How Not to Miss the Forest for the Trees: Appreciating the Long and Winding Writing Road (And Its Many Detours, Pitfalls, and Stumbles)

Like many of us in the pre-Covid days, I had grand literary plans for my novel-in-progress and a timeline I felt was realistic. Not too ambitious, not too plodding. Just right, like a Goldilocks’ timeline of book publishing.

This wasn’t the first time I was convinced that my time for querying agents was near. Before starting my current book in 2018, I’d worked on another for four years, and each year felt like the year I’d finally query, and each year it wasn’t. 

By the early days of March 2020, I’d shelved my first book and was finishing up a year-long intensive novel revision program for my second alongside peers who have become some of my best friends and fiercest story advocates. My full novel draft had been revised and read through for the second time, I knew exactly what changes I wanted to make, and by the end of the summer I’d be ready to send my manuscript off to the inboxes of agents who were surely eagerly awaiting the brilliance contained within.

Then COVID hit. And suddenly I was cut off from all the structures, places, and people who had made the incredible feat of novel-writing possible. Gone were morning writing sessions in cafes with friends to keep me accountable, afternoon writing sessions in the library or dining hall of the college dorm I work for / live in. Late night drinks at the bar with my writing classmates, working through plot difficulties and celebrating each other’s accomplishments were a thing of the past. Suddenly my single room, once spacious because I counted an entire dorm as my living space, became my entire world. Bedroom, living room, office, dining room, and kitchen. And I lived for the Zoom meetings and text messages with friends that let me know they still existed and that one day I’d see them again in person.

So perhaps it is no surprise that my timeline fell straight out the window. I don’t know when I resumed writing, but it wouldn’t be far off to guess it wasn’t until late 2020 or early 2021. As if COVID didn’t have me feeling bad enough, I felt like a failure for my inability to write. The grace I was so ready and willing to grant to everyone else felt elusive when I attempted to turn it upon myself.

Things improved in 2021 – warming weather, vaccines, and finally seeing friends I’d missed dearly helped me return to my writing, and by April or May I’d finally finished the revision I’d thought would be done ten months prior. That accomplishment gave me a huge boost of energy, which I used to create a list of potential agents, work on a query letter and synopsis, and prepare to send queries out. 

Meanwhile, I sent the draft to a few friends, and through their feedback, realized I wasn’t ready to query yet. My revision had done so much for the book, but if I wanted it to be the best it could be, I needed to do more. At first my momentum remained strong, but soon I was missing each new deadline I set for myself, devastated to put off a goal that had never felt closer, especially after failing to progress towards it for nearly a year.

I knew this revision shouldn’t take more than three weeks at most, but weeks turned to months and soon it was November.

Finally, finally, I finished the draft, tried to cut 5,000 words, cut only 1,000, said eff it, then stayed up til 3 am querying a list of agents I’d spent the past five hours researching. 

That was just over a month ago, and it’s been largely crickets since. But I did it. That most elusive step was finally within my grasp.

As the weeks have dragged on, and we move now into these end-of-December holiday weeks when agents are either completely away from their inbox or frantically trying to clear it, I feel the guilt and the ‘what-ifs’ sneaking back in. 

If only I’d finished a year ago, I could have an agent and maybe a book deal by now.

If only I’d finished months ago, I wouldn’t be querying at what seems like the worst time to be querying all year. 

If only, if only, if only.

In the midst of those frantic days last month – while trying to stave off self-doubt, finish my book, and shove it into agents’ inboxes before the end of a year fast approaching – I received a text from the friend whose (as always) brilliant insights had pushed me to do that one last revision before querying. It was sent to a group – four of us from the Novel revision program – in a thread that still gives me the warm and fuzzy feeling from early COVID days when it was a literal lifeline for what remained of my sanity. And it helped me put everything into perspective once again.

“Nostalgic inspiration of the morning: two years ago, each of us would have said our dream would be to find an agent, publish our revision, and go to more successes.” – Here my friend proceeds to kindly list all of the awesome, non-agent-finding, non-book-publishing accomplishments we’ve managed in that span of time, including but not limited to multiple draft revisions, article and short story publications, editorial work, and more, then ends with this gem I’ve looked back on often: “OK, not the dream we all had, but my point is… that’s A LOT and we’re kind of amazing. Being in this spot, I can barely somewhat recall the pitches we wrote (even though I remember words forever), but I remember how we helped each other <3”

And, of course, he was right (he often is). I’d missed the forest for the trees. A younger version of myself might be disappointed to know how long it’s taken to come this far, but in focusing on my one goal of querying agents, I was overlooking everything else I’d done not just in the year since COVID arrived, but in the past seven or so years since I first felt confident that goal was imminent.

If I’d queried with my last book, I might have missed my chance to envision my current one, a book which I’m immensely proud of and that I think can do much good in the world.

If I’d queried with my last book, I’d have missed the chance to apply to GrubStreet’s Novel Incubator when I did, a program that has infinitely enriched my writing life and provided me with lifelong friends I shudder to imagine life without.

If I’d queried a year ago, I likely wouldn’t have written the Elliot Page piece which was the direct catalyst for further work at multiple other sites, including this one.

If I’d queried back in April with the draft before this current one, I’d have missed the opportunity to write a new chapter that’s become one of my favorites. 

It is only in hindsight that I can see how speeding up any part of this long process would have deprived me of so much more than I would have gained. 

It’s hard to avoid looking ahead, stretching towards whichever goal is next on our list. And harder still to grant ourselves the kindness and grace we so easily extend to others. But there will always be a next goal, a next step or accomplishment, accolade or recognition that we strive towards, and if we can’t get in the habit of appreciating where the journey has led us thus far, we’ll never find happiness as a writer. Not long term, anyway. 

So my advice to you now is two-fold, and it is advice that I hope to carry forward myself as the query wait continues, and we enter a new year.

• Take a moment (or two, or as many as you need) to reflect on everything you have accomplished. Every idea or scene, new experience or writing relationship you’ve envisioned, created, learned from, or gained that you might have missed if any bit of this writing journey had moved more quickly.

• Be the friend who reminds someone else about all they’ve accomplished. Because we’re all in this together, and sometimes we need a little help seeing the forest through the trees.

What is something you’ve accomplished this year in your writing (or otherwise)? Has a friend ever helped you put your writing journey in perspective?