ARE YOU a TORTOISE or a HARE?

By Kasie Whitener

I am probably not going to be one of those writers who makes a living on book sales.

In 2019, I was fortunate to publish my GenX novel After December with Chrysalis Press.

Just 20 years after the first version of the book was written. Just six years after the modern version of the book was dusted off and shared in a workshop. Five years after beta readers. Following a developmental edit and two line-level copy edits, we now have the ninth iteration of the text.

What I’ve learned is that the really good work takes three things: time, persistence, and professionalism.

The story needed to unfurl. I needed to mature as a writer, get some distance on the text, and become capable of recognizing what works and what just doesn’t. (Then cut the latter mercilessly.) Working out character arcs and tracking plot points, tightening scenes to get the most out of them, deepening characters past clichés and into realistic people.

I really wanted to tell this story. I stuck with it. My workshop readers didn’t like the main character. My friends suggested the entire thing was nostalgia. My sister said it was too autobiographical to be public. But Brian’s voice is in my head and so I stayed with this story and I pursued publication knowing when the time was right, I’d know it.

There are a lot of things I’m capable of. Even when it comes to books – writing, designing, marketing, sales – there are a lot of things I know and even more things I could figure out if pressed. But there are professionals who already know those things. Who can be trusted and paid to do the things I am only “capable of.” I hired them.

I’m a tortoise. I take my time, understand the end goal, and move steadily toward it with purpose and intention.

The hares dash by, put their books up on Kindle Unlimited, reduce expenses on marketing by working without a distributor, and work the strategy that volume will cure low margins.

I may not make a lot of money for my publisher (sorry, Alexa!) and I may not build a career for myself that enables me to walk away from teaching. The goal has always been to tell the stories inside me. So I’ll keep writing them. And polishing them. And publishing them (hopefully) so that others can experience them.

Not by the hundreds. But there may be a dozen. And maybe I’ll be invited to speak at literary festivals. And maybe my work will be required reading in an American Lit class. Or maybe it’ll be someone’s favorite book.

Maybe it’ll make someone else want to write, too. Even if it takes 20 years to see the fruit of that labor dangling over the path as the tortoise inches by.