Thank you so much for this reminder to do it for the sake of doing it, nothing more. After a gazillion MSs and many, many queries, I've been wondering why I'm even bothering writing yet another one. And I guess the answer is: because I can, and because I want to.
I had this same feeling right before I got my agent. I was like, "well, here I go again, writing another book no one will read. This is depressing." It was pretty hard to find the gumption. And yet, I knew writing is one of the things that makes me who I am, and I knew if I stopped doing it forever I wouldn't be happy, so I began writing a new novel. What I'm saying is: I see you, Wendy! And hey, you can and you want to -- that's a pretty good reason.
This makes perfect sense! Thank you, Eva. I have been feeling sad about all the hope and love and work and learning that have gone into my writing and then just--nothing amazing coming of it. Not getting an agent... well, all of it. I get it though. Despite the fact that the world hasn’t “discovered” my manuscripts, I still fed my soul creating them. I can get up another day and just breathe, and write, and live. Thanks for the encouragement!
Thanks, and I'm glad this helped. Not that this I want to make it sound like any of this is easy! It's not easy to put your heart and soul into something and get very little, if any, validation or positive feedback. It can be crazy-making! But that's why I'm glad we have communities of writers on substack and elsewhere -- nice to know you're not the only one having these feelings and experiences!
Nice essay Eva! First part was funny. You are right about the writing, but for the publishing part... Well self publishing is just too easy now! No publisher? No agent? No problem! 😁😆😂
Thanks, Eva, for sharing your travails. I hope one day to be at the stage that I need an agent. My nine years of trying to make sense of my writing efforts are getting weary.
Thank you so much for this reminder to do it for the sake of doing it, nothing more. After a gazillion MSs and many, many queries, I've been wondering why I'm even bothering writing yet another one. And I guess the answer is: because I can, and because I want to.
I had this same feeling right before I got my agent. I was like, "well, here I go again, writing another book no one will read. This is depressing." It was pretty hard to find the gumption. And yet, I knew writing is one of the things that makes me who I am, and I knew if I stopped doing it forever I wouldn't be happy, so I began writing a new novel. What I'm saying is: I see you, Wendy! And hey, you can and you want to -- that's a pretty good reason.
I really needed this encouragement today!
This makes perfect sense! Thank you, Eva. I have been feeling sad about all the hope and love and work and learning that have gone into my writing and then just--nothing amazing coming of it. Not getting an agent... well, all of it. I get it though. Despite the fact that the world hasn’t “discovered” my manuscripts, I still fed my soul creating them. I can get up another day and just breathe, and write, and live. Thanks for the encouragement!
Thanks, and I'm glad this helped. Not that this I want to make it sound like any of this is easy! It's not easy to put your heart and soul into something and get very little, if any, validation or positive feedback. It can be crazy-making! But that's why I'm glad we have communities of writers on substack and elsewhere -- nice to know you're not the only one having these feelings and experiences!
Exactly. I need to reach out more.
EVA!!!!!!! This made my day. Thank you for being YOU!
Aww! Thanks!
Nice essay Eva! First part was funny. You are right about the writing, but for the publishing part... Well self publishing is just too easy now! No publisher? No agent? No problem! 😁😆😂
Nice to know we are not living in the void! Thanks for your companionship as we muddle about in the dark. :)
Thanks! Yep, it's true. We're all just figuring it out as we go along!
Thanks, Eva, for sharing your travails. I hope one day to be at the stage that I need an agent. My nine years of trying to make sense of my writing efforts are getting weary.