Today I began the next chapter of my writing adventure: querying agents. I won’t lie–no matter how hard you’ve worked to polish that manuscript to a shine, no matter how confident you are that this is your very best work… this process is nerve-wracking.
Let me clarify: most agents I’ve met at conferences are very nice! They aren’t scary.
It’s the fact that you feel like you are holding your newborn baby out to a stranger and clenching your jaw shut from screaming, “DON’T YOU DARE DROP MY BABY!” while your chest feels like it’s going to implode.
I’m very grateful that I currently live in a location that holds multiple writing conferences and I’ve had the opportunity to attend pitching sessions, critiques, speaking panels, and have casual conversations in hallways with people from all over the literary world–all roles, all levels, sometimes from all over the country.
Even so, despite all my preparation and careful, methodical triple checks…
When I opened QueryTracker with the intention of SUBMITTING my brain child, instead of merely meandering around exploring the site, my heart tried to jackhammer its way through my ribs, escape my flesh, and flee through the forest.
My internal monologue rolled to a halt and instead some part of me starting shrieking, “OH MY GOD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?“–accompanied with the same roaring feeling I get in dreams where I’ve shown up for an exam in my underwear in front of the entire school.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, Self.
I’m doing the Thing. You know, the dream I’ve obsessed over since childhood. That thing.
Screeching brakes inside my skull.
I took a few deep breaths. No, no no. Breathe. This is what I want. Besides, I should be more concerned if I wasn’t terrified at this juncture. Fear like this is born in equal proportion to how much a thing matters. If I wasn’t scared, this is not something that truly matters to me. Or worse–my ego is embarrassingly overblown.
This reaction is normal. Breathe through it.
Think of that Fritz Perls quote you keep visible in the kitchen:
Fear is excitement without the breath.
Yeah. That one.
And breathe through it.
It got easier as I continued the process, but the level of panic at first surprised me. I thought I’d feel cool, confident, serene. The hard work (for this manuscript anyway) fell behind me.
I also keep repeating to myself the concepts Lina teaches: what is meant for you cannot pass you by.
That may stay my meditation mantra for the next several months.
Keep going. One foot after the other.
Leave a Reply