In 2010 I completed a manuscript about my hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. After consulting about a gazillion sources (more or less), I wrote a book proposal and query letter. I made a list of agents who sounded compatible. I revised, re-read, re-consulted. When the query letter and proposal were the best I could make it, I asked myself, “Is this the best I can do?” It was. So I knew I needed outside help.
I pored over the websites of editorial services. I narrowed my choices to three, heard back from two and chose one, who not only offered sound advice and wise counsel but became a dear friend. We worked on the proposal. My father died. We kept working. Her father died. Neither of us were prepared for or expected this and these events profoundly affected our lives. We had much more than the project in common. We kept working. Of the many agents to whom I sent the query, a large percentage asked to see the proposal. On the basis of the proposal and sample writing, I received only rejections. This told me the subject was of interest; the writing wasn’t good enough.
My brilliant and thoughtful editor suggested that I take time out to learn the craft of writing. She was and is a cheerleader for me and buoys me with her savvy and good sense. She says what I was trying to do in the manuscript is advanced and difficult. The night I received my final rejection–this time for the entire manuscript, and from an agent who really, really wanted to like it–I was attending a reading by Heather Sellers at Schuler’s, a local independent bookstore. I’d read the author’s work and loved it. When I saw her onstage, I knew she was the teacher for me. Charming, funny, vibrant, brilliant, and real. In her own book, she had solved the problems I was having. Plus, she was a writing teacher, full-time. I asked her if she took on students outside of the college and she said “yes.”
We started working together in January 2011. I can’t summarize everything I’ve learned from Heather. Mostly what I’m learning is to get out of my own way. (That’s usually the problem, no matter what I do!) In writing, this means getting out of my head and into my body. Telling the truth–not the truth I THINK is the truth, but the real truth–the truth I don’t know until I start writing. Smashing the roadblocks I put in front of me (I can’t talk about THAT, I can’t hurt that person’s feelings, I don’t want people to know THAT about me!) and diving deep inside. Not knowing. To not know what I will find or what it means is an exciting journey, somewhat like my hike. I am progressing.
I am deeply grateful to Heather, R. my editor; and T. my first mentor, friend, and “muse”. I am lucky to have such a great support team, none of whom know each other. Heather’s secret for writing success? “Butt in chair.” In other words, WRITE.
