Calling it Quits?

I was watching The Voice last night (LOVE that show) and one of the contestants was there as his fiancé had given him an ultimatum to either make something of his singing or go get his law degree (*). The deadline is the end of this year. And this got me thinking…

At what point do you give up on your dream?

Personally I couldn’t grasp the concept of a partner not supporting a dream completely. Maybe I’m spoiled. My husband has never once given me a deadline to make this writing dream a reality, has never thrown the statistics in my face (only 1% of aspiring writers ‘make it’), has never told me to stop trying, so I can’t imagine not having his support in this venture.

Yes, we need to put food on the table and a roof over our heads, and no, rejections and failed auditions don’t pay the bills. But surely that’s no reason to stop chasing those pavements. We just have to do it ‘around’ our lives. We write or sing outside of our work hours, or when the kids are asleep, or between classes. It may not be the most direct route, or the fastest, but it doesn’t mean we won’t get there.

How many knock backs do we endure? And does it matter how long it takes?

So many of the contestants on The Voice say it’s their ‘last chance’ to make it, which I find so terribly sad. And it makes me think of three authors; one just starting and two very famous.

The first is my friend Jenn J Mcleod whose debut novel was released last month and is doing well. She tells how she gave herself a deadline of a certain important birthday (I won’t say which), and that if she hadn’t signed with an agent by then, she’d give up. She got “the call” the day before her birthday! But what if she hadn’t? What if that call was a month late? Or what if that agent was the next one on the list to query and it didn’t happen before her birthday? What would have become of “The House for all Seasons” then?

The second is Kathryn Stockett of “The Help” fame. She endured 60 rejections before agent 61 accepted her. And as she points out, what if she’d ‘given up after 15 rejections? Or 60?’

And the third is Mary Ann Shaffer, who wrote “Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society”. She was in her seventies when her novel got picked up. And while she didn’t live to see it published, she died knowing it was going to be; knowing she had achieved her dream.

Don’t ever let anyone else force you to give up your dream. Even if you have to take the longest, most convoluted path to get there. Don’t ever say it’s your last chance. How do you know the next agent you query, or the next audition you go to, isn’t going to be “the one”?  It doesn’t matter how many rejections you get. It only takes one ‘yes’.

As long we breathe, there’s hope. And in the case of Mary Ann Shaffer, even after.

NEVER give up chasing those pavements.

S
* edit - The contestant mentioned above has clarified that there was no ultimatum and the producers cut the story to make it appear that way. No reality in reality TV - go figure! So sorry to said contestant, but the question of when to give up is still one worth pondering.

Roller Coaster Capers

I think as a community of writers we need to come up with a better description than “roller coaster” when describing our journey, as roller coaster just doesn’t seem to cut it! The ups, downs, curves and twists are bigger, faster, slowere and stranger than any roller coaster I’ve been on. And I’ve done Space Mountain at Disneyland!

Last month was one heck of a ride on this ‘journey to publication or insanity’ (insanity seems to be winning at this point). I received a full request from an agent in New York (big deal for a writer from OZ); the original full request from London was finally passed on after a 3 month wait (cue tears); a phone call from said NY agent who had full saying she liked it but there were problems and can I revise and re-submit (exciting and scary at same time); a rejection from another agent who said I was nowhere near ready for publication and suggested I go find myself a writers’ group to join (ouch!); another full request from another NY agent (smiling again); and a partial request from one of the big agencies in NY who I didn’t think I had a chance with (yay!).

And all of that in the space of two weeks. The same two week period which also happens to coincide with my birthday and the worst day of the year on my calendar – my angel baby’s birthday! Although, the upside to that is at least while dealing with the personal sadness that is that time of year, it certainly keeps this book thing in perspective.

I’ve also been trying to get a handle on this social media thing, which I’m pretty sure I’m failing at, but I’m giving it a try at least; been slogging away at my new WIP in order to distract myself from the turmoil of the query process; and have been trying to find ever more creative ways to fend off questions from my book when they continue to ask why I haven’t read the month’s selection (this month - a book agented by ouch-agent above! – not kidding), as most of my book club don’t know I’m writing so I can’t really say to them that I feel if I have time to read, then I should be writing.

Can you believe I don’t drink?

And now the wait. Wait to see what the outstanding full and partial bring; wait for my reader (aka sister) to get back to me on the revised version so I can re-sub to that agent; and wait to see if the other handful of outstanding queries result in rejection, requests or suggestions I shouldn’t give up my day job!

And I still don’t drink!

Perhaps you can all help me while away the time and come up with alternatives to “roller coaster” and leave them in the comments section? Prize - my undying gratitude to anyone who makes me laugh.

S

keep chasing those pavements

current status: 2 fulls out, 1 partial out, and a frightening number of rejections in :)

Not the start I was hoping for

I’m hoping the start of 2013 isn’t indicative of how the rest of the year is going to go. It started with 3 rejections in the first 3 days. Now, rejection is something we all need to get used to as writers, but usually the form emails come in dribs and drabs and I have plenty of time between them to pull my socks up and dust myself off, ready to face the next one. Not this time. Such quick fire shots!

Still, I didn’t really have time to wallow in self pity as I was then struck down by what the chemist said was food poisoning! Her “diagnosis” was based on hubby’s description of my symptoms (I’ll leave those to your imagine as I don’t want to gross you out, let’s just say it wasn’t pretty). Hubby’s grasp of what goes on around him is tenuous at best, so Lord only knows what he told the chemist. I could very well have had Ebola and he would have described a mild cold. He managed to bring home some medicine, though, and it did kinda help.

So after a night of unspeakable horror in the bathroom, I spent the whole of the next day sleeping. As a … I was going to say “sleep-deprived mum”, but as any of you mum’s out there know, the descriptor is redundant. As a mum, the chance to sleep should have been a welcome reprieve. Which it was. I just wish it didn’t have to be punctuated every hour or so with a dash to the bathroom.

I did, of course, recover. Only to get another 3 rejections. Clearing out inboxes for the New Year people? But, still no time to dwell. No. Turns out it wasn’t food poisoning, as I’m pretty sure food poisoning isn’t contagious and next thing you know, Miss almost-7 wakes up at 10pm and begins to empty her stomach in the most un-ladylike of ways. And continues to do so until 10am the next morning!

In the midst of all this pleasantness, hubby flies off overseas for work, leaving me to deal with my own sickness ‘hangover’ and a very sick and miserable little one all on my own. Thanks honey.

So, not exactly the stellar start to the year I was hoping for. Still, it’s not all doom and gloom. Both Miss almost-7 and I are now recovered and given the nature of our illness I pretty much didn’t take any notice of the last few rejections. Nothing like the worry of your baby-girl projectile vomiting for 12 hours to keep things in perspective, right?

But, perhaps the year is about to turn around for me. Hubby is back. Miss almost-7 is back to normal (I think that’s a good thing!), there's been no more vomiting (touch wood) and just the other day I had a partial request. My full is still out there, too, so no news still leaves room for hope, right?

I hope your 2013 is shaping up to be a great year. And even if it started off a bit shaky, I hope it sorts itself out soon. Hold on to happy thoughts. The dawn will break. At least that’s what I tell myself.

S

keep chasing those pavements

No Resolutions Here

No New Year Resolutions here. Nope. I never stick to them. Always fail. And, as I'm a Mum I spend an awful lot of time feeling like a failure, so I don't really need to add to that burden.

So, this year I'm going to try something different. Two somethings different. 1. I'm going to set a small amount of goals instead of resolutions. 2. I'm going to write them here, for all the world to see (or ignore) in a hopefully not vain effort to make myself more accountable.

Personal Goals
1. Get Healthy - deliberately not saying 'lose weight' as the focus should be about health not size, and you know, the failure thing again.
2. Not let others take their own insecurities out on me. You know the type - try to make you feel bad/less just to make themselves feel better. There are a few in my world, not by choice so I can't actually get rid of them. But maybe I can turn their volume down.
3. Read the 25 books on my bookshelf that have gone unread! (yes 25 - I just counted them and then picked myself up off the floor). I have a terrible habit of buying a book I really want to read and then never getting round to it.

Writing Goals
1. Hunt down every agent/publisher lead for "The Point" until someone falls in love with it.
2. Write every day. Using an idea I heard about from a writing friend Vicki Thompson on not 'breaking the chain'.
3. Really work on getting my head round this blogging and twitter thing and support as many of my fellow writers as I can (technology and I don't normally see eye to eye so it will take some doing before I get into the groove with this one!)

Oh boy! I've done it now. Put it in black and white (or charcoal and beige as the case may be) and put it out there for all and sundry. Hopefully this will be the extra motivation I need to see at least one or two of these goals achieved.

Happy New Year to you all. May 2013 be everything you are dreaming it to be.

S
keep chasing those pavements

A little life lesson

I’ve always been close to my parents. My Dad was the single biggest influence on my life without doubt. Any major decision I’ve made has his loving hand guiding me imprinted on it – which country to go on exchange to, which university to go to, which course to study. Even having a crack at this writing malarkey is his doing - thanks dad ;) . And my Mum, well, we ring each almost every day, tell each other everything (ok I might have kept one or two things from her over the years) and when I was younger she and I spent countless hours on the end of my bed in deep discussion.

I always thought I knew them inside out; the dark corners of their less than idyllic childhoods; their lives before children; their hopes and fears. I thought I understood exactly who they were and where they came from.

Until last night.

After a pleasant family dinner I witnessed a conversation between Mum and Nan (her mum) that has changed what I thought I knew about why Mum is the way she is. And it knocked the wind out of me.

Not the revelations themselves, so much, but the fact that I had always so strongly (arrogantly?) believed I had my Mum’s motivations, insecurities, lack of confidence all sussed out. And I was wrong!

I’ve always prided myself on ‘seeing through people’. On understanding their behaviour. A great skill to have as a writer.

As a writer I can see through my characters’ motivations and inspirations. Even when my characters surprise me, as they inevitably do, when they take a twist I wasn’t expecting, I always understand how or why they take that turn. That light bulb moment as my pen dances across the page and suddenly Nicole zigs when I thought she would zag, and the voice in my head says ‘yes, of course, that’s exactly what she’d do’.

As a daughter, evidently, my vision and understanding aren’t quite as honed. I’m now seeing my Mum, and my Nan, in a very different light and my understanding of them has changed.

It’s never a bad thing to realize you don’t know everything. It really isn’t ;). And this is a life lesson that I will take and try to apply to all areas of my life. If I don’t know those closest to me as well as I thought, then maybe when dealing with that rude shop assistant, or that mother from school who boils my blood, or my in-laws who… (well let’s not get personal!), I can just pause and consider maybe there’s something else going on that I’m not aware of.

And I can certainly apply it to my writing. GO DEEPER! Just when I think I know my characters inside out, I can dig a little further, peel back another layer. There may be something hiding there I didn’t see before. 

S
keep cahsing those pavements

 

That first delicious nibble

The day I got my first nibble will stay in my mind for some time. I'm extremely glad we don't have CCTV in our house. While it was a joyous scene, it certainly isn't one I would want anyone to see...

It is 6am, and I'm dragged from my slumber by my 6 year old. Hair sticking out in all directions, mis-matched pyjamas crumpled, an unfortunate tear in the seat of my pj bottoms (hint, Santa, hint), I check my email as I always do first thing. Always expectant that my query letters have worked magic while I slept. Always disappointed by the form rejection email in my inbox. Or, worse still, no email at all. (Yes, agents - hearing nothing is worse than hearing no)...

Bleary-eyed I scroll through my inbox. I've won another European lottery(by jingo I'm one rich woman now) and I'm offered another free appendage enlargement (if only I had said appendage to enlarge!), and an email from the office of one of the agencies I'd love to sign with. I can see it isn't from the agent herself so steal myself for another "Dear Author, thanks but go away". I sigh and start reading.

"Dear Sandie..." (at least they used my name). "Agent Dream enjoyed reading your sample and would like to read more. Please send your full MS...." Sorry? What? "Please send your full..."
A squeal is heard next. Then jumping begins. Then I'm possessed by something or someone that thinks they can dance. Arms and legs start flailing in all directions as I twirl around in the kitchen. I hug my phone to my chest and bound down the hall to wake hubby with the good news.

I frighten the stuffing out of him as I launch myself onto the bed and show him the email.
"What?" he grumbles, clearly not happy to be woken in such a manner.
"This!" I point to my phone.
Then my mouth drops. I realize I've hugged my phone so tight, I've deleted the email!!!

As I panic, computer engineer hubby suggests I simply retrieve it from the trash folder. I do so promptly and then forward to my back up email, just in case.

One more embarrassing happy dance with 6 year old joining in (any excuse to dance for her).

With fingers crossed I send my hopes and dreams over the net into the hands of Agent Dream....

And now I wait. Checking my email every 5 minutes, despite the 11 hour time difference, just in case Agent Dream is awake at 2 am and is so moved by my MS she can't help but respond straight away. Right?

I know that Agent Dream can still say no, and if she does...well, let's not go there today. As writers we face so much rejection, these little victories, the one step closer, are important and we have to hang on to them. So until I hear back from Agent Dream, I'll hang on to that feeling of dancing round the kitchen in my torn pj's.

Good luck to all you writers out there and keep chasing those pavements.
S
oh...I've just checked my email AGAIN - no news!

Rejections, Resilience and Red M&Ms

I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried when my first rejection came in. As much as I know intellectually that rejection is par for the course as a writer, it sure did get to me. So, as the mature and educated woman I am, I dealt with this rejection in the most sensible and grown up of ways - After I cried I ate M&Ms. A whole big bag of them. Scoffed them down like no tomorrow - except the red ones. I always linger longer on the red ones. Then I watched some daytime TV.

Three very healthy ways to deal with rejection indeed.

My second rejection came a few days later. No tears this time, but more M&Ms and more daytime TV.

I guess Cat Stevens was right when he wrote "The first cut is the deepest", as by the fourth rejection I simply shrugged and ate more delicious tiny buttons of chocolate.

Still, despite the fact the tears stopped, I had to find a better way to deal with the heartbreak coming my way. So I did what any sensible, grown up does. I sought wisdom from the internet. It's not personal, keep trying, share your feelings, blah blah blah ... Not helpful really.

What did help was other people's misery. What does that say about me? I somehow stumbled on a blog about famous rejections and suddenly the world was looking rosier. Reading about The Notebook's 24 rejections and The Help's 60 and what was said about Gatsby (!), I came to the conclusion that I couldn't call myself a bona fide writer until my number of rejections hit double figures at least. And I was only up to 2!

How one finds the resilience to keep going after 60 rejections, I don't know. I guess it comes down to self-belief. Something I find quite transient myself, and generally not at the bottom of a bag of M&Ms. Though I do keep looking for it there.

One piece of wisdom I did hold on to after trawling the net was that rejection means that you're actually trying, actually putting your work out there, not just sitting on the lounge thinking about it and never picking up a pen. Maybe all I'll receive is rejections, maybe not. But if I don't keep putting it out there I'll never hear that one "yes". And that's all it takes - just one "yes".

So, I'll keep on chasing those pavements...

S