It’s been crickets on 100 Rejections for the last month or so….and there are a couple reasons for this. The first of which is that for a good chunk of April I was in Santa Barbara spending time with a better-than-very-good friend whose health (and memory) are quietly slipping away. While there, my intention was to be fully, (and as it turned out, heartbreakingly) present and I therefore made the advance decision to put posting on hold.
Seeing my friend more startingly diminished than I had anticipated was seismic in a way that few events in my life have ever been. To avoid being totally subsumed by grief, I found myself seeking solace within the balm of nostalgia—playing the movie of our shared history together on repeat—reliving all those countless long dinners we enjoyed, dinners enlivened by copious amounts wine, when her remarkable husband was still alive, and I was still with mine. Nights filled with laughter and such unfettered happiness that it seemed impossible to imagine that anything would ever change—until the day comes when you wake up and realize that suddenly everything has. And you wonder then, with profound and aching regret, why you didn’t take full advantage of your time together when you still had the chance.
I am perpetually confounded by how hard it is to fully absorb the notion that time is finite. I mean, think about it. From the time we were kids lamenting the end of summer, the “nothing lasts forever” maxim has been drilled into our heads. And yet, we can’t help but cling to the hope that it will. That is until something affects us so personally, shakes us so vehemently, that we’re left with no alternative but to look these exigent realities smack dab in the eye.
The second reason for this sustained quiet period is that before I left for Santa Barbara, I received a watershed rejection from a highly respected literary agent who, while intrigued by my storyline, found the first 100 pages of my manuscript to be fairly ‘meh.’ An assessment that, as I previously wrote, I pretty much agree with but hadn’t had anyone validate my concerns in such a clear and honest way.
As a result, I decided to press pause on querying and instead directed my efforts toward finding an experienced editor with excellent industry chops. (Tall order, and I had no idea where to begin.) But as these things tend to go, the very next day the absolute right editor fell from the sky and into my lap.
Said editor spent the next month engaged in a detailed review, and on May 8th, during a 2-hour phone call, he went through the key points in his 17-page editorial letter as well as the margin notes he wrote on nearly every one of my novel’s 321 pages. (Oh boy.) His critique was excellent and exactly what I needed: insightful, thought-provoking and in so many instances, spot-on—and more than that, I could tell he treated my manuscript with as much heart and care as if it were his own. All that said—and as he repeatedly warned—it was an A LOT. And while he asserted that my “a lot” was no different from what any other writer he worked with might expect to receive, it nevertheless left me in a state of nearly paralytic overwhelm. Which led to one very big question:
Given the finite nature of time (a reality driven home during my recent trip to Santa Barbara) and given the vast amount of time it would take to complete this round of edits (4-9 months by my editor’s estimation), a time investment (as he reminded me) with no guarantees, did I really have it in me to stay in the race?
Fortunately, (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) I didn’t have much time to ponder this semi-existential question because the very next day I was scheduled for a dental procedure that I had been dreading, dreading, dreading since fall of last year. (Dreading and repeatedly rescheduling until my surgeon’s patience was beginning to wear thin.) And while the surgery (quite predictably) wasn’t nearly as bad as I made it out in my head, the aftermath is such that I won’t be posting a dating profile anytime soon.
While all this was going on, I decided to commemorate the 7th anniversary of my 500 mile journey across Spain on the Camino de Santiago through detailed daily posts on Instagram. (@dailyflirtations.) I’m not sure where the motivation initially came from—perhaps it was tied to the upcoming May 16th rerelease of the movie The Way (the inspiration behind my journey), or because of Andrew McCarthy’s recently released book, Walking with Sam: A Father, a Son, and Five Hundred Miles Across Spain—but for whatever reason, the drive to relive the Camino was there in a very big way. Through this exercise, not only was I able to virtually reconnect with one of the best experiences of my life, but I was also reminded that for better or worse, I am someone who, when hellbent on achieving a goal, will pretty much do anything in their power to see it through to the end.
And so now, with all these things behind me, the time has come to re-ask the question: Given the finite nature of time, and the heavy lifting involved in revising the manuscript, do I have it in me—and do I even want to—see it through to the end?
The short answer centers around this: If these changes will transform a mediocre book into a really good one that moves readers in the way I always hoped it would, then while not a jump-up-and-down yippee kind of yes, the answer nevertheless, has to be a yes.
But at best it’s a reluctant yes because I know what going through a rewrite will demand, what a lonely, isolating slog it is when you’re in it full-on. It’s no different from being mid-way through a 500-mile journey when all you can think about is your blisters and aching body parts, and the end still seems like an insurmountable distance away. (But I also know how quickly that changes the moment you reach your goal.)
And I suppose there’s a silver lining to this dental thing I’m currently suffering through—if I’m inclined to hide from humanity for the 6 to 9 months it takes to get it behind me, (which a rewrite will also require I do) then the timing of this strange confluence of events couldn’t be any better.
So what does this mean for 100 Rejections? Well, I’m not precisely sure other than I will probably be writing about something while querying is put on hold.
As for whether or not I have another round of edits in me….well, even though I’ve tried to wrangle out of it, I know that there’s no possible answer other than yes.
Here’s to resilience, persistence, and that “move mountains” willingness to do whatever it takes to reach our goals.
Onward.
11 Rejections down, 89 to go
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Diana. Just found your Substack today. Read through all your posts. It’s obvious you’re a talented writer. I’m also intrigued by your novel after seeing the one-sentence pitch. I’m in the same leaky querying boat. Would love to email you sometime. Great stuff. Thanks.
Hi Diana,
This came through in my "daily Stoic" email recently and it seemed prescient.
"In Tibet, Buddhist monks make beautiful mandalas out of sand. They spend hours, even days, crafting these complex, geometric designs…only to wipe them clean and start over as soon as they’re finished."
Best wishes on all things going forward but most importantly enjoy the journey!
Cheers,
Channing