Writing Update: On Submission

So, like, being on submission kind of sucks.

But it's also exciting.

It's a strange dichotomy.

Recent insta post: check it out!

Here's what they don't tell you: "Once you've found a literary agent, you must then submit your manuscript to a publishing house. You may be an overnight success, or you may never succeed at all."

It's a bit bonkers.

I've been on submission for two years now (it could be more or less, but it's been so long, I clearly can't remember the exact time frame).

In this time, I've drafted, developed, and completed an entirely new manuscript (more on this to come!). My agent is still very confident in the book I have on submission, and I feel he will work tirelessly to get it into the hands of the world. But as the clock only continues to turn, I truly believe that the current book I have on submission is hard to sell because it's not a high-concept commercial YA (side note: is anyone else struggling with this, too?).

Long story short: the world can't handle it, y'all.

This is such a strange journey, too, because at any given moment, my dream could be made into reality, and in that same moment, it could be turned into dust (hard stuff to swallow--literally).

Anyway, that's the official, official, update on where I am in this lovely writing process.

Hopefully (all fingers and toes crossed), I'll have another book on submission soon!

Again, more to come on this new manuscript. But also, is anyone else struggling with being on submission to publishing houses, or being on submission with literary agents?
Share below!

Still have more questions? Leave a comment below.
Like these posts? Share them in your writing community; it helps me know that I should make more.

Till next time, blog world.

The Year of Beauty and Chaos

 Somewhere between beauty and chaos there is existence. 

The seasons change rapidly, the sun runs to meet the moon, and the stars chase the hills as the earth rotates.

In the midst of that, there's me
Little ol' me.
The rambunctious me, the sad me, the overly-excited me, the constantly changing me.

There's the me that wants to write until the flowers crumble and the snow comes, and then there's that side of me that can't do anything but watch a Netflix series I've seen three times.

There's the me that wants to write this blog, and then there's the me that wants to be the best dancer in the world.

There's the me that sings in the bathroom with an acoustic to my chest, and there's the me that wants to crawl into my bed and sleep all day.

There are so many sides to me, so many different talents, so many dreams--and somehow all of that has lead me back here, to the start of my writing phenomenon, to the beginning of my beginning, to my writing daze.

Here, I welcome you all back into my life as I try, again, to enter the writing world.
I will warn you, writing friends, it is tough.
I've sent more queries out, I've tackled a synopsis, and I've even checked out more writing venues.
I have failed and failed and failed in hopes to help writers--like us--who won't give up.

I hope that you all follow me on this new journey.

If any of you are interested in my recent novel (I'll post a query soon), I've posted a few chapters on Wattpad.
If any of you are interested in being a beta/critique reader contact me through email or in a comment below.

To all of you going through seasons of writing, I'm pouring my luck out to you.

Until next time, writing friends.

Writing In Times of Sorrow

It seems as if I've fallen off the face of the planet. 

It's probably true.

On January first, a friend of mine died in a tragic car crash.

When I found out, it felt like the universe had been sucked from it's oxygen, and I couldn't breathe.

Because even doing that hurt.

At some point, I decided to write. I decided I would take my pain and put it into words. But it wasn't as easy as I thought it might be. It took me a week to even write this post.

All my hipster friends were writing about it the day after they found out, and I absolutely could not. I wanted it to feel right, but it felt weird. How could I do something I loved, when someone I loved was gone?

My friend was a writer, too. We weren't super close, and this year, our paths had kind of split into two, but when it came to writing, it was almost like we were the closest of friends. Writing does that to people. It compels you to start an estranged friendship. And she wasn't into the big wigs, nor did she want to get a book published. But she was the in-the-closet, really-good, sultry, hard-core-love-song, kind of writer. And that made her ten times the woman than she already was.

She was actually reading one of my books (though the book she was reading was crap, and I don't blame her for never getting around to finishing it,) but I realized that, even in times of triumphs and chaos, I could write. I was given that. She wanted to read my book because she wanted to help me make it better. She believed in me, and the fact that I was even pursuing my dream meant a lot to her.

She inspired me to continue writing that third/fourth book I always give up on. (And trust me, I always give up on it.)

This whole death thing is weird, but somehow . . . somehow, there's goodness in all of it. While our clocks still tick, it's easy to forget the things that we're passionate about. It's so easy to forget the moments and words that make our hearts stop beating for a millisecond.

And when her clock ran out, she reminded me of how precious my time here really was. She reminded me why I was passionate about writing. She reminded me that many good things can actually form from dust.

So though her body is gone, her soul is still alive, and because of her I have a damn-good, sultry, hard-core, love story.

Thank you, Q.