In 2011 I learnt an incredible amount of things about myself, my future, my desires and, of course, my writing. Writing is the core of who I am. I love words and the power that they possess. Words are at the center of everything we do. It's how we communicate our feelings and comfort one another. I find written words even more incredible. Every person's writing is different and unique and beautiful. Writing is an amazing thing.
In early 2011 I finished my second novel. I was so proud of what this book had become. That novel taught me so much. I saw God doing incredible things with my career and I was so excited for my future. Once the novel was finished, I edited the poor thing to death. Editing that novel was for sure the hardest part of that whole experience, but in the end, I was beyond happy with the book. In my mind, it was perfect and brilliant ( I think that most author's feel this way about their books at some point in their career) and I was SO sure that it was ready for publication.
The summer of 2011 found me researching agents. I read what they represented and researched what they were looking for. I selected eight...and began to form my proposal. This part was hard, but not as hard as editing I found. Anyway, I finished my proposal and sent it out. Three weeks slowly dragggggggged by and I was discouraged and miserable. I was seriously wondering what I was doing. Being an author was the stupidest career choice and I felt like an idiot for thinking I could do this.
But me, being me, I couldn't quite or give up. Writing had burrowed into my soul and I knew I was never going to be able to dig it out. It was there for good. And quite frankly, I didn't want it out. It had become a part of who I am and I just couldn't part with it.
In August I made a trip down to Nashville and hit my first conference. Ted Dekker, Eric Wilson, Tosca Lee, Steven James, and Robert Liparulo. These were people that (in my mind) were the ultimate authors. These guys (and gal) knew how to write. I figured that three days with them would blow my mind and I would come away just as amazing as them. Ya, that didn't happen.
I spent the rest of that summer working and sucking back so much Starbucks that I'm surprised I didn't drown (It doesn't help when your little sister works there and you get free drinks and a discount).
In October, I left work and headed down to the Caribbean to help with our Mission's life. While I was there I finally heard back form all eight agents. My novel had potential but "it just wasn't what they were looking for" and "it needed more work". I was devastated. I mean, I just editing this novel to death and it's still not good enough. It's still not readable.
So, I made a HUGE choice. I wasn't going to write for the whole winter. I was going to take a break, bet my head on straight and spend time with my family and friends. That lasted about two weeks then I was back at my computer typing my brains out.
The one thing I haven't done though, is re-edit my book. I couldn't do it. Oh, I tried. I tried to change the first chapter. Tried to make the book what the agents wanted, but I couldn't.
Maybe someday I'll finally be able to take that step and change the story, but for now, it's perfect the way it is and quite frankly, I don't think it will ever be published. It will always be my "second book" and that's it.
Am I disappointed? For sure. Would I still take all that time away from life, all that hard work, and write that novel again if I had to? You bet. That novel was an incredible point in my life and maybe, someday, it will be read my someone other than me and it will change lives. Maybe.
