Writer Bryn Greenwood describes hope as a beautiful butterfly that you follow, eyes in the sky, until it leads you right off a cliff. She inspired a few blog posts on the subject of hope this week. (You might surmise we aren't the cheeriest bunch right now.)
Steven, About Hope
Bryn, Dead Butterflies
When I submitted my current WIP to my agent, I made sure that it was a complete draft because I was so sure she was going to terminate her contract with me. I knew if I had a finished novel, when she pulled the rug out, I’d have a nice soft manuscript to land on.
But I still had hope. I hoped she’d love it as much as she loved my first book. I hoped she’d have a dozen editors in mind who were dying to read it already.
Instead she terminated her contract with me -- not what I hoped, but what I dreaded. And boy, it hurts.
Ouch, there’s that cliff again, with me bruised in a heap at the bottom.
I’m trying to sort through what being agent-free means. After all, “agent free” sounds pretty good. “Free agent” sounds better. Now, I can look for a new agent who really, really gets me. Maybe I can sub my first novel myself to editors who never saw it, or my future powerhouse agent will love it and sell it with my WIP in a two-book deal. Yay! Hope!!!!
The reality is that I’m going back in the slush pile, and I’ll never make it through without hope. So yeah, I have hope, but along with hope comes dread.
That slush pile is high and steep, and I’m braced to fall off the edge.