I recently celebrated my one-year querying anniversary. Which is to say that I posted a slightly self-deprecating Instagram story and heaved a very deep sigh.
I’ve written at length about my first experience in the query trenches (Like HERE and HERE), and my decision to withdraw remaining manuscript submissions and rewrite that book completely. I’m about 30% through my rewrite, and while I don’t know if this new, completely different version will fare better, the experience of delving back into the world and characters I loved so much and creating a new story has been invigorating and inspiring.
In the meantime, I’m back in the trenches, querying my second book, and things have been slow. A handful of manuscript requests, a slightly more significant handful of rejections. More than 70% of the agents I’ve queried have yet to respond. In a way it’s easier this time—I know what to expect, I understand the industry better, I know that I can go through an intense season of rejection and still keep writing. In another sense, it’s harder the second time around. Knowing what to expect makes it harder to be hopeful, and without hope, things can quickly go from “Why not me?” to “Probably not me.”
I posted the following poem on Instagram last week—perhaps less of a poem and more of a collection of random middle of the night thoughts jotted into my notes app.
I’ve been writing poems in my head lately, letting them instantly evaporate like the steam from my kettle, only for me to breathe them back in.
I have so much to say, but my words are “not the right fit at this time.” They are “not resonating as much as you’d hoped” and also “not giving you that must-have feeling you’d need to champion them” and honestly, I get it. I tuck each rejection into a folder labelled “future podcast anecdotes” and imagine myself pulling them out in an unknowable number of years.
In the meantime, I carry the word “subjective” around like a flimsy umbrella in a tropical storm. It almost makes things worse, but I’m already drenched, so what the hell. At least it’s something to hold on to.
It’s a bit much, I know. But I’ve learned that most querying writers experience these intense feelings of discouragement at some point, and being open about how shitty it can be makes others feel less alone.
I received a flood of messages and comments from other writers when I shared those words. Everything from “Me too” to “Been there” to, and this is a direct quote, “You’re a hot ass bitch brimming with talent”—love ya, CW!
When I shared my mildly depressing Instagram story about my one-year querying anniversary, my DMs were similarly filled with funny, encouraging messages and voice notes cheering me on.
Because, and this is my point here: Writers. Show. Up.
And not just for the hard stuff. We celebrate the wins just as fiercely as we rush to commiserate about the losses. In the past few months, I’ve had the distinct joy of cheering on writer friends who have crushed word count goals, finished manuscripts, received manuscript requests, signed with agents and sold their debuts. These same writers have shown up for me in similar ways.
Let’s be honest, regardless of the industry, it can feel gutting to be endlessly rejected by gatekeepers while people around you get their “yes.” Regardless of how positive and effervescent any mere mortal aspires to be, it’s normal to sometimes feel a pang of when will it be my turn?
But two things can be true, and I’ve learned to make space in my heart for those very real feelings without letting them put a damper on the absolute thrill of watching fellow writers succeed.
Regardless of what the coming months and years hold for me on this sometimes (often) soul-crushing journey to publication, I know my community of writer friends is on standby, ready to jump in with confetti or virtual hugs as needed, just as I am for them.
Remember that episode of The Office, where Michael and Erin prepare “good news” and “bad news” boxes in anticipation of finding out whether the love of Michael’s life, Holly, is engaged to someone else? (Champagne—Happy. Sponge—Sad, to soak up my tears. Gummy bears—Sad. Gummy worms—Happy. Come on, Erin!)
It’s kind of like that. Pretty much nothing is guaranteed in publishing, except for maybe this: You will definitely need both of these boxes, multiple times, for the duration of your career. And perhaps the greatest, most unexpected gift to come out of this experience so far has been an incredible community of writers in my corner, fully stocked with both gummy worms and gummy bears.
While drafting this essay, I received two query replies—a rejection and a manuscript request. So, I guess I’ll have one of each.
Current Obsessions:
READING: Lately, I’ve been reading books written by people I know, and it’s been an absolute delight. I have many books on this list, but most recently I enjoyed reading BURLINGTON by Heather Dixon and NOT HOW I PICTURED IT by Robin Lefler, both of whom I met at the Toronto Area Women Authors gatherings. It’s so very cool to read a book knowing your pal wrote it, and I’m hoping to make at least one of my monthly reads a book by an author I know.
FOOD: I can’t stop thinking about the Vegan Egg Roll In A Bowl that I made for the first time yesterday. It was so good, and I already want to make it again.
I will forever be in your DMs and send you too long voice memos :)
10 out of 10! And so relatable!