I realized last month, when contemplating the fact that 2003 marks RMFW’s 40th anniversary, that I’ve been writing for 40 years.
Summer of 1983. I switched jobs. I went from newspaper reporter to working as a television producer for a PBS news show. I started flying around the country working on stories. And, during all that airplane time, I started writing a novel. By hand. In notebooks.
The single biggest mistake I made early on was not getting involved in groups like RMFW.
Looking back, I know why. That’s because my first novel, six years after starting to write, landed an agent. In New York City. A good one. But, no sale. My second novel didn’t take as long to write, but I landed another agent. In New York City. A good one. But, no sale. My third novel took longer to write than number two, but that was in part because my wife and I had daughter number one and then daughter number two. Still, my third novel landed a good agent. In New York City. A good one. But, no sale. It was now 1999. Sixteen years had gone by and had “nothing” to show for it.
These were all old-school queries—self-addressed stamped envelopes tucked inside a letter full of hope and promise, addresses of literary agents plucked from hardback volumes at the library, copies of my typed-up book reproduced at Kinko’s for a small fortune and sent off into the void.
I had “nothing” to show for it—except practice. Lots of practice. And I learned enough to know I wanted to keep going. I had learned enough to know I enjoyed it.
And somewhere in the early 2000’s—good grief I wish I knew my first interaction—I went to an RMFW monthly workshop (or something) and found my people. My tribe. My fellow pre-published friends along with (get this!) some real-life published authors.
And the number one thing I’m grateful for is that I decided to volunteer. And I volunteered for new opportunities when those opened up. And along the way, I met more people who were willing to help me. And some of them knew other people and some of them offered introductions and soon I was going to national conferences and I felt like I kind of (gasp) belonged.
In the end, I didn’t get published until 2007. My first publisher was the first of three publishers who went belly-up while I was with them. Well, if you want to know the truth, my third publisher let me go shortly before they crashed. But the writing was on the wall. You know what? All the publishers were good people doing good things. They tried.
But those failures taught me that the business of publishing is one thing that is out of my control. For sure. At least, the “traditional” side of the business. Indie publishing has taught us, in fact, that it’s all within our control. Every word, every design choice, every marketing step along the way.
The one thing that is for sure, whether you go traditional or not, is that we are all in control of how one word fits with the next. And the one after that. And how those words add up and create images and communicate ideas. How they tell a love story, a fantasy, or a tale of suspense.
So here’s a toast to RMFW on its 40th anniversary for creating a long-lasting home for all of us, an ever-changing, every-shifting organization that collects all our experiences so we can share and learn from each other as well as welcome new blood when it comes along. And here’s to all the volunteers who are keeping it running in all the way the organization manifests itself. You know who you are. I wouldn’t be here without you!
A wonderful article, Mark. Inspirational, and a solid reminder that I need to keep writing, agent or not.
Thank you for sharing.
Thank you Ann!!