About this identity thing…
I opened up my email a few weeks ago and my heart skipped a beat. A response. From an editor at one of those big New York City Publishing houses. I’d been waiting 83 loooong days to hear from this editor, she’d already told me I was a good writer…so I was pretty certain all my writing dreams were about to come true. I had it all planned out.
Literary agents would be blowing up my phone trying to represent me. My book would debut as a New York Times Bestseller, I’d buy my darling husband that black Tesla we’d seen in the mall, and then whisk my family away for an all expense paid vacation to Fiji.
And therein lies the problem…I’d placed my hope, trust, and identity as a writer in acceptance from that publisher. Continue reading
The past week was pretty crummy. It started last Friday when I got a check and a letter in the mail. I was happy to receive the check. But not so happy to receive the letter. The letter said something along these lines “Dear Simone: We really like your writing, but we can no longer afford to pay you.”
Just when I was getting comfortable telling people that I’m a writer. A real one. It feels like the rug is getting pulled up from under me.
The second boot dropped when I realized that the magazine I’m writing for is probably not going to pay me for my work. (I know this because I reached out to two of the other writers and we are all in the same boat. And combined the magazine owes us thousands of dollars.)
But more than the loss of money, what I’m really struggling with is the loss of identity. Am I still a writer if no one pays me to write? Continue reading