This post was originally sent through my author newsletter on July 1, 2022. To subscribe to my newsletter and receive up-to-date news, musings, and more, click HERE.
At some point last week (who knows exactly when; the week was a blur...), I was sitting alone on my building's front stoop. I had an N95 mask around my neck, ready to be pulled up over my face the moment I stepped back into my apartment. I could hear the happy shrieks of kids at the playground across the street. My own kiddo was stuck indoors. So was my husband. I was sure I was soon to follow in their footsteps, but for now, I was able to be outside, breathing in the fresh air.
Sitting there, I had a Very Dramatic Thought:
Nothing the publishing industry can do to me will ever be as painful as the gut-punch of my daughter finally testing positive for Covid.
Yeah, it was Very Dramatic. I spent most of last week feeling Very Dramatic.
I knew Covid would land in our household eventually. I also knew that at this point in the pandemic, the odds were good that our cases would be mild. But last week was supposed to be full of the joyous moments that the pandemic had robbed from us for years. My daughter managed to get sick just in time to be in isolation on her 5th birthday. Her birthday party had to be postponed. (So did her first Covid shot appointment.) She missed her PreK graduation celebration, as well as the entire last week of school—her last days with her amazing teachers and several friends who were moving out of the city. She missed her first dance recital. We also had to postpone tickets to her first Broadway show. I'd bought them, optimistically, in February. If she'd tested positive literally any other week of the year, it would have been stressful and inconvenient; having it happen precisely when it did was epically disappointing.
But there's another piece of the puzzle that accounts for my Very Dramatic Mood: I'd been dreading this exact scenario for weeks. I'd had bad dreams about it. I'd felt intense anxiety. I told myself I was overreacting. Catastrophizing, even. There was no way that after we'd dodged the virus for 27 months, it would hit our household on this particular packed, exciting week.
When my nightmare played out just as I'd imagined it would, it messed with my head...a lot. I hadn't been overreacting. I'd been right to be anxious. And if my anxiety about this situation turned out to be correct...what else was my anxiety right about??
Phew. Let's pause. This is supposed to be an author newsletter. What does any of this have to do with writing and publishing books?
Writing for publication is an act of radical hope.
A lot of folks write. They fill notebooks with snippets of poetry and journals with musings and memories. They tell stories because they enjoy it, and they're satisfied with sharing them with the people in their lives.
Writing with the goal of being published—of seeing your books on bookstore shelves, of being widely read—isn't always so rosy. Very few people are able to traditionally publish one book. Even fewer publish two, or three, or more. There's rejection and disappointment at every turn, both pre- and post-publication. Being optimistic is hard, especially once you know all of the ways you could be let down. And even when you think you're prepared for everything, publishing can let you down in a new and entirely unexpected way!
One example: I love visiting my books at bookstores. The day Tally Tuttle Turns into a Turtle released, I was so excited to walk to our local Barnes & Noble and take a picture with Tally Tuttle on the shelf. But something told me to call the store first, just in case they hadn't unboxed their copies yet. When I called, they told me they weren't going to carry the hardcover in stores. They wouldn't have it on shelves until the paperback release, six months later. This was news to me! I was disappointed...but at least they were going to carry the paperback, right?
Six months later, I was once again excited to walk to Barnes & Noble to visit my book. Just to be safe, I called the store first. Surprise! They weren't going to have Tally Tuttle in stores after all. It would be online-only. When I wrote to my publisher to ask what was going on, I learned that between the hardcover and paperback release, Barnes & Noble had changed its policies on chapter books: they would now only have series in stores that had three or more titles.
For me, that added up to no Tally Tuttle and no David Dixon at Barnes & Noble—at least, not until Madison Morris is NOT a Mouse! released. (Will it happen this summer? Who knows...) Not having my books in B&N, where kids and their parents/grandparents/other grownups could browse and discover my series, felt like a huge blow. I'd taken for granted that my books, published by a well-known traditional publisher, would be there.
At this point in my career, I know there are disappointments on the horizon, because I've had so many along the way. I've had manuscripts not sell. I've had my agent not like ideas I felt incredibly confident about. I've done book signings for two or three readers next to authors with hour-long signing lines. I've been on panels where the audience consisted only of the panelists' significant others. I've wanted to attend book festivals and not been invited. I've waited for trade reviews that didn't come.
If I'm going to keep moving forward, I can't let all of that disappointment win.
Writing for publication requires radical hope.
Hope that you've made the story the best it can be. Hope that an editor falls in love with it, and is able to convince the rest of the team that it's worth taking a chance on. Hope that the book finds the right reader at the right time, that it makes a difference in someone's life. And yes, hope that this book will be the one that breaks out...but that's not the be-all-end-all. It can't be.
I can't sit down to write expecting the worst—even when I know what some of those future "worsts" might look like. That's not a creative place. It's not a healthy place. I can't write out of desperation, either. I have to write with hope.
So back to my stoop. Back to how having my daughter finally catch Covid three days before her 5th birthday felt like face-planting three steps from the finish line of a marathon I'd started running in March 2020. Back to the disappointment—the sharp ache of it beneath my sternum.
I'd spent a month focusing on the worst that could happen, dreading it, and I got exactly what I'd feared. That could make me a more anxious and fearful person. I could move immediately on to the next worst-case scenario, the next anticipated disappointment...and the next...and the next.
But I'm trying not to. Just like I write from a place of hope, I need hope to get through this oh-so-challenging time in all of our lives. Things are bad out there. We need to have radical hope, and then we need to act on it.
My daughter is fine now. So is my husband. I managed to not get sick. Our summer is moving forward, and I'm trying not to look back.
Want an image that encapsulates the last two weeks of my life? This is it... (Love that single line for me!)
Next week, you'll get the third installment of Creating While Parenting, the short interview series I'm running this summer with fellow parents who work in creative fields! The next interview isn't with an author. I can't wait to introduce you to an amazing dancer and choreographer/teacher, instead.
What I'm:
Reading: In the depths of my Very Dramatic Mood, I wasn't reading. To break out of the slump, I asked Twitter for recommendations of books they would describe as "delightful." My crew came through! (Well, except for one friend who suggested I read the IKEA catalog...) First, I read Linda Holmes's second book, Flying Solo. It's about a woman on the verge of turning 40 who, in cleaning out her great-aunt's house after her death, discovers a hidden object that sets her off on a path of self-discovery...and rekindled romance. Currently, I am reading another suggestion from Twitter, Kate Milford's Greenglass House. This one's a magical middle-grade with a modern folklore feel, about the power of storytelling. I'm really enjoying it so far!
Watching: "Ms. Marvel" continues to impress. We also started season two of "Only Murders in the Building," and it is just so charming. Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Selena Gomez together are magic.
Writing: I think my alphabet picture book may go out on submission to editors soon...cross your fingers for me! Aside from that, I've had a sudden burst of freelance dance articles, so I've been busy interviewing dance teachers about their work. Oh, and I'm expecting editorial notes on the exciting not-yet-announced project I teased a few weeks ago (crop circles) any day now...
Loving: Being outside! The kiddo and I have gone to the playground at least once a day every day this week. After being cooped up indoors, she can't get enough of that summer sunshine—and neither can I!
