What I’ve Tried to do for 17 Years (or, The In-Between)

It would be so much easier to wait a week before writing this post. In a week I will know a lot more. In a week I could write a strong piece in the vein of a “disappointed-but-not-giving-up” writer. Or maybe it will be a shocked, celebratory piece. It all depends on the news I get this week. But here, now, on this muggy evening in mid-June, four months after my agent began shopping my novel around to publishing houses, the in-between is hard to navigate.

Still, I think I should write this post. I think we need to share more in-betweens with each other. I think we need to be willing to say, “Look, this is where I am, and it’s not where I want to be, but will you come along, whatever might happen?”

* * * * *

I’ve received a few very kind rejections during this process from publishing houses who can’t figure out how to market the book or are uncomfortable making predictions on how it will perform. You know. Where they say things like “beautiful writing” and “wonderful voice” and “talent” yet at some point throw in the “but.”

But for all of the rejections and silence, my agent and I have gotten somewhere. Three publishers are interested, and one is even considering The Day the Angels Fell at their pub board meeting this week. So. I will know one way or another by Wednesday.

I know I’ve been on a strong “don’t give up” kick recently here at the blog, but, seriously. Don’t give up.

When I was 22, I was rejected by 5 MFA programs. That’s right. Five. I still have the rejection letters in a file somewhere. I wanted to get a masters degree in creative writing, but no one would take me. I applied to the best-of-the-best programs and a few of the average-of-the-most-average. Thank God they said no. I didn’t have a clue who I was as a person, much less as a writer.

For the next nine years – yeah, nine years – my writing life consisted of writing in my journal non-stop and regular rejections of my short stories by various literary journals and magazines. It was a steady diet of rejection, of “no,” of “you’re not good enough.” I wrote in my journal and then, when the sting of previous rejections had faded away, I’d write another short story and send it off. Months later, a form rejection. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Why didn’t I quit writing during those nine years? I’m not really sure. I had no outlet to the rest of the world – there were no blogs, no online magazines, no way for strangers to easily find and read my work. There was very little affirmation or encouragement. These days of easy access to readers is a both a blessing and a curse for writers. But I continued writing, gathering all the words, filling all the journals, and lining the journals up on my bookshelf, one after the other. “One page a day,” I’d tell myself, and that’s what I did.

Then, when I was 31 years old, eight years ago, I got the chance of a lifetime: I co-wrote a book for a real, live publishing house. During the last seven years, I’ve co-written over 20 books for other people, and I self-published a few of my own. But I’ve always kept that dream. I always wanted to be a novelist, published by a publishing house. I think that will always be in my mind, always something I aspire to. I no longer look down my nose at independent publishing. I think it’s a wonderful option, one I will probably use again in the future. But to have a publishing house love your work enough to bring you in, to publish your book? That’s always been my dream.

And now? I’m so close. But you never know how these things will go.

Maybe it’s because I’m almost 40, or maybe it’s because I’ve got five kids and one on the way, or maybe it’s because I no longer feel the pressure of trying to be a young prodigy…whatever the case, no matter the news I receive, I know I’ll keep writing. Not because this is the closest I’ve ever come to having a traditionally-published book, but simply because I’m a writer. I write. It’s what I do.

So. Enough about me. Maybe you feel like you’re stumbling along in whatever it is you do. You probably wish you were further along or higher up, better known or appreciated more than you are. Trust me when I say that you have no idea how the creative work you are doing today will come into fruition ten years from now, or twenty years from now. You just have to keep doing what you’re doing. Get better. Work harder. Study your craft. Keep making mistakes. Keep getting rejected.

It’s what I’m doing. It’s what I’ve been doing for the last 17 years. Maybe you’re just starting out, or maybe you’ve been on your path for 17 years. Or maybe you’ve been walking much longer. No matter. Let’s walk this road together.

June 2, 2016June 1, 2016

The Most Important Word

Last week I had the honor of stepping into Seth Haines’ recovery room to talk about my vocation and all the little voices constantly jabbering in my head.

The real struggle for me has been more practical–how does one navigate a life when your income fluctuates so severely from one year to the next, one month to the next? During good years I make more money than I ever thought I would make, but during difficult years we have occasionally (twice) gone 6 – 8 months without making anything. My wife and I have five children (almost six). Not making money for that long can be scary and annoying and stressful. It can quickly lead to voices of self-doubt and judgment.

Nothing has influenced my relationship with God more than my current vocation, precisely because of the ups and downs. One word makes itself known to me during those difficult patches: Trust.

You can read the entire post HERE.

May 12, 2016May 12, 2017

Could Disappointment Be an Indicator that We are Right Where We Should Be?

Almost three months ago, my wonderful literary agent Ruth began approaching publishers about my book The Day the Angels Fell, the very same project that you all helped fund on Kickstarter almost a year and a half ago. Ruth read it and loved it and thought she might be able to find a home for it, so we sent out a book proposal to publishers. Initially, the response was strong. One publisher was immediately interested. I thought it was going to get picked up. I thought my longest-held dream, of being a novelist with a publisher, was about to come true.

But then the weeks passed. We still haven’t heard back from the first publisher. In the mean time, I received a kind rejection from one of my favorite publishers who said “the writing is absolutely beautiful, but…” Always “but.”

Right now there are two houses still considering it.

Can I be honest? I’ve felt a lot of disappointment in this process. The waiting has nearly paralyzed my creative ability. The weeks of silence and the few rejections (and even the vast, empty nothingness of no reply) rip at some raw place I didn’t know existed in me. I went into this feeling like a relatively self-confident person, someone who could take or leave whatever might happen, but I’m learning a lot about myself. I’m learning I’m not as confident as I thought I was. I’m not as independent as I thought I was. I crave this “one last” approval more than I thought I did.

And then, Maile. My wife is perfect for me. We had a long talk the other day about who I am as a writer, the kinds of things I want to put out into the world, the fact that I want to write literary YA that might not fit into today’s marketable mold. I told Maile I could sell out, write a fast-paced book that reads at a 5th grade reading level where the protagonist flirts with sex and drugs and makes fun of their parents. Maile laughed and said, “No, you couldn’t.”

And then there are my writing friends. People who remind me this book is good. Friends who remind me the only way is forward. Friends who tell me that The Day the Angels Fell made a tangible difference in the lives of their children and is a book their kids will hand down to their kids. Friends who remind me there is an eager audience waiting for book two, an audience who doesn’t care if it’s traditionally published or funded through Kickstarter.

On Wednesday of last week, something finally clicked. It was like I took a deep breath, came out of a trance, realized it is spring again. Spring always has a way of coming back around, doesn’t it? I started writing again, forging my way into book three, the final book of the trilogy that begins with The Day the Angels Fell and continues with The Edge of Over There (not yet released). I realized I have to keep writing through this process. I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Yes, I’ve been disappointed so far. Yes, if none of these publishing houses decide to take it, I will feel rejected and disappointed. But I feel like I’ve gone deeper this year into my writing life than I have ever gone before. I feel like I’ve found something there, long buried, something crucial. I’ve even discovered that I have a huge desire to make this book a success, with or without a publisher. That thought excites me. I can do this! (With your help, of course.)

And it all makes me wonder if we need to press in closer to our disappointment, if we need to get past the initial shock of it and ask why? Why is this disappointing to me? What does this disappointment tell me about what I think is important?

And is it possible that the location of my disappointment leads me closer to the location of my true hope?

Update: I wrote this post on May 12th, 2016. Four weeks later, I received and signed a 3-book deal with Revell to publish not only The Day the Angels Fell but also the sequel and a third book, yet to be determined.

May 10, 2016May 9, 2016

In Which I’m Doing Something I’ve Never Done Before

This is new territory for me.

For the last few months, Bryan and I have been working hard on a new project, Live Better, Write Better. It’s a six-week exploration of simple practices that will improve your writing and your life. We talk about things like the importance of finishing stuff (and how to do that more consistently), practicing silence, finding your community, and more.

Today you can sign up at the early-bird price. For only $47, you get:

– Six weekly videos in which Bryan and I discuss the Live Better Write Better writing practice for the week
– One to two emails each week expounding on the practices and encouraging you with practical ways to move forward
– Access to a private Facebook group (that Bryan and I will be active in) to further discuss the Live Better, Write Better practices and meet other writers.
– Other fun surprises

The $47 early-bird pricing is for today and tomorrow only. Wednesday at midnight we’ll close down registration for a week and reopen it next week at the regular $79 price. You can head HERE to sign up or find out more about the course.

Thanks for listening. I’m actually kind of uncomfortable selling stuff in this space, simply because I love you guys as an audience and never want to take advantage of your time, but I’m really happy with the conversations Bryan and I are recording, and I think it will help writers improve their craft, be encouraged, and move forward. Soon, I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled posts, including an update on the publishing journey I’m currently on with The Day the Angels Fell. It’s been an interesting three months, full of disappointments and small sparks of hope. I can’t wait to tell you about it.

(Finally, if you have friends who are writers, would you consider sharing this with them or posting it on your Facebook page? Thanks!)

April 18, 2016April 17, 2016

Three Reasons You Shouldn’t Give Up

The three reasons are actually three stories.

* * * * *

I’m at a unique place in life, experiencing things I don’t remember experiencing before. On one hand, I’m more confident than ever in my call as a writer, and I’m content with where I am: I have an agent; I have (relatively) steady work; I have a wonderful writing community. On the other hand, I feel unsettled. I have one project currently being shopped around to publishing houses and am working on a book proposal for a second project, one that gets to the heart of what I’ve been experiencing for the last four years.

Waiting is hard. I’ve had two or three rejections so far on the first project, and those are not easy to receive. As the waiting continues, I find it difficult to focus, difficult to do anything but stare at my inbox, eager for the ping of the next incoming message, the potential email that will validate my writing. Validate my story-telling. Validate…me?

Ouch.

Rejection is difficult. Waiting is difficult. Hoping is perhaps the toughest thing of all. Yet everywhere I turn, I am being reminded that I should not give up.

My friend Sarah Bessey shared the following on her Facebook page after speaking at the Festival of Faith and Writing last week:

…this is a moment of full circle redemption. Eight years ago, I experienced the death of all my dreams to write at this very Festival of Faith and Writing. It was hard and beautiful and reorienting. Writing simply became a place to meet with God, no expectations attached. So it’s hilarious to me that I’m now on stage, all these years later, to proclaim the truths I’ve learned: we’re all unqualified and qualified to preach the Gospel and to write about God.

The death of her dreams was “hard and beautiful and reorienting.” Reorienting. Maybe we all need that, to be shaken from our present course and redirected on paths that lead somewhere better.

* * * * *

Two weekends ago, I listened to the keynote speaker Robert Liparulo speak about a similar topic. Twelve years before, he stood at the precipice, wondering if he should quite writing the novel of his dreams, the one he was working on but barely halfway through. Quitting seemed very easy to him at the time.

But he didn’t give up. He decided he would at least finish what he had started. Three million copies later, he’s rather glad he kept on.

* * * * *

Seven years ago, Bryan Allain and I began having breakfast together once a month, and it became an immense source of encouragement for both of us. He wanted to get out of his day job, and I wanted to make a living as a writer (well, most of the time that’s what I wanted, but there were many times when what I really wanted was a regular paycheck and health insurance).

But we kept moving forward. We kept taking that next small step. Now Bryan makes a living as a writer, supporting authors as they launch books and create new projects. And I’m moving forward as well, testing the waters, trying new things, helping people tell their stories.

* * * * *

Something Robert Liparulo said has stuck with me: “It’s a tragedy when people give up on their dreams.” I think it’s true, but giving up is also so easy, so simple. Usually, when I want to give up it’s because the mountain of my dream rises up through the clouds, and I can’t imagine ever arriving at those heady heights. I can’t imagine the days, the weeks, the years it will take to chart my course and scale those sheer rock faces.

That’s when we give up. When we stare up at a peak we can barely see.

Stop it. Stop focusing on the dream, and start focusing on the next small step. The next chapter. The next page. The next word. Finish the business plan, the outline, the funding letter. Take the next photo. Paint the next brush stroke. Look at the path, the one that’s grown over, the one that few others have traveled before you.

Then take the next step.

* * * * *

Bryan Allain and I recently took our seven years of breakfasts talking about the writing life and made three free videos about practices that will help improve your life and your writing: Silence, Discipline, and Community. You can get access to those three free videos HERE.

March 9, 2016

I Got a Mean Email (or, Three Reasons Criticism Might Be Bothering You Too Much)

I received a mean email last week. I know. Gasp. I actually don’t get very many of them, especially considering the fact that I blog about religion from time to time. It’s the religion blog posts that bring out the angry in a lot of people, but the crowd that hangs out here is so graceful with me and my questions, my searching. Thanks for that.

But this mean email I got wasn’t in response to my faulty theology. The basis of her criticism wasn’t the fact that our family homeschools (I sometimes hear that, and I actually understand that criticism) or that by living in the city we subject our children to a dangerous environment (I’ve gotten that one, too). Her criticism was much more intense.

She focused on my grammar.

I actually get a handful of emails a year from kind people who point out a grammar or spelling mistake here at the blog, and I appreciate those. Usually it is a simple oversight on my part, but occasionally it is a grammar rule I’ve always gotten wrong or long forgotten, so it’s nice to learn something new. This is me saying I welcome your feedback. If you’re nice.

But the email I got last week was different. She insinuated that I must not know very much about writing, that I demonstrate carelessness, and that most 3rd graders wouldn’t make the mistake that I made. She is either someone who is completely tone deaf in how she writes, or she simply enjoys trying to make people feel small.

I’m glad I got that off my chest. Because it’s not even the point. The point is something very different. The point is this:

Why did her criticism bother me so much?

She’s a complete stranger. She’s not someone who I’m trying to impress, like the editor of a major publishing house or my literary agent (shout out to Ruth!). She’s not a family member or a friend whose opinion I value.

Why, oh, why, did her email make me crazy?

I have three suggestions.

1 – Her criticism involved a new venture, something I’m doing for the first time, and so her words struck a part of me that is already a little tender, a little unsure, and a little hesitant. The dastardly mistake I made was in the newsletter I sent out about an upcoming writers’ course Bryan Allain and I are creating. I know, right? A grammar mistake in the announcement I’m sending out…ABOUT A WRITERS’ COURSE. *sigh* These things happen, apparently. Anyway, I’m super excited about offering the course, but I’m also nervous. (You can sign up to get more details about the course HERE.)

Whenever we’re trying something new, I think we need to be aware that we’ll probably be a little more sensitive to criticism than we usually are. This is okay, but it should also inform our response. We should probably take a few days before replying. Trust me. And if the criticism isn’t said in a nice way and comes from a stranger, the best thing you can do is delete it.

2 – Her criticism pinpointed an area I already know is weak. I am not a grammarian, never have been. It’s just not interesting to me. That said, I know it’s important, and I learn every chance I get. Every time I’ve written a book and worked with an editor, I’ve learned a lot. I’m improving, but I know it’s a weakness.

I think that when people criticize us in areas we know to be weak, a great response might be to simply nod and smile, because our response to their critique will probably be out of proportion.

3 – I have an inflated desire to be liked by everyone. Everyone. Yes. Everyone. Actually, this particular email was a gift, because it has reminded me that not everyone will be on board with what I do, not everyone will support me or point out my flaws in a kind way. And that’s okay! It’s the world we live in.

What kind of criticism bothers you the most? How do you handle it? Any pointers for me?