Debut

But not the first

I started writing my first novel about ten years ago. It was a speculative YA that I worked my bum off to make the very best it could be before I sent it off to agents. While querying that, I wrote a (terrible) YA trilogy set during a zombie apocalypse. After that, I wrote two more YA stories, both contemporary and both a little sad (but there were great animal sidekicks so it wasn’t all bad).

I wrote a YA dystopian that landed me an agent. Unfortunately, that relationship broke down (you can read more about that here), but I didn’t stop writing. I turned towards writing for adults instead. I wrote a couple of sci-fi novels set after the end of the world (with even more animal sidekicks whom I love with all my heart).

I wrote a couple of crime standalones, and the start of a crime series focused on a couple of detectives whose personal lives were about as dysfunctional as they could get. I also wrote a handful of romcoms, giggling to myself as I wrote sex scenes.

The first in the crime series about the two detectives will be published in October by Canelo Crime. It’s called Shot in the Dark (find out more about it here) and I could not be prouder of it. I’m so excited that I get to hang out with these characters and write more stories about them.

But Shot in the Dark wasn’t the first book I wrote. It wasn’t even the second or third. I’m fairly certain I’ve forgotten a couple of the stories I’ve scribbled down in the ten years since I started writing (there may be one about someone who pushed someone down some stairs – I can’t quite remember! And there’s defo a spy novel in there somewhere…)

I feel a multitude of feelings about these stories. Gratitude, that they got me to the point of writing Shot in the Dark. Joy, because I love hanging out with all my imaginary friends. Love, because writing is all I want to do, even if the stories are only ever for me.

I feel some negative stuff too. It was hard to shelve my first novel after querying it for a year and getting nothing but rejections. The novel I worked on with my first agent has a whole load of complicated feelings mixed up in it that aren’t its fault. I think some of them are awful and some of them have potential. I long to go back and work on some of them, but some I am quite happy to leave in a drawer.

I don’t think any of them were a waste.

I’ve been talking to a few fellow writers recently and have noticed an attitude that stories that don’t get published are wasteful. A waste of their time and effort, a waste of moments they could have been with family and friends, a waste of creativity they could have used to work on the novel that would go somewhere.

This makes me feel sad. I can’t see every story before Shot in the Dark as anything other than a necessary and precious stepping stone towards writing the novel that would be my publishing debut.

For me, writing in and of itself is ultimately a joyful thing. Underneath all the tough times all us writers go through, there is a golden thread of joy that keeps us coming back to storytelling even when the odds feel stacked against us.

That joy means that these stories that come before our debut can’t be a waste, because they made us happy. I sit (in terrible positions that wreck my back) and escape into other people and worlds and I love it.

I think we sometimes think about stories as wasteful because we’ve lost sight of that joy. It’s still there, waiting, but we’ve become too focused on other stuff.

It can feel like publishing is the be all and end all, but it’s not. We have to remind ourselves that it’s secondary. You might be thinking, but Anna, you have a publishing deal. But there were so many years when I didn’t. So many stories I wrote because the characters wouldn’t stop nattering away to me and I chased a thread of a story onto the page.

I am so delighted that people will read one of my stories, but I loved writing it regardless. If Shot in the Dark wasn’t being published, I wouldn’t consider any of the time spent writing it as a waste. It was really fun to write and challenged me technically, and that is only ever a good thing – whether or not the words captured a publisher’s interest.

Don’t let the fight to become published steal your writing joy. I know how hecking hard finding an agent (I’ve done it twice!) and publisher is, but it’s not what really matters. What matters is you spending your life doing something you love – stealing moments whenever you can to escape to other worlds and find joy.

There is a not-so-subtle message in our world that those things without monetary value are worthless. This can translate really easily into our writing – every book that doesn’t sell is a waste. This is something we have to break free from. Creating is a beautiful thing to do, whether or not it’s bringing in the big bucks.

It would be so lovely for writing to provide for some or all of our income, but that doesn’t mean that any writing that doesn’t bear financial fruit is worthless.

I think because publishing a novel is often at the forefront of our minds, it can feel like there is a rush towards writing the thing that will capture an agent or publisher’s interest. We can put undue pressure on ourselves to be writing that amazing thing now, and resent time spent on projects that didn’t go anywhere.

It can be really hard looking at others who are publishing books and wondering if you will ever get there. I did it for a long time. But while wondering, I wrote. And what a lovely thing to take solace in.

I knew that each story strengthened my skills. Each character was a new imaginary friend. Each project I worked my hardest on proved to myself that I could do this thing again and again.

Particularly after I parted ways with my first agent, I had a dark moment when it felt like all that had come before was a waste. I’d thought I was a step closer to one of my books winging its way into the world, and I was wrong.

I comforted myself with writing something new. Writing brought me joy and peace. I loved doing this thing. It didn’t make the setbacks less gutting, but it did mean I could turn to something joyful and light when times were hard.

Don’t let critical voices in your head tell you that projects you’ve had to shelve are a waste. They’ve brought you here and they’ve kept you company. They’ve brought you joy.

Keep writing – for the pure hecking fun of it.

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