I love reading. If you want proof, look here:
Books I’ve Read in 2007. This document gets updated every time I finish a new book (provided I REMEMBER to add it when I’m done reading) so check back often.
Today, I found out that Laurie Halse Anderson is going to be practically down the street from me on March 25th. Guess where I will be camping out that day? With my camera, for sure. I’ll ask her to send me some “best-selling author” mojo.
Right now, I am reading brentsbrain‘s Split Screen, which just came out. I read the first screen, I will probably start on screen two at lunch. I just finished My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult and OH MY GOD. I ALMOST lost it, but managed to keep it together. But wow. I recommend that book to EVERYONE.
And just so you know, I’ve regained my joy of writing. I’ve finally let CRUSH go, I’ve let ONLY YOURS go, definitely let BECOMING ME go, but that doesn’t mean I won’t use them for parts. There are brilliant moments in both of those books, so I plan to use them to pad current and future projects. I wish I was at home and writing now.
I guess that’s all for now. Time to eat. See ya!
Went to a Children’s Literature Conference yesterday.
Got encouraged again. Some of those authors submitted upwards of ten books before making their first sale.
I’m only 0 for 1. There’s still time. And hope.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
– Langston Hughes
Got an email from my agent. Only Yours has officially been rejected by every publisher. Every single one.
A year of submissions. A year of roller coaster emotions, wild hope, then hopelessness. Who wants to read about an REAL Christian girl with REAL struggles who may or may not make the right choices in the end? Certainly not the Christians. And certainly not the non-Christians. No audience. No sale. Another book, pushed, no SHOVED, maybe even kicked, under the proverbial bed.
On the one hand, I want to get back on that horse and show them. On the other hand, the odds against me seem almost insurmountable.
Right now I feel so many emotions. Sad, relieved, determined, tired. Nothing I can actually describe.
I’m sure the tears will come at 2am, when I’m wide awake, thinking of how much of a failure I am.
I know what you’re going to say. You’re not a failure. You’re going to make it. You have to keep trying. Keep believing. Keep focusing. JUST DO IT.
My dream is officially deferred.
Now what will become of it? Of me?
I’m learning to be proud of the small accomplishments. Okay, maybe I can’t do thousands of words in one day, but should I really be upset with myself if I just do 100 words? Or how about if I do no words at all, but instead, I sit around, watching movies, or reading book after book, trying to absorb what these authors and writers do, learning the craft, internalizing it, making it part of my blood?
At least once a week I tell myself I’m done. I’m giving up. The odds are too high, and I’m just not special enough.
But why do I keep wriitng down ideas? Why do I keep trying?
What does this mean?
False starts. “Crapters.” Thousands of words deleted–or actually, moved to the “Someday Maybe” folder. It’s so easy to beat myself up when I keep focusing on those things, instead of when the magic finally hits and a book is born. It’s easy, when in the throes of writing, to forget about all the false starts and throwaways.
But I’m learning now, to focus on the small things. I’m not going to be one of those people who can churn out masterpieces in two weeks. Therefore, I may never make a living selling books. But I have to stop comparing myself, forcing myself, hurting myself.
And I have to focus on those small victories. Else, I really WILL give up.
P.S. Everyone’s comments have been amazing! I didn’t realize people were still reading this journal until recently. Thank YOU for not giving up on me.
I want to write books so badly!
Then I sit down, and I choke.
I hate this.