Letter to My Unpublished Self

Dear Unpublished Me,

I want to warn you that it takes a lot longer to get published than you think it will. When you are getting all those nice rejections, asking you to send something else, that it’s “really close,” you’re still only about halfway there. And that’s OK, because fifteen years after your first book comes out, you will still be really proud of it. You won’t have any regrets about the books that you put away and moved on to something else that was better. You will never wish that you had spent more time working on one of those ideas that turned out to be unpublishable.

You tell people now that it’s not about having the right connections, that it’s about writing a book that is so good, editors can’t turn it down, and that’s such a good attitude. It may be naive, but it has a certain charm and it works. It keeps you going, keeps you learning and trying crazy stuff, and you really do end up writing incredible books because of that. Connections are actually great things to have, but not necessarily in the way that people think. They don’t get you published, but they can be excellent help in understanding how publishing works, which is useful, but not absolutely necessary.

You think right now that writing is going to save you from financial ruin, though, and I have to tell you, that just doesn’t happen. You need to figure out how to deal with your financial crap the old-fashioned way, by making sacrifices and not spending money on stupid stuff you don’t really care about anyway. I’m telling you now, you will eventually get this figured out, but there’s no reason not to start a little earlier.

I know you are desperate to move from being an unpublished “wannabe” to being a “real” author, but I have to tell you, it doesn’t work like that. You don’t wake up one day with a contract and suddenly feel confident in yourself. That will be a process of many years. And that’s OK. There’s really no way to jump start this. You grow into this slowly, and you end up not being a jerk, which is better than you’ll say of other people.

Also, you should know that once you get your first book published, it isn’t all easy after that. Your second book is nearly as hard to sell as your first one, and there are a bunch of close calls in there, books that you still wonder if maybe one day you will sell. The third book is the same thing all over again. And while four, five, six, seven, and eight seem easy and like you have it all figured out, it’s a mirage. Book nine is harder than giving birth, and you have plenty of experience with that.

You are imagining right now that all the people who dismissed you as unimportant through your life will suddenly see how great you are as a writer. High school friends and enemies, grad school people, teachers, colleagues, and so on. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the truth is, none of them care about you being published in the least. And that is one of the best things in your life, in a way. It gives you a freedom that you really need to value. Those people have no investment in your career, and that means that you don’t have to spend time thinking about if what you are working on next will keep on impressing them. It won’t.

Life is complicated. People are, too. There will be times when you are tempted to dump people who seem to be sabotaging your career. I have to tell you that these people have their own issues. They are human beings with flaws, and they hurt you, but they also show you the real world. You can choose to move on without them or you can choose to try to work things out. It is entirely up to you, but from my perspective, I will say that some compassion and understanding isn’t out of place. And it doesn’t hurt for you to see what you’re doing in these relationships, either.

The big things that you think are coming for you may or may not materialize, and I know you have a lot of fun now imagining how it will all feel. Big reviews, NYT Best seller status, the big contracts, hobnobbing with other big name authors—some of that really can be fun. But a lot of it is bunk. That is, a lot of the best things about being a writer are small moments. Getting the book absolutely right, writing a book that no one else could even conceive of, the turn of a sentence, readers asking when you are going to write a sequel to a book because the characters are so alive for them—these are the things that really matter to you.

You say no to a lot of events because you are shy in the first few years after you are published. You are never going to be an extrovert, and I know you are focused on your daily word count a bit obsessively. But if you’re willing to listen to a little advice—get over yourself. Go out and meet people. Let yourself experience the real world. Real readers sometimes aren’t knowledgeable about books or theory. They just like to read, and even if they haven’t read your books, they may teach you something.

There are a lot of mistakes I wish I could save you from making, but I don’t really see how. You have a good heart, and you want to believe the best of people. It’s true more often than it’s not, and it probably helps you more than it hinders you. But there are people to watch out for. There are times when believing the best ends up making you twist yourself into an uncomfortable and untenable shape. But you will survive. You are a survivor, and that is really something that I’m proud of in you. You never gave up. You kept throwing yourself out there. You kept taking risks on doing things that no one else would have dared to do. And you made it.

You will make it. Good luck!

Signed,

Me