My 10 Year Author Anniversary 🌙
A DECADE LATERThe hardest lessons since publishing my debut novel in 2012
This is the only thing you’ve ever wanted, and you aren’t sure if it’s because of the primal urge to understand your place in the world, or if it’s ego. Perhaps a little bit of both.
Every writing journey is unique. What works for you won’t work for others. But this is what you’ve learned. The good, the bad, and the yet to come. Here is how your story goes.
“SO WRITE IT” Or, no one is going to write your book for you.
It’s 2008 and you’re going to school full time, working night shifts at a seedy nightclub, interning in publishing, and nursing this tender dream of being an author. The junior agent that works for the self-absorbed and, at times, delusional boss asks if you’ve ever considered writing. You say yes.
She tells you to finish something and she’d take it out.
You finish the book, and she does just that, knocking on the doors of New York’s publishing houses.
You both try your best but get the same rejections. Some are about voice. Others are about the subject. “We already have a Latino book for the season.” Others say “It’s not a question of the novel so much as of the market climate for a Latina/Quinceanera YA from a small publisher.” You still search your email for these responses every now and then because you're nothing if not petty.
You wonder why there are several coming of age and sweet 16 novels, but that’s a different essay.
You don’t write for a year.
Instead, there are books to read, bills to pay, degrees to attempt, and more bills to pay.
You know you have to keep writing because the only other option is complaining, and you can complain while still writing. You don’t know this now, but rejections won’t stop coming so you either have to learn how to get back up or get a stable 9-5 job and write stories that are for just yourself. Whatever hurt you’re nursing, you have to get over it and keep writing because no one is going to do it for you.
You keep writing.
It’s 2009 and you’re browsing at a now-closed Barnes & Noble in Chelsea. Your editor friend patiently listens to you complain about the kind of book you are in the mood to read but couldn’t find. He says, “So write it.”
So you write it. In between work shifts and classes. At the back of lecture halls for classes you’ll get failing grades for. You write on the subway. You take your things to Coney Island, for inspiration, sit on a beach towel and write. You write because the only other option is being present at work and in school, and those aren’t the places you want to be.
It’s 2010, and you’ve finally gotten your manuscript ready for submission. It’s a book you’ve always wanted as a reader—a YA urban fantasy about mermaids.
It’s 2011 and a publisher wants to take a chance on you! Sourcebooks Fire is the new imprint of Sourcebooks, a publisher that has been around literally as long as you’ve been alive. Founded in 1987, you share a birth year. They are small, but excited. The editor understands your voice. The advance is $6,000 and it is a start. You don’t know anything about advances, and you have another job, so you are still over the moon. You are going to be published and it’s a start.
“So write it” feels like an obvious thing, but sometimes you need a push, a nod of approval, a kick (gentle or not) out of the nest. Not everyone needs this smoke signal from the universe that says “go forth and do the thing you want.” But for many of us, we stay with feet planted firmly at the starting line because we don’t hear the cry “ready, set, go.” It’s not always going to be a sprint or a race. In fact, it shouldn’t be those things because when you run, you’re only running against yourself.
If you’re waiting from your signal from the universe, this is it.
So write it.
MEDIUM EXPECTATIONS, Or what happens after the book is published.
Here’s the thing—you want the same thing as many authors. Write a book, publish a book, have people who aren’t related to you buy the book, sell another book. Success means different things to different people, but in the beginning, it is hard to know what success looks like for you.
To be honest, you still don’t know what success looks like or when it will be enough.
There is no sense in looking back, but you will do it and do it often. “Why didn’t I ask more questions?” “Why didn’t I have the gall to walk away from a deal I didn’t feel comfortable with?” Why, why, why. It is a constant refrain, your own personal haunting raven. There is no sense in blaming yourself because one day you will realize you made the decisions you had to make at the time.
You will meet authors who have great expectations from the day they sign with their agent. Some will have every advantage in the world and they will take off, literal literary stars overnight. You will wonder when it will be your turn.
You will know authors who toil for five, ten, fifteen, twenty years and are still called overnight sensations. You will hear the things people say about you, and you will realize that only your closest friends, your family, really know you.
You will realize that even though you know the ins and outs of this industry you chose, you still don’t quite fit. You don’t know how to peddle your identity. You don’t know how to cry for the internet. You know everything and you know nothing because you are in the business of personality, and even though these words are your heart, these books are a business. You have to learn how to be both. Somehow, be both.
You keep writing, managing expectations.
You sell more books to try to make ends meet. You forget that you are a living, breathing bag of bones instead of a machine. You forget yourself. You forget that your value is not your Amazon rank or a marketing campaign.
You remember there are people finding your words, here and there like fireflies in the pitch dark.
You keep writing, and you hate it because you are no longer shiny and new, and perhaps you never were. But even when you hate it you love it because your heart is made of words, a run-on sentence that will never be quite finished.
You have moments where everything tastes like chewing on ground coffee beans. But you swallow the grit and the bitter taste and you keep writing.
You have periods where you cannot believe, you cannot believe that you have made a difference. Maybe you didn’t sell a hundred thousand copies, but the one that you sold changed someone’s life. That life matters.
With every book, you think “Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the one that will take off.” But there is always something wrong: your editor leaves, your publicist leaves the week of your launch, a truly hideous cover you cannot even attach your pen name to, a disagreement with your publisher that leaves you wanting to burn your manuscript, shipping delays, a predatory company who snuffs out your spirit, a god damned pandemic, a canceled tour. There is always something so you just learn to laugh, to expect it, to brace for the worst, to move on.
You don’t sweat it anymore because the only certainty is that there will always be something wrong. You don’t believe in horoscopes or star signs anymore, so the only thing you can blame is yourself because the only certainty in your life is your own angst.
You will be pleasantly surprised when you meet editors and publishers that really truly make you feel wanted.
No matter what, you remember to always always always say thank you. Always be grateful.
You keep writing, and rewriting.
You realize you can be tough on the business but gentle with yourself.
You quit. Every six months you have had it. The nights are too long. Most publishers treat you like you’re expendable.
Your body is a rag doll coming undone at the seams.
You get it together because when you quit, they win. Whoever "they" are isn’t even reading this, doesn’t even know you.
You know who knows you? The friends who reach out and tell you they loved your work. The readers who choose your book. The strangers who know nothing about the last ten years of your life, they only know this bound stack of pages called your heart.
You have more good than you know. Remember that.
Your expectations are not in your control. Your expectations are not the same thing as hope.
You must always have hope.
Keep writing.
“SO WHAT ARE THE LESSONS, ZORAIDA?” OR, don’t do what I do.
Here’s the thing. I started writing this essay in March, thinking that I was going to post it on my blog and my newsletter on May 3rd, 2022, my 10-year publishing anniversary. Then May 3rd came and went, and so did my deadlines. I did not celebrate it publicly. I had a very nice wine, ordered some take out, and counted the things that mattered, the good things since: friendships, colleagues, readers, experiences.
The last few years have been a struggle on whether or not I have any more words left in me. Then I remember that I do, the only problem has been that I did not slow down during a global pandemic. Even before that, I just didn't slow down. I kept going and didn’t stop to refill my soul with all the good.
Every year on January 1st, I write down a list of professional goals. Things that I hope to gain for myself—sell a book, hit the list, sell another book, publish said book, lose the quarantine 19, travel here and there. This year was no different. But a few months ago, during one of my “quitting” fits, I just completely scratched out everything on that list I wrote at the top of 2022. I decided that this year, I’m going to free myself of the pressure of expectations. I’m going to have hope that good things will come my way (they always do). There is nothing wrong with wanting things. But the only thing is remembering that when expectations rise, so should your gratitude.
And I am so grateful. I really am. I might bitch and moan about the tough stuff, the ugly stuff, the things that we leave off Instagram and such. But at the end of the day, I am here and I have left something behind. Some of my books are out of print. Some have gone onto multiple printings. I need to remind myself not to lose sight of that hopeful 23-year-old in these pictures who felt so lucky, so lucky that I just get to do this. And every good thing that has happened to me is because I am surrounded by friends, family, and a team who believes in me.
WHAT NOW?
When I turned 32, I wrote down a list called “Notes to Self on Your 32nd Birthday…” I transcribed them. Some are publishing-related. Most are not. Plus an addendum now that I’m about to be 35.
Be thankful for even the smallest things.
One day you will fall in love, like for real for real.
Never settle for anyone who treats you as ordinary. Thank u next.
Call your mother, she misses you.
Let go of your hate, because, uh, you know where it leads.
Think about why you overindulge in things.
Your book is not for everyone.
Keep your friends close.
Block bad vibes
If you have a bad feeling about someone, TRUST IT.
Take a walk every day. Even five minutes if you can.
If you only cover what others have, you will never have things of your own.
Losing weight will not make you a better person. Eat the donut.
Ask for help.
The deadline can be pushed. It isn’t worth your health.
Be happy and joyous for others.
Give back to the communities that give to you.
Indulgence =/= self-care if you are coping for something that hurts.
…so talk about it.
You’ll probably never stop using dangling modifiers.
Crying is okay.
Feel your sadness.
Let it go.
Sing.
You deserve it all.
HUSTLE NEVER STOPS
But… it’s okay to take a day off without feeling guilty.
Drink more water.
While you’re at it, go to the dentist.
Pitch your wildest dreams to the universe.
You don’t believe in a lot of things but at least believe in you.
Keep going.
Social media isn’t real life. You never know what is really going on with someone so give them, and yourself grace.
People are not stepping stones.
You will never be anyone but you, so know that is enough, and that is a beautiful thing.
I love you. Thank you for 10 years of support. For indulging me when I'm in my feels. I don’t know what comes next, but I hope to share it with you when I do. The work continues!
My next book is ANGELS. My Supernatural, Lucifer, Constantine love has come to this. It is the last book I'm contracted for. After that....who knows. The world is mine.
We are getting the paperback treatment. I know, it's an entirely different direction. There are many reasons why covers get changed. I'd use a lot of buzzwords like "new markets" and "target audiences" and such. But I think when a book has done as much as possible in one format, it's time to try something new. It comes out July 5th, 2022.
My next middle grade novel comes out in three weeks June 28th! If you're in NYC, I will update soon about an in-person event. It'll be my first solo event in a while. Save the date: June 30th! For now, pre-order the book from your local independent bookstore! They will be available in ebook, audio, and hardcover wherever books are sold. For signed copies, they will be available at Books of Wonder!
What am I loving?
My Star Wars trash feelings are at an all time high. This series is so good. It's sad, overwhelming, and just truly beautiful. I can't wait to see where they take it.
If you love historical romance with many chili peppers, THEN READ THIS BOOK. It is so so good and that is not even an exaggeration because I love the author.
That's all for now. I have more updates soon, but if you've been in this newsletter for a while you know that I'm terrible at updating. So it goes. Here is to another 10 years of magic and mayhem.
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