I guess the real question when you get down to it is, “How do I not be discouraged that every other human in the history of mortal existence wants to be a writer, too?”
Last night, I sat in workshop for the first time since May with a group of brand new faces and ages, and then came home to my Google Reader, a quarter of which is devoted to online literary magazines, agent blogs, and forums for writers. Granted, I’m turning my perspective inside a writer-heavy world, but it doesn’t matter - the competition is there - and even if only a small percentage actually have the chops to get published, the sheer number of people against whom you are up is mind numbing. You’re asking so much of yourself to blindly offer up your heart and soul, and trust the powers that be that your manuscript will make it to the top of the endless pile (and dear god, that pile is endless). I’ve read five million times that you can’t view the people who are simultaneously submitting as “competition” because each writer and piece and market is so different, but bottom line is that they are competition. Even if theoretically I have the talent to see myself in print, if an agent only picks up six or seven new clients a year, the volume of submissions she’ll see just makes me “one of many.” It’s hard not to let the thought cause me to quake in my stilettos.
What’s kept me grounded in all of this is that I’ve been working my four-foot eleven-inch behind off on this book for years. I haven’t been the kind of writer who scribbles something off and blindly submits. I’ve been at this thing for nearly two and a half years, and this is now the fourth workshop through which it is going, and between workshop readers and independent readers, about fifty people have seen this. I’ve gotten query letter feedback from agents, and even a nice compliment from one who was gracious enough to give me some praise for my writing and concept. And I haven’t even done a full blast out to agents because I’ve been taking my time making sure it’s ready. When I read about other writers having issues with rejections, it’s easy to close my eyes and tell myself, “They haven’t done the work that I have,” so that when I finally do submit, it seems like the odds will be different. But sitting in a workshop room with others, watching faces put to names to put to work, knowing that many of these people have put in the level of back-breaking labor that I have and still have yet to see any action - sometimes, it’s hard to maintain the delusion that you sometimes need to keep yourself going.
The above deer-in-headlights paragraphs aside, of course I’ll never give up, especially in the name of “competition.” These 60,000 words are my life, and they will continue to be until I’m given a reason why they shouldn’t be. I guess one of the steps is learning what combination of delusion and reality are healthy and sustainable. And I have a feeling that Christian would agree.
M
