Resetting the Goal Clock: 100 Rejections Again

My mother and I recently had a very eye-opening conversation. It involved my lifelong tendency to set gloriously unachievable goals for myself as well my recent mental health diagnosis from the doctor (bipolar II).

Phew. I haven't really shared that diagnosis with anyone before online — not officially, that is. But there it is. I wasn't keeping it a secret so much as waiting to see if it was true, because I've had so many diagnoses and the only ones I trust are depressed and anxious. I've been bipolar, I've been borderline, I've been OCD, I've been it all, and nothing has stuck. This new one felt real, though, but I wasn't about to go announcing it to the masses until I knew.

So this conversation with my mother, it was in mid-December, and it was about New Years' Resolutions, and it was about Bipolar II, which includes episodes of hypomania, which involves feeling invincible. Feeling like you can take on the world, no problem, easy peasy. Write a book a month? No freaking problem, buddy. Cause you're the king of the world. Conqueror. Hero. Borderline almighty.

Until all that energy fizzles out. You hit a roadblock. Someone says no. Your bottle of prescription meds is empty and the pharmacy is closed and the weather is cold so instead of getting a refill you crawl into bed and you sleep and it's been 24 hours since you took your meds and, well, shit. 

A whole nasty cycle begins, and now you're not on top of the world but being buried alive in the center of the Earth, and it takes every ounce of strength to claw your way out. Fingernails broken and covered in dirt and you can taste blood in your mouth but at least you're not buried anymore, right?

Until next time.

So what does that have to do with writing? What does that have to with getting 100 rejections in 2018? What does that have to do with anything related to Operation Awesome?

The thing is, so much of last year was coming in and out of Bipolar II cycles. From depression to slight hypomanic states to deep, incredibly deep depressive episodes. At the beginning of the year I set these lofty goals for myself and I was so disturbingly confident I would meet them all.

This did not happen. I met not a single one of them.

I wrote no new novels. I did not read 52 books. I did not meet any more of my literary heroes. I did go to book conferences. 

Finally, I had made a goal here on this blog that I'd seek 100 Rejections by Dec. 31, 2018.

I'm pretty sure I got to 10? Maybe. If that.

And not because people said yes. Because I didn't ask. I didn't write. I hardly could, it seemed.

But the thing that I did in 2018 is that I survived.

I don't know why last year was so hard for me. I've managed to work full-time, even longer hours, while writing and having a social life and watching TV/reading books. But for some reason, 2018 was the year where all I could do was work and maybe watch TV and read and then be depressed. And the watching TV and reading (I mean, except for the four months when I literally didn't crack the spine, electronic or physical, of a book) was the only way to not be depressed.

Y'all, I promise this is relevant. 

Here it is: sometimes you have to reset the clock. You make a goal. You surge forward. And you just...you don't make it. For whatever reason. Maybe it's your fault — maybe you have been dropping the ball lately. Or maybe it's not even your fault. 

Life hits us with unexpected circumstances sometimes. It's out of our control. The thing that I remind my friends, even those who don't have mental illnesses, is that there's always going to be things that hit them out of the blue and, for periods whose length I truly cannot predict, and it'll knock the wind out of their sails.

And that. Is. Okay.

Life is unpredictable. Sometimes it's possible to speed along and do it all. And sometimes it's just about surviving. Putting one foot in front of the other and making do.

I've been in such a long, long, long extended period of making do. To be honest, I don't know when (or if, really), I'll snap back into vibrancy. 

All I know is that...I'm gonna keep trying. One foot in front of the other, yes, but also, goals.

When I fall, when I fail, I'll just reset.

Therefore, for 2019, one of my goals is as follows:

Score 100 Rejections Across All Writing Submissions 

Fingers crossed. Check in soon.

What are some of your goals you're working on in 2019 that you've had to reset, maybe even multiple times?

One Thing I Want Every Writer to Have in 2017

I get the honor of being the first blogger of 2017. But what do I want to give all the writers reading this blog for the year to come?

I considered encouraging you to be fearless. But I realized that's not what I'm wanting to convey. Unless you're a robot, you're going to have fears--fear of rejection, fear of criticism, fear of never getting published, fear of bad reviews, fear of not finishing that novel, fear of running out of ideas, fear of failure, fear of not being able to accomplish edits or rewrites, fear of what others think. As writers, we have so much to be afraid of.

You are going to be afraid.

Nelson Mandela said, "I learned that courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."

• You are going to be afraid when you ask for critique of your writing.
• You are going to be afraid the first hundred time you query your manuscript.
• You are going to be afraid of never getting published.
• You are going to be afraid the first time real readers read your book.
• You are going to be afraid no one will buy your book.
• You are going to be afraid of one-star reviews.

And I could list a hundred more things that, as a writer, you are going to fear.

But have courage. Face your fears and never let them rule you. Stand up to them. Take the hits. Fall down and get back up. Fail and try again. Get rejected and keep sending out queries. Get writer's block and keep writing. Get bad reviews and keep moving forward.

Canadian writer, Emma Donaghue wrote, "Fear is what you're feeling. Brave is what you're doing."

So this is what I want to give you as you go forward into 2017:

Be courageous.

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Melinda Marshall Friesen writes speculative fiction for young people and adults from her home in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. She's the author of Enslavement, Subversion, and  The High-Maintenance Ladies of the Zombie Apocalypse. She works in marketing and acquisitions at Rebelight Publishing Inc.

What I Have Learned About Failure From Author Beth Revis...

Every writer has her own journey, but of all the author success stories I have heard and read over my years as an aspiring writer, Beth Revis's journey inspired me the most! So I want to share with you what she shared with me, and the thousands of people who have already seen...

...this video:

Beth says: Everyone says, "It'll get easier!" But they are lying to your face.




Failure is really just success in training. 

Beth's first book, Across the Universe was much hyped when it first came out, and for good reason. It had one of those beginnings that is so absolutely, perfectly written you would wait in line just to read the next chapter, and you would read through the night just to find the resolution of the killer problem she introduced so beautifully in chapter one. I read her first chapter online and was immediately hooked. In fact, I can compare it with only a handful of other first chapters that have moved and shocked me to a similar extent. Her first chapter alone guaranteed her a spot on that bestseller list. Of course the rest of the series is killer, as well, so that helps!

But seeing this video after I read her first book really gave me the greatest gift I could have received as a struggling and aspiring writer:

The Gift of Perspective.

Thank you, Beth Revis, for being so real! That amazing first chapter, that beautiful prose and shocking intro was the master stroke of an artist who had been honing her craft for years. It wasn't a first draft. It wasn't a lucky step into the darkness. It was the hand of a practiced surgeon. The perspective she gave me saved me from making the mistake of saying, "Well, she's just so talented, and I could never do that." The knowledge of her nine previous unpublished manuscripts forced me to acknowledge the fact that I simply wasn't trying as hard, that I could be a better version of myself if I did.

One more lesson from Beth:

Always write the story of your heart. 

In the first installment of her book series for writers, called Paper Hearts, Beth explains what her particular objective was as a writer--to be published by a big press--and that she didn't regret writing any of her "practice" novels, except for one.

That was the book she wrote "for the market." The book was good, she explains, because she was up to date on all the trends in the publishing industry and she knew exactly what tropes to keep and which to avoid. But as she came closer to getting it published, she pulled it, and the reason was that there was nothing of her in it. It was empty.

Her advice to aspiring writers is not to make the same mistake by trying to please the market. Write the book of your heart, every time, no matter how painful it can be to let go if it's not "the one."

This advice came to me at a time when I needed to hear it, too.

(Her Paper Hearts series is chock-full of great counsel for writers in all stages of development. The video above came from the first free online writing conference ever, WriteOnCon, and is a great example of the many ways Beth has given back to the writing community. The founders of Operation Awesome were inspired by all the writers who put together WriteOnCon, and since our launch in 2010, our ever-changing team of operatives has been working toward that same worthy ideal.)

THANK YOU, BETH!

Have you ever heard the perfect writing advice for you at exactly the right time? What's the best writing advice you've ever received? 

GUEST POST: Learning from Rejection by Holly M. Campbell

About three years ago, I began the submissions process for my novel Foreshadowed. I had a feeling about this one. Sure, I’d had that feeling before, but this time it was real. This time, I was going to get published. It was “the one.”

I used a spreadsheet to keep track of my submissions. If an agent sent a rejection, I would highlight his or her name in red. If an agent requested pages, I would highlight in green. And if I was still waiting for a response, yellow.

Most of the names ended up highlighted in red, but there were a few in green…at least for a little while. Eventually, I had an entire spreadsheet dedicated to my failure.

Except I didn’t fail. Foreshadowed was released by 48fourteen Publishing on December 31st.

Despite all the rejection I faced, it was still “the one.” In fact, as I look back on my personal road to publication, I’ve decided that it wasn’t “the one” despite all the rejection, but because of it. I learned a lot from all those rejection letters. And I’m not just talking about lessons of perseverance and believing in myself. I learned to view rejection letters as invaluable feedback from experts. If an agent said she just “couldn’t connect with the characters,” I believed her…and I tried to fix it. If agents said the pacing was too slow, the novel too long, or the ending too flat, I believed them…and I tried to fix it. And if all I got back was a form letter or no response at all, I asked myself “Why?” and—you guessed it—tried to fix it.

I added layer after layer to each character, trying to flesh them out, trying to make them relatable. I cut scenes, added new ones, and rewrote others. I changed the ending. I rewrote, and rewrote, and rewrote until I finally got the answer I had been waiting for: an offer of publication.

Now, granted, writing is a subjective business. You can’t please everyone and you shouldn’t try.

But if you just keep getting, “Thanks, but no thanks,” over and over again, it may be time to take a hard look at, first, your query letter, and then your novel. Try to see rejection as a tool. Don’t look at it as failure, but as a free critique from a seasoned professional.

Keep writing. Keep rewriting. And eventually you’ll write “the one” too.

She can’t avoid the dark forever…

Hope Murdoch was born dead. She took a breath two minutes later , and now is an almost-normal sixteen-year-old. Normal: a hopeless crush on the boy next door, a negative body image, and a (mis)diagnosis of ADHD. Not-so-normal: an exhausting and distracting ability to read minds. And high school is hard enough without hearing what everyone really thinks of you.

Lance Hampton used to be normal until a car accident killed him and his parents. Paramedics brought him back to a life he doesn’t want: orphaned, uprooted, living with his uncle, and suddenly able to see how people die. At his new school, he tries to keep to himself. Seeing how complete strangers die is torture enough, let alone friends.

At first glance, Hope doesn’t think much of Lance (though a lot of the other girls do). He looks like the typical bad boy. No thank-you … but then she meets his eyes and everything goes dark. 

She hears labored breathing. Rapid footsteps. And then a thud as someone falls to the ground. 

Inside Lance’s head, Hope just witnessed a vision of murder … her own.

Together Hope and Lance try to catch a killer before he’s red-handed. A killer who could be anywhere. Anyone. Sure Hope can read minds and Lance can see death, but they still can’t see in the dark.

Foreshadowed can be purchased here:

Amazon (print & eBook): http://goo.gl/9dW6ok

B&N (print & ebook): http://goo.gl/PbX4ib

Kobo: http://goo.gl/lEQCFU

iTunes/iBooks: http://goo.gl/MVo7RC

48fourteen (print & ebook): http://goo.gl/Ta5fNy

----------------------

Holly M. Campbell started writing stories at an early age. In junior high, she completed her first“novel” and enjoyed sharing it with friends and family.

She earned a Bachelor’s degree in English, with an emphasis in Creative Writing, and a Minor in Modern Dance from Brigham Young University-Idaho. As a member of Contemporary Dance Theatre, she performed and toured with the school’s Dance Alliance. She graduated in 2006.

In 2007, Holly met her husband-to-be, but didn’t pay much attention to him until he asked her to help him teach swing dancing at their church. After he flipped her around and hoisted her above his head with relative ease, she fell (not literally) head-over-heels. They married a few months later.

Holly lives in Washington State with her husband and two daughters. She blogs at http://hollymcampbell.com.

Fear of Failing

Writing is like a wonderful meal. The anticipation that comes with the starter of the idea. The wonderful main course of writing, creating that story into being. Then, finally, the delicious dessert of editing and polishing until full. But being a writer comes with a side-order of worry.

We worry about plot holes, adverbs, character development, purple prose, and the million other things that go along with writing.

But perhaps the thing that worries us the most is failure. That one word haunts us. Pulls at the edges of every fresh story idea. Every new WIP. Each draft of edits. Every query we send out.

But maybe we shouldn't fear failure. When I read this on Nova Ren Suma's blog, I knew I had to share it with you. Why? I'll let these wonderful words from Sara Zarr explain:

I’m inspired by failure.

Which is a good thing, because right now I’ve got a first draft of a new book in front of me, and it feels like a massive pile of FAIL. (I should note: this is my book.)

This, I know, is a somewhat distorted version of reality. Oh, there’s good work here, the bones of something. And, in places, muscle, flesh, blood.

But it’s far from a success. And that’s exactly where it should be right about now. I’ve been doing this and observing others doing this, or things like this, long enough to know that every book, every painting, every dance, every song, every screenplay, every movie, every craft project lives most of its life as a failure.

The creative process, and the creative life, is mostly full of moments between the idea and the being done, the spark and the blazing fire, the shimmering magic and the finished piece. We’re always living in the gap between our vision of what could be and what might be, and what is.

Even typing that paragraph kind of breaks my heart. I want the writing life to be made of more moments of capturing the vision, and fewer of feeling it slip through my fingers, uncatchable as time.

I need all the reminders I can get that I’m not alone in that gap, that this is the nature of the work, this is what it is: learning to live with a certain degree of failure. (I’m intentionally using the cringe-inducing, scary F word. You know how some social, ethnic, or religious groups have “taken back” certain words, claimed them, and made new meaning? That’s sort of what I’m doing here.)

So, I seek out any place where I can hear other creative people talk about their failures and their fears. Those places include documentaries, interviews, essays, articles, blog posts, and maybe even tweets from fellow writers who, in 140 characters or less, reveal their moments in the gap.

When I hear Bob Fosse say that every time he choreographed a new show, he didn’t know how to move dancers across the stage…

When Anne Lamott writes about the completely confounding process of writing her second novel…

When John Lasseter talks about being fired from Disney before going on to make Toy Story—which, by the way, was a disaster in its first version, as was Toy Story 2, and also p.s. Monsters, Inc. didn’t “find its center for a very long time” and then became the highest grossing animated feature at the time…

When I remember that Steve Jobs was kicked out of Apple… (Steve Jobs! Kicked out! OF APPLE.)

When I see artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude endure a quarter-century of obstacles before they were finally able to install The Gates…

When I read that the masters painted over their own work time and again when they felt their first attempts weren’t worth the canvas…

When I hear demo versions of just-okay songs that became gorgeous favorites…

I’m reminded:

Without risking failure, maybe even running headlong into it, there’s no chance for discovering something new and beautiful. Without wandering off the trail that the rest of the world is trudging on, we don’t know where we can go, what we can do, what’s out there beyond our current vision.

I’m reminded that the point of creating isn’t control.
The point isn’t saving yourself from embarrassment.
The point isn’t preserving an image of yourself dear to you, and/or dear to others, or earning out your advance or gritting your teeth as you check to see if your ranking, wherever, is ticking up.

The point isn’t avoiding failure.

We can’t. It’s inevitable. Those who finish what they start persevere through it, blow gently on those embers, tend to that first love, protect the shimmering magic, in hopes of…

…Insert your hopes here.

Maybe: To enflesh some truth—maybe beautiful truth or maybe not-so-beautiful truth—and the experience of living in this world, or a world in your imagination. To translate vision into whatever the medium of your craft is, for whatever your reasons are. To understand? To be understood? To ask questions well? To explore, maybe. To entertain, to show love, work out your demons. Or—gasp!—to have fun.

Whatever the answer is for you, there’s going to be a lot of failure along the way. In a way, “failure” is just another word for “the journey,” for not being there yet but on the way. It’s the road we walk on to get wherever it is we’re trying to go.

Today, I’m looking at my draft and its large and small failures, and I know: if everyone I admire and respect, everyone whose work has endured for more than five minutes, everyone who has come out with something beautiful, has struggled in this same, frightening gap, I must be on the right track.