By Kasie Whitener
There were 250 Wattys winners, and I wasn’t one of them. Over the summer, I’d won the Broad River Prize for Prose and the 2021 Fresh Voices in the Humanities Awards. My unpublished novel took a 3rd place finish in a writers’ contest in August. I was on a roll.
I really thought my serialized YA story about two kids getting kicked out of Neverland and joining the American Revolution would be a shoo-in for this online fan fiction website contest. Except it wasn’t. I wrote about the serialization project in this post. It’s a former NaNoWriMo effort that just wanted a little revision and to see the light of day.
It’s easy to add my Wattys failure to low turnout at book signings, poor attendance at speaking engagements, anemic growth on my social channels and email list, and the decision to forego NaNoWriMo this year and say my writing career is stalling.
But on October 27, I gave a well-received reading of an unpublished story to a packed bar during “Noir at the Bar.” Yesterday I delivered a keynote speech at the Aiken Book Fair. And that 3rd-place-winning- vampire novel is in the hands of an agent who loves it.
In this writing life there are milestone events like winning awards and getting representation that seem to be critical to climbing the peak. And then there are low points like showing up to see three people in the audience and cuing up your slide deck anyway while feeling engulfed in the valley of shame.
Last week I discovered this video wherein creative coach Jessica Abel reminds us that our vision of the process for building a writing career looks like this:
1) get good at my craft,
2) get an agent and sell my book,
3) magic fairy dust,
4) retire a famous, rich, world-renowned author.
Except Step 3 (according to Jessica) isn’t “magic fairy dust.” It’s a machine. And anyone can work the machine. You just have to know how. This is a critical conversation for me because I’m using the machine to hoist, elevate, and raise my work for career sustainability, and personal fulfillment.
Pulley: Attending conferences and festivals (makes heavy lifting easier)
Lever: Critique groups and beta readers (gets things unstuck, lessens workload)
Wheel and Axle: Presenting, Sharing, & Teaching (connects me with others, improves craft)
Wedge: Awards and Recognition (separates my work from others’)
Inclined Plane (or ramp): Associations (opportunities to lead, create, and shine)
Screw: Volunteer (embed myself in the work, become deeply engrained in the industry)
When I think of the activities in my writing life as simple machines to move me from where I am toward where I want to be, I appreciate even the low-turnout events, even the no-win contests, and even the rejections and declines.
I am gaining ground not by waiting for someone else to sprinkle luck upon me, but by churning the gears and driving my own success. Pedal down. Roll on.
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