So, I know I haven’t been around to visit much and I’m having trouble just showing up for our weekly rendez-vous.
But the truth is, I think I’m having an existential crisis. Losing a baby and an agent opportunity in the last few months has made me question the very foundations of who I am and what I want. (yeah, I looked up the definition of an existential crisis. Just to be sure.)
It’s more than just lurking in the whatisthepurposeoflife mind-suck or spending time questioning my parenting skills on willmykidsbecrackheads.com
I know I don’t usually get all personal on you guys but– you’ve been here long enough to meet my crazy from time to time.
So, on one hand, I feel like I should give that little soul who left us too soon another shot. Losing him was hard, even if he wasn’t planned, and I promised myself when I left the hospital after the operation that I would do what I could to give him a chance at being with us again.
But then… those thoughts about what having another baby really means have come back to haunt me. I have three children. So I know what’s involved. Getting pregnant again means renting my body out for two years (incubation+milking rights)–feeding and housing a mini person in some capacity. It means losing hours and hours of sleep, time, and freedom. Only doing what I want to do on very rare occasions when all of my children are sleeping at once. It means 3am fights with the hubs because ‘he never gets up with them’. Then there’s leaky boobs, flabby abs, dark circles and a few more fine lines and gray hairs before the kid is even remotely autonomous.
Yup. Those thoughts make me feel like Ms. Selfish of the most selfish selfi-ish pants. But there they are.
Then there’s the whole agent thing. I know I say I’ll never give up. That I believe in my place here. But sometimes…I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m starting to think maybe agents aren’t the way to go anymore. I guess it’s the same thing. Like having another baby, I know what lies ahead for someone who keeps striving towards the traditional route. When I started querying, I was this big bubble of bobble-headed positivity. Those first queries. First rejections. First requests. First FULL requests! So exciting! But after a few years, the process has worn me down. I still love writing and I still believe in my manuscripts but the query process just isn’t fun anymore. The magic is gone and my writing mojo is at an all-time low. Not to mention, with the recent economical crisis and new technology, agents are taking on less and less clients, publishers are starting to narrow their lists and trends are decided somewhere out in the nobody-frickin-knows-anymore.
Self-publishing is starting to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.
So that’s it. I’m lost, you guys. In both my personal life and professional one.
I might need a psychic, a therapist, and a mid-life-crisis loan to do it, but somehow I hope I’ll find my way. For those of you who have stuck around for the ride, I thank youJ
Ever had an existential crisis? How was that?
Yeah. I couldn’t come up with any better question.
**For anyone who came here today looking for query advice and found a hot mess instead- please check out my normal, level-headed guest post at Heather Day Gilbert’s Writing Beyond the Vows.**