Writing can be a lot of fun. The world of publishing isn’t. Well, not all the time. Definitely not while you’re trying to get into it. I guess any meaningful journey feels significantly lacking in anything vaguely resembling fulfillment now and then.
I’m looking for agents, so my book can be a real live one as well as an ebook. Finding and researching them to make sure they’re right for me is laborious and time consuming, but it’s exciting when I hit on one who seems perfect. Which I did two days ago. Daniel Lazar works for a New York agency, Writer’s House, and he seems straightforward, has a sense of humor and a big heart.
His bio blurb says “If you think your pages can make me hold my breath or miss my subway stop or even laugh out loud…” I like that. So I sent him my proposal – which I’ve worked on for weeks, editing, re-editing, thinking it’s just fine then realizing it’s not, throwing it out, starting again. If I still worked on a typewriter my room would be littered with crumpled up rejects.
People say don’t invest in outcomes, don’t get attached. What a lot of crap. It’s impossible to write a book and not hope that the world will love and respect it and you’ll sell millions of copies and make it to the New York Best Seller list. People who don’t let themselves have that dream are scared of disappointment so they shut it down.
Today I understand them a little better, although I still think it’s half living. I got an email from Daniel. So soon! All agents say you’ll only hear from them if they’re interested. My heart leapt – he loved my proposal and me, he wants to read the whole book, this is it, I’m on my way, New York here I come! Heart thudding I opened the email.
It was from his assistant. “Daniel asked me to reply…your project does not seem right…”. Damn. It’s like a mini-death, there’s no way I could prepare for how heavy my heart feels, and all the crucifyingly criticial crap that comes flooding into my head. About my book being not good enough for a reputable agency, me being a ridiculously lousy writer, a dreamer without a hope in hell of ever succeeding…
But now I don’t feel so bad. Daniel, divine as he is, obviously isn’t the right agent for me. It doesn’t mean there isn’t one out there somewhere. There must be. Perhaps we’re moving towards each other already in ways neither of us is aware. That’s how life works. All I can do is play my part. I’ve already sent to a bunch of other agents, and I’ll carry on sending to some every day.
I’m getting together with SEO Afficionado Vernon Chalmers on Friday to discuss my marketing strategy. I’ve nearly finished the thriller script and I’ve started on the crime novel. I’m going to carry on, no matter what, and hope like hell my fate isn’t like Van Gogh’s. I might go mad and end up penniless – but I’m familiar with both those states so it doesn’t bother me too much. At least I shan’t lose one of my ears. Ha.
Getting your work into the world can be hard. Some people are born into an environment that predisposes them to success, but many aren’t and part of the journey is developing a belief in yourself and your work. The only way that belief can grow is through getting rejected, and learning not to give authority to the messages in your head that say the rejection means you aren’t any good.
The real enemy isn’t the world, or agents or publishers, it’s in your own head. Conquering it is a fight, it’s one of the hardest things in the world. But it’s the good fight, and the better you get at it, the more you stand behind yourself deep in your heart. That’s when the world starts responding to you, duh. There’s no way past the impasse but through it. And it’s indisputable that you can only make it onto the list of people who might succeed if you don’t give up.