On Pressing On - by Liz Carter

How long do you persevere at your book or piece of writing?

How many times do you submit it to agents and publishers, before you accept it's just not going to happen? Perhaps even then you are made of determined stuff, and keep going, knowing that this manuscript is worth something. All the hours you've put into it mean something, after all. Perhaps you go for self-publishing, refusing to release this dream. Or maybe you start the project off with the intention of self-publishing, knowing all the advantages inherent in that course of action; your own autonomy around the book, from design to content.

I find this one difficult. Although I've recently had my first non-fiction book published (and that was a labour of perseverence in itself) I have written a few more. A couple of years ago I finished a YA fiction manuscript - in fact, I wrote two of a trilogy. I was hugely excited about it, I'd loved the writing process, I'd learned so much along the way about showing and telling, passive voice, POV, nasty adverbs and killing many darlings, and it'd been a thrilling ride. I wrote the last words and promply submitted to a few agents I thought might be interested.

But no. You guessed it. At first it was tumbleweed, my keyboard worn thin by repeated refreshings in waiting for That Email. But when it came, it was a generic rejection: 'Sorry, this isn't for us. Bye.' (Basically!) It was my first taste of rejection and I didn't like it. It was bitter in my mouth, and I swallowed it down with a wall of doubt slamming into my body: Ah, seems I can't write after all.

Photo by Nicole Honeywill on Unsplash

I wasn't uninformed about the nature of submissions and rejections; I knew it would happen. But that first one - that hurt. Then the second came in, and third, fourth, fifth. With each one I deflated that little bit more. But something in me refused to give up, so I submitted more.

This time I got a few 'nice' rejections - the 'like the concept, good writing, but have no room on our list' type. I even got a couple of full MS requests, and these were heady days. This was it! I'd done it! <insert hollow laugh>

They came to nothing. The agents came back with kind words, encouraging me to keep submitting elsewhere, but something in me broke. If those who'd asked for a full MS didn't like it then I had no chance. So I stopped submitting, and since then this manuscript has gathered dust in my cyber unfinished projects drawer. But when I think of the heady days of writing the story, I grab hold once again of the vision, and wonder about another try.

Perseverance is an important attribute when we're pursuing any kind of writing career, even if only in part, but it's hard when we get knocked back, isn't it? It reminds me a bit of the Christian life. In Philippians 3 Paul talks about forgetting what is behind and straining ahead, pressing on towards the goal to win the prize for which God has called us heavenwards in Jesus (v13-14) Paul is talking about putting stuff in his past behind him and making an active decision to go forwards in his life in Christ, and that takes a whole load of determination, because he had things pretty good in his old life. He was highly intelligent, highly thought of, faultless in his pursuit of religion. But Christ rushed in and upended his life and his heart, and he was left in a place where all he could do was dig deeper into this God who loved him so passionately. But digging deeper didn’t come easily – only a dogged determination would take him further into the treasures found in Christ. And it was so worth it.

Our writing is a calling upon us. That doesn’t necessarily mean our writing is always explicitly Christian (or even implicitly), but it is always about who we are and how we express ourselves. And that’s probably why rejections hurt so much – they seem a judgment on us at our deepest places. But in this climate we have an opportunity like no other time in history to make our words heard. Perhaps as we press on in our faith lives we are called to press on in our writing lives, too. Perhaps we need to take risks, to run forward with abandon, to stop sitting on our dusty old manuscripts and get them out there. They might not do anything, but they’re still our great achievements – and there’s something beautiful in that. Something beautiful about rushing into our calling and allowing that spark of creativity God has gifted us with to ignite and thrive.

And that might mean making ourselves vulnerable…

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to dust off a certain old manuscript…