Getting Back in the Writing Habit

Struggle and rejection are parts of the writing process but so are joy and celebration.

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This week, I sent a book proposal off to a press, a new press I haven’t worked with before, and a book on a big topic, like swinging-for-the-fences big. Unsurprisingly, I have big feelings about the proposal. Good ones. Not-so-good ones.

Writing the proposal is part of me jumping back into writing and getting back into the writing habit. The proposal proved to be both not hard and hard to write. I know what the book is about. I have the narrative down. I have the chapters sketched out. The book lived happily in my head. Getting it on the page, however, was more difficult because I was just out of practice. It’s been a while since I have been writing regularly. It’s been even longer since I’ve written a book proposal.

So, I struggled my way through it. I wrote a draft and revised it. And revised it. And revised it. And revised it. And almost set my laptop on fire but didn’t. And revised it some more. When I couldn’t stand to look at it any longer, I finally passed it off to my favorite first reader, my partner, to make sure that it made sense and that it was good enough to let other people read. He read it and assured me that it was good and to just send it off. I trust his judgment. He’s never led me astray, so I sent it off.

But, I was doubtful about the proposal and about my abilities. Was the proposal actually good enough? I couldn’t judge. My anxiety was super high the whole time I worked on the proposal, and I knew that most of the doubts came from my anxiety-ridden brain. And yet, I still couldn’t shake them.

I should have been super excited to send the proposal off, and I was excited. That excitement quickly morphed into anything but excitement. I was letdown. I was bummed. I had moved forward and reclaimed a part of my writing career, but all I felt was trepidation, buckets of anxiety, and fear.

Hitting send on the proposal was a signal to my brain to freak the eff out, it seemed. My brain decided that it was time to have not only an existential crisis about reviving my writing career but also about what I was doing with my life in general.

“What does my life even mean?,” I mumbled to myself over a cup of cold coffee I had forgotten again. I didn’t have a ready answer just then. Just more mumbling

I tried to pull my anxious brain back from the precipice. In the grand scheme of things, I told myself, a book proposal was a book proposal. It was a necessary first step to getting a book contract. It was part and parcel of how books get written. It’s not super major, Kelly, I told myself again and again. The proposal was me getting back into writing by testing out an idea for a book and trying to move forward.

But my brain refused to move from the edge with all klaxons blaring, "NO, THIS PROPOSAL IS THE MOST SIGNIFICANT THING, AND YOU ARE GONNA FAIL."

My brain was hung up on the proposal and what could happen, so I spent the week quietly freaking out about it and being weepy. My mother-trucking brain made the proposal into a referendum on my career and my life, and I did not appreciate it one bit.

The truth of the matter is that the proposal could be rejected. Rejection is a fundamental part of writing. I have to get used to that again.

But rejection isn’t a judgment on my career or life. It’ll just be a rejection on this particular proposal for particular reasons, even if it is hard to remember that. The stakes are lower than my brain is making them out to be. And I do have options if the proposal is rejected that don’t involve binning my writing career or questioning the meaning of my life. Both of those are my anxiety talking, and I just have to talk back.

I have to remind myself again and again that I’m working on being a writer again, and I’m going to have to build my confidence back up again. I’m going to have to work against my anxious brain and its catastrophic thinking. And just because I struggle doesn’t mean I’m going to fail. And just because I am rejected doesn’t mean I’m a failure. Struggle and rejection are parts of the writing process, and I have to get used to them again too.

And I can’t let my anxiety steal my joy and excitement either. So today, I am choosing to be excited that I wrote a book proposal, and I sent it off to a press. I am choosing to be joyful that I can write again and that I can write books again, even if I am scared a little…okay…more than a little. I am choosing to acknowledge that I accomplished something big, a first step, a moving forward, in spite of my anxiety and doubts. That should be celebrated, so I’m going to try to do that too.