I loved that essay on learning to ride a bike. Thanks for sharing. I know it must be hard writing a novel and not having a place for that to go after the writing. I have to agree with others here that it's amazing you have done the work and written the novels. I have so many novels in my mind that I want to write, and I'm afraid to even start. Writing the novel is an amazing accomplishment, and I am sure the next wave of creativity will find you.
When I’m going through a period like you’ve described I try to keep in mind the alchemists (metaphorically). To turn lead into gold, you have to start with lead.
Thanks for opening up and sharing so openly on this topic, Chrissy. I feel all of it deeply!
It has been over a year since I've pitched a book or received "an infuriatingly polite yet impersonal letter of rejection" (so perfectly said 😂). Instead, I've been fully immersed in creation mode, writing a new story that's not yet been subject to criticism.
Though it feels mostly blissful, there's still that nagging fear that nobody will care, that all of my work and vulnerability will have been for nothing, and that I'll ultimately get to a point when I feel like it's no longer worth it to keep trying.
I think you're so wise in listening to your intuition, taking a break, and filling your creative cup in other ways.
Plus, as I love being reminded when I read your newsletter, we always have snacks, and snacks never let us down.
I'm sorry to hear about your novel. But you did the work and tried and that's huge! I have always let the fear of rejection keep me from actually finishing a project and sending it out into the world, so kudos to you for. taking that leap of faith. There will be more leaps.
My wife just went through a few months of receiving wave after wave of rejections for her novel (also sent out last June!) from all the major publishers. It's so hard. She's in a similar place of figuring out how to proceed, so I know very well—having seen it up close–how hard this is.
Wishing you all the best as you launch into what's next, in whatever time that takes.
Feeling all the feelings for you as you navigate this space. I admire your dedication to your writing but also your dedication to figuring out you and the role writing plays. 😘
Chrissy, in the spirit of So Relatable, I deeply relate to this ambivalence. I wrote in my Substack last week of my experience a few weeks ago of the joy of having my novel-on-submssion accepted by a publisher at long last. Then days later, having that offer rescinded without explanation. It was crushing and makes me question the value of continuing to seek publication. Even bothering to write at all. I am not working on a new project for myriad reasons, but I feel that absence in my core. Right now it's my time to listen and reflect and be creatively still- I think I'll know when it's time to return to the page. Thank you for your lovely, vulnerable reflections.
Wishing you peace in the murk of what comes next. And I am so sorry for the sting of rejections. My mom always said when I felt this way I was growing. It made me very angry to hear it, and didn’t particularly help in the moment. But once I’d compounded many of those moments I began to recognize it, because she was right, dammit. I still wanted to gnaw my arm off—or hers— but I know that itch now, still hate it, but am always surprised and excited for what I discover on the other side. You’ve got this.
I loved that essay on learning to ride a bike. Thanks for sharing. I know it must be hard writing a novel and not having a place for that to go after the writing. I have to agree with others here that it's amazing you have done the work and written the novels. I have so many novels in my mind that I want to write, and I'm afraid to even start. Writing the novel is an amazing accomplishment, and I am sure the next wave of creativity will find you.
When I’m going through a period like you’ve described I try to keep in mind the alchemists (metaphorically). To turn lead into gold, you have to start with lead.
Thanks for opening up and sharing so openly on this topic, Chrissy. I feel all of it deeply!
It has been over a year since I've pitched a book or received "an infuriatingly polite yet impersonal letter of rejection" (so perfectly said 😂). Instead, I've been fully immersed in creation mode, writing a new story that's not yet been subject to criticism.
Though it feels mostly blissful, there's still that nagging fear that nobody will care, that all of my work and vulnerability will have been for nothing, and that I'll ultimately get to a point when I feel like it's no longer worth it to keep trying.
I think you're so wise in listening to your intuition, taking a break, and filling your creative cup in other ways.
Plus, as I love being reminded when I read your newsletter, we always have snacks, and snacks never let us down.
I'm sorry to hear about your novel. But you did the work and tried and that's huge! I have always let the fear of rejection keep me from actually finishing a project and sending it out into the world, so kudos to you for. taking that leap of faith. There will be more leaps.
Always rooting for you and your books. Always always always.
My wife just went through a few months of receiving wave after wave of rejections for her novel (also sent out last June!) from all the major publishers. It's so hard. She's in a similar place of figuring out how to proceed, so I know very well—having seen it up close–how hard this is.
Wishing you all the best as you launch into what's next, in whatever time that takes.
Feeling all the feelings for you as you navigate this space. I admire your dedication to your writing but also your dedication to figuring out you and the role writing plays. 😘
Chrissy, in the spirit of So Relatable, I deeply relate to this ambivalence. I wrote in my Substack last week of my experience a few weeks ago of the joy of having my novel-on-submssion accepted by a publisher at long last. Then days later, having that offer rescinded without explanation. It was crushing and makes me question the value of continuing to seek publication. Even bothering to write at all. I am not working on a new project for myriad reasons, but I feel that absence in my core. Right now it's my time to listen and reflect and be creatively still- I think I'll know when it's time to return to the page. Thank you for your lovely, vulnerable reflections.
Wishing you peace in the murk of what comes next. And I am so sorry for the sting of rejections. My mom always said when I felt this way I was growing. It made me very angry to hear it, and didn’t particularly help in the moment. But once I’d compounded many of those moments I began to recognize it, because she was right, dammit. I still wanted to gnaw my arm off—or hers— but I know that itch now, still hate it, but am always surprised and excited for what I discover on the other side. You’ve got this.