Welcome to the journey…
My mid-life crisis struck with a soul-crushing vengeance at the ripe, young age of twenty-five.
It wasn’t a sudden ah-hah moment. No, it was sinister, slow as a blood-sucking leech, until one day, I realized that after six years of schooling, working as a nurse, and a ton of tears, I couldn’t continue the path I was paving. The only solution—quit my job in surgery on a whim. Okay…it wasn’t entirely unprecedented. My husband was transitioning jobs, we were planning to move, and we’d just brought home a puppy. If there was a perfect time to totally derail my career, it was then. My husband is a saint for wholeheartedly supporting my spontaneities. (Side note: I realize not everyone has the flexibility to do this, but having the time to step back and take a vital survey of myself was one of the best things to ever happen to me.)
During that summer, I asked myself the same questions dozens of times—What do I want to do with my life? Who do I want to be? What if I never become anything? I was educated and successful as a nurse, but I felt bone-crushingly trapped. You may relate to the feeling…You do what you were supposed to do, what you thought everyone else wanted you to do, and suddenly you wake up years later and don’t know who you are anymore. Yes, I too lost myself somewhere along that long, monotonous continuum.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no way a victim. There are so many people in the world with worse circumstances than mine. But we all go through hardships and struggles of various sorts. Such is the nature of life.
So, it was back to the vocation drawing board for me.
I was an artsy kid. I danced, loved drawing and painting, and this might be a tad too niche, but my favorite book series in middle school was Warrior Cats by Erin Hunter. All that to say, writing makes sense. I had a few failed attempts at writing over the years—an Instagram blog, scribbled notes in journals I’ve since lost, even the beginning of a book is floating around somewhere in the ether. However, I hadn’t found my medium yet. It wasn’t until a random July day that I sat at my kitchen counter and mapped an entire fictional world on the back of a scrap piece of paper and thought…maybe I could do this?
And then I thought, absolute LUDICROUS! Who do I think I am? In what reality could I ever write a book? I had no formal training other than the low-level, English class I took my sophomore year of college. But I had the drive and idle time. So began my first, entirely pantsed, extremely rough draft. Come December 2023, I had done it. I wrote and edited 111,000 words of a romantic fantasy epic. *Pats self on back*
There was just one problem—I knew nothing about the publishing industry. I queried that book five times before realizing it was nowhere near ready for publication. I had no idea that to be traditionally published, one needs a literary agent and a polished manuscript to hopefully be plucked from the thousands of queries agencies receive each year. Who knew so many people write books? I didn't. I also had no idea how slow the publishing industry operates, or to expect close to two years before your book hits the shelves. That’s after conquering the dreaded slush pile, rounds of edits, and going on submission to publishers—fingers crossed for a deal that might never come.
Terrifying, right?
Part of me wanted to give up. I scratched the itch, did the thing, hit command+save and called it a day. But I loved writing. I had never felt so at home in the coziness of my apartment, imagining beautiful characters spinning in a ballroom under candlelight, then thundering into battle on horseback, and putting my own sentiments about grief, love, and passion onto the page. I knew deep down I was meant to do this in some capacity, and so began the drafting of my second novel—the one I poured my entire heart and soul into. I applied everything I learned from stumbling blind through the first. I took a fine-tooth comb to every word. I wrote and rewrote and rewrote again. I read books and watched videos on editing, plotting, and characterization. I rearranged and refined my query letter.
And yet, I have received only rejections thus far. I wish I could say that nearly a year since beginning this journey I had a book deal in the works, but that isn’t quite the reality I face. Timing is key in this strange, new world and patience is an irksome virtue. Baby’s learning persistence, I guess.
Moral of the story, it’s okay to not know what you want to do with your life. There are some people who choose one craft and take it to the grave, and there are others, like me and maybe you, who need variety, who need to follow their ambitions and take chances. Truly, the only thing standing in the way was my own insecurity and my resistance to fully embrace my interests and who I am. But once I stepped into my purpose, once I faced my doubt, I found what I hope to do for the rest of my life.
I don’t plan to relent on my path to traditional publishing anytime soon. Novel #2 will remain in the querying trenches for the foreseeable future while I work on my next idea. My goal has never been to become the next Harry Potter or be a #1 NYT Best Seller (although the latter would be incredible), but to put on the page what I have to say in hope that someone on Earth (preferably) can relate to it.
If you made it to the end of this muse, thank you! Your interest means so much to me. Until the next post, dear reader, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Keep choosing to live and pursue what you love!
- Jan
