been amazing, and I count myself lucky to have connected with some many wonderful people along the way.


The thing I get asked the most is: "When is the sequel coming out?" Coincidentally, this is the biggest compliment anyone can give a writer, to express excitement about future work. Thank you all for making the last year unbelievable!

(And yes, there is a sequel in the works!)







(Also, you can buy the book here or here if you don't already have a copy!)

The least life could do is Wave as it passes: an IWSG

Yeah, publishing takes forever. For those of you who are very patient, this might work well for you. For those of you who are not patient (like me), publishing in all its forms will drive a writer to fits of the crazies. Publishers can go months at a time without any word. Agents? Just as long. I’ve had a project that sat in someone’s in box for nine months before being read and have a revise and resubmit requested.

Then the project sat for another six months. UGH!

And during that time, we writers are constantly aware of the fact that the market is shifting. The readers are leaving (or if you write YA, Growing UP!) And pretty much each tick of the clock might as well be the death knell of your writing career. Projects that were awesome a year ago, two years ago, four years ago—well, they aren’t awesome anymore.

I’ve watched this. The only condolence I can give is that while we’re watching the clock tick by, some things will cycle back around. People couldn’t give away paranormal romance a few years ago, and now I’m starting to see those move (slowly, but WAY more than the nothing from two years ago).

So that’s the first advice—it all comes in cycles.

Dystopians were huge. Now they’re dead. Everyone expected Sci Fi to take off, it’s still very hit or miss. And largely, YA fiction has this feeling that if it could just find the thing that got people excited again… Alas. No new Harry Potters (did you read Cursed Child too?). No new Katniss Everdeen. And it’s not like there aren’t Amazing books out there, it’s just that they aren’t getting traction.

And then there’s the feeling that no matter what the category or genre, I’m missing the boat. It’s a really hard feeling to shake. I’ve been sitting on a novel that needed a few edits before it would be ready for submission for months. I needed to write a different book first because the two tie in, but months. I’ve been waiting for months, and it’s still not ready. Even if it was ready tomorrow, I’d have to wait more months before I got any sort of word. RRRRRRGH! So yeah, sometimes, when I’m in the middle of the publishing cycle, I get caught up in how slow I’m going and how fast the rest of the world is going. I’ve got no good answers, but I can say this: never turn in shoddy work.

Ever.

Ask for more deadline time. Figure something out—bribe people. Nothing but your best will suffice later when you look back at your works. Nothing.

Now, off to go turn in a lousy start to NaNoWriMo (I think I participate so I can watch myself fall behind).

Don't forget to visit ninja captain Alex, hop on the linky, and say hi to the cohosts: Joylene Novell Butler, Jen Chandler, Mary Aalgaard, Lisa Buie Collard, Tamara Narayan, Tyrean Martinson, and Christine Rains!

I used to be a writer like you, but then I took a contract to the knee

I know I’ve sort of already talked about how the time for writing shrivels up as soon as you sign a contract, so people stop writing on their blogs, but life after contract can really mess with your ability to produce words of all kinds.

And when the words don’t come, a writer doesn’t feel like a writer. All over the internet—right now—there are memes that basically say you’re only a writer if you write EVERY SINGLE DAY!!! I know, that’s sort of a gold standard, but it’s also, for some of us, completely impossible. I simply cannot write every single day. I work 10 hour shifts, ride herd on a child reluctant to eat dinner/brush hair/teeth/do homework/clean her room, cook the foods, and other wise do all the things that make a normal house a normal house.

So yeah, sometimes, I don’t have any words at the end of a day—after all, I can only throw hot dogs at my daughter for dinner so many nights in a row. It happens. But the world is busy stuffing this idea that only true writers—writers who really deserve success—are even capable of writing every day. It’s as if I’m only a really real writer if I punish myself by toiling on my novel every single day. Now, not to put too fine a point on it, but there’s a word for that—insane. Because that’s what I’ll be if I write at the end of every day.

And this impossibility adds to the impostor syndrome many writers are already feeling because not only is the editor “just being nice” but now I can’t even manage to write every day? Total fake.

Oh, but there’s more (there’s always more). When I do have time to write, instead of running off into the sunset capturing some new novel, all that “free time” is now shoveled into editing that novel that just got the contract.

And editing is something of a shock initially. Every comment from the editor (you know, the one just being nice?) feels like a personal attack. So not only are the words not coming, there’s independent confirmation that all the words you ever made sucked. It all confirms the self fulfilling prophecy of mediocrity.

This, to some extent happened to me to the point that I haven’t finished a new novel in two and a half years. I’m hopeful to finish a rough draft real soon, but this is a big reason why writers with newly minted books seem to dry up and blow away with the dust.

In truth, like all things in publishing, it’s different for everyone. Good luck, and keep your chin up (it’s easier to breathe when the water is closing in over you if you keep your chin up).

Being my own third wheel: The Bio

Welcome back to my weekly series about Life After the Contract where I talk about the things that happen after you have a contract that largely go untalked about. Last week I talked about how as soon as a contract exists you need a bazillion things previously not needed, causing a huge emergency time rush. One of the most agonizing things is the biography.

Under normal circumstances, I don’t mind talking about myself. In fact, I tend to think of myself as a key eyewitness in my life. Perhaps my deductions into the reasoning behind certain actions are somewhat amateurish leading to the occasional emotional outburst (hey, if I were a professional, I’d be able to channel that stuff properly), but otherwise, I’m something of an expert.

But once there is a needed to describe myself to other people as though it isn’t me doing the describing… let’s just say it got interesting. Oh, and did I mention that I basically needed it yesterday?

In a nutshell, the bio has to tell the world who you are, why anyone should care, and what you’ve done. And you have a very short space to do it in. Oh, and did I mention that there are literally millions of people who have written bios, and no one is ever going to pick up your book base off your bio? But everyone knows that some people might pick up your book based off your bio, it just depends on if it can stand out (which is different for every person, because, you know, some people like Papyrus font and some people would like to burn Papyrus from every word processor).

And it’s traditionally done in third person.

I talk about myself as though I am not myself? Which sort of makes me feel like I should wear a sign along the lines of “Pay no attention to the writer behind the curtain. She is in no way biased about this bio currently being read.”

In short it makes me crazy to talk about myself like that. Worse, if a writer had been at all prepared—and as people will no doubt recall, I was not—this should already have been written. Which means a writer with contract in hand has a sudden need to talk about themselves as if they were someone else bragging about themselves and might potentially be suffering from the solid sting of embarrassingly knowing they should have done something sooner. This knowledge that you should have written it already REALLY give the imposter syndrome some nice material to work with. And, because you’re rushing, it’s not your best work. Which means, you might be pushing that imposter alarm a few more times. *sigh*

In short folks, learn from my fail.

Wait, it’s Tuesday? How did that happen?

Welcome back to Life After Contract where I talk about how things get suddenly different but also exactly the same.

After signing, one of the things that almost immediately happens is your time just drains away. Gone. Like, “Yesterday I had 24 hours in a day, and magically, mystically, today I only have 10. And I’m working my day job for 8 of them!”

Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but almost the instant you get a contract, there’s now a million different things you have to do: edit the book, build a platform (if you don’t have one), edit your book, clean up your online profile (or delete a few as you never know how good your fans will be at digging), edit your book, and of course building marketing.

And all of that stuff is really boring. You shouldn’t talk about editing so much, at least not in any way that is actually interesting. The nitty gritty of editing is really boring and, in some cases, confidential. So no talky.

Building or dismantling profiles, well, no one wants to talk about deleting all those very personal posts on the very public blog. So nothing to talk about there.

Other boring writerly things that are suddenly important: Writing a bio, getting author pics, coming up with a plan for marketing, and unless you have a bunch of money to spend on advertising, now is the time to start selling your services to help launch your book, or to start pitching to all those reader blogs. This stuff swallows time in unreasonably large doses, eating away at all the other time, like the deadline bound editing, and the holy grail: writing the next book.

In the light of all those new responsibilities, many of which are grade A not interesting, it’s no wonder writers suddenly stop blogging so much. It is however part of the whole experience. And you can literally spend hours and hours on those tasks with nothing to show, nothing to point to. So yeah, right after the contract is a very exciting time filled with new tasks—some of which a writer may or may not be good at—and the book news is all exactly the same. So there’s not a lot to say.

Blog posts from this time go like this, “I did more writer stuff today. It was boring and confidential, so nope, I can’t talk about it. Some of it has me happy. Some of it has me sad. I’ve been told that I will sell more when I am happy, so don’t pay any attention to the part that isn’t happy. Besides, it’s not even real unhappiness, it’s disappointment that my contract didn’t come with all the great trappings of fame and fortune like those movies showed me—specifically, I’m not JK Rowling yet. PR refuses to work on that for me.”

For those of you reading who’ve been through the weird post contract-suddenly-my-title-changed-to-published-author-and-it-isn’t-like-the-movies, what parts were the hardest for you? 

I’m so happy for you! Don’t mind the green, it’s a seaweed wrap

Sometimes, in my youth, I imagined that one day, all of my dreams would come true, and I would get a sort of ticker tape parade where everyone honored me and my accomplishments. As I got older, the confetti parade morphed into the book deal and the signing with an agent and all the trappings of success in publishing. Obviously, this is all some sort of dream. It’s not like confetti launches when you sign a contract (how cool would that be?).

To make things somewhat worse, right after signing, not only is there no confetti parade, there are no great lights blinking over your head to let everyone around you suddenly know that you’re a signed writer and your really, real book will be out in the world (soon—okay, soon by some very lengthy scales). There’s nothing to see, and for many writers, there won’t be a thing to even hold in your hand for a year, so it doesn’t feel real.

And then, to make it worse, all around people are having what looks like the Confetti parade. They have the Signed With AWESOME AGENT posts; the I SIGNED A 6Figure Contract; The MY BOOK LANDED ON THE NYT Bestseller list. Oh, it’s exhausting sometimes to hold your little candle of success up in the world so noisy and filled with blowtorches of success—and wishing your little candle was more like a Hollywood special effect. But it isn’t (well, not yet you tell yourself, but there’s this feeling that it might never come true). And then after being inundated by all this noise, all this bluster threatening to blow out your little candle of success, there comes One More Person with GREAT News.

Oh, dear folks, I will tell you jealousy is an emotion you are not supposed to have. It’s not supposed to exist. I’m supposed to be a gracious and magnanimous person. And I am—most of the time. Right after I signed, I suffered from this emotion I’m not supposed to feel. I’d been taught that jealousy is bad. I’m supposed to ignore it. I’m supposed to be able to “just get over it.” So there it is, jealousy in all its hideous—shameful—presence. And the book that lands on the bestseller list is a fan fic of a fan fic, widely panned by critics as the worst stinking pile of poo ever, and it’s selling 100,000 copies a day.

UGH.

And I’m jealous of that pile of poo, an unenviable position to begin with, but the very act of being jealous is also shameful. AAAAGH!!!

There is only one response: grin and bear it. If I can’t manage that, then I’ve got to find a way to at least make sure that there is no evidence I ever suffered from that shameful emotion. So it’s time to crawl into a hole, or become a smiling automaton.

This is what society has dictated, and, if you’ve been watching social media, any other responses are absolutely skewered in the public view. So writers with contracts drop out of the race. They hide. They take the shameful emotion and hide the fact that they ever had it. Because we aren’t supposed to be jealous—we’re supposed to be happy.

I know, it’s not very original, but it’s the truth, sometimes, the emotions are hard to deal with. And if you're wondering, this might be among the reasons a writer drops off the radar.

Congratulations! You’ve signed a contract! Welcome to Imposterville, Population 1

Pretty much the first set of feelings I had as a “really, real” writer was imposter syndrome. I felt like a fake. Worse I felt like the acquisitions editor was “just being nice.”

This is laughable.

It’s not that acquisitions editors sit around drinking scotch and smoking cigars—I mean, that’s a lovely pastime, but sometimes there’s real work to be done—but they certainly aren’t the evil overlords looking to destroy the world and crush the hopes and dreams of writers. Well, not today at least. So yeah, the idea that the person trying to acquire my book was just being nice rather than being a professional trying to convince me to sign a contract is, in retrospect, kind of naïve.

But there it is, I felt like I’d somehow bamboozled my way through the gate. Largely, this was because I didn’t know what to expect or that there were even people in the world who might like my book. I had over 200 letters telling me that my books weren’t what people were looking for, that in this crowded market, they weren’t likely to stand out, and that the premise seemed engaging but the actual book was in the unenviable position of not having been fallen in love with (It’s okay, poor book, there’s a special lobster for your too).

So I thought I was a fake. And if I’m a fake, so is the contract.

That’s right, I deluded myself into believing that the whole book getting published thing wouldn’t happen, and that all of this was just a big joke. Lucky for all parties involved, I decided that I wouldn’t be the first to break and call it a joke, and that I would follow all of my contractual obligations leading up to the release of my book. In my head, it became some sort of complicated game of chicken.

You might ask why it was that I was so convinced of this was fake. There are some precedents in my life where I’d been led along like something was real and had the rug ripped out from under me, but for the most part, those were little events—right up until it was a thing I’d been working on for a decade. When that fell through, I sort of lost faith in the Universe. (Sorry Universe, it’s me not you? No wait, that time it was you.)

But I had to look at myself and accept a few things: I had some signs of classic depression, and more than a little bit of clinical anxiety. Depression and anxiety were the ones telling me that my writing had sucked and that my work wasn’t worth anyone’s time and effort. All those rejection letters had just given my anxiety the words it needed to really hunker down and make some logical sense. My anxiety and depression had convinced me that other people, the ones saying nice things about my book—the ones offering me contracts for my book!—were lying about liking it.

Clearly, they weren’t. The book got published—much to my surprise—and now there are a bunch of copies out in the world. And it’s sort of amazing and wonderful, and more than anything, I’m glad I decided to follow along and jump through the hoops to get my book published, because, I like my book. I never expected to be in a place to admit that I love my own books, but I do, and that one in particular.

So pretty much this goes down as a learn from my fail. I wasted a ton of head space and time thinking they were going to pull the plug. And pulling the plug does happen in Publishing, NONE of the signs were there. Literally none.

I’ve talked to a ton of writers and this isn’t an isolated incident. Mine might have been stronger than many, (mine might have been actually a weak case all things considered, I just like to build mountains out of mole hills) but it’s not an isolated feeling. Imposter syndrome is real, and it will warp your mind.

The Arrow of Time Points in a Circle

I’ve noticed something in my time in the Bloggosphere: I’ll be following a writer, they’ve just signed with their agent, they’ve just released their first book into the world, and then crickets. They were all over the place, and then, suddenly, dramatically, they’re gone. The blogging records are really good right up until release day. When I was querying madly and trying to figure myself and my own writing out, I always wondered why that was. Why did they get to that spot and stop? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to ramp it up?

And to be truthful, some writers get to that point and they did ramp it up—with promotions for their book. They completely stopped writing about all the things I’d gone to their blog for: writing tips and how to, and the like.

I get it. You publish a book, and it’s time to sell the book. I get that. I really do. But the thing I was always curious about were the thoughts writers had after releasing a book.

And then I looked back at my own blog and saw EXACTLY the same thing. *Sigh*

Turns out, I’m not all that special. Turns out, I’m just like all the other writers. Turns out, I have many of the same insecurities and fears as all the others. Turns out that when things got rough, I abandoned my blog because as writers, we’re supposed to happy and supportive and exciting. Turns out, it’s easier to go silent than it is to process the feels while you’re in a place that many other writers are envious of.

With writing, there are some things you’re allowed to shout from the rooftops, and there are things you’re supposed to hide (terms of contracts, for instance). So I’m going to start a series of blog posts that I intend to go from now through the start of NaNoWriMo (you are getting ready, right?) to cover some of the things that don’t get talked about as much (largely because they’re boring).

What they will be: A look at writing; what’s changed about writing since publication; a look at some of the challenges after publishing that don’t get talked about a lot; ways to cope; thoughts on strategy; learn from my fail; and quite a bit of Just Keep Swimming (sorry, it’s the nature of the beast).

What it won’t be: Woe is me, look at how my success ruined my life (because it didn’t, but there are definitely feels, and those feels are very real elephants come to trample you and your muse).

This’ll be a weekly engagement (should I say weakly, my blogging hasn’t been that good lately), and I’ll intersperse some other posts (reviews, costume related, fangirl moments—you do know Flash season 3 airs in October, right?).

If there’s anything specific you’d like me to talk about, send me an email, comment here, hit me up on Facebook, carrier pigeon—I’m easy to contact, and I want this series to be a resource for people going through the process. I know that parts of this topic exist in the blogosphere, but they were often stories about “when I was a young writer” and not nearly that much about the way publishing is now (and publishing changes faster than a model during fashion week—but it’s all the same which is paradoxical and complicated). 

The Quiet Between Storms?

Whee! Last week was pretty big. My second book came out. If you haven't done a release yet, it's a little bit crazy and you start to feel like you're standing in an amphitheater designed to seat 20,000, and there are 100 people on the stage trying to get the attention of the audience.

The Great A to Z challenge starts up on Friday, and I've decided to throw in my hat. I'm frantically making videos, but it's looking like I'll be uploading during the challenge, but I'm committed to visiting five a day, so watch out for me. The challenge is enormous this year--I'm number 1535!

This Saturday I'm doing my first Signing at Mendocino Gallery Bookshop! So if you're in Mendocino, California at 6:30, I'll be signing books! 

Writing update:
All I can say at this point is "I'm working on it." I wish that I could really get into it, but since everything I'm working on right now is stuff that no one else has read, it seems rude to bore everyone about it or get your hopes up, because having 20K words into a project means nothing. I could hit a stumbling block at 40k or on the last couple of chapters, or the whole thing could crash and burn because sometimes that happens with novels. They are, by their very nature, difficult to write. So, I hope everyone is satisified with I'm working on it. I'm working on the things people have asked for (Yes, Liz, that project, too), and I'm working on a couple SeKrYt Projects. We'll see which gets where first. (My guess is the secret project will get announced before the others, but the universe has a tendency to laugh at me!).

Insecure Writer's Support Group, An Open Ear

How? HOW is it already March? One way or another, that means it's time for an installment of Insecure Writer's Support Group. It's led by The Ninja Captain Alex, and his host of co-hosts: Lauren Hennessy, Lisa Buie-Collard, Lidy, Christine Rains, and Mary Aalgaard!

Yes, I am insecure, but I'm going to do something wild: I'm going to take a deep breath and move on. I'm in a place right this second where I can do that. I don't expect this place to last for too long, so I'm going to enjoy it while I can.

Writing is hard. It's hard on the soul. It's hard on the family, and it's hard on the personal life. Publishing is like being on a roller coaster, except you're the car and there are no tracks, but you're desperately trying to get all the passengers back to the station safe and sound while dropping them from twenty stories, and doing loopty-loops.

So, instead of venting my frustrations with writing and the world in general, I'm going to take a pass. But my passing today doesn't mean others don't need something, and right now, I don't need to vent. Maybe you do. Today, I'm offering a spot, a limited time spot, to vent your insecurities and frustrations. I know we are all encouraged to be happy go lucky when it comes to queries, submissions and publishing, but sometimes it isn't all roses. If you want to share your woes and have them acknowledged, today is the day. Leave your comments, and I'll respond to everything, because sometimes it's nice to know that someone out in the world heard you. I hear you.

Good luck out there, and keep on keeping on, whether that's writing, publishing, life, or other forms of chasing dreams. 

When you check and your name isn't on the list

Right, so there you are. You entered a contest, and now, the world has moved on and you didn’t get to the coveted agent round.

I feel for you.

I feel for you because I’ve been in your shoes. And what makes it harder is that sometimes those people go on to getting agents, and you feel like that could have been you.

It’s hard to be objective at this moment in life because you just received a blow. When you get cut from something, it feels like you were attacked. It feels like someone took your dream out of your heart and used it to park a tractor on. When I was rejected, I’d always feel like the world had just spit me out and keep on going.

I felt worthless.

I felt like a crappy writer regardless of what anyone else said.

I hated feeling so disregarded, because I felt like I was ready. I was ready for the big leagues. This is what I’d tell myself. I’d watch those contests trying to feel supportive of my friends and CPs, but in truth, I often had a sick green monster on my shoulder.

I know there is nothing I can tell you that will make it better, but I’m a writer and by default, I believe the impossible is merely difficult.

Publishing, the business side of writing, makes no logical sense. It just doesn’t. So when you get a rejection and you can’t figure out why a manuscript you feel is inferior gets the big agent and a contract in three days, it’s not what you think. Sometimes people win the lottery, but you don’t see them doubting their self worth when they don’t win the jackpot.

But with writing we do. It’s bizarre, but it’s part of writing. And maybe, just maybe, there is something that could be made more perfect about your manuscript. Or maybe your writing is Ah-May-Zing, but your story is a portal with a pretty typical other world. No matter how much I love those, no one is buying them in publishing, and that trickles down the castle walls.

Chin up. Write more. One thing about publishing: when you do get your break, the first thing they are going to ask you is “What else do you have?” Be sure you have something else, so get back to writing, even if your heart is feeling a bit broken.

The Home Stretch: the Road to Published

If you’ve been following parts I, II, III, and IV, you’ve probably guessed that this book took a long time to become a book, and boy, you’d be right.

I had given up on my book not once, but twice, and I’d started querying another book. It’s complicated because when you start querying one book you have to make a choice ―agents or publishers. You don’t do both. So I started sending my new novel out into the world of agents, and things were different. I got partials and fulls and my book did well in contests. It was all very exciting.

That is, things were very exciting up until the point when they were painfully “not right for our needs at this time.”

Yeah, rejection sucks, but it’s part of the process. For this new novel, I started getting personalized feedback, concrete bits I could actually work with. Unsure how to apply them to my current novel, I practiced that feedback on my old novel, the one in the trunk. Then, I saw a contest―if there’s one thing you should know, it’s that I have a weak spot for contests. But this contest wasn’t the usual query contest for agents, it was aimed at publishers only. My current query bait was already out in the world with agents, and I didn’t want to query both agents and editors with my book. That would be rude. But I did have that other novel and thanks to the feedback, I had a good idea what might be wrong with my novel. I edited Acne, Asthma, And Other Signs You Might Be Half Dragon and put it in the contest.

And something happened that hadn’t happened before: someone from the publishing world, an editor, loved my book. It was such a moment of validation to have someone other than close friends and family say they loved my work. They were enthusiastic and hopeful.

And then I got a second offer.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had to make up your mind, but it ain’t easy. I talked to all the people I knew who had published with small publishers and with the publishers I was considering. To be truthful, I had already researched one of the publishers, Curiosity Quills, and they were the reason I had entered the contest in the first place. I had been hoping they would notice me, and they did. I was over the moon.

And that, as they say is that.

I know it’s pretty normal to talk about these things, but if you saw something about my path to publishing that you’re curious about, feel free to ask. From my rather longwinded story here, it should be obvious I love talking about myself and my process.