After a grueling year of revisions, I have finally tied my novel up in a pretty little bow and am ready to begin pitching agents once more. And you know what I say to that?
Halle-f’n-lujah. (And it’s about f’n time.)
But what’s important here—the biggest, most champagne-worthy takeaway—is that I finally feel I’ve achieved what I wanted to (writing the best version of this book I can) and because I have, I’m ready to let it go.
The idea of “letting something go” can be a little murky, so I’ll explain what that means to me. And the best way for me to do that is by sharing something I heard Oprah Winfrey say to Gwyneth Paltrow on Goop’s inaugural podcast back in March of 2018.
They were talking about acting and specifically, Oprah’s role in Spielberg’s 1985 The Color Purple. (She was extraordinary, by the way.)
“I never wanted anything more than I wanted The Color Purple,” said Winfrey, “and have not since allowed myself to want something that badly, because I know that when you want it so badly you hurt for it, you’re not going to get it.”
Winfrey goes on to say something that has been a staple of The Goop Podcast teasers ever since:
“Don’t hold anything too tightly, just wish for it, want it, let it come from the intention of real truth for you—and then let it go. If it’s supposed to be yours it will show up—and it won’t show up until you stop holding it so tightly.”
I’ve held onto “the wanting” behind writing this novel with a vice grip that is well past the point of doing it or me any good.
So yes…while I would love to secure a publishing deal—you don’t invest this much of yourself into a project without having a vision you hold of the outcome you desire—and mine was linked to bestseller lists and movie deals and being besties with writers I admire—but while I may want that to happen, I no longer need it to.
And the reason I no longer need it to, is linked to something Walter Isaacson said in the preface of his masterwork biography on Leonardo Da Vinci: “Vision without execution is hallucination.”
And I can definitely say I executed. I’ve done my 10,000 hours. I’ve not only hired editors, but I’ve actually pushed aside any of my prickly personality traits and listened openly to whatever criticism they had to offer. I’ve done my bit, and while I will continue to pitch agents—and now with more rigor and confidence than I’ve ever experienced before—whatever else happens is now in the hands of the universe. If this thing is meant to be out in the world, it will be.
Which brings me to the name and directional change of my Substack newsletter—100 Rejections—chronicling my path to publishing—seemed like a good (and sanity saving) idea at the time, but I can now happily say, the time has come to move on.
So let me tell you a little more about Wit & Wisdom—an idea that had its genesis around the time I turned 50, when I found myself at the helm of what can only be described as a massive existential crisis—one that catapulted me fully into the depths of despair and a depression that would last nearly a decade.
I can remember the day it started so clearly. I was sitting on my sofa in my beautiful house on the beautiful hillside of Santa Barbara with its beautiful views of the city, down to the ocean and the Channel Islands beyond—the early morning sun flooding the living room with its soft dappled light, as the refrain of that Talking Heads song played on repeat in my head…this is not my beautiful house…this is not my beautiful wife…. David Byrne’s lyrics so perfectly encapsulating what happens when you wake up one day and realize that not only have you been living your life on auto-pilot, but there’s more of it in the rearview mirror than what’s left on the road ahead.
That was the day that began my own journey into the dark night of the soul—one that led to years of hard inner work, the benefits of which have now thankfully landed me on the other side. Through those years of exploration, I found myself deep diving into everything from family trauma and depression—to menopause and longevity—to creativity—to what it means to live a purpose-filled life. And at nearly every point along the way I found myself scratching my head and wondering why the hell “someone” hadn’t told me those things “back then.”
At its core, Wit & Wisdom intends to do just that—share the things we know now that we wished we knew when we were younger—the kinds of things that might have had a profound and positive impact on our lives. Everything from the advice we were given that we didn’t follow, but now wish we had—to the advice we followed that we wish we hadn’t…and all points in between.
There is a more ambitious vision behind Wit & Wisdom that is still yet to be fine-tuned, but for now, the name change—moving out of “rejection” into something a little more positive—seems like a pretty good place to start.
Getting an agent is competitive. The competition includes
1. Writers who have already published a book, and for whatever reason need a new agent
2. Those with a large social media following
3. Celebrities
4. Insiders who work in publishing, news, movies, Netflix, etc.
5. Those who share social or professional connections with agents, including
6. Agents themselves (!) Many agents have books they're pushing on other agents
This is not to depress you. Go ahead and query. I am on your side, and wish someone had told me what I was up against. Or not. I might never have written the novel : )
What a jouney! And what an outcome. And it even comes with a Talking Heads toundtrack. ;) Looking forward to the output of wisdom.