Friday, May 25, 2012
On Goals & Starting Over
Um…wow. I am gobsmacked by the positive response you guys
gave me from yesterday’s post. I have to admit, I’m a little ashamed every time
I have to confess that the book of my heart never sold (and probably never
will), but it’s something I feel needs to be said, especially for people who
aren’t published and think that’s the end. Because, obviously, it’s not.
If you haven’t, please also read the comments to that
post—especially Jo’s comment. She had a different experience from mine, but one
equally important. And also, Nova did her own blog post on the topic, and I
encourage you to read it as well.
Two questions that I got in the comments a couple of times
and then again several times in private emails yesterday was “when did you know
to stop trying to get the book of your heart published,” and “why didn’t you
just self-publish the book of your heart?”
I knew when to stop
submitting that book when two things happened: I was able to look at it
objectively and identify the reasons why it was a hard sale, and I began
writing the new thing. This is one reason why I am such a supporter of
people writing the next book—because once you write the next book, you realize
that life can go on, that this isn’t the end. It gives you perspective. It
helps you see where you went wrong, and it helps you to correct your mistakes
before you make them. Once I finish a book—totally finished it, even the
rewriting and editing—I start the next one. Always. And there is—always—a moment of panic when I think
“there is no way I can write another book.”
When you’re staring at a blank page, it seems impossible to
fill. And, for me, it’s harder every time, because I remember the work that
goes into making a book. Since publication, it’s become harder to write, not easier, because the editing process is so much
more rigid than my own self-editing process I went through before being
published.
But I force myself to do it. And the first words aren’t
easy…but they get easier. And eventually, I forget about what’s hard about
writing because I’m so caught up in what’s good.
The other question I got so often yesterday—why didn’t I
just self-published—is easier to answer, but I want to be careful about what I
say, because I don’t want to accidentally make anyone mad.
When I started writing, I did it for fun. It was a hobby;
it’s what I did instead of watch TV (especially those college years when I
couldn’t afford TV). And the first
couple of (terrible, unpublished) novels I wrote, I half-heartedly attempted to
sell, but there was no real direction in what I was doing.
After I wrote the book of my heart, I thought to myself: this is it. This was the best thing I’d
written to date, and I felt that it deserved publication (at the time). And I
asked myself what I wanted out of it.
People go into publication for different reasons. Maybe they
want to make their story available to a wider audience, or see their names on a
book, or walk into a bookstore and find a copy of their book. There is no right
reason to want publication—and that’s why there are so many paths to
publication.
But when I forced
myself to think about what I really wanted, it was simple. I wanted to be
published by one of the Big Six publishers, and I wanted a traditional career
in publishing.
That was my goal from the start of when I really started
seeking publication. It honestly never occurred to me to self-publish, because
that was not a part of my goal. And while I eventually did come close to an
offer from an indie publisher with another title, I ultimately decided to pull
the submission, because that was not a part of my goal.
Other people have different goals, different definitions of
success. And that’s fine. But I encourage you to do two things, particularly
when you’re starting out. Think about what success means to you. Is it more
important to you for one specific book (i.e. the book of your heart) to be
published, or is it more important to you to create a traditional career path
with publication? Is it more important to you to get published quickly, or do
you not care about the timeline? None of these have a right or wrong answer—but
they define what you want, what your goal is. Analyze what’s important to you,
and then don’t go back on your principles. It’s fine to change a goal later if you
feel it would be better, but never
change a goal because you’ve just given up on it.
I guess, in the end, the only thing I can really say is this: the book of my heart didn't sell, but that doesn't mean my dreams didn't come true.
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