I know this and still I desperately want my memoir to be published. So much of my worth has gotten wrapped up in whether or not I can get an agent. It's been two years of querying and still nothing. It feels like getting and agent would convince me that I'm worthy of doing this at all. I know that's not ideal thinking, but it's where I'm at after so much silence, so much rejection. I just need someone to believe in the book that I poured my entire being into. I'm trying not to give up on the book, to ride the joy of the creation itself and stop worrying about what will come of it, but it's so hard for my heart and my ego. Thanks Joy for sharing these parts of yourself with us.
Wanting that outside belief is so legit, Jessy. I just want to validate that. You don't NEED an agent for the work to be your joy, or for it to be good, or for it to be real. But it does help you believe in your work when someone else is willing to carry a small part of that belief for you, some of the time. It's hard to carry alone. I hear you. <3
I know that feeling and live with it daily, Jessy. It's so painful, and yes, made even more painful by all those 'No's. I subbed my first novel to agents aged 34 and today, 9 manuscripts and 27 years later, I may have gained two degrees in creative writing but I still don't have that one simple 'Yes' I've always longed for.
I spent the night before I submitted my second book in urgent care at the hospital, with a mysterious pain in my side. I didn't know what it was, the doctors didn't know either.
The only time I've had that feeling was after a friend of mine passed away.
The medical powers that be ran all the tests and eventually decided it was a pulled muscle. (From what? I had done nothing but book revisions for weeks).
A couple of years ago when I published my first book, Breaking Free, I remember being so distraught at the fact that this book that I poured my everything into, was no longer only mine anymore. It was this bittersweet dance between feeling incredibly invigorated in accomplishing a dream and sharing it with others for impact, as well as grieving the loss of a creation that I shared my most intimate moments with. That was something I never expected, nor was prepared for. However, the grief showed me how meaningful that book was to me. And I am now thrilled it has touched and changed so many lives. If anything, I felt more human because of that experience. I wouldn't change a thing.
Thank you for writing this piece. I recently received everything I’ve ever worked for and was so ashamed when my sadness didn’t leave. I am a very proud owner of a home, recently married and have two puppies to raise with my husband. The past ten years was working towards these milestones.
I think the grind towards these things; dreaming about the unknowns; and leaning into the constant transition was a huge part of my identity. And now I am at a point in my life where I’ve disconnected from those important parts of myself.
Suddenly I can see why I’ve been struggling despite my good fortune. Thank you.
Joy! This was me! Writing my book this year was one of my greatest experiences and transformations, but no one tells you what happens once the story ends? I knew I’d be lost but gahhh not like that. I also found the grit of sending off to agents awfullll and it suprised me. I wasn’t expecting that.
I feel the “ache” more and more as a necessary part of falling in love with life and feeling its fragile impermanence. Gratitude and ache—such peculiar but familiar lovers.
right now, i’m living so much of the life i wanted…i’m in a happy and serious relationship. we have the two best dogs. we bought a house with land and stunning views. my work is in the field i live for, and i’m traveling more than i ever have before. still, i feel a steady undercurrent of sadness, manifested into the world as chronic ache, fatigue, and sinus issues. it’s such a peculiar conundrum to exist in
I just signed and notarized the 2.7 million documents to close on a dream house in a new state. I smiled in awe that something so fortunate could be happening - REALLY HAPPENING - to me until I got the keys and lost my breath.
I'm petrified.
...I have a house.
Turns out that I, too, will be spending a lot of time in the park this summer.
Congratulations on your book!! It will help nurture my own "recovery," and I can't wait to read it.
I get that feeling on the regular, from making quilts. Once the project is done and is just there to be enjoyed by me or someone else, the party is over. I guess I’m a journey person more than a destination person? I like inspiration, tackling the work, and even the perspiration of figuring out a fix when I’m not happy with it. I even enjoy figuring out how to push myself across the finish line when things stall. I’m only happy when I’m in it.
The high of achieving a dream or experiencing a life-changing (positive!) event always is followed by this rush of sadness and emptiness for me. You aren’t alone on feeling it. Anticipating the thing is almost as enjoyable as the thing itself is. It changes you, and you then learn to live in this new thing without the anticipation, which is sad.
This is such an important view on success and achieving goals. I’m definitely guilty of taking too little time to enjoy the journey. Only focused on achieving the end result.
I’ll definitely think about this the next time I’ll sit down to write my book. Thank you for being so honest and open. 🙏🏼❤️
I feel this very deeply. I am in the throes of a graduate program I am loving and worked hard to get to, but it has also been the hardest thing I’ve ever done because it meant leaving behind the beautiful life and community that I had built for myself through my 20s and early 30s. I am feeling keenly the loss of that and muddling through the moving-forward-building-a-new-life-in-a-new-city part. ❤️
I remember hearing this before I published my own first book, and I believed it, but there's a difference between knowing with your cognition and knowing with your aching heart, throat, and gut.
It does hurt -- and it's a beautiful pain, in a way. In its own self, and as a reminder that I *have*, that I *can*, and that I *love*. Also as the necessary counterweight to that other thing you mentioned: the work is the joy. And my God, *what* a joy, like nothing else.
I know this and still I desperately want my memoir to be published. So much of my worth has gotten wrapped up in whether or not I can get an agent. It's been two years of querying and still nothing. It feels like getting and agent would convince me that I'm worthy of doing this at all. I know that's not ideal thinking, but it's where I'm at after so much silence, so much rejection. I just need someone to believe in the book that I poured my entire being into. I'm trying not to give up on the book, to ride the joy of the creation itself and stop worrying about what will come of it, but it's so hard for my heart and my ego. Thanks Joy for sharing these parts of yourself with us.
Wanting that outside belief is so legit, Jessy. I just want to validate that. You don't NEED an agent for the work to be your joy, or for it to be good, or for it to be real. But it does help you believe in your work when someone else is willing to carry a small part of that belief for you, some of the time. It's hard to carry alone. I hear you. <3
I know that feeling and live with it daily, Jessy. It's so painful, and yes, made even more painful by all those 'No's. I subbed my first novel to agents aged 34 and today, 9 manuscripts and 27 years later, I may have gained two degrees in creative writing but I still don't have that one simple 'Yes' I've always longed for.
Yes. ❤️
I spent the night before I submitted my second book in urgent care at the hospital, with a mysterious pain in my side. I didn't know what it was, the doctors didn't know either.
The only time I've had that feeling was after a friend of mine passed away.
The medical powers that be ran all the tests and eventually decided it was a pulled muscle. (From what? I had done nothing but book revisions for weeks).
But I know what it was—at least I know now.
It was grief. It actually hurt to let it go.
Thanks for sharing. It's all so true.
A couple of years ago when I published my first book, Breaking Free, I remember being so distraught at the fact that this book that I poured my everything into, was no longer only mine anymore. It was this bittersweet dance between feeling incredibly invigorated in accomplishing a dream and sharing it with others for impact, as well as grieving the loss of a creation that I shared my most intimate moments with. That was something I never expected, nor was prepared for. However, the grief showed me how meaningful that book was to me. And I am now thrilled it has touched and changed so many lives. If anything, I felt more human because of that experience. I wouldn't change a thing.
Thank you for writing this piece. I recently received everything I’ve ever worked for and was so ashamed when my sadness didn’t leave. I am a very proud owner of a home, recently married and have two puppies to raise with my husband. The past ten years was working towards these milestones.
I think the grind towards these things; dreaming about the unknowns; and leaning into the constant transition was a huge part of my identity. And now I am at a point in my life where I’ve disconnected from those important parts of myself.
Suddenly I can see why I’ve been struggling despite my good fortune. Thank you.
Joy! This was me! Writing my book this year was one of my greatest experiences and transformations, but no one tells you what happens once the story ends? I knew I’d be lost but gahhh not like that. I also found the grit of sending off to agents awfullll and it suprised me. I wasn’t expecting that.
I feel the “ache” more and more as a necessary part of falling in love with life and feeling its fragile impermanence. Gratitude and ache—such peculiar but familiar lovers.
Oh goodness, Kimberly. This. You put it beautifully.
right now, i’m living so much of the life i wanted…i’m in a happy and serious relationship. we have the two best dogs. we bought a house with land and stunning views. my work is in the field i live for, and i’m traveling more than i ever have before. still, i feel a steady undercurrent of sadness, manifested into the world as chronic ache, fatigue, and sinus issues. it’s such a peculiar conundrum to exist in
Love this, can absolutely relate
Definitely not writing related, but I feel this so much following my dream to move across the country.
I felt most alive on the road trip here, and now I have a bit of sadness of the life I’ve left behind.
I wouldn’t do anything differently, I love the life I’m creating here. But thank you for this, I feel a lot more validated for what I’m feeling.
Your poem helped me make the decision to head west, and I can not wait to read your book.
I wish you all the success and happiness :)
I just signed and notarized the 2.7 million documents to close on a dream house in a new state. I smiled in awe that something so fortunate could be happening - REALLY HAPPENING - to me until I got the keys and lost my breath.
I'm petrified.
...I have a house.
Turns out that I, too, will be spending a lot of time in the park this summer.
Congratulations on your book!! It will help nurture my own "recovery," and I can't wait to read it.
I get that feeling on the regular, from making quilts. Once the project is done and is just there to be enjoyed by me or someone else, the party is over. I guess I’m a journey person more than a destination person? I like inspiration, tackling the work, and even the perspiration of figuring out a fix when I’m not happy with it. I even enjoy figuring out how to push myself across the finish line when things stall. I’m only happy when I’m in it.
Oh I can absolutely relate to this! The “hunt” is the reward. And once I’ve achieved the goal, I feel empty.
The high of achieving a dream or experiencing a life-changing (positive!) event always is followed by this rush of sadness and emptiness for me. You aren’t alone on feeling it. Anticipating the thing is almost as enjoyable as the thing itself is. It changes you, and you then learn to live in this new thing without the anticipation, which is sad.
This is such an important view on success and achieving goals. I’m definitely guilty of taking too little time to enjoy the journey. Only focused on achieving the end result.
I’ll definitely think about this the next time I’ll sit down to write my book. Thank you for being so honest and open. 🙏🏼❤️
I feel this very deeply. I am in the throes of a graduate program I am loving and worked hard to get to, but it has also been the hardest thing I’ve ever done because it meant leaving behind the beautiful life and community that I had built for myself through my 20s and early 30s. I am feeling keenly the loss of that and muddling through the moving-forward-building-a-new-life-in-a-new-city part. ❤️
Wait why does tik tok make you spectacularly sad??
I remember hearing this before I published my own first book, and I believed it, but there's a difference between knowing with your cognition and knowing with your aching heart, throat, and gut.
It does hurt -- and it's a beautiful pain, in a way. In its own self, and as a reminder that I *have*, that I *can*, and that I *love*. Also as the necessary counterweight to that other thing you mentioned: the work is the joy. And my God, *what* a joy, like nothing else.