The pendulum swing between Turtle and Icarus
Are you turtling right now? I am. Hiding in a corner of my house, under a cozy blanket, ignoring every societal expectation of what people “should” do on a Friday night.
Or are you Icarus? You’ve got your brand new wings and you’re soaring into the skies, making friends, unable to see the danger lying in wait?
This was a week in the writing community. First, a predatory agent managed to hurt a lot of people before getting fired and booted off Twitter. Next, a writer finally snapped about the horrible treatment even agented authors can get from traditional publishers. And then this article came out in Writer’s Digest from someone who got 8 offers from agents but had their book die during the submission process.
Watching so many Icaruses–Icari?--fall from the skies can make those of us on the ground turtle hard. Hide in our shell and give up, because the world is terrifying and confusing. I’ve had one book on submission for two years. I’m working on a fantasy trilogy that may never find an agent or a publisher. And I’ve yet to earn out the advance I received on Driving by Starlight (although I’ll forever be grateful to whichever librarian(s) bought 200 copies last June, thank you!)
Here’s the thing. Failure and disappointment have a tendency to overshadow success. I know this. But that doesn’t help, in the moment, to recover from the bruising of yet another rejection. Especially when the loudest voices in publishing say things like this:
“Don’t quit your day job. Success often hinges on the ability to balance creative expression with a strategic approach to marketing, self-promotion, and adaptation to the ever-evolving landscape of modern publishing. “ – Mark Gottlieb, VP and literary agent at Trident Media Group.
Okay, so in addition to my day job, I need to become an expert at marketing, self-promotion and navigating a landscape that (a) changes every day and (b) has a 2-4 year lag between effort and reward?
What’s Option B?
A few years ago, I took a trapeze class. I posted about it on Instagram, but reposting the video here. There’s a few moments in the video where I’m upside-down, hanging by my knees from a bar and swinging backwards to the ground. Every instinct tells you to curl into a ball, protect your head, protect your stomach. But if you did, you’d never be caught by your partner. For that, you have to ignore the survival instinct, relax completely and extend your arms overhead.
At your most vulnerable, invite the world in more. Just when you want to turtle the most, take flight instead.
How does this help? Just as a few disappointments today can overshadow yesterday’s greatest achievements, a few loud and toxic people can sour you on a community, a society, or even the world. But being a writer is, at its core, about being an agent of hope. We can’t write if we don’t let in the world, and we wouldn’t write if we didn’t think our words could change it.
When I’m feeling vulnerable, I write. Then, I take a swig of wine and send my words out into the world. Icarus time.