Setbacks

When we first start out as writers, as adults, we forge ahead with a set of expectations. We know where we want to end up, though we often have no idea how to get there. Marriage, children, a house of our own, a book deal--we know that with work and diligence, maybe a little luck, some of our goals will come to pass. A little traction, we think, is all we need to get things rolling. And it is. We push on, one step after the other. Soon we have a family, a home, or an oeuvre. We have a history. A track record. We have pushed past obstacles. We know the secret to success now and our only way forward is up.

Then the inevitable happens--a setback. Divorce, illness. We publish a book, but it doesn't sell. Or worse--our first book is a huge success, but our agent has misgivings about being able to sell our second book. Or maybe we're so paralyzed by expectations that we can't even get any words down on the page. Sometimes the setback is small enough that doesn't deter us from pressing forward. Other times, it feels like we're rolling all the way back down the hill, right back to the beginning. This was not part of the plan.

Nearly twenty years ago, when I was working as a ghostwriter for a YA series, I decided that the next logical step in my career was to develop a series of my own. I wrote a proposal for a series called ON THE ROAD about an eighteen year-old girl named Miranda who decides to take a year off between high school and college to travel across the country. The timing was great--a publishing company that was looking to invest heavily in their YA division quickly snapped it up and gave me a twelve book deal. This was just the beginning, I told myself. I was going to send Miranda to every state in the union, maybe even overseas. I was on my way up.

Or so I thought.

Around the time I finished my manuscript for book two, some huge changes started happening at my publisher. There was a change of leadership at the imprint. The new leadership decided that they needed to change focus from YA to middle grade books (the Harry Potter effect). My book contract was cut from 12 to four books. I was one of the lucky ones--others had their contracts cancelled outright. My editor left and I was assigned a new one, who was not emotionally invested in the series. Miranda only traveled as far as Florida and was in a bit of a rush getting there. The books were released with zero publicity or fanfare, just the minimum fulfillment of an obligation. I knew it was bad luck, that it was nothing personal. Still, it felt like a punch in the face.

It takes courage to press on after a setback, but press on we must. First, we have to allow ourselves a bit of grieving, a bit of taking stock. We hunker down and lick our wounds. We must be honest with ourselves--Did we play a part in this? Sometimes the answer is no, but often it's yes. Our next steps need to be thoughtful, deliberate, not reactionary. We are more wary as we proceed, but wiser the second time around. Our successes are sweeter because we know they are so hard-won. And when the next setback occurs--as it surely will--the punch will have lost some of its sting. We survived once, we will survive again.