Hi friends,
I wanted to take a moment to say thanks for subscribing—it’s been great to hear that some of what I have to say is resonating. And since I have a few new followers, I thought I’d revisit my mission.
A big part of why I’m writing The Bookmaker’s Guide, I’ll admit, is totally selfish. I love sharing my ideas, love noodling around with sentences, love recording for posterity what it is to be a creator in America in 2019.
But my other goal is to share what I’ve learned from nearly two decades as a working creative who is also deeply committed to physical and mental health. As such, I will strive to keep the newsletter full of practical information and useful insights about craft, wellness, and overcoming creative challenges.
Occasionally, I’ll share personal experiences that are a little raw—last month, for example, I was dealing with rejection and hooooo boy, was I IN IT. I was full of fear and insecurity and, embarrassing as it was to admit that, I realized that it might help some people to hear about the foggy moments before the brightsides.
What this newsletter is not is a book about how to make it in the publishing biz or how to sell a book or proposal. If you’re looking for smart publishing insights, Kate McKean and DongWon Song of Morhaim Literary both have awesome newsletters, Agents and Books and Publishing is Hard. (While I’m at it, I’m also loving Kickstarter’s Margot Atwell’s newsletter about the business of publishing, On the Books and I’m looking forward to her upcoming event, The Next Page.)
I suspect I might one day teach a class or write about my approach to book development but, when it comes to this space, my interest is all about helping you manage the long-game. With inspiring you to create a body of work you feel proud of. With helping you approach both the art and the business of art with integrity.
With helping you keep going when you want to do anything but.
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Right now, I’m in one of those “anything but” places myself as I grapple with the fact that I might be a little further away from selling my next project than I’d hoped.
And so I thought I’d share what I’m doing to keep going.
I’m listening to feedback. I’ve always known the book I submitted to publishers was something of a slow-burn. There’s a story within a story (I’m sooo deep lol) and while both threads build to what I believe is a satisfying payoff, it takes a while to get there.
Alas, it quickly became clear to me from the rejections that… readers were’t always getting there. So I scrapped about 10,000 words from the opening chapters, wrote an entirely new beginning, then revised the whole damn thing.
I have no idea if the revised manuscript will sell, but the book is now one I can sum up simply and clearly, which is not something I could say about it a month ago.
And that feels good.
Now… should two decades in publishing have taught me to get that clarity before the submission process? Yes! But a girl’s gotta eat, and I really hoped editors would see my genius and the book’s potential and hook me up with some cash money and and and
You know what? It’s okay. I’m still learning.
I’m hanging out in bookstores. Long before I ever knew there was a publishing business, I just knew I loved books. So in an effort to reconnect with that part of myself that has never heard of publisher advances or positioning statements, I spent yesterday browsing aisles and treating myself to some books that my inner teen would have devoured.
Which brings me to number three…
I’m contemplating my J.K. Rowling moment. There is this little voice inside me—okay, it’s actually pretty loud—that often asks, “Sarah, why haven’t you finished any of those YA and middle-grade books you’ve started writing over the years?”
To that voice, I’ve always said, “UGH MOM GET OUT OF MY ROOM.”
But not today. Instead, I’m challenging myself to learn more about an industry and formula I know very little about. I know this is an exercise that will require me to step up my game but, reader, I think I’m ready for this creative pivot!
After all, did you all hear that it’s time for the return of the slacker? Well, this child of the 90’s who regularly rocks flannel over floral could not be more ready to churn out some timeless tales about ANGST.
I’m talking to my buds. Over the last month, I’ve had a lot of conversations with other creatives and asked them about how they handle challenge and rejection.
One of my friends, a successful writer, told me about selling a project some three years after finishing it.
Here’s what’s important. It wasn’t something she wrote because she knew it would sell. It was something she wrote because she had an idea that excited her and because she wanted to try her hand at a new form.
Flash forward three years later — someone was interested enough to bite.
This conversation has helped me remember that I view a creative life as a marathon, not a sprint.
Maybe no one wants to publish a new book by me today.
But, someday, I believe they will. And when they do, I’ll be ready with a huge body of work I’m proud of.
Instead of focusing on what I’m not, I’m trying to celebrate who I am. A lot of people mistakenly believe that writing commercial books is easy and writing literary books is hard.
Of course, the whole literary vs. commercial debate rests upon a overly-simplistic false binary. But for now, let’s pretend that when I say “commercial” I simply mean “plot-driven, action-focused, and/or formally conventional” and when I say “literary” I mean “prose-driven, cerebral, and/or formally experimental.”
In my experience, nothing could be further from the truth.
It’s not hard for me to write lyrical sentences or connect a million seemingly-unrelated ideas or imagine how I might use footnotes or marginalia as a literary device. That’s just how my brain works.
What IS hard for me is to simplify, stay focused, and tell a compelling story that keeps readers turning pages. I have helped many a client do it, but when it comes to my own work, I am much more drawn to the cerebral, the esoteric, the abstract.
I can write formula.
I just don’t often want to.
So while I will continue to educate myself about the basic building blocks of fiction and nonfiction that sells, I am not forgetting who I am at heart.
A daydreamer, a poet, a visionary.
Elusive, thoughtful, challenging.
Weird. But not like super obvious about it.
Yeah.
That feels right.
Bye!
Sarah