We’ve reached the darkest time of year, and all this week I’ve felt myself fall into a pit of despair when it comes to my writing. As the year comes to an end, I can’t help but reflect back on the year and feel like I haven’t made it anywhere closer to my dream. Where did the year go? What have I done with it? Why aren’t I capable of writing a great story?
The dark thoughts came tenfold after reading the WINTERNIGHT trilogy. It had been so long since a book or series had swept me off my feet like that. I spent every spare moment I had reading, staying up late, and skipping writing sessions all so I could burn through the pages. When I had finished, I felt floored. I had no words. I was simply in awe of the work, and then the darkness fell. Why can’t I write like this? I should give up. Maybe I don’t have it in me. I’m worthless, wasting my time. I have nothing to offer the world. I’m just... existing.
Then, I started crying. It was the middle of the night, but my husband was there, consoling me as he does every time I hit a low. He hates seeing me sad, which only made me feel worse for breaking down in front of him. After all, I did this to myself. I chose to set out on this path, for better or worse. And this year felt like the worse when it came to writing.
This year, I’d worked really hard on an R&R. I drafted a MS I thought had potential and submitted to mentorship contests and sent a few queries to test the waters. All rejections. I’d read craft book after craft book, studying storytelling as much as I could. I streamlined and fine tuned my process. And I’d hardly slept this year to fit it all in now that my days were dedicated to my new son.
And nothing happened. I’d put in the work without any return on my investment. Publishing is not a meritocracy. I knew that, but still, it ached to work so hard and only feel as if my dreams and faith in myself were slipping farther and farther away.
“Did you win? Or did you learn?”
The day after my cry fest, I licked my wounds by eating half a chocolate bar, a bag of chips, and drank a huge cup of tea. Then, I listened to a podcast interviewing the WINTERNIGHT trilogy’s author, Katharine Arden. In the interview she mentioned how when she hit a low, her mother would ask her, Did you win? Or did you learn? Arden went on to saying that you only lose if you give up, and publishing is all about perseverance. I thought of myself, and this year. I put in all that time, all that work. I hadn’t given up. Not this year or all the years passed. Why give up now? I had not won yet. I still had much to learn.
I stared at my current WIP, THE GILDED CAGE. I’d been trying to rewrite it for awhile and it just wasn’t working. I felt detached to the character and the world. So, what to do now? Start over on something new? I didn’t have any bright and burning ideas. But I had written a manuscript this year that I thought had potential. Perhaps I’d given up prematurely on it.
A CP of mine had offered to read it and had given me pages of notes. When I’d first gotten them, I read them hastily without a clear mind—too attached to the story as it was—to listen to reason. Now, with distance and nothing to lose, I reread them, staring the truth in the face. This manuscript was not ready as I thought, but it still had potential. It was brimming with it, and some emotion in me stirred. My heart still beat alongside River’s (the main character), with this story. I was still smitten with the love interest, Lark. I wanted to go back into its broken world. To fix it. To contribute to it. But to do so would mean scrapping half the manuscript and basically rewriting it from the ground up. It would mean delving into research to get the world building right. In short, it would mean a lot of work.
But I was used to doing the work.
So that’s where I’m at. Back to working on REMEDY.
2020 will be about making REMEDY better. It’ll be about learning. It’ll be about not giving up. I won’t be existing. I’ll be creating. And if no one will ever read this manuscript, at least I will have lived its story in my mind until I get it right.
With the solstice over, light will soon be returning, and though I have no book deal this year, these truths are what I’ve gained:
Accept the brain you have. Laini Taylor, another writer I truly admire, says this often in her advice to writers. Instead of fighting against her perfectionism or the fact that she is incapable of a fast first draft, she simply accepts it and works with her brain to get things done. I wanted to be the kind of writer that churns out book after book, who could plan/outline a whole book like a recipe and then enjoy the fruits of her labor. I am not. I am capable of writing fast, but the stories suffer for it. I get that now. A writer friend who I admire and also envy is able to do this. She doesn’t have CP’s. She just creates and though I’m sure she has her own struggles, it looks like magic how fast she’s able to create and produce. Though I want to be like her, I am not. And as I’ve learned, I need CP’s. I have this tendency to think I’m bothering my CP’s, asking them to read my work, but as Mic (my CP extraordinaire, who’d given me the REMEDY notes) has told me. I should never feel like I am bothering her. We writers are in it together, and that’s something I forget when the work is often solitary.
After reading WINTERNIGHT and thinking of all the books I realllllly love, I realized that I want to be the kind of writer who writes great stories. That keeps a reader up all night, burning through my words, and then rereads the book again because they love it so much.
Know thy self. Adrienne Young recently posted about her drafting and revising process. She talks a lot about what triggers her anxiety during the process (like trying to meet word count) and she safeguards herself against them. What I’ve learned about myself is the fact that I just can’t write contemporary. It needs to have a speculative or magical twist. Otherwise, I just can’t. I love reading contemporary, but for now, I just don’t have it in me. Another thing about myself? I am overly ambitious. I keep trying to do multiple POV’s, but right now, I don’t have the skill set. Other POV’s are fun and it allows me to see the story in different ways, but I don’t have the experience to orchestrate a clever multiple POV story. I need to master single POV first.
Time put in and words written are not a waste. Katharine Arden had to scrap half her manuscript and rewrite the first of her trilogy with her editor. She’s mentioned on twitter she has a slew of words that didn’t make it to her books, but all of that time and thought contributed to the care and love she put into her trilogy. She believes anyone can write a great story. They just need to have the courage to stare down their draft with the unyielding tenacity to make it better instead of falling prey to one’s fears and insecurities (like thinking that you suck, or that you are worthless). -__-
These truths are better than a book deal this year because it’s what I needed. I think about the time I went on submission. If my book had sold then, I would have most likely crumpled from the pressure of delivering a book 2. I tend to believe things happen for a reason, and the reason I haven’t reached my dreams is because I’m just not ready yet. I have more to learn. You can’t grow as a writer or as a person if you don’t learn. So consider me a very humble student.
Yesterday, my husband told me he had a dream about me. In it, I had become a published author, and I had made it big.
It made me smile. Dreams have a way of coming true. Here I am still hoping, wishing, and working, so maybe it will. One day, I tell myself. One day, it’ll happen. Because I chose this path, and I will see it through. Where that paths ends is a mystery, but life works in mysterious ways. That said, I would rather live by the words I write than die by the words I’d never written.
