Okay, brace yourselves here, because I’m going to be completely honest. (I can already see my friends cringing—relax, it’s me I’m being hard on.)
The last few weeks? A complete and total emotional rollercoaster.
Me and rollercoasters? Not so much with the mixy things. Although for someone who’s rollercoaster-phobic, I generally do okay with the emotional kind, able to ride out the ups and downs that so frequently accompany this business. However, not doing such a good job with it the last couple of weeks. I’ve gone from the high of receiving my first Publisher’s Weekly review and even having it be a good one, to wondering why no one else seems to be reviewing . I mean, do I smell bad or something? Then I berate myself for worrying because it’s not like I can do a darned thing about it and hey! PubWeekly, dingbat! You hit a home run, so chill out.
And I’m in a bit of a writing stasis, since I recently finished my latest young adult novel for my new editor and I’m thrilled by how it turned out and at the same time, paranoid while waiting for her reaction. (Please God, let her like it!) Then, in the other part of my writing life, the part that writes the women’s fiction, I received a rejection (yes, the R word) on a project that I absolutely adore and desperately want to see the light of day. A nice rejection, but still… *stomps foot and pouts*
All of this is fairly par for the course, and normally, I can roll with the punches because I knew what I was signing up for when I chose this writing gig, but for whatever reason, right now I’m especially twitchy and susceptible to getting teary and emotional, which is not a normal state for me. I can see my critique partner over in the corner, shaking her head and saying, “You know, what you need to do is write something. You drive yourself, and more importantly, me, crazy when you’re not writing.”
She’s not wrong. But there’s even a problem with that. (For I am nothing if not thorough when I descend into a rare bout of the blues.) See, I have two women’s fiction projects competing for space in the lizard brain, both which hold their own unique appeal. One would be a contemporary project, using characters I know and love dearly and want to revisit. The other is far higher with respect to concept and kind of scary to contemplate. I like risk. I also love the familiar characters. But is familiar necessarily better?
And did I mention that rejection? That happened to be with an editor for whom I’d done extensive revisions to the proposal and who I thought really, really liked the book? The rejection that has, for the first time ever, put a kernel of doubt in my mind with respect to my ability?
AUGH. I do this, why, again? It’s a wonder my critique partner and friends don’t take me out back and smack me around some.
But then, in the midst of the meltdown, I received this email:
Subject: Your novel- It’s Not About the Accent
Dear Ms. Ferrer,
This is the first time I have written to an author, but I just finished your book and I felt compelled. I am a Cuban-born, Miami raised 45 year old assistant principal and ex-English teacher and I always felt that Miami lacked a voice in the literary world. As an English major, I basically studied white Anglo males and once in a blue moon an Hispanic writer would creep into the syllabus. Then when I started to teach in Hialeah (the second Cuban capital of Florida!), I felt my students didn’t get to read a lot about themselves. For years, I have bought novels written by Hispanic writers and last month I went on my monthly jaunt to Barnes and Noble with my non-reader 14 year old daughter, and saw your book being showcased. I read the back cover and decided, “What the heck?” and bought the book. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to read it ’til this weekend since the opening of school at my school is always hectic.
Bueno, to make a long story VERY short! I sat down and started reading the book yesterday and ran home today to finish it and I just did. Your tale of Caroline and Nana truly touched me for many reasons. First, I was brought up by a woman quite as spectacular as the Nana in your novel, my Abuela N. Her tales and cooking advice (unfortunately, I didn’t inherit her cooking gene!) are some of my most valued memories. Second, Caroline’s quest is something I wish I had done when my Abuela was alive. Many times, I wanted to write her tales and keep her memory alive on paper, but life interrupted me.
SO…I just wanted to thank you for taking me back to my own Cuban background, my own Cuban American adventure and your wonderful way of bringing this story to life. I only regret I was not at Barnes and Noble on Sept. 12th when you were there, but it was our Back to School Night and I was surrounded by parents ’til 10pm.
Sorry this email was so long, but I just finished the novel and just had to write to thank you for the “adventure!”
I think this one definitely gets flagged in the Save file for those days when I wonder why on earth I have to tell these stories. (Aside from the fact that if I don’t get them out of my head, I’m liable to go really crazy.)
Now, if I could only decide which story to work on.
What about you? Anything special saved you when you were ready to climb up into that metaphorical clock tower? And it doesn’t have to be about writing either.
No related posts.
Your crit partner is right. Write something. Write both projects. One of them will assert itself as your priority once you get into them. Meanwhile, send the rejected one everywhere. If the first editor wasn’t into it, another one will be. Maybe another five will be…
And hey, you cheered me up. It’s encouraging to the hacks in the trenches to know even great writers such as yourself get rejected, too.
(Oh, that’s awful. No ice cream for me today…)
I’m still boggling that someone writing a fan letter as great as that one would actually apologize for how long it is. [giggling facepalm] No, no! Keep going! LOL! It’s always funny how anyone can think it’s some kind of imposition to read a large amount of gushing praise and think we’d prefer a smaller amount.
Great letter, though — definitely a keeper!
To answer your question, I’ve found that when I’m feeling really bummed over something that’s happened, it can help to just let myself wallow for a while. Getting a good wallow out of your system by indulging it can be more efficient in the long run than trying to fight it for an extended period of time. The trick is to give yourself a time limit. Depending on just how bummed I am and what sort of hurt it is (small and sharp versus broad and shallow versus deep and dull or whatever), I might go cry and turn the [whatever] over in my head, examining it from all sides and poking the emotional bruises as hard as I can and feeling sorry for myself for half an hour or an hour. Or maybe go read a favorite book — something humorous can help. Exercising (which for me means walking these days) can help by getting the endorphins flowing and letting me do something productive while having time to think about whatever it was. If it’s writing-related, something that’s made me doubt my own skill or wonder why I’m doing this, reading over positive comments I’ve gotten about my stories can help. (Another reason for filing all those fan letters.)
But the idea is to decide ahead of time how long you’re going to indulge. Whether it’s twenty minutes or an hour or “today” or whatever, give yourself a time limit. Set an alarm if that’d help. When the time’s up, you know your wallowing is over and it’s time to go back to work, whether that means back to writing or back to interacting with your family without whining or whatever. It’s pretty neat, though, how indulging the wallow as hard as you can for a limited amount of time can get it out of your system, to the point where you really do feel better at the end of the time. Or at least, it works for me. [hugz]
Angie
Wow! This sort of thing is more common than I realize. I’m in good company.:wink:
What a great letter!
One of the best things an early mentor told me was to keep a “win” file. New business development (what I do) has a success rate very similar to writing so those rare wins need to be cherished and revisited every time I fall flat on my face (yes, I have some letters and emails memorized).
That’s a great email. I’m glad that you have some positive to help when you get the negatives.
Yeah, yeah, a day without fan mail is like a day without sunshine. ARE YOU WRITING YET??
(Kidding! Beautiful letter. I may have it framed for you for Christmas.)
Much love,
The Crit Partner
Kerry– the problem with me is I’m extremely linear and have trouble shifting focus from one project to another. Once I’m focused, I’m there and really resent anything taking me away from it. However, I’ve never been in this sitch where I have two projects competing at the same time– I think what I’m going to do is work on the synopses/story outlines for both to see which, as you say, asserts itself more strongly.
And I’m glad I cheered you up! That actually makes me feel better especially since you called me a great writer!
(Oh, and the manuscript is back out in the world, on new editors’ desks. Fingers are crossed.)
Angie– I know, isn’t it wild that she apologized? And she was absolutely stunned when I wrote her back. I was like, “Dude– we LIVE for this stuff! Seriously.” Your advice about permission to wallow would be great and IS great, except I even suck at that. I have a very difficult time permitting myself weakness–I’m well aware of my own personal weaknesses and am generally fairly accepting of them, but the wallowing thing is very, very hard for me. My husband is forever scolding me saying, “You’re so damned hard on yourself you can’t even allow yourself to enjoy a good wallow.”
I mean, seriously, I know I have it good– so I feel guilty for when the blues get me down and I want to wallow. Y’all are going to be competing to take me out back and smack me around, aren’t you?
Kimber & Sara– Yeah, it’s incredibly common. And a great letter! Little things, you know?
Dear Critique Partner– I’m trying not to die of post-conference creeping crud. I have my research books for the high-concept story. I have conversations going on in my head that are fighting with the feverish haze. I have the Season premiere of NUMB3RS to watch when I go back to bed with my laptop.
I’m a’gonna WRITE, okay? After I don’t die from Post-Conference Creeping Crud.
*ahem*
Non-caffeinated fluids and lots of sleep, pet. Just like I told you.
I’ll be over here, waiting for the writage.
tick
tick
tick
Barbara,
Wow, that you would post this on a day when I had my own ‘crying at the keyboard’ fit of the blues!:sad: I identify so wholly with everything you’ve said.
– Decision time on what project to work on? I’ve got a half-dozen tugging at my sleeve, begging for notice. I don’t know what to do… should I just roll the dice?
– The ‘I Can’t Write To Save My Life’ feeling? Oh, yeah, feeling sorry for myself, can’t focus.. the whole thing.
And then I visit RTB and find your blog, and I know I’m not alone, and I can take a deep breath and look at my ideas file and decide what to focus on, and once more be grateful that I get to do what I love… most of the time.
Take the best (the PW review!) and leave the rest. Learn from the rejection and move on!
Congrats on the review! {{{{Hugs for the R}}}} and my opinion…write the familiar first…like comfort food for the soul.
“If you don’t feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then probably waht you are doing isn’t very vital. If you don’t feel like you are writing somewhat over your head, why do it? If you don’t have some doubt of your authority to tell this story, then you are not trying to tell enough.”
John Irving.
You can hate me. ^^She does too when I tell her she aims too low.
I save all my positive reviews, fan mail, nice notes from editors, etc., and reread them when I’m frustrated with my writing. I also look at my ego shelf, which is now officially full–the next comp copy I get will necessitate a second shelf!
I’d recommend writing the familiar, comfortable story first. It’ll go faster, and it’ll make you feel happy about writing because you want to spend time with those characters. But keep making notes on the other project, keep it simmering. When you’re ready to write it, you’ll know.
Y’all are going to be competing to take me out back and smack me around, aren’t you?
Hey, if it’ll help, I’m willing. [waves baseball bat and winks]
Seriously, though, everyone is entitled to a good wallow every now and then. I don’t care how great your life is on the whole, everyone’s life sucks occasionally. The fact that there are other people whose life sucks more often than yours is irrelevant. If you let yourself get all wound up and don’t allow yourself any release, think of all the writing time (and time for other neat, fulfilling things) you’re losing.
Angie
Can I just say that wallowing is not a weakness? It’s part of the healing process, like the stages of grief. At least in my family. I come from a long line of wallowers.
Rollercoaster? Sing it, sister.
In the past two days I got back a line edit from my editor with virtually no changes; a glowing “I’ve-read-it-it’s-perfect-no-revisions” email from the editor handling my upcoming online read at eHarlequin; and a rejection letter, via my agent, for a YA that’s thus far garnered three rejections for three entirely different/contradictory reasons. I believe the word my agent used to describe the current publishing mindset was “schizophrenia.”
And let’s not forget the women’s fic that’s been out there for nearly a year, gathering rejections right and left, again for contradictory reasons.
But it’s true — one enthusiastic reader letter does wonders to remind us why we’re doing this, why we willingly lay our butts (and hearts) on the line with every book we write. For some reason, having the rejections filtered through my agent doesn’t sting nearly as much as when I was submitting things directly (my own editor doesn’t count, since we hash out story lines before I submit the proposal, so I haven’t had a rejection from her in years). But boy, let me stumble across a less-than-enthusiastic review, and I have to really do some fast talking to keep myself from thinking I totally suck.
Especially if I’m the middle of an uncooperative WIP, which they pretty much all are in the middle. I’m much more resilient between books. Kinda like a literary menstrual cycle, snort.
As for your which-book-should-I-write quandary…I think the idea of working up proposals/synopses for both and then see which one nags you most is a good one. And who knows? I’ve had many an “easy” book turn out to be a pain in the butt, and ones I felt trepidatious about at the beginning flow like water.
Is this a nutso thing to be doing for a living, or what?
Something that perked me up when I was down…. Yeah. I got one story, and it’s not one I share a lot. So you didn’t hear it here.
I probably won’t be writing any more Star Trek. There is, for a property like Trek, one executive editor in charge of what gets assigned, who’s invited to pitch, and which stories get bought. The current head guy is doing a heck of a job. The Trek novels and anthologies being published today are consistently among the best the franchise has ever produced. However, despite his fine judgment in all other areas of Trek, the current head guy does not like the way I write Trek. My pitches and proposals are not welcome and it has been years since I was invited to submit for an anthology. Which, professionally speaking, is okay. His job is to produce the best Trek literature he can and there’s no law that says he has to like my work. (I know because I spent months trying to get the legislation passed.) I didn’t give up easily, but finally I accepted what a friend and junior editor had been telling me since the new guy took over: I’m never going to be part of this guy’s stable of Trek writers. This to me was very depressing because I love all things Trek. (Well, almost all things.)
Shortly after coming to grips with the demise of my Trek writing career I received an e-mail praising “Indomitable” — a short story I had written about young Pavel Chekov before his promotion to navigator of the Starship Enterprise. The letter writer felt the story showed I thoroughly understood the character of Chekov and thought I had done an excellent job of depicting him in fiction. The letter was signed Walter Koenig.
It won’t put groceries on the table, but when it comes to cool — and emotional uplift — it doesn’t get much better than a letter from the actor who’d created the role and played the character through 50 episodes and a half-dozen movies telling me I’d done it right.
*glares at critique partner*
Don’t you have a dealine or or twelve or something?
Donna– deep breaths, babe. We all get through this and no, we’re definitely not alone. So I’ll definitely take the PW review and the nice notes and just keep on going. Wouldn’t know what to do otherwise, you know?
Ericka– Like I said, I think I’m going to write the synopses for both. See which one takes shape and defines itself a little more. Like Karen said, it’s often that the “easy” book turns out more difficult and the tough book flows and knowing me… well, the Critique Partner can tell you how often I’ve made a story difficult… erm… more difficult. I just can’t seem to help myself. And thanks for the hugs!
Angie– You’re absolutely right that everyone deserves a good wallow, even me. Intellectually and even emotionally, I understand this and have no problem at all when I see other people doing it, because I get that it’s a necessary release. I just have the worst time letting myself do it. I know it’s completely and utterly mental but there you have it. Actually, I’m getting better at it– a year or two ago, I wouldn’t have ever DREAMNT of writing a column like this, laying it out for people to see. I’m growing as a human, I guess.
Gina– I come from a big family of wallowers too– actually, overwallowers, which is probably where my issues lie.
Also, see answer to Angie– I’m all for a good wallow. I just need to learn HOW.
Karen– Oh babe, do I HEAR you. Especially on the rejections for completely disparate reasons. I have yet, in having my agent submit two women’s fiction projects over a period of about three years, to get the same sort of rejection. They all praise my talent and are just positive another editor will fall in love with it…
I think your agent’s right on the money, describing publishing as schizophrenic. Or maybe it should just be called “Sybil.” *pats Bench of Publishing Craziness* We’ll just sit here until they all come to their senses. We may be sitting a while, so bring a comfy cushion. 
KeVin– First off, bummer on the Trek thing. Especially since it’s something you so clearly enjoyed doing, however, on the other hand– Rock ON on the cool email from Walter Koenig. Talk about approval right from the source! And yes, definite emotional uplift.
Eva– I could never hate you. Especially since you’re not in the slightest bit wrong. I’ve never shied away from difficult. Even the “easy” story– it wouldn’t be. I already know that. The way the character development is shaping up in my head and some of the plot developments– definitely not easy. The only truly easy thing about it would be the fact that I know the characters– at least on some level so it gives me a more stable platform to jump from– however, what lies below? It’s a mystery.
Oh, and your John Irving quote? Basically described Breathe the women’s fiction that’s currently out on submission.
To give you some hint of how intense writing that book was for me? When I typed the last period on the last sentence of the manuscript– I burst into tears. That book had been a fifteen month journey and I was relieved and devastated at the same time that the best part of the journey was over.
*g*
Breathe sounds incredible.
KeVin — letter from Koenig = absolutely awesome.
You clearly rock and it’s Mr. Editor’s loss that he can’t recognize that.
Angie
Reading “Finding Water” by Julia Cameron, I realized I am so not alone. This is all par for the course for a writer. Just knowing this is enormously helpful. No matter how many books we write and publish, we still feel this way. There are the highs and the lows. I’m fully reveling in my own high today (an amazing amazon review) because I’m so there for the lows I figured the high needed equal attention.:lol:
Thanks, Angie. I don’t talk much about that letter because it always feels like shameless name-dropping. But it’s right up there with my first story sale and my first novel sale as a highpoint of my writing life. And if I hadn’t been shoved out of the Trek nest, it’s likely that’s all I’d be writing today — so in the long run it was a good thing.