Each time I make a post like this I feel like I've only just done one. Recently I've been torn up over what my purpose in life is. I'm watching my sister be successful, plan a future family; she'll graduate university. I'm watching my friends plan good futures in current jobs or using impending degrees. As I'm currently not working nor in education, my mind constantly begs the question. What is going on in my life? What's my purpose? What mark do I want to make?
My best friend reminded me the other day that I don't sit at my laptop for hours a day, writing line after line, chapter after chapter, forming manuscripts, to wonder what my purpose is. Writing, I think, is my purpose. Whilst I have some technicality issues, I'm a good writer. In this current age of society, there's so much pressure on going out to work 40+ hours a week, maintaining a thriving social life as well as family life. That's the norm. Not for me. I thought it was. For a while it started to be.
I might not go to work for 40+ hours a week but I sit at my desk and I write for potentially more hours. I work towards each book goal, setting my own checkpoints. My purpose is to write books that will change people. My purpose is to create stories that make people feel more seen, a little less alone, to accept who they are no matter the fights they go through.
So where am I at with writing?
A few months ago, I didn't shut up about self-publishing. I talked about a book called SAVING PAIGES. I got a book cover draft, hired an editor, wrote like hell, and submitted the manuscript. I chose this because I needed something to happen for me in my life in the direction of my dream career. I wanted a book out in the world, no matter the means. I was naive, though. I largely underestimated how much work would be required to self-publish. After that first submission, I rewrote SAVING PAIGES, then I completely scrapped that storyline, came up with something new and called it WHO WE ARE. That also had to be tweaked. In January, I went to Ambleside, the home town of my main character in WHO WE ARE. I explored, I laughed, I felt peaceful. I found a new angle to tell the story from.
In February, on a whim, I queried an agent with another story. For the first time in five years of querying with different manuscripts, I got a full manuscript request. Except I hadn't expected anything to come of my querying--wrong. I wrote a 56,000 word story in two weeks, then edited, then submitted. Now, in April, after working on yet another manuscript, I think I'm ready to return to WHO WE ARE.
For me, each manuscript comes from a different headspace. WHO WE ARE was born from a bad headspace in regards to an old friend, then expanded into a healthier headspace. The story I submitted to the agent mentioned above came from another headspace. Trying to switch back is hard. It takes work; it means accepting going back into the past to reclaim where I was at that point, remembering why I wanted to write that particular story at that particular time. I'm not completely closing myself off to self-publishing; I want all the opportunities I can get. Traditional publishing is a hard industry to break into. You never know what agents specifically want; the market constantly changes, switching to appease a constantly-changing society. I'm still considering every angle but sometimes it comes down to this: after the past few months I've realised a lot of support isn't there where I thought it would be. People are quick to offer support when they don't have to do anything. When it involves them needing to pay money to buy my future book to give me that support, they disappear. It makes me feel audacious to even ask anyone to buy any book I may have in the future because when I've needed support these past few weeks/months, my friends are sparse.
I don't know where I'll go from here but I'll keep writing, keep believing, keep hoping that one day I'll have my own book in my hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment