I write for a living though I’ve yet to make any money at
it. You see, I could not live without
writing. It is as much a part of my
existence as breathing and eating.
That’s not to say I don’t want to one day get paid for my writing. I’m just not there yet; I’m still learning the
craft.
I finished my first manuscript four years ago, and I
immediately sent a query to a literary agency and to the editor of a small
publishing house. The agency answered
first requesting the full manuscript. I
sent it within two weeks, but it only took them two days to send back a
rejection. It came accompanied with six
pages of revisions and the manuscript dripping in editing marks. Ouch.
Next the editor from the publishing house requested the same
manuscript but I just packaged it all up into a folder and filed it away. What
the literary agency suggested made sense. It stung. It was painful. But it was correct. I knew I had a good idea;
I just didn’t know enough about the craft to do it justice.
I soldiered on.
I finished and polished two children’s stories next and
entered them into a well-known, national writing contest. Several writer
friends warned me that very few ever placed in that contest and I was in for
more disappointment.
I was getting good at growing a thick skin, so while I waited
for that rejection, I started on a romance novel.
I felt like a floundering college freshman, I couldn’t decide
on a major. What kind of writer did I want to become? Fiction? Children’s lit? Romance? There is so
much to learn about the craft of writing well.
It took me twenty months to write the romance novel. My protagonist begged for mercy since she was
pregnant the entire time. Not satisfied with the end result, I packaged this
one also, filed it, and moved on to my next project.
In the meantime, my two children’s stories placed in the top
ten percent of the nationwide contest. I
looked at those again and wondered if I should not pitch them to editors. Instead I ended up drawn to my first manuscript. Maybe I could I read it this time (and the
list of revisions) without wincing and crying?
It was time to get serious about being an author.
I envy writers born with words that flow onto the page. I have to pry mine off my fingertips like those
dried flakes of skin you make with Elmer’s Glue. Half the time they
disintegrate into nothing.
I have lots of ideas for future projects, but I cannot
continue creating manuscripts and not seeing them all the way through the
publishing process.
There’s a big difference between being a writer and being a
published author.
One day (I hope it is not posthumously), you will see my work
in print. By that I mean published
traditionally. I want to hold a copy of
my work in my hands and flip through its bound pages. I want to open my email and find that a check
has been deposited into my bank account because of it.
Then I will know what it means to say, I write for a living.
Oooooh, I love the phrase about prying the words off of your fingertips. I so get that! Like they're being dragged out of my head.
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Why thank you, Ms. Pittman. You are my inspiration. I love your body of work. :)
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