Live Trying

I have spent most of my adult life trying, to various degrees, to become a published novelist, but never as much as I'm trying this year. Over the past twenty years I've written eight books, started many others, written short stories and essays, published a few of those, completed two degrees in English with emphasis in creative writing, attended and volunteered at multiple writing conferences, and participated in and started several writing groups, but up through 2016 I'd only submitted a dozen or so query letters to editors and agents. In 2017 I've sent out 106 queries so far.

In case you're not familiar with the process, here's how it works: You write a book. You revise it until it's good enough to publish. Then you find a literary agent, send a query letter introducing yourself and your book, maybe include a few sample chapters if that's what they ask for in their submission instructions, and you wait for them to respond. Ideally, the agent likes your query, asks to see the rest of the manuscript, likes the book, and agrees to represent you. Then the agent starts the process of trying to sell your book to a publisher. I've not yet gotten that to that point. So far this year I've received 48 rejection letters. The vast majority are form letters: "Thank you for submitting your query. Unfortunately, I'm not the right agent to represent your work, but the publishing industry is very subjective so keep trying!" Many agents let you know up front that if you don't hear back from them in X weeks, you should assume they aren't interested, so add to those 48 letters another 30-40 de facto rejections.

At any rate, rejection is just part of the game. If you are serious about getting published, you have to deal with rejection--lots of it. J.K. Rowling, Shannon Hale, virtually any published author will tell you stories of the numerous rejection letters they received before finding success. So as emotionally draining as this entire process is, the rejection also gives me a sense of accomplishment, like I'm paying my dues. I'm also doing my best to make it a learning experience, experimenting with different approaches and testing the waters with different books.

At the end of the day, I can't control whether agents will like my stuff and want to represent me. I can't control whether editors will want to publish my books, or whether readers will want to read them. All the things I can't control are kind of overwhelming, so instead I focus on the things I can control: I write regularly--admittedly September will be the first month this year that I hit my goal of 10 hours per week every week of the month, but I have hit the goal frequently throughout the year and even the weeks where I don't quite make it, I've written more than I would have without the goal. I submit queries regularly. I stay focused, which can be hard because the more you write the more writing ideas you have, but starting a hundred different new things without finishing anything does not get you published, so when those new ideas come I jot down notes, then get back to the project I'm working on.

Rejection is hard. Not having complete control over this thing that means so much to my sense of self is hard. Nonetheless, this year I feel better about myself--as a writer, and therefore as a person--than I ever have because I'm more focused on working toward this goal than I ever have been. I may or may not achieve my lifelong goal of becoming a published novelist, but I will live trying.

Choosing Happiness

When I blogged a month ago about learning that I can make choices to make my life happier, I didn't realize that in the following weeks, I'd be putting my money where my mouth was.

Nine years ago I completed a master's of library and information science, which was my second master's degree. My first was in English, but when I realized I wasn't making any money with my hard-earned creative writing skills I went back to school for a more practical degree. I'd been working in libraries for five years by the time I finished the MLIS program, and my plan was to settle into a long-term library career. As I was searching for a library job, though, I happened upon a part-time work-from-home opportunity as a web search evaluator. The work looked interesting and the part-time work-from-home flexibility was ideal at a time that I'd be moving to two different states within a few months and then taking care of kids while their mom started a PhD program. As it turned out, I loved the work--I got to look at random web pages all day, see what people were searching for online, and work at whatever time of day I found convenient. Best of all for an introvert like me, I didn't have to go anywhere, which meant I didn't have to talk to anyone.

A year later, my then-wife decided the PhD program wasn't for her, so I let my project manager know I'd be leaving as soon as I found full-time work--presumably at a library. The PM didn't want to lose me, so she recommended me for a full-time lead position. I was happy to continue working for the company, as I enjoyed the work and they were treating me well. A few months later I was promoted to associate project manager. A year after that, project manager. A couple years later, senior project manager. Then, three years ago I was promoted to director. Throughout it all I continued to enjoy the work we did--it's fun to be at the cutting edge of machine learning technology--and it's been a really great company to work for.

But.

But last year I stopped and said, "Wait, how did I end up in management?" As much as I like the people I work with and the stuff we're doing, human interaction stresses me out, and managing relationships had become like 90% of my job. This realization was a large part of my impetus to re-focus on writing this year. I was going to return to my original dream of being an author, and once I had just enough of a writing income to supplement my husband's full-time salary, I could move out of the management career I'd fallen into. It was a long-term exit strategy, likely years out, but I was okay with that. After all, I wasn't miserable; I just didn't particularly enjoy much of what I was doing.

My role model when I was the boss.

And then I wrote that blog post about making happy choices last month, reassessed my life choices, and realized how much managing people was stressing me out, and decided I needed a more immediate exit strategy. Unfortunately, I had no idea what that was. Would I go back to libraries? It would have to be just the right job--nearby, and light on talking to people. Who knew how soon that ideal library job would open up?

Within days of deciding I needed something different, I was interviewing candidates for an instructional designer position, and suddenly I knew what I wanted to do. As an instructional designer, I wouldn't have to manage people. My English degrees, my teaching experience, and my nine years of subject matter expertise all made me a pretty good candidate to design e-learning modules for our employees and contractors. It would be like teaching, which I enjoy, but without having to talk to students, which was my least favorite part of teaching. And best of all, it would be an opportunity for me to be creative, which is my lifeblood. So I talked to my boss, who agreed I'd make an excellent instructional designer and was happy to get me into a role where I'd be happier (this really is a great company), and badabing badaboom, now I'm an instructional designer. It's a bit of a pay cut but it's worth it to be doing something I wholeheartedly enjoy.

I'm incredibly fortunate to be in a place where I could afford to take that pay cut, and working for a company willing to move me into a position better suited to me. I don't pretend that happiness is a simple matter of making good choices, because some people don't have any good choices available to them. But within whatever limitations life gives you, whatever range of choices you have available, why not make the one that makes you happiest? At the end of the day, that's what life is all about.