One of my Facebook favorite groups is the KIDLIT411, hosted
by Sylvia Liu and Elaine Kiely Kearns. They also put out a weekly 411
newsletter that covers relevant industry topics. The group boasts a hefty 18K
membership, including many professionals in the publishing industry, so the discussions
run the gamut. And while the focus is on all things related to children’s
literature, from board books to young adult, the discussions could be applied
to any writer working in any genre from children’s books to adult.
One of the most asked questions in the group is “what
happens next”? Whether it’s a follow-up question after the first book is
written, or the first chapter. Or how to
start your novel. Whether it’s about the querying process or about the value of
comps. About characters or plots. Or illustrations and cover-art. Whether it’s
about writing to trends or looking for recommendations or offering warnings
about the newest scams. How many
rejections must one receive before giving up?
“What happens next” is at once a confrontation with change,
fear of that change, and a worry that it won’t ever change. It’s at once an ask for hope and a cry for
help.
You’ll remember I asked this question not long ago, what happens next?
I’ve been teaching forty years. FORTY years. I've taught at
high school afterschool programs community college, university and graduate
schools. Sometimes at the same time! Forty years is a long time. Last summer I made plans to finally move
on. Well, at the beginning of this summer, I began to put those plans into
action. I turned in my notice at a
community college, after teaching there for 25 years. Being an adjunct, all
this means is filling out a form for no more contracts. No fanfare, no
benefits. And, just as this summer ends, I filled out the forms for this MFA,
telling them I can’t accept any more contracts.
So, what happens next?
Being an old duck has taught me two things. 1. I can’t
control what’s beyond my control. 2. All I can do is waddle forward.
As the Doctor once told us (Doctor whooo, you ask?) Life
depends on change and renewal. All you can do is regenerate.
Because I have
several books under my belt, I’m what they used to call a mid-lister. All of my
books have earned out. A few won some hefty awards. But the last book was
published over a decade ago, so I’m not sure if a mid-lister label still holds.
None of that matters in my current
pursuit of a contract. And, as it happens, I’m also in search of a new agent. I've
had four agents already, so one would think I’d get this right after all this
time. And agents are more selective than ever in large part because the pool is
bigger to choose from.
So what happens next?
I keep waddling.
I have no expectations now that I’ll receive another
contract. But I have every confidence that my current project will be the best
book I’ve ever written. I am reminded of Elizabeth Gilbert’s (Eat Pray Love) on
receiving rejections, “Whenever I got those rejection letters, then, I would
permit my ego to say aloud to whoever had signed it: “You think you can scare
me off? I’ve got another eighty years to wear you down! There are people who
haven’t even been born yet who are gonna reject me someday—that’s how long I
plan to stick around.”
(Not sure I'll last another 80 years, though!)
But tis the season of regeneration! This is just a reset. It’s not the end of
something, but a new beginning!
You remember what the Doctor said…
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