An Honest Rant
Someone smarter and more successful than me, once told me that I must be sure to add value with my posts and my writing if I want to avoid screaming into a void. That seems like logical advice. You have to contribute to people’s lives if you want to grow in the world of bookstagram or writing. Give people information, entertainment, emotional validation. Anything that will make them stop and buy what you’re selling. Sure, art is great, but in today’s attention economy, you also have to perform like a monkey on a music box, banging your cymbals together in the name of getting noticed. Then you can sneak attack them with some writing, if they bother to read it. Somedays, I misplace my cymbals and find myself banging my head against a wall instead. Today, instead of desperately trying to provide value to anyone who will stop scrolling long enough to watch me dance, I’m reaching into the void, hoping that someone will reach back.
I confess, I’m forlorn writing this post. Today, I submitted my 50th query. Rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? 50 queries, trying to convince an agent that my manuscript is worth requesting. 50 queries, trying to show that my razzle can dazzle with the best of them. 50 queries trying to convince an agency that I can make them money, if they’d just give me a chance. I’ve submitted 50 queries, all trying to summarize what will be a four book series into one paragraph. 50 queries that have been met with, “This is not for me,” at best and complete silence at worst. 50 queries trying to prove that I’m good enough to receive a response. In that regard, I have failed miserably.
And before someone tries to tell me that I can’t base my worth off of whether or not my writing gets noticed. Before someone tries to tell me that I am not my writing and must separate myself from that type of rejection, let me set the record straight: I am my writing. I am the words I piece together on paper, and the stories I conjure up in my mind. I can’t separate myself from that any more than I can separate my soul from my body. It’s just too much a part of me. Getting my book rejected is personal. Not because agents are big nefarious monsters surviving off of the tears of aspiring writers, but because the book itself is personal. I understand why things are so tough. I really do. There are millions of people trying to get recognition for their writing. Some agents claim to receive upwards of 400 queries per week! Per week! Believe me, I’m not under some delusion that there’s a primordial conspiracy trying to suppress me personally. It's just tough out there. The competition is incredibly steep, and the process is painful. And part of the reason it is so painful is because it is so personal.
I guess all of this is to say, if you're a writer, deep in the trenches of querying and rejection, shoot me an email. DM me. Tell me that it sucks for you too, because misery loves company, and right now, I’m the most miserable person on the planet. If you’re a writer, enduring this darkness like me, let me reassure you with the words I wish someone would tell me. Your writing is good enough. You are good enough. It’s just tough out there, isn’t it? Keep polishing your manuscript. Keep refining your query. Keep putting yourself out there as a target for the arrows. Whether it's ten days or ten years, someone is bound to see you eventually.