Why You Will Not See a Book From Me This Year
Many of you know – and even if you don’t know, you probably won’t be surprised to learn – that I have been working on a book for the past year. It was an anthology of essays about how modern women maintain their independence in modern relationships. It was meant to dispel stereotypes of the nagging wife and the wife-as-homemaker as well as to give young women many examples of how modern women are making it work in their relationships. I had lots of awesome writers, from up-and-coming essayists to New York Times bestselling authors. Their viewpoints were all as different as they were. I felt like this book could finally give young, newly partnered women a space to breathe because they could finally see that they don’t have to conform to the standards of our parents’ generation, or the standards of feminism, or the standards the media sets out for us.
Sounds great, right? It was.
But I had to give it up.
I ran into a few snags that I just don’t have the time and energy to overcome. Authors withdrawing or not submitting their essays, an agent who wanted the entire thing to read like a novel without much analysis and who sent me on a wild goose chase to get x-number of “big names” as if there was some sort of magic ratio for these sorts of things (I don’t think there is), and finally an awesome, female-run publishing house that operates on a semi-self-publishing model that would have been perfect had I not just bought a house, rendering the cost of semi-self-publishing prohibitive. Finally, I need to reduce my stress level, and this, as you can imagine, was very stressful.
I grew up with the one and only dream of being a writer and publishing books. I wrote to authors and they wrote me back with the advice you might expect they give 12-year-old budding writers: Read. Write every day. Experience life so you have something to write about. It was inspirational that authors would take the time to write to me. Now, I’m surrounded by stellar writers almost on a daily basis, and they give me the same advice. Read. Write every day. Experience life. And I’m still inspired. I dreamed of a publishing house seeing my work and not wanting to pass up on its merits. I dreamed of Hemingway-style publishing success stories. You work hard, you make the connections, they can’t pass up your cutting-edge idea.
But that’s not how it seems to work anymore. With nonfiction, no longer are cutting-edge ideas enough to publish a book. You need a huge platform. You need previous successes. You need a way to market your own book. More and more, publishing houses are relying on the merit of the authors themselves, not necessarily the books they publish, to carry the book into skyrocketing sales. And it’s all about sales, not about ideas. Not about great writing. It’s about what they think will sell. And it saddens me greatly that the only way a great press, who is focused on the ideas of women and their unique voices, can operate is with the financial backing of the authors themselves, because otherwise the house might not make enough money based on the sale of those books themselves.
It’s like I told my husband the other day. I’m that kid that grew up idolizing Michael Jordan, only to realize once I was older, that he was actually a scumbag, and so were the rest of the NBA players. Money-driven and not much else. The love of the game is gone once money enters the picture. It’s all about the paycheck. I know; I’ve seen Jerry Maguire.
I’m not saying publishers are scumbags. Please don’t misquote me. But the idealism of a child growing up with shelves upon shelves of books, hoping one day to see her name among them is quickly squashed when she realizes that the overwhelming reason most of these books get published is to make money.
So what is that child-turned-woman to do?
I know lots of similar people who stuck with it, and I’m so glad they did. They’ve produced wonderful books that I’ve been privileged to read. I, however, decided to walk away for now.
I somehow got it into my head that I had to do all of these things before I turned 30, or before I decided to have kids. I somehow got it into my head that, if I didn’t have a book deal, I wasn’t a true writer. I somehow got it into my head that I wouldn’t be successful if I didn’t have a book to prove I’d done something worthwhile.
Except then I realized that life doesn’t, in fact, end when you turn 30, or even when you have kids. And I realized that, if this blog, my work at GAB and Care2, my list of work published on other sites isn’t proof of being a writer, what is? And I looked back on notes my students wrote me at the end of the school year. “Thank you for having such an impact on my life.” “Thank you for teaching me that bullies don’t carry the weight I think they do.” “Sophomore year was awkward and awful, just like you said it would be, but being able to come to your class for an hour a day was a relief.”
All of these things I’ve done? All of this writing and activism and teaching and their intersection?
This is worthwhile. This is an accomplishment.
Then it hit me. Writing isn’t a profession. It’s a way of life. It’s a way of seeing the world and analyzing what is in front of you. It’s a philosophy of life and teaching. It’s more than a book; it’s a lifestyle. And I’m living it.
And I don’t need a book to prove that. I’ve already got the proof I need.
Photo Credit: shutterhacks
Same dream here. You are brave to try independent publishing for the very reasons you mentioned. I have focused on trying to publish in academic journals, and then, when I get through my Master’s and Ph.D. and become a full-time professor, I would hope to publish via my university’s press, etc. That’s how I’ve re-shaped my writing goal…for now. 🙂
Thanks, Amy. I wish you all the luck with your publishing endeavors, and if you ever want to hear the unabridged version of my escapades, let me know.
I think the hardest and best life lesson is when to say enough, at least for now. Though I could definitely use some of your drive.
Stephanie – So true. But definitely necessary, I think.
As an aspiring writer, this is so disheartening to read. But you never know what the future holds! Don’t give up a dream 🙂 Your book proposal sounds amazing- I just read Betty Friedan’s Feminine Mystique earlier this summer and I’ve been so intrigued by this topic! It’s timely and on the mind of most of my feminist conscious college friends as well.
Danielle – Please don’t be disheartened! That wasn’t my intention at all, though it is important to know that writing and publishing a book is HARD. I made a personal choice and felt the need to justify it, that’s all! Keep fighting the good fight.
Sorry to hear your struggles. The part I identify with is ‘life doesn’t end when you are 30’. I don’t have an actual list, but I do have all these ideas in my head. During the last couple of weeks I have decided that any ‘before 30’ list is kind of silly: I’ll have my whole life to work on goals. If you think about it, it is kind of frightening to think about turning 30 and having accomplished everything. What to do with the next 50 years of your life? So I’ve decided it’s not important where I am when I turn 30. It’s not important what I have accomplished. It is as you (beautifully) say: “It’s a way of life. It’s a way of seeing the world and analyzing what is in front of you. It’s a philosophy of life and teaching. It’s more than a book; it’s a lifestyle. And I’m living it.” YES!
Enjoy your vacation!
Hannah – Thanks for the kind words and understanding. It means a lot!
I read your post on 30 before 30 today. I like your list, especially that the really big goals are balanced with more easy to do goals (visit Ireland vs. clean out the guest room). My list would be full with really big life stuff. It’s great to have small and attainable goals. I’m going to think about that!
Hannah-
I may have mostly included smaller goals because I needed to get to 30 and was struggling to come up with stuff. 😉 I also really like checking stuff off lists, so lots of times I put something on the list that’s almost done so I can check it off.
That said, I think small goals are important. A list of entirely huge goals seems almost too daunting, and definitely a list for your entire life, not just before 30. Just my two cents.
Ashley, I regret that I am one of those people who failed to submit on time, and for my part in your stress level I am very sorry.
I relate to this post on every level, in every cell of my being. I entered the proposal-go-round about two years ago, and I bumped up against the very obstacles you mention here. At the start, I was prepared for people to not love my work. As professional writers, the first thing we learn is to separate ourselves from our writing. A rejection of an essay or a manuscript is not a rejection of US, as people.
But the platform-focused, celebrity-focused, most decidedly NOT writing-focused publishing environment you describe (which is 100% accurate for any of your readers who aren’t familiar with the process) starts to screw with your mind. You ARE the one being rejected, in the end, not the work! I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown until I decided to opt out of the whole game and go with a teeny-tiny micro publisher–basically a fellow mom writer/editor who’s working out of her California house (FFI: http://www.medusasmuse.com). We decided to embrace the futility of publishing good writing together!
I know you’ll put out a book–a great book!–when you’re ready.
Shannon-
Don’t worry about your essay. I was really lax about communicating towards the end there; I think I was just really overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. And then I realized I did know what to do and I did it.
I am SO GLAD it wasn’t just me having these experiences (though it sucks that you did!). I honestly thought the book wasn’t good enough or I wasn’t well-connected enough or whatever. Turns out it was none of those things; it was just a game I couldn’t figure out how to play. I absolutely loved my dealings with the self-publishing press and really wanted to work with them, but just can’t afford it at this time. I suppose that’s the way it goes. Someday.