Reminder: Art Is Subjective

Today I received a rejection from an agent on a full manuscript request.

It stung.

While she said she was initially drawn in by my story and premise (yay, the query letter worked!), she ultimately didn't fall in love with the execution of it. 

*sob*

Yes, I know this business is subjective. There are lots of published novels I've read that I've scratched my head at, wondering how they managed to make it from agent to editor to published novel. 

But I admit to being quite deflated today, and the self-doubt began to creep in.

What if I really am not good at writing novels?

That's a terrifying thought. Writing fiction is in my blood. I've been doing it since I was 12 years old. I can't fathom doing anything else.

So I've had to just confront this head on and realize that while this agent didn't fall in love with my story, I know one will. I have to keep the faith. I have to believe in myself and my abilities.

Life Update

I've been at my job for nearly two months now, and I'm starting to settle in and find my way around. It's much more challenging than my last job (which is what I wanted) and this means I am more mentally tired at the end of the day. I don't have as much energy to devote to my writing, especially when I'm having a flare (I've had two bad ones in the last month). I'm still trying to squeeze in a bit of editing every day in hopes that it will all add up to a finished novel. It makes me realize, though, how age and my health have so affected my energy levels. When my kids were young, I was working full-time, parenting, dealing with an abusive marriage, and doing about three freelance jobs plus working on my novel. How did I do all of that? 

Ultimately, I'd like to work part-time and write the rest of the time...while living in England.

Yes, that is the ultimate goal! 

The weather has been glorious here with temperatures in the 50s and 60s. I've tried to take as many walks as my body would allow, and it's been nice to be out in the warm sunshine.

I Just Don't Know...

I think I expect too much of myself. 

Every day, I expect myself to do the following:

1) Be awesome at the day job

2) Cook and eat a healthy supper

3) Keep up on the housework 

4) Exercise

5) Write

That's not a bad list, right? That should be doable every single day. When I accomplish all of those things, I feel amazing and damn proud of myself. 

But when I don't accomplish them all? When one of my chronic illnesses strikes and I'm too exhausted to cook, do housework, and barely have the energy to just sit and watch television? I feel like a damn failure.

I have a theory that life is a constant cycle that is always interrupted. We follow a routine - we get up, we go to work, we eat, we do the things we want to do (read, write, watch t.v., exercise, etc.), we go to bed, we sleep, we get up and do it all over again. 

But then come the interruptions. The sickness. The bad day at work. The medical appointment that brings bad news. Family issues. Relationship issues. Pandemics. Politics. And on and on and on...

We can try and plan our days and stick to our routines, but life interrupts us. Constantly. 

I need to learn to just roll with it, and not beat myself up if I don't fill in those little circles on my planner for each activity I hope to accomplish every day. There's something to be said for being consistent and for attempting to stick to your daily goals. But it's also okay to realize that hey, if you're in the middle of a flare, you don't have to exercise because if you do, you'll make yourself worse. Or if you had an extremely bad day at the day job, it's okay to watch television all night instead of work on the novel because if you tried to write, only complete crap would emerge.

Bottom line, I need to show myself grace. 

I love, love, LOVE this artwork
Artist: J.C. Leyendecker

Life Update

I'm just now getting over a flare that lasted almost ten days, and it was a doozy. Worse, I have no PTO at the new job until my "introductory period" (90 days) is over. That is beyond frustrating. I ended up taking an unpaid day and that's money lost that I really can't afford. It makes me realize that even though I have to wait for my PTO, at least I will have it. So many people do not have sick leave. 

This flare also reminded me of how sick I really am. I am not exactly sure what caused it (I did have a date night with my boyfriend and had two Moscow Mules, but I think it's just the enormity of the move, the new job, the holidays, etc., etc., finally came crashing down on me, and my body said ENOUGH. I still am not back to my baseline, and I'm trying not to push myself. These flares leave me terrified that one day I will not recover, that I will end up bedridden like so many patients with ME/CFS. How would I take care of myself financially if that happens? What about insurance for medical bills, etc.? Which brings me to the horror of the American healthcare system. Get sick, go broke. That's about the long and short of it.

Sigh.

I'm back to working on my novel, but I'm still trying to adjust to the new job. There's just so much more to learn, and while it will become second nature to me at some point, it's still mentally draining to work through it all. My cognitive issues (memory issues, recall, mixing up my words, etc.) that come with ME/CFS are not helping matters. However, I am very happy that my employer set a meeting up with me to discuss accommodations, and they have already made arrangements for a few things. It feels good to know I work for a company that values my health and wants to make sure I have what i need to get the job done.