Tuesday, September 24, 2019

Keeping It Real

Let's get this straight from the beginning, folks: publishing your work is EFFING HARD, yo!

It's only been half a year since I've been in the game, and I feel like I've been through the wringer, scrubbed, wrung out, and hung up to dry. And then the laundry person forgot about me. For six months. 

And, for perspective: many authors never get picked up by an agent, let alone a publisher! Even the ones that do may have been working at it for years.

Yeah, yeah, I was warned. But it's like having kids: nothing and nobody can prepare you for the life-altering impact the change will bring. Transitioning from writer to published author has been a task of momentous highs and resolve-weakening lows...it's a roller coaster that never ends. I don't blame the droves of disenchanted for leaping off the ride as soon as it's back in the station; without stubborn determination and the ability to pick yourself off and dust yourself of A MILLION TIMES, this business is an epic challenge to stick with.

To be honest, I question my sanity at least once a day.

Would I have done it, if I'd known?

Yep.

Because the highs outweighs the lows.

Simple, right?

Let's look at the lowest of the lows for a sec, shall we? 

Predictably, it's rejection. Oh, my God, the rejection. You think you know rejection? Submit eight different books and two short stories to every single agent and publisher accepting queries or submissions. Submit them with a hopefulness that buoys you and carries you forward and a confidence made of the concrete knowledge that your work is good! Put everything you've got into your query letters and hold your breath when you press 'send', simultaneously putting a wish out to the universe. 

Let this be it! 

...and be rejected, over and over and over again. Not just by agents and publishers, no, but by people you GIVE your work to for free. By uninterested family members. And, in a crushing blow delivered by what you thought was your final option, should nothing else work, by publicists you try to HIRE.

To say it's a knock to the self-esteem is a vast understatement.

Now, let me tell you about the highs. 

The writing. Basically, if writing doesn't fulfill you, don't get into it thinking of fame and fortune. If you don't absolutely love the process of getting your stories out - weaving them with words creatively set and narration both intriguing and enticing, don't do it. Bottom line. And if the drive to finish the book doesn't compel you to the point of possession, consider whether it's worth it to start. There. I think I've said that in three different ways. 

Now let me say it once more: THE WRITING HAS TO GET YOU HIGH. 

Yep. It has to be your drive, your drug, your cancer, your cure and your salvation all rolled into one. And typing "The End" has to be as good as sex. Good sex. Like, with multiple orgasms. OK, almost as good as that. 

Making connections. That's another high, at least for me. There's nothing like realizing, through feedback on your work, that you're not alone. Even fictional stories make the author vulnerable; after all, you're displaying the contents of your mind for others to study, assess...ultimately, to critique. Every reader has the answer to a fundamental question at the end of your book: do I want more? Personally, I can deal with the fact that I can't please everyone. But if I didn't achieve at least some sort of connection with my readers, I wouldn't write. 

Then there's the fact that, even after you've failed for a while, you realize you've amassed a wealth of information to work with as you continue your efforts. I know, now, about the different types of publishing companies and their methods. I've learned hard lessons about taking shortcuts, and subsequently the value in investing more than your time and creative energy into your work. Unless you have access to a list of experts that any author would envy, you're going to have to pay for essentials like editing, proofreading, design, publicity, distribution...the list goes on. And, if you're still without a masthead in the end (ie: without a publisher), it's still going to be harder to sell your books, even if you've put in your blood, sweat, tears AND money to do so. Sounds like it should be up there in the negative stuff, right? But it's just a fact of the business, and the sooner you learn it, the better you can prepare for it and mitigate it.

I'm still floundering out here; don't get me wrong. But at least my skin has thickened up a bit. I don't pander to publishers; I ask them questions before I even submit, now. I know what I want and I've said no to those who couldn't meet me halfway. Would you believe me if I said I'm treated much better as a result? And I'm learning to put myself out there - make connections with people who've been in the business a while and benefit from them, even if it's just to further educate myself. Or to feel understood by someone who's been through it already.

I'm not giving up. Not yet. I still feel that promise of something, you know? I see the light at the end of the tunnel for "Rose's Ghost", which has been a long time coming for my first finished manuscript! And I'm almost finished my eighth full-length novel, "Stumble". It's such a sweet feeling to be building up a collection of little gems, each glittering more than the last, and keeping them safe, anticipating a growing group of supporters to appreciate them. 

See? In the end, it's still the writing that saves me.

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