“When does trying become a waste of time? When does hope become delusional?” – Louise Penny, The Black Wolf

When, last March, I finally wrote “The End” on the manuscript I’d written and rewritten more times than I can count, I sat back into a huge sigh of relief and satisfaction. How quickly those feelings evaporated, shifting into baffled frustration and disappointment as rejections from agents rolled in. The deal was: Six months to try for an agent or indie publisher. If nothing arose by the end of six months, I’d turn to self-publishing. After extending the deadline to seven months, I have finally reached ‘enough!’

I’ll never not be disappointed at not ‘being published.’  I doubt I’ll ever fully let go of the desire to be validated by the industry’s gatekeepers. My work is cut out for me: Heal a deflated ego that has suffered months of rejections. Embrace the ‘obstacles into opportunities’ philosophy I’ve written about again and again in the memoir. Find validation within.

I didn’t expect everyone to love my book; I did expect someone to. I still expect someone — you — to find meaning, inspiration, humor, and love in the tale of transformation that took place during three years of living and teaching in the Middle East.

Agents, when they reply, use the vague boilerplate term, “this is not a fit for my list.” Online writing classes and podcasts bemoan the exclusivity of the publishing industry. Many say non-celebrity memoirs are hard, if not impossible, to sell. Others speak about the unlikelihood of acceptance of authors who don’t have enormous, already existing audiences (thousands of followers on an email list, Facebook, X, or Instagram). Whatever the reason, it’s time to move forward.

Once I soothe my battered feelings. Once I realize that battered feelings cannot destroy me. Once I dust myself off and lift my gaze, there is liberation staring me in the face. I can take this project into my own hands. Over the next six to seven months, I’ll work with a publishing consultant and editor to transform the manuscript into a book I can share with you.

And what an opportunity! (I keep telling myself and hoping to finally absorb and assimilate. Come on, ego. I’m waving the white flag. Get over yourself!)

Admitting defeat.

Accepting disappointment.

Still standing.

Still writing.

Still believing in the book.

I’ll keep you posted.