Strapping on the Sword
After my publisher decided not to publish the sequel to Refuge, I tried to find another publisher for it. I didn’t have any luck, although there were some nibbles. In the end, no one wanted to take a chance on a sequel since the sales numbers usually decrease with the second book. I understood that (even if I didn’t like it), and managed to keep the faith by setting it aside for a while. I turned to another project and finished a completely different book—a fantasy—which was also was rejected by the handful of publishers I found the courage to send it out to. Part of me wasn’t surprised because I knew in my heart I hadn’t given it my all.
Even knowing that, I lost my way for a while. I questioned whether I was even a writer—or if I had what it takes to be one. I would find some energy, start something and then give it up. I went on this way for months. I was pretty darn miserable. And then I found the right book at the right time. “The War of Art” by Stephen Pressfield named my malady—Resistance. Somehow the short essay form of this particular book found its way deep into my soul where my creativity lay dormant. With each page I read, I began to feel better. I found myself wanting to write again for writing’s sake. I applied the suggestions in the book by making a promise to myself. I promised to turn pro which I learned had nothing to do with money and everything to do with full-out commitment. I acknowledged that this creative spark, this desire to tell stories, is part of my divine nature, so therefore there was opposition to that nature being realized. Knowing that made me want to strap on my sword and fight that opposition!
I have no idea if I’ll ever be published again, nor do I care. Now that I’m learning how to fight, (which involves a lot of practice until I learn the right moves–i.e. butt in chair every day), I see myself in the winner’s circle. Not necessarily in the publishing limelight, but satisfied with my writing career in whatever form it takes.