

by Jennifer Archer
I
wrote the following article for a writing organization's newsletter many years ago before my first book was published. I recently ran across it and was sent back in time to experience again all of the emotions that go along with the
struggle to publish. The realities of publishing are quite different today. You can put an ebook up online and call yourself a published author. But for those of you still trying to publish traditionally, and struggling, I hope reading my old article helps you to put it all into perspective. While you're reading, glance now and then at
the covers I've posted of my book BODY AND SOUL. The first
book I ever wrote that I speak about in this article never sold, but the
second one did -- and BODY AND SOUL is it! The original cover is the one with the fortune cookie on it. The cover with the picture of two women is the current re-release in ebook format.
DRAIN SLUDGE by Jennifer Archer
Since
receiving another rejection on my novel, I've been thinking about drain
sludge -- that disgusting conglomeration of hair, soap scum,
and who-knows-what-else that clogs up plumbing. I once heard drain sludge
compared to a writer's early work: "You have to get it out of your
system so the good stuff can flow."
Can I deal with the fact
that my first novel might be slime? That my long-toiled-over manuscript
may never reside between the cover of a book? I never presumed I'd
written The Great American Novel. I didn't expect a Pulitzer Prize.
But...drain sludge? After much thought and a little sulking, I've
reached a conclusion: If need be, I'll lay my manuscript to rest without
weeping. Negative thinking? I choose to call it realism, because as I
scan my quickly-dwindling market list of prospective publishers, I
must be realistic.
Daphne
Clair de Jong, author for Harlequin Mills & Boon and Silhouette
wrote: "...there are many, many more people out there who want to write
romances than there are spaces for on the bookstore racks. And the cold
hard truth is that lots --
lots -- of them are never going to be published." Initially Ms. de Jong's comments depressed me. But then I read this in
Bird by Bird by
Anne Lamott: "Almost every single thing you hope publication will do
for you is a fantasy, a hologram -- it's the eagle on your credit card
that only seems to soar. What's real is that if you do your scales every
day, if you slowly try harder and harder pieces, if you listen to great
musicians play music you love, you'll get better....And so if one of
your heart's deepest longings is to
write, there are ways to get your work done, and a number of reasons why it is important to do so."
A number of reasons to write other than publication? I thought publication was THE goal? Maybe
I've been looking at this all wrong. Maybe my focus should be on
becoming the best writer I can be rather than becoming a
published
writer. Afterall, the words I put down are all I control. I can't
control an editor's opinion or the buying public's taste.
Not
long ago, my son asked, "What if your book never gets published? Think
how much time you will have wasted." When I consider the hours I worked on my
novel and the possibility it might never sell, I don't regret one minute
spent. By struggling through those pages, I learned about the craft of
writing and about myself. I gained priceless insight into plotting,
characterization and more -- insight I couldn't derive from a textbook.
By attempting the process rather than simply reading about it, I
experienced the difficulties, confronted them, worked my way around
them. Perhaps not always skillfully, but I did it, nonetheless.
Completing and submitting the book to publishers taught me I could
finish a project and that, through a well-written query letter, I could
entice editors to request my manuscript. Most important, I learned that
while rejection is unpleasant, it isn't fatal. And if I'm lucky enough
to receive an editor's feedback, I can often use it to make my story
even stronger.
And what did I learn about myself? I've been
right about one thing all my life -- a writer is what I want to be when I
grow up. Also, I'm tougher than I thought, and more persistent. I can
read my work aloud to a group without suffering a nervous breakdown. I
can accept constructive criticism graciously, even be thankful for it.
Best of all, I learned I can write simply for the love of it and
experience satisfaction. I won't lie -- it stings to admit my early work
might be drain sludge. Because, good or bad, I'm fond of my first
novel, as you should be of your first attempts at writing. And though we
may have needed to "get it out of our system so the good stuff can
flow," I believe our early work and drain sludge have nothing else in
common. Sludge has no redeeming qualities. Writing a first novel, short
story or article, on the other hand, is an unforgettable experience.
Like kissing, falling in love, swimming in the ocean or flying in
an airplane, there's no other time quite like the first one.
Enough
brooding. Time to go back to work on Book #2. The plumber is leaving
and, with any luck, it might finally be safe for me to turn on the
faucet.