The next thing

Ever since two of my books went on submission to publishers, I have felt like I was holding my breath. I knew nothing would probably happen right away. But I still checked my email five times a day. After the first full manuscript requests, I could barely think.

Weeks passed. Months passed. When I checked the Google sheet my agent set up, I could see some rejections with comments. More submissions went out. Those full manuscripts were still out there.

A year passed. Everyone who’s been through this tells you that you should be working on your next thing. Forget about submissions. You can’t control editors and acquisition meetings. Focus on your writing. I completed a new book and took it to my critique group.

In the back of my mind, I kept telling myself I needed to keep my writing time open. When my book was sold, there would be new rounds of revisions. I would be too busy to write anything new. With my mind reeling with possibilities for my debut book, it was hard to generate any new ideas.

More months passed. Maybe my books out on submission would end up dead. I needed to work on the next thing. Before I signed with an agent, I had more patience with the traditional publishing process. It took me six books to land my agent. Somehow, I had mistakenly thought that mean my publishing dream was nearing reality.

Another month passed. Finally, I released my illusion of control over my books. New ideas are flowing. When I lose myself in my newest project, I find myself again.

A creator must create. A writer must write. And no matter what happens, I move on to the next thing.

March 14, 2025 0

When rejection becomes inspiration

When I read the comments from an editor I respected and met during a writing retreat, I should have been discouraged. She agreed to read the full manuscript. I had high hopes. But when I opened the spreadsheet from my agent with all our submissions listed, the line with that editor was highlighted in red.

Rejected. But she gave lots of great feedback that threw light on misgivings I’d had about the story. And she was kind, acknowledging my zeal for the subject matter and my personal connection to the plot.

Suddenly, I was energized. I started back at the beginning of the story and cut out the first chapter. I smoothed out awkward dialogue and shortened description. I went deeper into my MC’s thoughts and emotions.

It’s going to take a while for me to get through the whole book, but I’m committed. Even though this is my fifth time editing it, the story is worth it. It was worth a rejection with an explanation, something I rarely get these days.

Creating a book is a collaborative effort. A rejection can sometimes be the catalyst I need.

January 24, 2025 1

On submission

When your precious children, birthed after years of tears and struggle {otherwise known as your unpublished manuscripts), are out on submission, it feels like you’re in a nightmare. You know the one that cycles over and over again. Every time you reach for the exit door, it opens into darkness. Cruel laughter taunts you. Who do you think you are? You can’t even write a clever Instagram caption.

For years, I knocked on agents’ Querytracker doors, attended writers conferences, and scrolled through MSWL. If I had a literary agent, they would champion my books to editors and escort me through the publishing process. Within months, I would be able to walk into a bookstore and secretly sign copies of my book on their shelf. Kids would cheer me at my school assemblies when I talked about the joys of creating stories.

“I only need one yes.”

That was my whispered prayer when rejection after rejection hit my inbox. Then five books later, when I had almost given up, I got a phone call. And a Microsoft Teams video meeting.

Tia became my agent. After a few rounds of cleanup edits, we started the waiting game again.

“We only need one yes.”

First we sent out my MG novel. A couple of editors wanted to read it. More rejections. The MG market was soft. Then Tia and I revised my YA novel and sent it out. A few editors wanted to read it. More rejections.

“We only need one yes.” But the waiting is a nightmare. Even though I’m working on new projects, there is a certain space in the back of my mind where I hope for the yes. And worry about the no.

Maybe you’re like me, trying to launch your writing career. No matter where you are on your journey, keep pushing forward.

You only need one yes.

November 15, 2024 0

The Rebel Mind

“You can’t make me!” This is the battle cry of children of all ages when confronted with brussel sprouts or taking a bath or cleaning up their rooms. Parents clench their teeth and use their superior logic to force compliance. The brussel sprout disappears into a napkin, and the adult enjoys a false victory. But the rebel never ceases to find opportunity to object against anything that is required of her.

Then adulthood changes everything. The rebel discovers no ones cares if she stays out until dawn. No one makes her wash the tower of dishes in the sink. No one forces her to make her bed before company comes over. This absence of tension confuses the rebel who enjoys conflict. The quiet voice of responsibility is no substitute for loud voices and slammed doors.

The rebel is driven outward to find a cause. If her apartment building forbids pit bulls, she has to have one. If the parking sign says 20 minutes, she leaves her car there for hours. Of course she smokes even though it will probably kill her. She loves to jaywalk and jump over “Do Not Walk on the Grass” signs. Speed limits and traffic lights are for submissive slaves, not her. Instinctively she finds ways to rebel against the parents that no longer lurk over her shoulder.

The only parent the rebel must still contend with is Her Creator. As a child, she readily accepted that God made her and loved her. Some of His rules, like not murdering or stealing, sounded good. When she was caught in rebellion, it was a comfort to know He forgave her. But a moral life? Too restrictive. Instead she went her own way, doing what seemed good to her. What made her happy.

Years later, the rebel is alone. Her selfishness cost her everything. As her best plans collapsed in ruins, she knows there is only one person to whom she can turn. Entering the church building she has scorned for most of her life, she brings her white flag to the altar.

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July 8, 2015 0