The Truth About Being a Writer

And how to survive rejection in the industry

Every craft in the world requires that we climb a mountain. We will stumble, limbs heavy and breath short, soaked in sweat and persevering through the hurdles. Our sanity will be stretched beyond the brink. Distraction and doubt will corner us at almost every turn. But my god, if we pick a mountain that is worth climbing, we’ll glimpse that eternal river of imagination that runs within us. The closest i have felt to god has been within the four walls of my little writing room. 

The industry is in many ways a lottery system, and we artists have to separate it from our work. It runs on network, influence, charm, and talent. I had a winning lottery ticket with my poetry.  A friend introduced me to my book agent, and I was becoming a poet during the renaissance. Rupi Kaur had just paved the way for us all—no longer was poetry seen as that class in English you sleep through. It was a right place, right time sort of thing, because there are many poets just as good as me or better that remain unrecognized. 

At first, my poems were awful. And I do mean god awful. I had a thesaurus and made everything rhyme. I sounded like if Alan Watts and Dr. Seuss had a baby. I mean, it takes time to know what your own voice sounds like. But you know what I love about that version of me? I kept going. I loved poetry enough that I was willing to struggle up the mountain. I am not calling myself a master, but I have put in enough hours and had enough people connect to my work that I would call myself decent. 

We’ve all heard it takes ten thousand hours to master something, but what even is mastery? To me, it’s as elusive as enlightenment. Harper Lee kept her manuscript hidden, too afraid to release a book after the glaring success of To Kill a Mockingbird. Van Gogh’s work wasn’t even known or celebrated until after he died. It is inevitable that we will face off with the heartbreak of rejection and failure at some point if we are brave enough to step into the ring. It is inevitable that we will be bad at something before we are good at it. But the only guarantee of permanent failure is to never bother attempting. Raw talent will get you through the door, but we still have to put in a lifetime of dedication to our craft. 

I braved a new category and tried my hand at a novel. This manuscript of fiction that I poured my life into for three years—that I sat at my desk day after day with a heart full of hope writing, has now accumulated over fifty rejection letters. This isn’t new. Stephen King nailed all of his rejections to a wall, it took 5 years for JK Rowling to publish Harry Potter. Even if it never got published, I find myself showing up to my desk everyday regardless. That is the mountain I have chosen to struggle upwards on, regardless of the glaring crapshoot it comes with. 

Why am I telling you this? 

Because sometimes you will get 500 no’s. Sometimes your heart will be tired and heavy, but if it is worthwhile, then it is worth continuing because we really only need one yes. 

And today, I feel tender. I sit at my writing desk without a thought for the NY times best-seller list or getting published again. I just feel humbled to sit in this chair, and practice this thing that I love so dearly. I am reminded of why I keep showing up. That if I’m dedicated enough to the muse, my fingers will once again graze eternity. The rest, dear friends, is a crapshoot. 

If you are interested in reading my Mount Everest, my fantasy book is available for preorder here:

https://shopcatalog.com/products/legends-of-lemuria?_pos=1&_psq=Legends+of+Lemur&_ss=e&_v=1.0

Your Friendly Neighborhood Scribe,

Allie