Publishing: Rumors of Hostile Territory
To write with the intention to publish opens us to a supposedly unforgiving country. Consider the language spoken there: submit; reject; criticize; cut; and meet the deadline. Why so violent? As though writing didn’t carry vulnerabilities enough, we remake the dream of making books into a nightmare. The idea of putting our work forward can become one of those sleep paralysis events where we lose our ability to move, let alone give voice to anything.
Our suffering isn’t necessary. Publishing’s assumed devotion to breaking the writer’s spirit is yet another facet of the Inner Critic. If that critical voice can scare us into silence, the Inner Critic will not have to be scared itself. Our inner voice has no problem stopping us by transforming the publishing process into a hostile territory and then declaring the inevitability of our failure there. No campaign of ugly rumors ever created can hold its frail light up to those untruths we devise as coping mechanisms for the vulnerabilities in being read.
The touchstone of reassurance reminds us that those who work in publishing have Inner Critics, too. In truth, the men and women I met in my few years in publishing have been, each and every one, lovely human beings. They wanted the best for my writing as they wanted the best for their careers. But the publishing industry is run by human beings in the full panorama of what human means. Not everyone is trustworthy or kind. The same is true of writers—also human beings.
Yet, publishers send our books into the world anyway.
Any emotional response to a manuscript other than I love this! is unsustainable. Agents and publishers and reviewers may find our work good or likeable, but the day holds only so many hours. Just like writing, the aura of publishing supposes glamour and money, but those are the veils behind which we hide the unending work. The sorrowful fact is the same for both parties. Only a small percentage of all books published will sell enough copies to cover the costs of publishing them.
Yet, publishers send our books into the world anyway.
We write to open our souls, but we don’t submit our souls nor are our souls rejected. Only symbols on a page are at stake in the publication process. Still the risk of disappointment can unnerve and sting while the Inner Critic chants I told you so. Oh, do shut up. Kill thy darlings, indeed.
To remain unread out of fear is far more painful than the most demanding stretches of publishing’s territory, a territory not so much hostile as hopeful in a world that needs a lot more hope. Perhaps the book you’re working on will be the bridge that leads us there. We won’t know unless you take the risk.
Writing Exercise
What are your publishing goals? What can you do to realize them? Make a list. Start with what you can do as far as writing your manuscript is concerned. Follow this with the steps you need to get your manuscript seen. Finally, imagine you have your published book in hand. Read your acknowledgements. Consider how many people are required to turn what you imagined into a solid representation. If you were one of those people, what would you expect from any manuscript?
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