Pie Crust

A year ago, I had my dream come true and my first novel was published. I’d been waiting for that moment for so long and I thought I was finally on the road to becoming a full-time writer. I recognized that it would take a while for me to get to that point – years, if even – but at least I was on that road. It still seemed like a dream the first time I held my book in my hands. Sadly, I think my dream has just become a disappointing nightmare.

           

Nightmare might be a little too harsh so think of something in between a dream and a nightmare. It has been a struggle to get any sort of promotion or reviews. A chapter was excerpted in a local magazine but I was completely ignored by my local paper despite them spotlighting every other person in my area who has written a book (including one that tells the history – of an auto parts store. Seriously.). I’ve participated in online opportunities but none of them have transferred over to anything helpful for me or my book.

There’s very little traffic to my website, what sales numbers I can see are pitiful, and I can’t even get feedback from those few people I know bought my book. A small handful of people have dropped me a message or left a review on Amazon and I appreciate those who did but the ratio of people who bought (or said they did or were going to) to those who gave me feedback is troubling.

For a long time I wondered if maybe the publisher made a mistake and accidentally accepted my manuscript when they meant to reject it. I could share the struggles I’ve had with them but I’ll refrain. Just know that although I am grateful they did publish my novel, the experience has been disappointing. Because of those disappointments, I thought my next step would be to get an agent to have my back and in May, one asked for a partial manuscript from me (only 5% of queries to agencies get a partial request) but six months later, I have never heard back from them and have just given up on them. I personally think that’s rude of an agency to do. If you request my writing, have the decency to give me a yay or nay.

I never had a book signing because the independent bookstore in my city basically said no one came to their signings and I would have to foot the bill for it. Because of how my publisher sold my book, I could not even do a signing at my local Barnes and Noble which would not have cost me any money.

Writing is (was?) the one thing I had. What little family I have left barely recognizes me (no feedback from them about my book either). I am not married or have a boyfriend or kids or anything that most 42 year olds have. I don’t have anything that peps me up but my writing. (Daughtry still helps some but there’s a big, long story there that I’m not going to share here but has contributed to my feeling of disappointment with my writing.)

I get up, I go to work, I come home. That’s about it. I don’t go out; I have social anxiety and my agoraphobia is growing worse along with my depression. The few friends I do have are not local and although I go to a weekly Shabbat potluck (or at least try), most of the time I feel awkward and a lot of times no one talks to me. As with my novel, I’m often just ignored whether it be in real life or online. I’m not expecting to be the center of anyone’s universe (I know people have their own lives; I’m tired of people who backhandedly tell me that as if I don’t know.) or that my first novel is the best book ever written but just some acknowledgement of being a human and a writer would be nice. The belief that maybe this is the way I’m supposed to be (gray with depression and ignored by most) is starting to cement itself in me which is not good.

I’m a homebody who writes. Or I used to be. Writing has not been easy lately due to the disappointment surrounding my first novel and my wondering if the publisher made a mistake and my increasing depression hasn’t helped either. Maybe I suck as a writer and my dream of becoming a full-time writer is just a pie crust dream that I stupidly allowed myself to believe. I call it a pie crust dream because it’s a bit like its cousin the pie crust promise. A pie crust dream is easy to get sucked into and then it just disintegrates.

Maybe once again I set my expectations too high. This doesn’t make sense, however, as I have learned to basically have no expectations for anything. My therapist tells me it would probably help to get some validation of my writing (duh) and I corrected her and said I need validation as a human being too.

Like I said, writing is/was the one thing I have/had. I use my writing to distract me from all the other problems I have. It has pained me that I haven’t been able to write lately and my first publishing experience has been so disappointing. The number of tears I have shed over both is numerous. All I want is to be able to write, to share my stories, to actually get useful publicity for my work, and to know that people enjoy what I write.

A pie crust dream. I actually wonder if I should give up on it so that it stops hurting my soul. 

Dana