Dreams only work when you do.
Hello, friend, and Happy Chrismahanukwanzakah (plus the other holidays that don’t fit well in the fancy blend).
I HAVE NEWS. Not the news I’d hoped to share, but news nonetheless, and a nugget or two that might be of benefit to you.
You may recall that in my summer essay I announced that I’d received and accepted an offer of representation from a truly wonderful agent, and we embarked on a beautiful (professional) marriage. She began pitching my first book, The Things That Define Us, to publishers—a process called “being on submission.” We’ve now reached a point where, in her professional opinion, which I trust and value, it's likely dead. Editors have sent really kind and complimentary notes, but ultimately it’s not enough love for them to want to write me a big check (or any check). It’s not a no hope type of situation as there are still some who haven’t responded, but the open window is so small you’d barely notice the breeze and absolutely shouldn’t stake your ability to breathe on it.
So, as one does, I pitched her my second book.
And friends, she didn’t like it. Which is okay! It happens! As I’ve learned throughout this journey, the subjectivity factor is real, and is not something to let yourself become depressed over.
But she also didn’t like my pitch for my third book, which was a sign to both of us that our marriage, while well intentioned, wouldn’t best serve either of us going forward. We both want me to have an agent who clicks with all of my writing, who can be a champion for my words and not just my person.
So, as is the case with some marriages, it ended up being short lived and we’ve parted ways in what is possibly the kindest, most encouraging, most lovely breakup conversation ever to take place in the history of the world. We adore each other, she’s offered to be a resource to me on anything I need, and—most meaningfully—she still truly believes my career will take off, and she'll be in the front row cheering for me when it does. I have zero regrets signing with her, and I’d do it again.
But, reader, I still wallowed. I did, and I can’t lie to you and say that I didn’t.
HOWEVER…I also regrouped.
Although we weren't meant to be married forever, she gave me two beautiful gifts: 1. Helping me get my book to a better, deeper place, which sets me up so well for whatever comes next; 2. The confidence that comes from someone who knows what they’re talking about saying that I’m good at this, that my words matter, that my voice is compelling, that my writing is exceptional, that I am a person who should write books, and that I should absolutely not give up.
But what does that actually look like? What does it mean? What can I put on a to do list to feel like I’m moving forward instead of backward?
Meanwhile, reader, I’ve been doing a Career Novelist Mastermind this fall, an intimate group of twelve women facilitated and taught by the inestimable Camille Pagán. I’ve gotten a ton of benefit from it—learned some tactical things that I can apply to grow my career, worked on some mindset things that have helped me be more intentional about where I let my brain go, met some really amazing female writers, and made a true and genuine friend through it. Two things have come from it recently that have landed with particular depth this week, and which I’ve revisited again and again:
1. So many people make decisions based on what other people might think of the decision or the possible outcome, not on what they think, want, or believe. I’m guilty of this, and have been since the beginning. I’m guilty of it in my novelist life and I’m guilty of it in my personal life. That stops now. For me, and for my girls, I’m going to put real cognitive and emotional energy into making decisions because they are best for me.
2. While I was lamenting the soul crushing death of Define on submission, Camille happened to offer everyone in the Mastermind email coaching for one week on one particular issue. Well, I hopped right on that, and at one point she said: “The game clock didn’t restart and you’re not back at the starting line…Work on building the belief that you’re now much farther ahead than you were before.”
Raw honesty: I didn’t buy that at first. I couldn’t. I was too deep into a pit of despair, and I may or may not have wanted to throw my computer and watch it smash against a wall (sorry Camille!). I was too disappointed, and it was compounded by the absolute dread that settled in my belly when my agent told me she wasn’t excited about my second book. But now, with the benefit of a few days of hindsight, I can see how right Camille is. Because even when it’s hard, and when the world around your dream feels so dim, nothing is a step backward if you’ve learned from it. And I have learned so much from this brief experience being represented by an agent—about myself, about the publishing world, and about what I want. I’ve gained incredible insight into my book. And I’ve cultivated a really positive and supportive professional connection, because even though she’s no longer my agent, that doesn’t mean she’s no longer on my team.
I have big ideas and big plans for myself, both as a novelist and as a person who wants to be more than that, even if I don’t yet know what that looks like. I trust that I’ll figure it out. I trust that everything will be okay. And I trust that—even if it looks different than what I thought starting out—I will get what I want. My future is coming for me, I can feel it.
Because you know what? You’re only done when you quit.
Recommendations Roundup
Click on the cover of any for which you’d like to read my short review.
Parting Shot
Final Thoughts
I wish you the peace that comes from living the life you want for yourself, the hope that comes from seeing your own potential, and the joy that comes from stepping back and feeling gratitude for it all. Go forth, my friends. I wish you well.
Love,
Sarah
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