Knock. Knock.

The most terrifying and exciting aspect of knocking on a door
is not knowing what happens next.

I’m exhausted. Honestly, with the exception of my final weeks of college, I can’t remember a time in my life I’ve ever felt this bone-weary.

I’m terrified. In the past six months I’ve watched door after door close (or never open). Except for this one.

I attended a writers’ conference in April that I couldn’t afford because of the generosity of others. I met incredible men and women who were perfectly placed in my life in that specific moment to encourage me to lift my hand one more time. And I returned with an editor wanting a proposal, an agent wanting to meet, and two-thirds of a book to rewrite.

It feels like an eternity has passed, but in reality, it’s just been shy of two months.

Most days I feel like I’ve made little progress, but in reality I’ve finished a complete re-write of a nearly 50,000 word middle grade fantasy, and I’m about to finish the most in-depth proposal I’ve ever written for both the editor and agent.

That’s why I’m shaking.

During my conference I heard from more than one editor and agent that of all the writers they request work from more than 80 percent never respond. So, I thought, for every 10 pieces they ask to see, they get maybe two?

At the time I thought such behavior was completely insane. We’re writers. No matter what stage of our career we’re in we’re working towards publication, right? Being terrified of sending out queries and proposals cold is one thing. I completely understood that, but if someone was asking to see my work…that was the dream, wasn’t it?

Seven weeks later I have a better understanding of why so many writers drop off.

Perhaps, like me, they feel moments of intense pressure to submit something so perfect the editor can’t do anything but accept it.

Perhaps, like me, they love the fact that someone is waiting to see their work, but they fear the moment they send that piece out it will be yet another door that closes, or refuses to open.

And the pressure and fear continues to build until it becomes more than they can handle.

But what about the ones who push through, despite all of that?

For me, the past several weeks have seemed so long because they’ve been so full (and not with just writing). One day blurs into the next because I’ve had to train myself to focus on one thing at a time. First by finishing my rewrite, then by turning my attention to the proposal.

I’ve come to accept there is no such thing as a perfect book or book proposal. There is only my best effort to complete something I am heart-and-soul passionate about. 

No matter what my writing resume looks like, there will always be the chance an editor or agent will say no. But if I don’t take the risk and follow through, I’m not giving them the chance to say yes, either.

And, as a friend reminded me last night when I had a momentary breakdown, if someone asks to see our work it’s because they saw in us during that brief moment our paths crossed something that intrigued them. That made them want to know more.

The question I have been asking myself every day since I got home is: Am I one of the majority who holds back? Or will I be one of the few who despite the feelings of uncertainty steps out and keeps trying?

Which is why today, like every day for the past seven weeks, I’m plopping myself into my chair and blocking out as many distractions as possible so I can finish what I started. Then I’m going to go see if this door in front of me is going to open when I knock.

How about you?

“Failure is Always an Option”

A few years back a family friend attempted to set me up with “the perfect guy for me.” On paper he sounded great. He had a good job, owned his own house, was sweet and polite, and he was looking to settle down. The one problem: He lived several hours away so meeting in person was going to be a challenge. So my friend suggested introducing us through Facebook. I didn’t have anything else going on at the time, so I agreed to a first “date” via Facebook chat and waited for “Randy’s” friend request.

Turns out Randy worked in insurance and where I was just planning on having a casual conversation, he had a list of questions he was determined to get through. I tried to answer each question thoughtfully and quickly noticed his answers were of the one word variety, which I just passed off as nervousness on his part. After our fourth or fifth conversation following the exact same format (including questions on my driving record and everything but my weight), I started wondering if he was interested in me as a person or as someone who fit his list of qualifications.

One of the questions he asked was “What is your greatest fear?” I had to think about that a minute before answering and in the years since I’ve realized it hasn’t ever really changed. My greatest fear is disappointing others; more specifically, it’s the dreaded word FAILURE.

“Do. Or Do not. There is no try.” 

For as long as I can remember I’ve been terrified of messing up. Growing up, I stuck with as many of the rules as possible because I didn’t want to reflect badly on my family (and being so uptight did cost me some simple and non-life-damaging fun). After switching my majors in college I was terrified of running into people from my science classes and my time volunteering at the hospital, because I didn’t want them to think I just couldn’t hack it in the medical field. And now as a writer, I face that fear every time I sit down at my laptop.

I turned 30 last week. My sister, wanting to do something incredibly special, got in touch with everyone I knew that she could find contact info for and, with their help, raised the money to send me to a writer’s conference in Mt. Hermon at the end of the month. It’s a conference I’ve wanted to go to, but just had no means to do so. I’d completely put the thought out of my mind, so this weekend when I opened the envelope with the airline tickets and conference registration all I could do was stare. I was touched. I was excited. And then the panic set in.

“All these people put in the money for this trip and I’m going to go and I’m not going to sell anything and I’m just going to have wasted their money and disappoint them!” was the first thought in my mind. I was (and am) incredibly grateful for this sacrificial gift but the churning in my stomach was threatening to spill over in my eyes. As my mother and future brother-in-law reminded me later on, they didn’t do this so I could sell a book, though that would be awesome! They did it because they wanted to do something special that would show me how much they love and appreciate me. The concept of Success and Failure didn’t ever cross their mind.

Insight from an iPhone App 

Late Saturday night came a “fortune” via my iPhone mahjong app: Failure is always an option.

The so-called fortunes are usually just something random and silly, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how true it is. When you allow yourself to fail, you free yourself to attempt the impossible. Yes, failing at something is disappointing, but it doesn’t have to hold the terror I give it. All failure means is that something I attempted to do didn’t turn out the way I expected it to. And I stress the word attempted.

Failure should be the least of my concerns. Doing nothing because I am too afraid to try is far worse. If I bake a cake and it falls flat I don’t throw the recipe out and resolve never to bake again. I use the experience I’ve gained and start at the beginning. Maybe I pay better attention to the directions; maybe I make a couple of new modifications. If all goes well, I have a dessert I can enjoy, if not, the birds do.

The same is true of writing. With each new draft I write, with each new story I share, I learn a little more. And as much as I hope others can one day enjoy my writing in a form other than a blog, it’s not just for others that I write. I write because it’s something I love to do. Whether my writing becomes a commercial success or commercial flop, it’s time to take FAILURE off my list of fears.

Now if I could only do the same thing with clowns….