Hey everyone,
You know when you’re in the habit of doing something daily or near-daily and then you decide to take a few days off? Which is all well and good but then you return and you begin to wonder how you ever did it in the first place?
That’s been me with these emails. Took two days off, then came back to a blank page and for the life of me, couldn’t figure out why I thought I’d have enough to say for a daily newsletter.
So the two became four, and now, in an attempt to not let the four become fourteen, here I am.
I’m a bit frazzled because in addition to already having a little bit too much on my plate (which is not new and I can handle), I forgot to take into account that my kid had not one, not two, but three weeks off for Easter holidays. Then, because these things never happen in isolation, an editor at a national magazine sent me edits on a story that I filed in mid-December. That would have been fine, too, except this is a story with a lot of little historical facts and figures and I really needed to make sure that everything was accurate, and so it took far more time than I would normally spend on edits.
Oh, and did I mention, my novel went on submission last week? I think I expected to feel excited and terrified and everything in between, but what I wasn’t expecting was to feel so calm, so mature, so even-headed about the whole thing. I mean, not even a little freak-out? I don’t even know who I am anymore.
The thing is, I’ve been working so hard on my mindset in recent years. I’ve really done massive amounts of work to just accept and be okay with whatever outcomes happen for each individual project. I’ve written in my journal repeatedly that I think this novel is fantastic and has bestseller potential, but that whether it achieves that goal or whether it even sells, is not a reflection on my worth as a writer. I am okay regardless. I’ve said all of that and and I’ve been working towards achieving that level of peace.
But to actually be there? I think I might have had a little freak out because I wasn’t freaking out. Like, who is this sane person who isn’t basing her entire self worth on the outcome of one novel? Not me! Oh wait, it is me!
It’s a new feeling for me. The book went out, Sam and I celebrated the moment, and I now have renewed excitement about my next novel, which just needs a little polish before it’s ready to send out. I haven’t been counting minutes (or even days), and I’ve barely even mentioned it to anyone. It just doesn’t feel like a big deal. It feels like this is what I do now– I write books, I send them out, and then they either get the outcome or they don’t.
Or maybe I haven’t grown at all and I’ve just bottled up all my anxiety, and there’s a big meltdown in my future.
You know I’ll let you know either way.
Cheers,
Natasha