Entry tags:
What happened with writing
I think I need to put this out in the world somewhere, in the hopes of getting past it, and this seems like as good a place as any.
After a lot of work at trying to do this writer thing, I finally got a fabulous agent, who sold my beloved, quirky, personal YA novel to a small press.
That small press started having some problems, leading to publication delays, and their way of handling those delays entailed a level of ambiguity I could not handle, so I had my agent cancel the deal.
Soon after, (1) a huge family drama ate up all my time for months, (2) both my computers and my backup drive broke,* and (3) I moved to an apartment where the layout meant my desk had to be in the living room, right beside my delightful, chatty husband who works from home. Then 2020 happened.
I feel like The World's Most Failed Writer, even though I know that's silly. I lost all my writing habits and abandoned all my writing friends in my embarrassment. Now the world has turned into a stress machine.
But I've just set up a desk in the bedroom, and I got a new laptop. I don't really ever get any alone time (we're still staying inside) but I could probably work on something if I had any hope or goals or confidence or anything to say.
I'm not looking for sympathy (though I don't mind it either), I just need to admit somewhere what happened with the book deal, and why I stopped talking to everyone. I don't know if I can find my way back, if I should, how to tell, or how to start with any of it.
But I do like typing on this computer. That's something.
* writing was all saved in various cloud services, so was recovered fine. Not sure that's a win tbh
After a lot of work at trying to do this writer thing, I finally got a fabulous agent, who sold my beloved, quirky, personal YA novel to a small press.
That small press started having some problems, leading to publication delays, and their way of handling those delays entailed a level of ambiguity I could not handle, so I had my agent cancel the deal.
Soon after, (1) a huge family drama ate up all my time for months, (2) both my computers and my backup drive broke,* and (3) I moved to an apartment where the layout meant my desk had to be in the living room, right beside my delightful, chatty husband who works from home. Then 2020 happened.
I feel like The World's Most Failed Writer, even though I know that's silly. I lost all my writing habits and abandoned all my writing friends in my embarrassment. Now the world has turned into a stress machine.
But I've just set up a desk in the bedroom, and I got a new laptop. I don't really ever get any alone time (we're still staying inside) but I could probably work on something if I had any hope or goals or confidence or anything to say.
I'm not looking for sympathy (though I don't mind it either), I just need to admit somewhere what happened with the book deal, and why I stopped talking to everyone. I don't know if I can find my way back, if I should, how to tell, or how to start with any of it.
But I do like typing on this computer. That's something.
* writing was all saved in various cloud services, so was recovered fine. Not sure that's a win tbh
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To this day, when I wonder what to do, I sometimes remind myself of all your pictures of cups of coffee next to a laptop. :)
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I'm sorry things were difficult.
If you need a cheerleader, I'm a good one.
I hope you will love whatever you write next.
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I'm toying with the idea of some kind of game...
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I'll echo
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--you got an agent
--you sold your book
That is success!
The other stuff--the small press having problems, the family stuff--that's the bad-luck real-life stuff that *happens* and it's awful, but being unable to write or not feeling up to it in the face of horrible circumstances doesn't strike me as failure at all. If you got struck by a bus and were in a coma and couldn't write, I wouldn't count that as failure, you know?
... But also, it seems okay to me to just not want to do it for a while. That's fine! The world is a big place.
I loved your writing back when I read it ages ago, and if you want to get back to it, I think you'll do great, and if you don't feel like it, that's fine too.
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Everything you say is sensible. I've just got my head wrapped up in two simultaneous and contradictory fallacies: (1) I am obliged to succeed at this thing (2) It is impossible for me to succeed at this thing, so I shouldn't even try. They're both wrong, I know, but they have deep roots and I can't figure out how to shake them. Worse, each one messes up pursuit of the other!
I could have handled one stupid unshakable fallacy...
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Two! Two unshakable fallacies, ah-ah-ahhh!
That, or like The Girl with All the Gifts, but sub in "Unshakable Fallacies" for "Gifts" (...annnd, "Two" instead of "All")