While the title to this post could apply to many things, I'm speaking specifically to thrusting myself back into the query trenches.
That's right, once again I'm in a search for representation. It wasn't an easy decision, but I'd been having reservations about my literary agent situation for quite some time. Nothing bad or wrong, just that I wasn't getting to where I wanted to be. With the turning of the New Year, it seemed a perfect opportunity to address what I'd been sensing. Essentially, I posed a few questions to my agent about what I more I could do to make my publishing dreams a reality. His answers were many and true and honest, but when I read between the lines, I could see that hidden conclusion both of us were uttering without uttering: it would be better to part ways and move on. Maybe there are greener pastures. Maybe not. I certainly won't know until I venture out there. The darker part of my brain always whispers in these trying moments: You've wasted two years. You're a failure. You'll never make it. It's a cold voice, one I don't always recognize. Then, a moment later, I realize it's only myself speaking and I can choose to control it--even when it doesn't seem I can. The better part of my brain speaks as well: You've written more in these last two years than ever before. You know more of what you expect out of your representation after this time. If you keep trying, you'll eventually make it. That's the warm voice, the hopeful voice, and the one I want to use more often. It's a voice I hope to embody more and more, deeper and deeper into my being. Sending the missive to my agent was difficult. I didn't want to do it. I don't want to sink back into the query trenches. I never wanted to wake up daily again, feeling as if my path was unknown again (truth is, publishing is always unknown, but at least when you're signed with an agent, there's someone else with you) and dark. Sometimes, querying almost feels like warfare: daily, weekly or monthly, you're sending out queries like bullets, trying to hit a moving target head on. More often than not, you miss. But it had to be done. I could have gone on, quietly biding my time and tamping my feelings down while knowing the truth. That's when I realized it takes more courage to forge the difficult, unknown path than to stay on the same path. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. It's courageous to try something new. So here I go, carving out a new path for my career.
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AuthorI am a writer. I write. Archives
January 2021
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