Getting Published, Or How To Remember What You Already Have

Publishing, whether we are paid for it or not, is always an act of sharing. I have a story, and I’d like to share it with other people. It is not accurate to say I am giving the story away. It is not as if the story is a single copy of a book and I am giving that book to someone else – once I had it, now I don’t. I still have that story, as I will always have that story, even as readers make that story their own in their imaginations. But for the writer, publication and its many consequences can often turn into wanting to acquire what we believe we don’t have. If I do not have an agent, then I will want an agent. If I have never been published, then I will want an acceptance letter when all I have are rejection letters. If I have never been on a bestseller list, or won an award, or been reviewed in the New York Times, I might want those things too.

And by want, I mean that I believe my life will be better when I have one of those things. If only I had an agent, then it would be easier to sell my books and I would be happier; if only I had a publishing contract, I would be happier; if only I had won the National Book Award, hit #1 on the list, talked to Oprah . . . on and on it goes. Why, it’s almost as if the very decision to share my stories with other people merely brings my attention to how little I actually have and how much happier I could be.

This can turn publishing into a quietly miserable pursuit, and success is impossible within this environment. I can’t create what I don’t have; I can only grow more of what I do have. When I am unhappy, all I can share is my unhappiness, for that is what I have. On the other hand, if I love science fiction, I focus on how much I love it and write a story from that place. It is not true that this story came from nowhere; it came from my love of science fiction, which exists before and after the story is written. Whether that story is published or not, I still have my love of science fiction, and I still have what I discovered in writing my story.

As you send out your query letters, as you wait to hear from your agent, as you check your ranking on Amazon, remember where the stories you are sharing came from. Whether you sell a hundred copies or a million copies, the source of those stories will not change or move or dim. You will always have it. You couldn’t get rid of it if you tried.

I say this, having known the misery of believing I have nothing. I have stared and stared and stared at what I don’t have until my world looked empty. What a strange trick to play on myself. It’s like looking at a garden ripe with planted seeds and calling it a desert because nothing has bloomed. When the flowers finally come – and they always do – the relief I feel is like waking from a nightmare. The order of creation is still intact, and I need only choose which seed of a story I will water with my attention.