Enduring the Long Road to Publication
By Sarah Callender | August 10, 2016 |
This past June, I got a tattoo: three ginkgo leaves that span nearly the length of my inner forearm. The leaves dance in an invisible breeze, and I love it. My mother-in-law believes it’s a temporary tattoo, one that will rub off with summer swims in Seattle-area waters of body—lakes, canals, chlorinated pools, Puget Sound. But no, it’s not going anywhere.
One of my dear friends and writing partners told me, “You know what I love most about your tattoo?” Without waiting for me to answer, she waved her hands in circles, palms open toward me, indicating my whole exterior: my Capri pants and gingham-checked blouse, probably my cross necklace too. “This,” she said. “This outfit and you and a tattoo. It doesn’t make sense in all the right ways.”
Getting a tattoo, however, was not about getting a tattoo. It was all about the ginkgo leaves.
Because I spend a considerable amount of time with my sword raised against the menace of bipolar disorder, sometimes the simple act of getting through a day or an hour or a minute seems too hard. I needed a visual reminder to endure, persist, survive.
Did you know that the ginkgo tree carries with it a symbol of longevity and endurance? That a ginkgo tree can live for one thousand years? That four ginkgo trees survived the bombing of Hiroshima and still thrive today? So now and forever, right there on my forearm, I have a constant reminder that I can survive my own petite Hiroshimas, no matter how many bombs fall from clear blue skies.
But here’s my point: Humans appreciate labels and find comfort in arranging others into discrete categories. And it turns out that I, an almost forty-five-year-old mother with a cross necklace and preppy tendencies, and a tattoo, am difficult to categorize.
Walking my dog a few weeks back, I was stopped by a chatty woman trying to control the chaos of her raised veggie bed. We talked about kids and work and the merits of dogs and husbands. And then she asked about the tattoo. “It’s beautiful. But you don’t look like someone who would get a tattoo.”
I was wearing a Wonder Woman t-shirt and gym shorts.
I had never seen or spoken with her before, yet she seemed to know who and what I was. And who and what I wasn’t.
We humans enjoy assessing whether another person is this or that. Friend or foe. Familiar or strange. Male or female. Pop or rock. Labeling others makes us feel safe. But labels can suppress. They isolate. They limit. Think of the scarlet A Hester Prynne was condemned to wear in The Scarlet Letter. The armbands forced upon Jews during Hitler’s reign. The neon yellow sticker with the word Biter stuck on the back of my friend’s daughter while she was at school.
Still, we find comfort in labels.
Now I’m really getting to my point: Traditional publishing is no different. When acquiring a novel, editors must be certain of the genre and the audience. A publisher cannot sell a novel if it doesn’t know what it is. It cannot effectively market a novel when it doesn’t know the intended audience.
Unfortunately, I seem to write novels that confound editors just as my appearance confounds strangers. While books #1 and #2 have made it so very close, they have not earned the approval of the publishers’ editorial boards. Why? Many editors report that my first novel, narrated by a child, is too childish for adults and too dark for children. Other editors report that my second book, one I tried to firmly plant in the genre of middle grade fiction, ends in a way that middle grade books simply cannot end.
Of course, there are other editors who have offered gracious “no thank you’s” because the books just don’t work for them. They don’t fall in love with the story or they don’t connect with the protagonists. But the most common feedback: I don’t know what to make of this book, and I can’t sell something if I don’t know what it is.
My patient and loyal agent is helping me guide book #3 as I write because we are both worried that I may come to the The End and find myself in this too-familiar genre limbo.
A few months ago, I sent one hundred thirty pages of book #3 to my agent, hoping for her stamp of approval; this time I was sure I was nailing it: Adult Fiction. Instead she said, “I can see it as adult fiction, but I’m so sorry … it’s just not resonating with me like your other books.” Whatever magic she saw in the first two books was MIA in book #3.
Then she asked me, “Sarah, do you love this story?”
I thought about her question. “No,” I said. “No, I really don’t.”
My best guess? I was trying too hard to force a single label on its chest. The result was a 2-D story.
Gah! Can I write a book with a single, tidy label, something that is either fully preppy or fully tattoo’d, male or female, Republican or Democrat, and have it be any good? I’m not sure.
Of course some books don’t play by the rules. Adult-theme’d books for young people (The Book Thief) and adult books narrated by children (Tell the Wolves I’m Home) were published to great acclaim. And those are anomalies. And they were not initially marketed to both adults and youth. A novel can be described as Moby Dick meets The Hunger Games, Gone Girl meets Pride and Prejudice, Hamlet meets Girls. But there’s no such thing as Adult fiction meets Middle Grade.
Over the past year, there have been plenty of times when I have considered giving up, finding a real job, self publishing. And I might, but not yet.
I tossed those one hundred thirty pages and have returned to the drawing board. For now I am determined to keep going, to write a novel that feels true to me, and with luck and hard work and guidance from my agent, one that can wear a single Hello . . . My Name Is X label.
For now, I embrace the rules of publishing and try not to get too frustrated or impatient or upset.
For now, I look down at the three ginkgo leaves on my freckled arm and whisper, Endure, Endure, Endure. Isn’t that what we all do as writers? As artists? As humans?
Your turn! How have you or your writing had trouble fitting into a tidy package with a single label? What are your favorite authors or novels that don’t play by the rules? When have you had to play the game in order to get published (or paid) and what were the highs and lows of the experience? Thank you, dear WU community. I thought of getting each of your names tattooed on my arm, but my arm isn’t that big.
Ginkgo leaf photo compliments of Flickr’s Segfault79.
[coffee]
A Middle Grade novelist (and Middle School English teacher), Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her family. Because Sarah dislikes cleaning anything that will just get messy again, she tidies the house and weeds the yard only when absolutely necessary. This allows her time to focus on her true–and somewhat fraught–passions: writing, Abe Lincoln, and Tony’s Chocolonely chocolate bars. Equally passionate about mental health advocacy, Sarah is a member of The Stability Network. Sarah’s first novel, LUCY IN BETWEEN, will be published by Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House in 2026.
Ah, there’s nothing quite like a Sarah Callender post. I’m on vacation right now, sitting in front of a rented cottage. Tourists file by and take pictures of this cottage and the others along this dune-crest road. They were all designed and built by a man named Earl and each is dramatically different. They all utilize big rocks from the lake (Earl liked rocks) and big hand-hewn oak and chestnut timbers (Earl liked wood). They fit no architectural catagory. Some people call them Mushroom Houses, and some call them Hobbit Houses. There isn’t a straight lintel in the place. The doors and windows had to be custom made.
Earl built these houses between 1920 and 1970, and all his life people called him quirky, or odd. Other architects snickered behind his back. People told him this dune was “unbuildable.” The brochures say his homes are hard to categorize. Down the street toward town, where the road was considered buildable, there are super-quaint Victorians and Italianates. Most have been kept up, but Earl’s Hobbit Houses have endured. They’ve become a part of the landscape. And they’re certainly not 2-D.
And guess which houses the tourists pay for tours to see; which ones are featured on maps and framed pictures and knick-knacks? Yep – Earl’s houses. Quirky Earl.
As an artist, I, for one, want to be like Earl. And I want my work to endure. And I can’t imagine you, dear Sarah, being anything other than an Earl (in case it’s not clear, I mean that in the kindest way).
You are like Earl, V. In a very V way, you are an Earl.
I love this Vaughn. Thank you for the lovely image of you and your family spending a few nights in a hobbit house.
I think the line that hit me was this: “There isn’t a straight lintel in the place.” Simply beautiful.
I would love to be an Earl . . . but while he is considered a success now, I wonder whether he was weary while he was building those wonderful homes, whether he wanted to give up, whether he knew about the snickering of others. And I wonder whether people appreciated his style (and courage) back then. I hope so.
I used to think that some artists made their lives more difficult because they refused to play by the rules. Now I see that those artists don’t really have a choice at all. They have to be their own weird selves. And look at the beauty that comes from them!
I love the idea that you wear your tattoo with a gingham shirt. Plenty of women in LA do that, but they also usually sport Betty Page bangs.
My sentiment is to tell you to laugh in the labels faces. But I’m not a good example, because if a rule stands before me and claims to be made of stone, I will endeavor to find a way to make it crumble. Because rules don’t really exist, they are a figment of other people’s phobias and imaginations.
Bravo to you, for empowering yourself with a symbol of your personal strength. Keep at it Sarah. Because your strength will never wash off, it is engrained within the fibers of your soul and an epic part of you.
Whichever path you choose with your next story, blessed be your journey.
Beautiful Bernadette. Thank you for this comment.
I do think we have to follow our stories, but I know plenty of writers who can produce sell-able novels (that bring in good money). This income gives them the freedom to break rules and experiment in other areas. Part of me wishes I could do that too. The other part is glad I cannot.
Most of all, I think I need to keep getting better and better, working on craft, writing my pants off.
I love that you are a rules-crumbler.
Pretty sure you wrote this for me. Not only because I am a woman of a certain age who sports a tattoo on her left ankle, but also because I’m struggling through yet another rewrite of the novel that my agent is doing her best to sell. I am learning first-hand how long the road to traditional publication can be–and I am grateful to have an amazing agent willing to stick with me until it happens!
Yes, Charlotte! Aren’t you forever grateful for the loyalty of a patient agent?
I did write this for you. I can’t wait to read your books some day soon! Three cheers for those of us who endure.
Happy revising to you. This job is not for wussies.
Sarah-
Neither this nor that. As agent, I’ve worked with many a project that straddled a line, had no known audience, could not be categorized or was simply challenging to read.
I’ve learned a few things about such projects.
Most frustrating is that other novels by other writers seem to get away with it. It’s as if they got a special dispensation from the Publishing Pope. Worse, they got permission to be successful. Not you.
But look closer. Those rule breakers are actually obeying the rules, just not the ones you notice because the “disallowed” element is so evident.
The Book Thief is not written for children. It does not make that promise, is not written that way and does not play out in the fashion of children’s literature.
The Hunger Games is not written for adults. It has a YA protagonist, YA tone, YA themes and plays out according to the good-girls-win expectation of the audience.
Yes, there are crossover readers. That does not mean those books play it both ways. They are one type of book. They throw a curve but don’t have mixed intentions. They violate an expectation but only one. In every other way they deliver big.
Sometimes I suspect the reaction of editors and pub boards is too cautious. Yet when reactions are consistent I have to consider whether the text itself isn’t sending mixed signals. That’s an issue for publishers and booksellers, but also for consumers.
That is not to say that one shouldn’t write the book that one wants to write. It’s just that sometimes the “rules” serve a storytelling purpose, and an author may wish to clarify for themselves that main purpose and how one violation can enhance that goal.
Yes, Charlotte! Aren’t you forever grateful for the loyalty of a patient agent?
I did write this for you. I can’t wait to read your books some day soon! Three cheers for those of us who endure.
Happy revising to you. This job is not for wussies.
Your post was true and this comment is too. You’ve got to do it because you love it. Even then…you gotta wonder sometimes!
Thank you, Don.
I love your comment about a novel sending mixed signals. No one likes a girl or guy who does that.
I also believe that publishers will take risks (or be more inclined to do so) if the story is good enough. I need to keep working on craft, on writing a story that is good enough, true enough, consistent enough (i.e. not sending mixed signals) that I and it are worth the risk.
But The Book Thief. It’s a big book, but why is it not considered adult fiction? That book, in my opinion, makes a promise to adults, but it is sold as YA. Why? And how?
The Hunger Games and others (The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian by Sherman Alexie comes to mind) are sold as YA, and they should be; they don’t pretend to be anything other than YA. It just so happens that adults get a kick out of them.
Is The Book Thief an anomaly?
And I’m curious about this idea: that “one violation can enhance a goal.” If you have a moment, will you offer an example?
Thanks for the empathy and the tough love.
Sarah, my advice is to look not at The Book Thief’s marketing, but at the way that it’s written.
The marketing (across categories) came long after the novel’s writing, editing and initial publication.
Big phenomenon books are like that. They cross demographic, even international, lines but they don’t start out like that. Especially not on the author’s screen.
Sarah, I love your tattoo! What it stands for and why you got it. I also love that you don’t fit into a tidy package. I’ve spent the last year revising a novel more into the YA camp after hearing too many times that it “might fall between two stools with publishers.” I do love the story, so I took on the challenge. It was the right move for me. But that doesn’t mean its always the right move. I agree with you, there are plenty of rule-breakers out there. I think, bottom line, we have to write the story that has called upon us to tell it, and we know in our deepest hearts when we’re being true to the task. But then that story has to speak to so many others. I guess that’s the make-or-break test.
I have a dragonfly tattooed on my left shoulder blade, mainly because dragonflies have the word ‘dragon’ in them. And because they’re beautiful, which inspires me. As you so eloquently say, we need to find ways to keep ourselves afloat when we find ourselves getting pulled down. Your post did that for me today, so thank you!
Hello sweet Susan! I love watching dragonflies fly–nature’s helicopters–and the beauty of such frail-looking wings kind of breaks my heart. I hope to see your tattoo some day soon!
Thank you for your comment. Yes, I do think there’s a way for me to tell the story I want to tell AND tell a story that publishers will identify as this or that. Most of all, I want to get the books into at least seventeen people’s hands. So I can earn seventeen cents. :)
I dream big, no?
Happy revising to you. I am excited to read your book!
But Sarah, where’s the picture of the tattoo? I want to see! I’m sorry that your stories are not fitting into a nice little box but I’m so glad you are persevering. That’s what counts. And it’s wonderful you have an agent to guide you through this. Perhaps on one of your walks you’ll know exactly how to tweak your stories to make them marketable.
I’ve not sold the big stories of my heart either, but being able to write for magazines and the educational market allows me to share some of the smaller stories of my heart.
Beautiful, Vijaya! I do think it’s miraculous to tell and share a story of one’s heart–be it gigantic or microscopic.
You share your heart here on WU, and I and so many others are blessed through that sharing. Thank you for the kind words and encouragement.
Happy story-sharing to you!
Ginkos are special, and old. Only I know it is there. Ann Blair Kloman
Wow. Beautiful, Ann. Your comment made me go in search of this:
https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/news/this-buddhist-temples-1400-year-old-ginkgo-tree-is-dropping-a-sea-of-yellow-a6749676.html
Can you imagine living for 1,400 years?
Sarah, my books don’t fit in the traditional categories. I’m told by some book promotion experts and lit agents that “genre defying” and “genre blending” stories are good bets and hot right now. But readers don’t get these trendy terms that advertising folk make up to be catchy. My books are ‘supernatural mysteries,’ which is a sub-sub category of horror but not horror at all (nonviolent). So I can’t sell them as horror because they don’t fulfill that bloody expectation, yet that’s where they seem to land in the marketing labels out there. At a book fair one time I told a reader my story was a ‘supernatural mystery’ and she said, “Oh? What’s that?” Silly me, I thought it was perfectly clear. The more an author gets out there with readers the more you learn about how they view stories and categories and what they want to read. So after discussing the story with her she said, “Oh, you mean a mystery with a supernatural twist.” Yep, she bought it.
I like what Carlos Fuentes said: “Don’t classify me, read me. I’m a writer, not a genre.” The more we put our books out there, talk about our stories, engage the reader more personally, and stop trying to peg them into a snappy present participle, the more we will sell books.
Paula,
Thank you for these beautiful words. I am especially grateful for the ideas about connecting with readers, engaging with them personally, learning about how they view genres and categories. We hear about connecting with readers once we are published, and you are taking that concept deeper: we need to be learning from them, listening to them, conversing with them.
I love this idea, you wise woman!
Sarah,
I love what you shared about the meaning of the ginko tree. Talk about endurance–it’s such a fitting tattoo for you as your story of determination to keep on until you succeed embodies just that kind of endurance. The phoenix is another symbol that resonates as, in my own writing journey, my work has crumbled to ash and out of it always rises a new story, and I, a stronger storyteller. Hard to say how many incarnations will happen before the strength suffices and the breadth of new wings carry the story high enough, but there is one certainty–and it applies to me, you, any writer: keep discovering Story and honing your craft mindfully, with a willingness to learn, change, adapt, improve; never, never give up.
Hi, dear John.
Yes, the phoenix. What a great example.
Many years ago, I had a writing partner who, while a beautiful writer, was unwilling to learn, change, adapt, improve. It was so difficult and frustrating to be her partner. Without a willingness and the humility to recognize the importance of growth, we writers are in a world of hurt. Some of the strongest, bravest people I know are also the most humble. This is most certainly a humbling profession, no?
I do think there’s an important connection between humility and endurance.
Thank you for this beautiful comment, John! May you keep rising. :)
Sarah,
I so relate to you! I too write cross-genre because it’s what I love. For the same reason that I’m an independent voter, I cannot be limited to a single blueprint of thinking that was designed by others. I pick things from many “sides” that speak to my values and interests. Please take comfort in the fact that you’re not alone. Because you wear a cross, I assume you hold a Christian worldview, so I hope you won’t be offended by me encouraging you the way I encourage myself: keep praying and keep trusting, knowing there’s a reason God gave you your particular writing gifts. Again, great article and whenever I see a Ginkgo leaf I will think of your message: Endure, endure, endure!
Thank you, Bonnie! I loved every word of your comment, and yes, I do pray a lot. :)
Your comment made me think about other leaders (Jesus, MLK, Mandela, Mother Teresa) who were rebels in various ways. People can be so uncomfy with those who are mold-breakers! I do understand why, but it would be nice if that weren’t the case.
Yes, there is a good and perfect Plan for us. It’ll be fun to see what that looks like.
Thank you and bless you! Happy writing.
Living my life! I thought, naively, that good writing and great storytelling was enough. As you pointed out, it is not. I have two novels where agents and editors have requested, read and loved. Love my characters, beautiful writing, intriguing story…but don’t know where to put it! How about a book shelf!!!! Ha, ha. I get it, and don’t. I am trying to fill a need in the marketplace with what I am offering with my writing…because it is missing! But it is missing because because categories, how they sell books, and merchandising are in a square box. Hence, unique stories, creative ideas, and new ideas are falling to the wayside. I am now on my third story hoping to be more “mainstream” but while editing I realized I have my style, and I just don’t know if I can change that. I don’t know if I want to. It’s my voice. I just need to keep looking for someone who will see the value, and hope the marketplace might shift and open up a fissure for me to fit in. I love your message, and honestly needed it. Keep going…
How about this, my new friend, let’s BOTH keep going?!? Like you, I have learned that good writing isn’t enough. I have also learned, probably as you have, that tenacity and willingness to develop and grow and improve is far more important than natural skill.
I look at it like this: I don’t know your agent, but I bet she/he isn’t crazy. And I feel your passion even in the words of your brief comment. You and I will be OK. This is a time of paying dues, thickening skin and sticking to our guns. I am happy to have a partner in you!
Happy skin-thickening! Thank you for your empathy. It’s worth a million dollars.
Sarah, I get you. I should probably bind the novels I’m trying to get out there in ginkgo leaves; perhaps a 22nd-century agent might find their stories more attuned to the times. In the meantime, doing the work, digging deeper into the craft, and appreciating the small victories, if even a single singing sentence.
I should probably add ginkgo leaves to my Twain tattoo. Twain would have probably smoked them if any were nearby.
A Twain tattoo! As in, one of his quotes? As in a portrait of him? I hope to see it some day.
I am 100% certain you will be loved and famous prior to 2116. In fact, you already are! By me and us at WU and for sure my your cat and your crazy neighbor who is actually not all that crazy.
In other words, let’s keep going, mi amigo. Let’s keep stringing those single singing sentences together.
I can relate. My first YA novel is about a teenage boy who has a near death experience and meets his aborted daughter in heaven, having not known his girlfriend was even pregnant. When I pitched it, I got “I don’t see how you’re going to make this work.” It’s clearly YA, but what kind of YA? So I self-pubbed and it’s done okay.
We tend to write the way we see life, yes? Nothing is a neat package. No one can be categorized completely into one category. There’s always something hanging out. It drives politicians insane, doesn’t it?
Unfortunately, publishers don’t like things left hanging out. Not for a new writer, anyway. I can’t blame them. No one wants to be the guy who took the biggest loss of the year. It really makes the office Christmas party suck.
I have read and enjoyed many of those books with parts hanging out. The Book Thief, as you mentioned, is one. Stargirl is another. There are other middle-grade novels that fit quite well with my adult (sometimes) mind. Moon Over Manifest, Wednesday Wars, and Listen, Slowly come to mind.
We shouldn’t give up on our unique style or odd genre combinations. Sure, we have a better shot at being happy mid-listers writing formulated mysteries and romances (not to insult anyone…I love reading formulated mysteries). But we have a much better chance of standing out on the shelf if we’re a bit off the leash. It may mean we’ll take longer to break in, but it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do with my evenings.
Keep writing. Get another tattoo. Blessed are the weird, for no one ever forgets them.
I love everything about your comment, Ron. Thank you! Blessed are YOU and what you bring to this community.
I have a one-year-old puppy, and a few months ago, I let him off the leash (illegally) on a big empty Seattle Parks field. He ran, chasing sparrows in circles, faster and with more joy than I have ever seen. And then, when it was time to go, I called him back to me. And he ignored me. For more than ten minutes, I tried to lure him close enough to catch him; I tried tempting him with treats, I tried running away from him. I tried lying on the ground and making strange yelping noises. He would not come back to me. And when the Seattle Parks employees came to yell at me for letting him off leash, the puppy still did not come. The moral of this story? We experience joy when we can be off leash. And once we are off leash, it’s hard to go back to being tethered.
Thank you, Ron. You’re the opposite of my nasty Ron voice. :)
Sarah – I definitely feel you. I love the story of your tattoo, and how meaningful it is to you – I feel that way about all of mine, too. And I’ve had similar challenges in trying to fit my writing into readily packaged categories. Hell, my debut novel – about a young male stroke victim – ended up getting categorized as women’s fiction. (In hindsight I guess that makes sense – after all, chicks dig me.)
If you bare your soul in your fiction the same way you do in your WU posts, I think we’re definitely going to see some truly wonderful books with your name on them, finally set free for the world to read!
You’re so great, Keith. Thank you for the boost and the laugh. I LOVED your novel . . . and it was NOT women’s fiction. But yes, you are a treat for women everywhere so the placement does make sense in that way.
It’s a good thing we creatives cannot help but create stuff (stories, music, art). It’d be a dull and colorless world without us.
I am so excited to meet you at UnCon!
The ginkgo is a very intetesting tree. Native to China, it is considered to be a living fossil in that is one of the oldest leafy trees on the planet. And one more thing is that this tree is either male or female with each individual plant either bearing all male or all female flowers.
Hope you enjoy your leaf tattoo.
Thank you, Henri! I do love my arm-art. And I hope that I still love it when I am eighty and my arm skin is loose and wrinkly. :)
Happy writing to you!
Thank you, Sarah. Your celebration of self is inspiring, and I’m right there with you on that lonely genre fence.
The television series ‘Touch’, about a boy savant operating ‘outside the box’ of normal thinking is a fine example of story fragments woven into a bigger picture from the point of view of a MIDDLE-GRADE PROTAGONIST for an ADULT AUDIENCE. It premises that an invisible red thread connects each of us to everyone we’re going to meet. Each episode is a mysterious trail of events that connects strangers whose lives cross in supernatural ways that makes perfect sense when you follow the story with an open mind. Don’t watch it if you want stories you can see coming, right on schedule.
So, why shouldn’t books written well meander into a complementary genre? Must authors squeeze every complex story into a generic box? Even this great site for writers is clearly labeled UNboxed.
In some ways, books difficult to fit into a category are the ones most interesting to read. I cite two great stories: ‘The Lovely Bones’ had a teenage protagonist narrator. I don’t believe it was pigeonholed as a young adult, paranormal thriller, murder mystery. ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ crossed the genres of supernatural, time travel, romance, fantasy, and magical realism. They probably made it under the banner of literary fiction which has become a catchall genre to describe books difficult to label. But made it big, they did.
I wrote a story inspired by a pair of children’s shoes in a museum that belonged to a child on the Titanic. So, a story resulted about a kid and shoes that’s not for kids and not about shoes. It sprang from my keyboard as a labor of love. What to do with it is far more complicated and yet I wouldn’t go back to squeeze it into a middle-grade story even if I could. It is what it is – a story about a strange childhood for adults.
It’s narrated by a young boy from the Titanic who perishes, and from his new perspective, he tries to reunite with the girl on the ship who survived the disaster because they were fated to marry. He doesn’t grow up (although from his afterlife perspective he has gained the wisdom of several incarnations) but she does, and he never leaves her side. He becomes her ‘invisible childhood friend’ and undergoes the angst of being out of sync with a loved one as she matures. It’s not middle-grade. It’s supernatural without the horror (other than the sinking). But it was a story I had to write after I saw those shoes under glass with the tag, ‘unknown child’.
So back to that squeezing a story into a ball that bounces according to the rules. I love these words of T.S. Eliot:
“And would it have been worth it, after all?
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain,
Among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worthwhile,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball?”
Oh, Veronica. Lucky am I to read these beautiful and wise words. Thank you for sharing them.
I just love your story idea . . . and one of my most favorite things to read are novels (intended for adults) that include strange and eccentric children and childhoods.
“Squeezing a story into a ball that bounces according to the rules.” Gah! That is poetry right there.
Thank you. I’m so excited to read your stories some day!
Hi Sarah, I always enjoy your posts and look forward to them. Thanks for letting us in on your struggle. Your writing is always so smart and funny that I have been puzzled as to why you haven’t been published yet. Now I have a better understanding.
I also write middle grade and work hard to improve my craft so I can convince an agent that my two novels are worthy. But then I think “If Sarah hasn’t been published, how could I ever hope to be.”
So please keep going! I want to read you soon!
Mary
PS. My daughter just got a tattoo and I’d be tempted if I wasn’t on blood thinners.
Ha! Yes, wait on the tattoo. :)
As for your chances at getting published, Mary, don’t be ridiculous! I am an okay writer, but not at all a natural storyteller. It’s been humbling and weary-making to learn such a complex craft, especially when every other author makes it look so easy. In other words, do not compare yourself to me! I am sure you are light years ahead of me in a variety of realms. Just keep going. You have written two novels? That’s major success in my book. :)
Thanks so much for your words.
One of my favourite books that doesn’t play by the rules is Room by Emma Donoghue. It’s a tale of courage and resilience narrated by a five year old boy. It was shortlisted for the Man-Booker. So keep writing Sarah.
Thanks so much, Leanne. Yes, that is a great example. What a brave book that is! As Donald Maass said in his comment above, the books that break through genre barriers are BIG books. That’s a perfect example of a big book–fresh, compelling, horrifying, literary, smart, and thrilling. I’m so glad you mentioned it!
And thank you for your sweet words. Happy writing to you, Leanne.
I hope you keep going!
I don’t know exactly what your stories are about, but while reading your post I remembered the book Me & Emma by Elizabeth Flock. That was told by a child, but it definitely wasn’t a children’s book.
Thank you, H, for your encouragement. That’s one of the absolute best parts of the WU community. Writing can be so lonely-making. This community reminds us that we are not alone.
I will keep writing. And you, too! Thank you for the book title. I will check it out right now!
Sarah – thank you for putting my thoughts into words! I, too, am an unpublished writer with a mental illness (major depressive disorder, anxiety disorder, borderline pd – after a 14-year misdiagnosis of bipolar type II) and struggle with similar things. Thank you for putting yourself out there with your honesty and openness, and for inspiring people like me to keep going. I wish you the best!
Dear Laura,
Thank YOU for sharing. One of our jobs, as humans on this planet, is to make ourselves and others feel less alone. Stories do that. Sharing does that.
I bet you feel the world deeply . . . and that fuels rich characters and deep empathy for your characters. I hate and I love mental illness. I think we with unique ways of looking at the world add color to the world. Some days it’s hard to remember the truth of that.
Let’s both keep going, okay?
Thank you so much for your note.
Thanks for your post! I have had very much the same problem, and after much wringing of hands, have found that small presses seem more open to the possibility of taking something on, even when it ‘slips between the cracks’ in terms of genre/readership targets. They can often be more willing to take a chance on something a bit different, whereas the big publishing houses are more risk averse. With the mergers of the big publishers and the increasing focus on the bottom line, this trend is unfortunately likely to continue.
Yes, Elizabeth, I absolutely agree. There is nothing easy about being an editor; that is for sure. So much risk, so much fortune telling, so much pressure, so little time and money.
I do agree that going with a smaller publisher is probably the best way to go . . . either that or rewrite the first two. I am hoping to avoid that as giving birth to them the first time was challenging enough.
Thanks for your thoughts and encouragement, Elizabeth. Happy writing and publishing to you.
Seems to me you might already have stumbled on your breakout novel: “Hello . . . My Name Is X” ~ a story of growing up and not fitting in. The first half of this essay struck me (someone also in my mid-forties, struggling with chronic illness, a lifetime of feeling I don’t fit neatly into any of life’s boxes and considering for the first time a tattoo) right through the heart with a sharply chiselled stake. You nailed it. I’d love to read the rest of the story.
Dear Sam, my kindred spirit/partner in crime,
Re: the tattoo. It didn’t hurt like people said it would, and I have a low tolerance for pain. That said, my tattoo artist said that when she “does” moms and grandmas, they claim it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as childbirth. It’s the 20-something men, according to her, who have the hardest time with the pain. :)
I find my arm-art to be very empowering. And it makes me feel tough, like no one should mess with me.
Chronic illness stinks. And it tests our mettle. You and I, we have oodles or mettle. Thanks so much for sharing yourself here. I know in doing so, you just made about a million people feel less alone.
Happy writing to you, my friend, and happy enduring. Let me know about the tattoo!
The manuscript that won me an agent was problematic for me because editors who rejected it kept saying, “Well, I like it, but dystopia is over” and I would say, “But it’s not dystopia!” (it was more like a family drama set against a quasi-dystopian background) The people who have to sell it have to figure out where to put it, and that was as close as they could figure.
Hang in there!
Oh, Jeffo. It’s like when a baby is born, and the nurse or OB or midwife holds up the baby and chooses the baby’s name. Gah! It’s not fair, but it’s the way the game works.
Dystopia is over? Oh no! I have recently discovered a love of dystopian fiction, so for me, it has just begun.
Have you since found a publisher?
Hang in there. Endure. Keep going. All the cool kids are . . .
Sarah, loved this post. I could have written it (although not nearly as well) because I strongly identify with all of it. We, (as a society) do love our labels, don’t we?
Thank you, Sarah, for your candor and your independence. We struggle to find our identities under all the labels tacked on us. Be the best you and ignore the label makers.
Amen! I know my writing is firmly seated in adult fiction, but that didn’t make my story an easy fit. My agent loved the story, betas loved the story, the very few editors we sent it to loved the story–and most had great things to say about the book’s voice and momentum, still, the story has gone to the drawer with virtually no publishing houses seeing it. Why? Because it has no comps.
When talking among friends, or with my agent, we can list casual comps, but as for legitimate comps that will assure a publishing house the book can call X-range of dollars… I got nuttin’.
“It’s like this”–“but we can’t use that, because that one has a female protagonist.”–“Yes, but it IS like that one.”–“Agreed, but the readership is different because of the gender flip.”
“It’s like this”–“but we can’t use that, because that one is historical.”
“It’s like a cross between this and this”–but we can’t say that, because one is non-fiction, and the other is a movie.”
Apparently, I had a buy-able story that is not marketable. So, in the drawer it went.
The story I’m writing now, is a little more market-clear (I think/hope/pray.) If it sells, maybe my readers will trust me enough to allow that first story to see a store shelf then…