At first, writing seems the perfect job for a control freak.
* You are alone! At your desk. Making your very own world.
* These characters you’ve dreamed up jump when you say jump.
Okay, perhaps they squirm away from your outline a bit. Or they do that thing—musing about the time in high school when they almost dated that awful guy—and didn’t he have the worst clothes ever— and remember how mean his sister was to you? Yada, yada, yada.
Before Mimi spirals into full-press recitations of every man she’s ever kissed, you gotta pull her back, but for the most part, Mimi and company know who’s in charge.
Enjoy this period of writing.
Make it last.
Do not go to the next step until you have done all you can to make the greatest book you can dream up, write down, and edit to your heart’s delight. Be a revision freak. Remain the master of your universe: because next comes the part where your inner control freak might freak out.
Should you keep going? Take this simple test to determine how much you’ll enjoy getting published:
1) When I need someone to help me take an important professional step, I like to:
a) Send out endless emails and letters to complete strangers so they can judge me!
b) Conduct extensive research to identify the best 35 candidates, hoping this will ensure a good match.
c) Pick the person I want to work with based on my opinions alone.
2) After procuring an agent (see above), I want to find a publisher based on the following:
a) Whoever is willing to print my words is okay with me!
b) Working with my agent, knowing she will ultimately make the best choice.
c) Telling my agent exactly who I think will do the best by my book and then having her write a letter I’ve dictated.
3) After my book is published, my plan is:
a) Seeing that book out there is enough! I don’t care what anyone says about it as long as I can hold a copy
b) Work with my publicist with gratitude (their job is hard!), knowing that I must also work (harder than them) to get the attention of readers.
c) Have my publicist get reviews in all the major papers and follow up on every lead I suggest, and understand why and how my book is perfect for Reese. And absolutely, Terri Gross. And . . .
How did you do in your answers?
- You’re sweating too little if you checked “a” after “a.” The Universe may come through for you, but you can’t count on it. Please take a Master Class in techniques for worrying.
- If you have all “b” answers, okay. You probably have a realistic idea of how much compromise and work is ahead of you.
- If “c” appears, again and again, your future holds agita. (Or I am wrong, and you are exactly the writer who will rise like cream.)
This is what I’ve learned in the years since my first novel launched: Debuting a book is similar to taking your beloved, cherished baby to market, putting her before a crowd of judgmental strangers who’ll tell the world if she’s good or if you should perhaps try making a new and better baby.
1) As a smart agent once said at Grub Street’s Muse & the Marketplace conference: No one will care about your book as much as you do. No one. Not your mother, your husband, your wife, or your best friend.
Thus, you can’t expect anyone to work as hard as you. (Not unless many dollars have passed hands—and not always, even then.)
Lesson learned: if you want your book to get noticed, you have to be a partner in letting the world know.
2) Publishing is a long process with many people involved. Many don’t care what you want; much happens without your input. Waiting is what happens between looking for an agent and holding your beautiful book. Lesson learned: This is an excellent time to start drafting your next book. Because once you’re published, you will spend all your time promoting your book and yourself.
Leading to:
3) Everyone has an opinion. For instance, I was having a massage three months after a book launch; tension had fused my shoulders to my ears. All I wanted was an hour of unkinking.
One damn hour of peace.
My masseuse thought it was a good time to share her opinion of my character’s choices.
Lesson learned: Once your book is out there, everyone wants to tell you what they think. And they always know more than you.
You’ll likely get reviews so good you will want to send them a dozen roses, chocolates and wash their car. Lesson learned: I’ve been told this would be inappropriate and perhaps punishable under stalking laws.
Whether on Amazon or in The New York Times, you may get reviews so hurtful that you’ll want to hide in bed for a week. Lesson learned: There is a pot for every cover, but no cover fits all pots.
Catastrophes will happen: your book won’t be delivered in time for your bookstore reading; a glitch will send your Amazon page offline the day you’re on NPR, an ice storm will hit the night of your biggest event.
Blessings will rain down: readers will write emails that will warm you for days, long-lost friends will contact you with loving messages, and unexpected kindnesses will unfold at that library you’re visiting and that bookstore where you’re reading. The staff will knock themselves out for you, as your friends and family provide so much love that you think you’ll explode.
Getting to share your words with the world is a miracle. People, strangers, are reading your words. This is your dream come true.
You are the luckiest person in the world.
And, as my grandson wrote and drew at 12 (now, at 17, his work pops my eyes out):
Who can be and who can not be, is not up to others to decide. Write if you want to be a writer. Tell your story. And then publish in the place where you should be—whether it’s the biggest of the big five or the best niche in a small press, find your home.
And as you journey, remember the below words I read in Neon Literary’s Substack:
Listen to people.
If you seek attentive connection, offer it.
If you seek respect, offer it.
If you seek loyalty, offer it.
If you seek kindness, offer it.