It’s been a rough week here. Two of my very good friends informed me that each of their sons have cancer and are undergoing treatment. Our sweet dog, Harley, stopped eating and our vet informed us he has been silently suffering with a tooth and gum infection. I’ve been fighting my annual bout with spring allergies. And there was another rejection. This one hurt more than others.
I have been writing children’s stories for seven years now, with small glimmers of hope along the way. A few agents showed some interest, and one even offered me a six-month contract, but alas my stories were ultimately rejected. I’ve got about a 1.7% full request rate. 1-3% is considered a normal range. I’ve won honorable mentions in five writing contests which is great encouragement. But all told, I have sent out 296 queries for about 20 stories. All rejected. This is the dark side of being a writer that nobody talks too much about when you’re shelling out money, and with a believing heart, sign up for classes and conferences that so enticingly promote that you too can be a published author.
This last rejection really stung. I pitched a story, one very close to my heart, via an “Above-the-Slush-Pile” opportunity and the editor of the publishing company requested to see the full manuscript. I sent it and she told me she and her team would be reviewing several selected manuscripts, responding in a couple months. Two months passed. I began to envision signing the contract, doing school visits and book signings. “It’s really happening!” I thought. Then three months passed and doubt began to creep in. Dying to know my fate, I emailed a gently worded nudge. A response came two days later – a compliment, but a pass.
Sometimes writing can feel like trying to scale Mt. Everest without boots and climbing gear. But I know from years of participating in workshops, critique groups and on-line forums that this is all the norm in publishing. It’s just business and a very competitive one at that. In fact, I’m lucky to have been considered at all. I might be doing some things right. Yet somehow, again, I’ve missed the mark. One never knows how exactly. You’re told you’re not the right fit for their list, but they wish you well. You never learn specifically what they want. Querying is the writer’s Russian Roulette. The odds of snagging a publishing deal are so very slim.
While I’ve tried to be a trouper about things and get back up on my horse and continue to ride, I have to say, I’m not as tough now as I was when I began this journey. Admittedly, I was quite naïve when this all started. One story that I conceived when my oldest granddaughter was three years old wasn’t drafted until she was seven years old. It has undergone numerous revisions. I’ve tried to illustrate it but lack the necessary skills. Now I feel the manuscript is ready to query, but she turns fifteen in June, and this summer will be taking driver’s ed. I highly doubt she’ll still be interested in a story about a little girl who talks to horses.
Getting published is a long slow process and getting noticed is super tough. I’ve considered self-publishing a few stories, just to be able to hand them to my grandchildren and say – “See how much you inspired me!” But there is a lot that goes on with self-publishing too. Money, for one, marketing, illustration, so on and so on. I’m not sure I have the head for the business end of what’s required. And not all my stories were written for my grandkids. The vast majority were written for children everywhere— stories about life’s wonders, humorous childhood moments of growth, tough to deal with issues, and our connectedness to the natural world. What will happen to those? Were they all so lovingly and painstakingly created only to never to be seen?
It can be a challenge to focus on what is true. My inability to get published doesn’t necessarily equate to being a poor writer. In fact, one editor told me I’m pretty good. But I’m simply not writing what the market is looking for right now. And I can’t be something I’m not. I write from my heart, life experiences and passions. So, I’m at a crossroads. Should I keep writing? Is this an exercise in futility? More so— why do I write?
I guess I write to inspire and entertain. I write to share feelings and observations. I write to connect with others. I write to learn. I write to remember. If I take away the expectation of getting published, then writing is as satisfying as gardening, painting, embroidery, cooking, or any of the other things I enjoy doing. It is an act of creating that nurtures my soul. Remaining in my critique groups, and writing on my blog, keeps me connected to a larger world of kindred spirits and I can be supportive of my friends who also plod alongside me on this journey.
But I wonder, what if I didn’t write children’s stories anymore? How would I spend all that time I’m accustomed to writing? After reading the rejection email, I felt like running away. I pondered these questions while sitting outside watching my chickens, enjoying a soothing breeze on a sunny spring day. Soon, and very clearly, an inner voice spoke to me. “Whatever you do, you’ll be okay.” I let the words sink in and thought yes, I will. I have a good life. Every day, people – people I love—face much harder, bigger disappointments and challenges than this. Maybe I’m not meant to write forever. Maybe it’s all just been a cathartic growth phase. Maybe it’s time to walk away from it…to see what else I am made of.
Then, for reasons I can’t understand, I awoke this morning at 4:30, thinking about the Artemis spaceship, traveling to the dark side of the moon and for one hour or so, losing all contact with all of us on Earth. The fear, adrenaline, and excitement of that period must have been intense for the flight crew. It certainly was for me as I followed their story. How brave the astronauts are. So much to lose, yet so much to gain by focusing on positive possibilities. The phrase, “the dark side of the moon,” played over and over in my head. What could possibly be possible by examining the dark side of the moon?
Dang it.
An epiphany. And possibly another story.
Just when I made up my mind to walk away from such things.
So, I got up, made a cup of coffee, grabbed my notebook and pen.
I will be okay.
And still…. I write.
This month, under Recommended Reads, PLEASE, PLEASE, check out my review of A Perfectly Messed Up Story by Patrick McDonnell. I think this hilarious story about mishaps and resilience was written just for me! It should resonate with just about everybody, and your children will love it!
Little Seeds Read 