Doubts and Decisions

Piles and piles of drafts, copyright Lori Gravley

I planned a new romance in early October, got my characters down, laid out my primary beats. I was ready for NaNo early because I had to travel beginning on Oct. 16.  

Then, I had time to think, and a new world began to form in my head.  A series of novels that would fit more readily in line with my brand for young people--interesting characters, a vivid world--ohhh, exciting.  So, I did some character development and decided I’d just pants a little with my beat cards (the note cards I have the describe each of the beats in general, I’ll talk about these in a later post).  

Last night was kick off, and . . . I wrote 1300 words.

Every single word felt like a struggle.  I went to sleep asking why. I often do this as sleep gives me answers that I sometimes can't find in the bustle of awakeness.  

When I woke up this morning, I realized it’s because though I love to write new things, love to create new characters and worlds, what I really need to do this year is to tend the old ones.  

In the past ten years, I have written: 

• twenty-five picture books

• one chapter book

• four poetry chapbooks.

• two full-length poetry collections

• one verse memoir

• two medieval mysteries for middle grade (in a series)

• two adult romances (with an entire world and possibilities for more)

• two paranormal mid-grade novels (in a four-book series)

• two stand-alone middle-grade contemporary novels

• a book about putting a poetry collection together

• a book of essays on writing

• a memoir about marriage

I have revised some of these projects upwards of forty times. I have sent them out sporadically, but still:

• I do not have an agent. 

• I do not have a book in the world. 

• I do not have a contract for a book. 

I woke up knowing that my plans for this month needed to change.  My world and my characters won’t go away, but writing my 41^st book wasn’t actually going to move my career forward.  

And I do want a career in writing.  I love the rush of energy that comes from creating a new world, it’s that post-partum joy of being a new mother that is such a rush.  But if I just keep pushing these babies out without helping them grow to adulthood, I’m doing my darlings and myself a disservice.  So, I’m announcing right now that this year, I’m a rebel.  

I will rewrite the book that I’ve been trying to rewrite for a year, Wild Things.  It’s a book I love and that I think might have a place in the MG contemporary market.  As a reward, I’ve told my world and characters that I will give them January and February to come alive in this world. 

After all, I’ll need something to do while I’m sitting around waiting to hear from agents about Wild Things.  

Yes and No

I know I recently used this, but I should have saved it for this post.  Image © Lori Gravley.

“Everything will be okay in the end, if it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”

This week, I got some great news.  A poem I submitted earned a first place prize which included a writer’s conference scholarship and publication.  An anthology that included five of my poems was accepted for publication.  My CSA asked to use on of my pictures from last year for their cookbook. 

I also got some disappointing news.  I wasn’t chosen for a mentorship I applied to, and one of the agents who had a full of my poetic memoir declined to represent me.  Her note was lovely and she had high praise for my work, but she felt she was representing too many verse novelists.  So, the answer was no.

Guess which bits of news I thought of more often.

This writer’s life is full of yesses and nos.  I understand that, but I hate no.  I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere in my childhood, I learned to hate it.  In fact, I stopped asking for things because the answer was so often no. 

It’s normal to dislike no, but I have such a strong aversion to it that for a long time I didn’t ask for people to read and accept my work.  I’ve been working with that aversion. 

But I’ve been wondering, recently, what other effects this aversion to no has had on my life.  How much do I avoid asking for things when the answer might be no? How often do I do it myself instead of asking someone who might say no?

I started a practice of sending out my work, knowing sometimes the answer would be no, but it’s a practice fraught with anxiety.  I wonder if I need some new mantra to repeat to myself.  The quote at the beginning of the post attributed seems to be a good place to start. 

My work and my writing life will find their right place in the end.  If they haven’t found a home, it’s not the end. 

Now, to move that mantra into my heart.