Yeah…
When I said I had pretty much come to terms with Drowning Practice not selling, I thought I was telling the truth, but it turns out I lied to you and to me and to everyone else I fed that line.
I am not okay with it. I’m not okay with it at all.
All I’ve done is shifted all my hopes for that book onto the next one, now putting enormous pressure on myself to make the new book this incredible, shiny, brilliant thing that will quickly and easily find all the success and accolades that its ugly older sibling manuscript didn’t find. I’ve been expecting the new book to make it all alright. Which is bullshit. Because it will either have better luck finding a publisher or the same shitty luck as the first book, but I’m dooming it from the start if I’m writing it with the hopes that it will somehow save me. If I’m no longer writing it because I’m moved to, and because I want to tell the story and I have questions I need to explore and answers I need to find… If I’m now writing it because I want something to happen to me, outside of the book itself and the writing…well then the book and I are both well and good fucked.
I’m crazy depressed about Drowning Practice not selling. I “failed” at that, so now I’m trying to be the best bread-baker, the best organic gardener, the best stay-at-home mom. Very seriously researching yogurt-making and home canning systems and considering making my own soymilk.
Yeah. It’s gotten that bad. There is no sane reason for me to make my own soymilk.
(This is not to say I feel any differently about self-publishing or very teensy presses. The first person who suggests that route, I can’t guarantee my previous good grace to. I’m in a head-biting mood.)
No revelation or decision to share with you here. It’s just that I woke up to a few things today and apparently all is not well in Utopia.
So that’s the news from here, for today anyway. And now, to tend to the rising bread dough. Anyone seen my apron?
*Hugs* Wish I could think of something to say to help you feel better.
Posted by: (formerly) no-blog-rachel
it fucking sucks, man, no two ways about it. but if you’re going to spend some time burning off otherwise destructive energy in domestic pursuits, screw soy milk. get chickens.
Posted by: heather
*Hugs* Wish I could think of something to say to help you feel better.
Posted by: (formerly) no-blog-rachel
it fucking sucks, man, no two ways about it. but if you’re going to spend some time burning off otherwise destructive energy in domestic pursuits, screw soy milk. get chickens.
Posted by: heather
Maybe it’s just not time yet – maybe the universe knows you need to be home now, learning lessons, gathering backstories. I’m a firm believer in “timing is everything” – don’t lose hope.
Posted by: Jeny
Please tell us that you’re not going to take up scrapbooking. Step away from the glue gun, lady.
Posted by: Andi
I think it takes a lot of courage to admit that everything is not ok and you don’t feel good. For me, only when I finally admitted to myself that I was feeling bad did I realize how long I had not “been fine” and could start to heal. Take care of yourself! You are a creative and smart woman.
Posted by: knittripps
Man, that must have been painful to write. Must have felt good, too. xo
Posted by: Rachael
Ack. It well and truly sucks when you’ve decided that you’re okay with something… but you’re not, really.
I’m so sorry. But I know that you’re a compelling writer I want to read more of (“Go.”). So I hope that things work through for you.
Posted by: Jill Smith
Maybe it’s just not time yet – maybe the universe knows you need to be home now, learning lessons, gathering backstories. I’m a firm believer in “timing is everything” – don’t lose hope.
Posted by: Jeny
Please tell us that you’re not going to take up scrapbooking. Step away from the glue gun, lady.
Posted by: Andi
I think it takes a lot of courage to admit that everything is not ok and you don’t feel good. For me, only when I finally admitted to myself that I was feeling bad did I realize how long I had not “been fine” and could start to heal. Take care of yourself! You are a creative and smart woman.
Posted by: knittripps
Man, that must have been painful to write. Must have felt good, too. xo
Posted by: Rachael
Ack. It well and truly sucks when you’ve decided that you’re okay with something… but you’re not, really.
I’m so sorry. But I know that you’re a compelling writer I want to read more of (“Go.”). So I hope that things work through for you.
Posted by: Jill Smith
Hmmm. I do ask that you might think about timing. Yup timing. Maybe the timing is off. Sometimes a book is really really good, but the reading world wants light fare because, the economy is bad, they are scared about their jobs, gas is crazy, the neighbor next door is a drug dealer, the kids are sick…again. It rained on the one day off I have had. You want something light, not heavy, funny, not sarcasm, beautifully crafted, and with hope and resolution and resolve in it. Instead of the newspaper or the latest Oprah, women in bad situations, or classics. Sometimes is really is just about the timing. Put it away for now, it needs a time out. It needs a vacation…and so do you. Focus on the garden, bread and the baby. Have a bit of fun, try writing when the urge is undeniable. Persistance pays off. If it is to be it will be. Things maybe happening that you are unaware of and maybe this is preparing you for something much better. This is like a piece of fruit, it is plucked of the tree, but is it ripe?
Patty
Posted by: Patty
Don’t take this the wrong way, but I am glad to hear you say this, because I guess I kind of felt like there must be a river of – well, this – running underneath those brave words.
I mean, there are good things about brave words – sometimes they do help us get through a difficult thing. Sometimes faking the courage can bring a bit of it. But you know, I think it’s okay to be really upset, too. It’s damned upsetting.
I think, let yourself be upset for a while. Eventually you will start to feel again your own value as a writer, and the new book will be itself, with some space around it, and not the vessel of all your hopes and dreams and the grail that vanquishes the previous book’s non-publication, yada yada.
Really. It’s okay to buy the damned soymilk. You’re still a terrific writer.
Posted by: Lizbon
i am very sorry it is hurting so badly right now, cari. just wanted to let you know i am thinking of you in semi-utopia right now and wishing you some peace.
Posted by: mamie
Congrats to you for writing this, and (publicly) admitting that you’re not as OK with the situation as you would like to be. Personally, I think you should lie down on the floor and kick your feet and scream.
I have my own “failure” right now – I have an 8-week old daughter, and breastfeeding has been a complete disaster (I’m pumping and giving her bottles). Since that’s a “failure” I’ve caught myself already thinking about having a second child, just so I can get it “right.” When really I should be focusing on my first child and not missing any of her moments! I’m sure it’s not the same as writing a book, but I just wanted to share.
Posted by: Sarah
Oh, ouch. That sucks, that sucks awfully. You’re still an AWESOME writer, and honestly I think it is a terrible loss that Drowning Practice isn’t being picked up yet.
You know, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with focusing on other things for a while, until the love and excitement comes back.
Sounds like you’re putting your “angry” energy into some very good, meaningful things. I mean, shoot. “I’m trying to discover just how many beers I can pound back in a one hour period” v. “Best organic gardener I can be”?
If only we could ALL do that.
Posted by: Mother Chaos
Hmmm. I do ask that you might think about timing. Yup timing. Maybe the timing is off. Sometimes a book is really really good, but the reading world wants light fare because, the economy is bad, they are scared about their jobs, gas is crazy, the neighbor next door is a drug dealer, the kids are sick…again. It rained on the one day off I have had. You want something light, not heavy, funny, not sarcasm, beautifully crafted, and with hope and resolution and resolve in it. Instead of the newspaper or the latest Oprah, women in bad situations, or classics. Sometimes is really is just about the timing. Put it away for now, it needs a time out. It needs a vacation…and so do you. Focus on the garden, bread and the baby. Have a bit of fun, try writing when the urge is undeniable. Persistance pays off. If it is to be it will be. Things maybe happening that you are unaware of and maybe this is preparing you for something much better. This is like a piece of fruit, it is plucked of the tree, but is it ripe?
Patty
Posted by: Patty
Don’t take this the wrong way, but I am glad to hear you say this, because I guess I kind of felt like there must be a river of – well, this – running underneath those brave words.
I mean, there are good things about brave words – sometimes they do help us get through a difficult thing. Sometimes faking the courage can bring a bit of it. But you know, I think it’s okay to be really upset, too. It’s damned upsetting.
I think, let yourself be upset for a while. Eventually you will start to feel again your own value as a writer, and the new book will be itself, with some space around it, and not the vessel of all your hopes and dreams and the grail that vanquishes the previous book’s non-publication, yada yada.
Really. It’s okay to buy the damned soymilk. You’re still a terrific writer.
Posted by: Lizbon
i am very sorry it is hurting so badly right now, cari. just wanted to let you know i am thinking of you in semi-utopia right now and wishing you some peace.
Posted by: mamie
Congrats to you for writing this, and (publicly) admitting that you’re not as OK with the situation as you would like to be. Personally, I think you should lie down on the floor and kick your feet and scream.
I have my own “failure” right now – I have an 8-week old daughter, and breastfeeding has been a complete disaster (I’m pumping and giving her bottles). Since that’s a “failure” I’ve caught myself already thinking about having a second child, just so I can get it “right.” When really I should be focusing on my first child and not missing any of her moments! I’m sure it’s not the same as writing a book, but I just wanted to share.
Posted by: Sarah
Oh, ouch. That sucks, that sucks awfully. You’re still an AWESOME writer, and honestly I think it is a terrible loss that Drowning Practice isn’t being picked up yet.
You know, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with focusing on other things for a while, until the love and excitement comes back.
Sounds like you’re putting your “angry” energy into some very good, meaningful things. I mean, shoot. “I’m trying to discover just how many beers I can pound back in a one hour period” v. “Best organic gardener I can be”?
If only we could ALL do that.
Posted by: Mother Chaos
It just sucks about Drowning Practice. I can’t imagine what a struggle this might be, putting all your heart and soul into something and then having it shot down.
Posted by: Sally McEntire
Owie. I’m sorry. But you didn’t fail at nothin. You are still a writer, and a good one.
Posted by: Anne
Wow! I think we’re ALL going through things right now that are putting us in funks. I’m getting married next Friday and I am CONVINCED that it is going to be a HUGE failure. I’ve doomed myself from the beginning, and actually dread planning so much, that I’ve become an excellent domestically as well. Not to the degree that you have, but reading your gardening post…really made me feel like I wasn’t doing right by my son since I buy our produce from the store. But I’m a great house cleaner that sweeps and scrubs all day long HAPPILY. I know that my wedding isn’t a novel, but I’ve totally been beating myself up over mundane shit (like chair covers!) that are really nothing. I know my own personal rant is just that, but sometimes I like when fellow blog commenters commiserate with me. Hang in there, the tides are bound to change for the better, right?
Posted by: rubyredruca
I am not an accomplished writer, nor am I simply a writer other than my rants and raves on my own blog. BUT, I have learned that, as a perfectionist (and perhaps you are too), that ‘failure’ is exceptionally painful. I also know that being a perfectionist and just simply good at everything you try, makes an unsuccessful attempt at something, even worse (Speaking from experience of course). Clearly, because you have started a second book, you are not a failure. You started a second book before you even knew the outcome of the first one, what confidence and resilience that shows! Most people aren’t brave enough to even submit a manuscript, let alone start another. Just think, someday they’ll publish your ‘lost works’!! I feel like as an Alaskan I should have some sourdough starter somewhere in my house, I don’t. So, if it helps, you’re doing better in the domestic sourdough area than an Alaskan!!
Posted by: Abbey Valentine
I am so sorry to see you hurting so much, but I want to tell you that I appreciate your honesty very, very much. I’m glad you write posts like this.
I’m in academia; although it’s different from your writing world, there are plenty of parallels. High hopes and expectations can motivate like nothing else, but I sometimes wonder if the cost is too high.
Lately I’ve been thinking that the best thing for us to strive for is kindness and authenticity. Does this sound silly and too ’60’s? Perhaps. But fame and accomplishment can be so ephemeral and superficial. Providing real soymilk is something real.
Posted by: Hanna
It just sucks about Drowning Practice. I can’t imagine what a struggle this might be, putting all your heart and soul into something and then having it shot down.
Posted by: Sally McEntire
Owie. I’m sorry. But you didn’t fail at nothin. You are still a writer, and a good one.
Posted by: Anne
Wow! I think we’re ALL going through things right now that are putting us in funks. I’m getting married next Friday and I am CONVINCED that it is going to be a HUGE failure. I’ve doomed myself from the beginning, and actually dread planning so much, that I’ve become an excellent domestically as well. Not to the degree that you have, but reading your gardening post…really made me feel like I wasn’t doing right by my son since I buy our produce from the store. But I’m a great house cleaner that sweeps and scrubs all day long HAPPILY. I know that my wedding isn’t a novel, but I’ve totally been beating myself up over mundane shit (like chair covers!) that are really nothing. I know my own personal rant is just that, but sometimes I like when fellow blog commenters commiserate with me. Hang in there, the tides are bound to change for the better, right?
Posted by: rubyredruca
I am not an accomplished writer, nor am I simply a writer other than my rants and raves on my own blog. BUT, I have learned that, as a perfectionist (and perhaps you are too), that ‘failure’ is exceptionally painful. I also know that being a perfectionist and just simply good at everything you try, makes an unsuccessful attempt at something, even worse (Speaking from experience of course). Clearly, because you have started a second book, you are not a failure. You started a second book before you even knew the outcome of the first one, what confidence and resilience that shows! Most people aren’t brave enough to even submit a manuscript, let alone start another. Just think, someday they’ll publish your ‘lost works’!! I feel like as an Alaskan I should have some sourdough starter somewhere in my house, I don’t. So, if it helps, you’re doing better in the domestic sourdough area than an Alaskan!!
Posted by: Abbey Valentine
I am so sorry to see you hurting so much, but I want to tell you that I appreciate your honesty very, very much. I’m glad you write posts like this.
I’m in academia; although it’s different from your writing world, there are plenty of parallels. High hopes and expectations can motivate like nothing else, but I sometimes wonder if the cost is too high.
Lately I’ve been thinking that the best thing for us to strive for is kindness and authenticity. Does this sound silly and too ’60’s? Perhaps. But fame and accomplishment can be so ephemeral and superficial. Providing real soymilk is something real.
Posted by: Hanna
I had been looking forward to your book since you wrote about having the first line tattooed on your leg (loved that idea), and I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out – I do agree it could very well be a timing issue more than anything else…
I’ve been beating myself up because I think I killed my sourdough starter, and I never even got around to making any bread, (so I have been somewhat envious of your breadbaking/gardening etc) but I have a 4yr old and 14 week old twins, so I’m trying to cut myself some slack. Re the soymilk, it’s easy. My sister used to make organic soymilk for something like 20c/litre. She’d make 7 litres, use half of it to make a block of tofu, and use the soy grounds to make a couple of loaves of bread. She didn’t have a kid though, and was living on a very tight budget. I’d buy the soy…
Posted by: jo
((Hugs)) You are not a failure. I agree with everyone else here, you are an awesome writer. (I am a bad lurker and don’t tell you that often enough.)
p.s. Yogurt is very very easy. (Way easier than bread making.) And home canning is doable – a bit more lengthy intensive work than bread making. I’ve opted for freezing – much faster and less work. I haven’t looked at the environmental cost comparisons, lately so I can’t speak to that end. I’ve never been inspired to try maying soy milk 😉
Posted by: Bullwinkle
While timing may very well be everything, it still doesn’t feel nice to have one of your creative brain children not able to find it’s way out into the world. It sucks, plain and simple.
Posted by: Phoe
What Rachael said. But I’m glad to see it, because no one in their right mind would say it didn’t hurt. It had/has to hurt more than anything — more than kidney stones — more than losing a child. Well, OK, maybe not that last one, but close. And I’m glad to see that you’re saying it and you are writing in and you are punching someone’s proverbial lights out with the anger and the hurt of it. That’s a good thing.
I’d say forget about the homemade soymilk. But the canning and yogurt-making and bread-baking are worthwhile endeavors. Yogurt-making couldn’t be easier! Canning has its tricky parts, and I stay only with high-acid foods (one, really – tomatoes) and pickled things. But pickling is awesome great fun. Another wonderful, fun thing in the kitchen: Jam-making.
I wish I could read your book, because I know in my gut and heart that it would be “my kind of book.”
Posted by: Norma
When you create something, a piece of your soul goes into it. The longer the time you spend creating it, the larger the piece of your soul. When you’re done, the thing you’ve created is one of your children. You want it to go out into the world and be accepted and loved. For it to be rejected is painful. It’s a rejection of your child and a rejection of your soul. Take time to mourn.
Posted by: Riin
I had been looking forward to your book since you wrote about having the first line tattooed on your leg (loved that idea), and I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out – I do agree it could very well be a timing issue more than anything else…
I’ve been beating myself up because I think I killed my sourdough starter, and I never even got around to making any bread, (so I have been somewhat envious of your breadbaking/gardening etc) but I have a 4yr old and 14 week old twins, so I’m trying to cut myself some slack. Re the soymilk, it’s easy. My sister used to make organic soymilk for something like 20c/litre. She’d make 7 litres, use half of it to make a block of tofu, and use the soy grounds to make a couple of loaves of bread. She didn’t have a kid though, and was living on a very tight budget. I’d buy the soy…
Posted by: jo
((Hugs)) You are not a failure. I agree with everyone else here, you are an awesome writer. (I am a bad lurker and don’t tell you that often enough.)
p.s. Yogurt is very very easy. (Way easier than bread making.) And home canning is doable – a bit more lengthy intensive work than bread making. I’ve opted for freezing – much faster and less work. I haven’t looked at the environmental cost comparisons, lately so I can’t speak to that end. I’ve never been inspired to try maying soy milk 😉
Posted by: Bullwinkle
While timing may very well be everything, it still doesn’t feel nice to have one of your creative brain children not able to find it’s way out into the world. It sucks, plain and simple.
Posted by: Phoe
What Rachael said. But I’m glad to see it, because no one in their right mind would say it didn’t hurt. It had/has to hurt more than anything — more than kidney stones — more than losing a child. Well, OK, maybe not that last one, but close. And I’m glad to see that you’re saying it and you are writing in and you are punching someone’s proverbial lights out with the anger and the hurt of it. That’s a good thing.
I’d say forget about the homemade soymilk. But the canning and yogurt-making and bread-baking are worthwhile endeavors. Yogurt-making couldn’t be easier! Canning has its tricky parts, and I stay only with high-acid foods (one, really – tomatoes) and pickled things. But pickling is awesome great fun. Another wonderful, fun thing in the kitchen: Jam-making.
I wish I could read your book, because I know in my gut and heart that it would be “my kind of book.”
Posted by: Norma
When you create something, a piece of your soul goes into it. The longer the time you spend creating it, the larger the piece of your soul. When you’re done, the thing you’ve created is one of your children. You want it to go out into the world and be accepted and loved. For it to be rejected is painful. It’s a rejection of your child and a rejection of your soul. Take time to mourn.
Posted by: Riin
Ugh – sorry to hear you’re feeling so low about the book. You need that list of brilliant/famous/much-heralded authors and the number of times they were rejected before hitting their stride. As a cute kitten once said, hang in there!
That said, homemade yogurt is super easy. Stephanie PMcP convinced me of it and now I make yogurt every week! I even got a large quantity Yogourmet (I loves me the gadgets.) I guess the next step is buying the sheep (I use sheep’s milk). Hey, then I’d have sheep’s milk AND wool. Hmmm… Urban livestock…
Posted by: Anneliese
Cari,
There is no way you could feel ok about having a book in a drawer. But we, who read you faithfully and WILL BUY this book when it comes out, could not tell you that. It needed to come from you.
I am an avid reader, both in French and in English. I feel lucky to live here in Canada. It seems that sometimes our Canadian writers might have an easier chance at being published. I am so very amazed at the stuff that is published lately, but then I’m not a reader in my twenties or thrities. Light, frivolous fiction seems on the rise. Life is not always fair. May your editor eventually succeed!
Posted by: Carmen
Ugh – sorry to hear you’re feeling so low about the book. You need that list of brilliant/famous/much-heralded authors and the number of times they were rejected before hitting their stride. As a cute kitten once said, hang in there!
That said, homemade yogurt is super easy. Stephanie PMcP convinced me of it and now I make yogurt every week! I even got a large quantity Yogourmet (I loves me the gadgets.) I guess the next step is buying the sheep (I use sheep’s milk). Hey, then I’d have sheep’s milk AND wool. Hmmm… Urban livestock…
Posted by: Anneliese
Cari,
There is no way you could feel ok about having a book in a drawer. But we, who read you faithfully and WILL BUY this book when it comes out, could not tell you that. It needed to come from you.
I am an avid reader, both in French and in English. I feel lucky to live here in Canada. It seems that sometimes our Canadian writers might have an easier chance at being published. I am so very amazed at the stuff that is published lately, but then I’m not a reader in my twenties or thrities. Light, frivolous fiction seems on the rise. Life is not always fair. May your editor eventually succeed!
Posted by: Carmen
I forgot to tell you that even though we all have at least a book in the drawer, some of us can’t bear to open the drawer AT ALL. One of my mentors used to refer to the manuscripts that could not be salvaged as her “dead darlings.” She actually did salvage a line, an idea, a word or a name from here and there in her old manuscripts to create new work, but I still can’t do that because it still hurts to look at the manuscript and know it’s going nowhere.
There isn’t any way to make rejection feel okay. But you’re absolutely right about writing the new book for itself, not for the resurrection of the old book’s possibilities.
Dude, stay away from those soymilk recipes. Making soymilk is like the self-publishing of the food world, honestly…just because it’s possible doesn’t mean you should do it. 🙂
All the love in the world to you, sweetpea.
Posted by: Lee Ann
Writing is such a personal thing, and it’s so painful when what we’ve invested so much of ourselves into a work and have it rejected. Keep writing, but keep writing for *you.* And don’t try to be the best of anything. Trust me. It won’t help! 🙂
Posted by: Amy
This won’t likely be of any comfort to you, but I want to remind you that the thing that prompted me to first write to you was because i was so utterly taken with your writing. The quality of your writing was the thing that made me want to be friends with you, which is pretty powerful stuff. I know you don’t need validation, and that’s not why I’m writing this. I’m simply writing this to tell you that I’m sad that the publishing industry is in such a wretched state that you’re having a hard time finding a home for your book (which I have no doubt is wonderful), I’m sad that I won’t get to read the book for at least a while, but most of all, I’m sad that this episode has had such a profound effect on you. I hope it gets better soon. xoxoxo
Posted by: regina
Ouch. I hope tomorrow is better.
Posted by: claudia
I forgot to tell you that even though we all have at least a book in the drawer, some of us can’t bear to open the drawer AT ALL. One of my mentors used to refer to the manuscripts that could not be salvaged as her “dead darlings.” She actually did salvage a line, an idea, a word or a name from here and there in her old manuscripts to create new work, but I still can’t do that because it still hurts to look at the manuscript and know it’s going nowhere.
There isn’t any way to make rejection feel okay. But you’re absolutely right about writing the new book for itself, not for the resurrection of the old book’s possibilities.
Dude, stay away from those soymilk recipes. Making soymilk is like the self-publishing of the food world, honestly…just because it’s possible doesn’t mean you should do it. 🙂
All the love in the world to you, sweetpea.
Posted by: Lee Ann
Writing is such a personal thing, and it’s so painful when what we’ve invested so much of ourselves into a work and have it rejected. Keep writing, but keep writing for *you.* And don’t try to be the best of anything. Trust me. It won’t help! 🙂
Posted by: Amy
This won’t likely be of any comfort to you, but I want to remind you that the thing that prompted me to first write to you was because i was so utterly taken with your writing. The quality of your writing was the thing that made me want to be friends with you, which is pretty powerful stuff. I know you don’t need validation, and that’s not why I’m writing this. I’m simply writing this to tell you that I’m sad that the publishing industry is in such a wretched state that you’re having a hard time finding a home for your book (which I have no doubt is wonderful), I’m sad that I won’t get to read the book for at least a while, but most of all, I’m sad that this episode has had such a profound effect on you. I hope it gets better soon. xoxoxo
Posted by: regina
Ouch. I hope tomorrow is better.
Posted by: claudia
>I wish I could read your book, because I know in my gut and heart that it would be “my kind of book.”
This. My heart is with you.
Posted by: Cate
and… I randomly came across this in a post you made a couple of years ago:
>But part of me is afraid that because this blog and one wee short story are all you know of Cari the writer, I’ll be misunderstood…what I do and how deadly serious it is to me will be misunderstood. I don’t write popular fiction, or mysteries or romances. I don’t write funny. I don’t write personal essays. (Absolute truth? I don’t ever ever read any of the above either, unless I’m being paid to edit it. Can’t stand it for the most part. None of that stuff feeds me, you know?) I write literary fiction. That’s important to me. The distinction matters to me. Is it a matter of ego? Maybe in part. But only in small part. I’m trying to do the heavy lifting, you see. Taking on the big truths that I have to work hard at and that I want the reader to work at too. That matters to me…
I’m also an academic, which is a different kind of writing, but the sensation of trying to translate into the world something as intensely personal as the taste of your own saliva, transmuting it into a form that can live on its own… and then finding it refracted back so differently than you hoped… it does erode. And somewhere in there I guess you find the strand again. In the meantime, you bake bread, I knit and ride my bike really far. You’ll find the voice again, though — I do believe that.
Posted by: Cate
Are you making tofu from scratch yet? (It’s actually kind of fun.) I know what you mean. I went through this in so many different ways too, for different reasons. Love you babe.
Posted by: Cassie
Others have said this, but I’ll add my version too – I’m glad to hear all this because the pretending of OKness and the hardcore pursuit of perfection are the surest paths to not making forward progress. Lancing the boil is ugly and painful, but oh so necessary.
Thinking about you.
Posted by: juno
I don’t know if I have anything useful to add – you are a wonderful writer, and I have enjoyed your blog for a long time now. I don’t think that you need to be okay with the publishing world not publishing your novel.
Posted by: Ingrid
>I wish I could read your book, because I know in my gut and heart that it would be “my kind of book.”
This. My heart is with you.
Posted by: Cate
and… I randomly came across this in a post you made a couple of years ago:
>But part of me is afraid that because this blog and one wee short story are all you know of Cari the writer, I’ll be misunderstood…what I do and how deadly serious it is to me will be misunderstood. I don’t write popular fiction, or mysteries or romances. I don’t write funny. I don’t write personal essays. (Absolute truth? I don’t ever ever read any of the above either, unless I’m being paid to edit it. Can’t stand it for the most part. None of that stuff feeds me, you know?) I write literary fiction. That’s important to me. The distinction matters to me. Is it a matter of ego? Maybe in part. But only in small part. I’m trying to do the heavy lifting, you see. Taking on the big truths that I have to work hard at and that I want the reader to work at too. That matters to me…
I’m also an academic, which is a different kind of writing, but the sensation of trying to translate into the world something as intensely personal as the taste of your own saliva, transmuting it into a form that can live on its own… and then finding it refracted back so differently than you hoped… it does erode. And somewhere in there I guess you find the strand again. In the meantime, you bake bread, I knit and ride my bike really far. You’ll find the voice again, though — I do believe that.
Posted by: Cate
Are you making tofu from scratch yet? (It’s actually kind of fun.) I know what you mean. I went through this in so many different ways too, for different reasons. Love you babe.
Posted by: Cassie
Others have said this, but I’ll add my version too – I’m glad to hear all this because the pretending of OKness and the hardcore pursuit of perfection are the surest paths to not making forward progress. Lancing the boil is ugly and painful, but oh so necessary.
Thinking about you.
Posted by: juno
I don’t know if I have anything useful to add – you are a wonderful writer, and I have enjoyed your blog for a long time now. I don’t think that you need to be okay with the publishing world not publishing your novel.
Posted by: Ingrid
Ah, yes. I thought that was a lie, it reeked of it even at this distance. It’s a terrible truth that good writers sometimes have a hard time selling a good book, but here’s something that might help a little (it’s a bit of comfort I’ve worked out over the years.)
Society listens to bad music, adores bad celebrities and eats twinkies. With the a few notable exceptions, “real” items are not doing well in the sales department. Far more hotdogs are sold than apples.
This leaves very little room for real things to move around. Only a few people go looking for real things and it’s a tiny market. That’s the bad news. The good news is that having ruled out the possibility that you’ve made a bad book (since you have a good agent who wouldn’t lie to you for this long) we can now assume that your book has not sold because it is absolutely, unreservedly…real.
(I would rather discuss the irony of what that might say about my own career another day.)
Posted by: Stephanie
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. So you’re on the fourth step now. Still totally sucks, I know. I do think it’s a perfectly healthy thing, when you’re not feeling confident/in control/happy in one area of your life to focus on other stuff that you can get some pride out of. Says the woman at work on a weekend. Big love to you as always.
Posted by: anina
euwwh..i had to jump in here. i can’t personally relate, but darn do i appreciate your brutal honesty. what you wrote is what i’ve been theorizing about fellow friends a bit older and much older women (eg, MIL for one) i know–professionalizing the domestic life to compensate for something else that didn’t quite happen. dude, i was kind of wondering about this in the gardening posts that quickly followed the news about the novel. keep going, don’t give up, this will always chase you (what you need to do), even in that far future when you’re saddled with grandkids, so keep doing whatever it is you need to do to be true to yourself, even if it is (truly) making soymilk (?!). oh, and at the end of the day, published or not, you have a novel, and I daresay most likely a damn good one!
Posted by: k
Ah, yes. I thought that was a lie, it reeked of it even at this distance. It’s a terrible truth that good writers sometimes have a hard time selling a good book, but here’s something that might help a little (it’s a bit of comfort I’ve worked out over the years.)
Society listens to bad music, adores bad celebrities and eats twinkies. With the a few notable exceptions, “real” items are not doing well in the sales department. Far more hotdogs are sold than apples.
This leaves very little room for real things to move around. Only a few people go looking for real things and it’s a tiny market. That’s the bad news. The good news is that having ruled out the possibility that you’ve made a bad book (since you have a good agent who wouldn’t lie to you for this long) we can now assume that your book has not sold because it is absolutely, unreservedly…real.
(I would rather discuss the irony of what that might say about my own career another day.)
Posted by: Stephanie
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. So you’re on the fourth step now. Still totally sucks, I know. I do think it’s a perfectly healthy thing, when you’re not feeling confident/in control/happy in one area of your life to focus on other stuff that you can get some pride out of. Says the woman at work on a weekend. Big love to you as always.
Posted by: anina
euwwh..i had to jump in here. i can’t personally relate, but darn do i appreciate your brutal honesty. what you wrote is what i’ve been theorizing about fellow friends a bit older and much older women (eg, MIL for one) i know–professionalizing the domestic life to compensate for something else that didn’t quite happen. dude, i was kind of wondering about this in the gardening posts that quickly followed the news about the novel. keep going, don’t give up, this will always chase you (what you need to do), even in that far future when you’re saddled with grandkids, so keep doing whatever it is you need to do to be true to yourself, even if it is (truly) making soymilk (?!). oh, and at the end of the day, published or not, you have a novel, and I daresay most likely a damn good one!
Posted by: k