I live my life these days according to an ongoing list of weekly to-do‚Äės that I design every Sunday night; each day of the upcoming week containing a set of challenging-yet-reasonable objectives that I cross off the list as they are accomplished. I‚Äôve found that otherwise, my life loses direction and time passes by until one day I wake up and wonder what happened to the last week, month, year, etc. I‚Äôve lost enough time this way to take my little to-do list very seriously at this point in my life.
It‚Äôs taken many years of soul-searching to pin down my real priorities and learn that I need to focus on those and let go of the little time-wasters that hinder me. This is, for me, the only effective way I‚Äôve found to live. Future-based goal setting is great, but the trouble I have with that is the excuse I will invariably make: ‚ÄúI have plenty of time.‚ÄĚ I‚Äôve learned that I‚Äôm the kind of person who needs to not only set goals for the future, but also smaller goals that I need to do today which will ultimately lead me to the accomplishment of the bigger goals.
There are two kinds of goals on my list: those things that need to be done daily: exercise, eat right, read, write, make some kind of spiritual contact and go to work (on work days). Then there are the things that are more sporadic: meet with my critique group, clean the house, write a blog, query a few literary agents, meet with friends, etc. In both cases of the daily and the more intermittent to-do‚Äės, it becomes mind-numbingly monotonous after a while, and eventually you reach a point when you feel like you just can‚Äôt do it anymore.
I suppose that all of us reaches a kind of breaking point at one time or another, no matter what path we‚Äôve chosen – and today, I hit a big one. I have the day off work, which means my to-do list is going to be extra long. I woke up and looked at the list, thinking I was ready to tackle the day. But when I saw ‚Äúquery five agents‚ÄĚ at the top of the list, my heart plummeted, my spirit sank, and for the first time, I considered putting a big black X on the page and going back to bed.
Instead, I made some coffee, played with the dogs and argued with myself in silence. It‚Äôs been several weeks since I queried any agents and I know the rules: do not ‚Äúquery-bomb‚ÄĚ (meaning don‚Äôt contact every agent under the sun in one blow ‚Äď they know each other, they talk with each other, and they don‚Äôt like it when authors clearly don‚Äôt even know who they‚Äôre querying.) I know the rules, I respect the rules and I play by the rules. The point is, it‚Äôs been several weeks since I queried anyone, and today it needed to be done. So in the end, I lost the argument with myself and sat down to query some agents.
Here‚Äôs what querying agents means for me: first, I need to block out a good hour or two (sometimes more) of my day.
Second, I need to locate the agent, (which can be terribly tedious in and of itself) then research what genres they accept, what kind of writers they‚Äôre looking for, and find out if they accept e-mail submissions, snail mail only, or both. Then I need to learn as much as I can about the agent and what he or she represents, and contact them according to their personal guidelines, which varies from agent to agent. Some want just a query letter. Others want a query letter with a synopsis. Some want a query letter, a synopsis and a specific amount of sample writing. Some want all of this, plus a chapter-by-chapter synopsis. Some want all of this in the body of an e-mail (if they accept e-mail submissions). Others want sample chapters as an attachment. Some want you to include not only your bio and platform, but your marketing strategy plans as well. Needless to say, every agent has different guidelines ‚Äď and that‚Äôs okay. The point is that this can be a very challenging process for authors, and as far as I‚Äôm concerned, it‚Äôs just part of my job. But there comes a point in which you just can‚Äôt help but feel exhausted by it all, and that‚Äôs where I am today.
I queried the five agents today over the course of about two hours. I followed all of their rules and was a professional through and through. But I was less than enthused about doing it. Counting the five I queried today, I have been through this process 135 times. Of the 135 agents I have queried, one asked to see my entire manuscript, and three asked to see the first five or six chapters. That means 131 literary agents have looked my query letter over and passed without asking to see any of my actual writing. And here‚Äôs the best part: this is not only normal, it‚Äôs expected. Statistically, I have a good seven to nine more years of this before someone takes an interest in my work. Every writer I‚Äôve ever talked to went through this part of the process too, and they all tell me the same thing: ‚ÄúIt‚Äôs not personal. Just keep writing.‚ÄĚ So I do. And I do so with an unshakable determination to get better and better at my craft.
But‚Ä¶ today‚Ä¶ I‚Äôm creatively bankrupt and void of all inspiration.
As The White Room treks the globe, accumulating endless rejections, my other manuscript, Gallery of Dolls, is several thousand miles away being revised and polished by Kim Williams-Justesen, co-author of the novel. Also, I am at the beginning of chapter five of Alejandro (working title). The plan is to have Gallery ready for submission by the end of January 2012, and Alejandro ready by May of the same year. Under normal circumstances, thinking of the future of these books (and the ones that have yet to be written) gives me a shot of optimism and boosts my spirits. But today‚Ä¶ just for today‚Ä¶ I‚Äôm going to allow myself to dread my future as a writer. I‚Äôm going to accept where I am rather than fawning over where I wish I were. Today, I wish that I wanted something simpler. Today, I wish that all I wanted from life was to get a good job, have a couple kids and settle into the comfort of a nine to five job. Today‚Ä¶ I wish I was someone else because I know without a doubt that I will never be happy with any of those things. Today‚Ä¶ I surrender.
But tomorrow is another day and I won‚Äôt give up on it. I never wanted a simple life. I never expected this to be easy. I had the luxury of walking into this business with my eyes wide open. As Kim told me over a year ago, ‚Äúwriting the book is the easy part.‚ÄĚ And she was right. There isn‚Äôt much room for pity and there are no shortcuts. Nothing worth having ever comes easy and despite the rejections, I‚Äôve had some wonderful experiences. I‚Äôve met many of my heroes. I‚Äôve had agents tell me some wonderful things and point me in some good directions. And above all, I‚Äôve been able to do what I love: write‚Ä¶ and I‚Äôve been lucky enough to get a lot of help along the way.
No, I won‚Äôt give up. The people who love me wouldn‚Äôt let me and more importantly, I would never forgive myself if I did. I‚Äôve worked too hard for this and I‚Äôve spent too much time to justify walking away. But more than all of that, I don‚Äôt want to give up. Today is a bad day and that‚Äôs okay‚Ä¶ but overall, this is what makes me happy, despite all the heartache along the way.
I started this blog to document my adventures in the world of writing. I‚Äôve always told the truth but I‚Äôve never really said much about the strains and pains of this business because I never wanted to discourage anyone. But to maintain the dignity of my blog‚Äôs overall purpose, I can‚Äôt really forfeit the darker side, either. The truth is that being a writer has a hell of a lot more to do with sitting down, writing and maintaining a smile while the world tells you you‚Äôre not good enough than anything else. It has more to do with working than playing. It‚Äôs about getting good at your craft and playing the game. It‚Äôs about accepting that there are no shortcuts and loving the process in its entirety, despite its flaws. It‚Äôs about understanding that the dream is always preceded by the nightmare. Your job is to write and let the business of getting published take care of itself. In the interim, hold tight to the little things that happen along the way which propel you in a forward direction and prove to you that your path is true.
In New Orleans this summer, I spent some time with my best friend from childhood. He said something that I hold onto. He said, ‚ÄúYou‚Äôre a writer. You‚Äôve always been a writer and one day you‚Äôll be published. You always had a way of setting your mind to something and getting it. You will get this too.‚ÄĚ
And I will. But not today‚Ä¶ and that‚Äôs okay.