Static, I took some time thinking about those New Year’s resolutions that I made and what I’ve done for them. One thing led to another and I ended up thinking about the resolutions that I made years ago. A question came to my mind: Did I waste my time?
I am nearly 34 years old. Married with a beautiful daughter who is the love of my life, living in a suburban house with everything, dog and minivan included. As I sit to write and let my imagination go to those worlds that I make up for myself, it is hard to escape the virtual world, my main mean of communication with the rest of humanity. Of course you will say “that woman is a hermit!” And when I say that circumstances in life put me on this point, you have no choice but to believe me. The fact is that through social media I learn about the daily adventures of others, of their busy lives, the stories of my fellow mother friends who combine perfectly their motherhood with other thousands of tasks (which I really admire), I see the pictures of what “Joe” bought, where did “Mary” travel and what “Mike” is planning to do with all the money he will make now that he got a raise. And meanwhile, I am here without a monthly check but with my dreams as a writer. And I wonder, did I waste my time? Should I then better get a job of whatever, wherever and leave these dreams as a hobby and skip the frustration? Because yes, I love to write but I was frustrated.
Let’s rewind a little bit. I wrote a book five years ago hoping to be published one day. On the way, I met a person who has guided me in this difficult world of writing and publishing. My literary agent is the one who taught me the sweet and sour tastes of this profession. Despite her talent and efforts she has failed to get me a publishing foster home. Because yes, that is what we writers are, orphaned children looking for a home to protect us, care for us and fight for our rights. She has not achieved that even though several people have read my book and it has had good reviews so far. Because at some point I thought the problem was that my writing was atrocious, until the day a prestigious editor of a large publishing house in Spain personally wrote me an email telling me that he liked my story. This person asked me to wait for a year. I did it patiently with my inflated ego in the verge of explosion, convinced that this was my big chance. The year passed and the response was: “We are in crisis. We cannot bet on a new writer, and even less if the target are young adults who have no money.” Then I sent my book to a literary contest that ended up being a great fiasco. After several months of waiting there was no winner declared, thing that I learned through my journalistic skills that I still have, because the organizers did not have the finesse to send a statement or notice of the matter. They have not even updated the website … Failure.
I realized it had been a long time waiting. That was when I decided to start writing another book. And in the process I contemplated the same possibility than other million orphans writers find daily: Amazon.
I had hesitated for a long time on this. In short, because a few years ago I ventured into a magazine project that ended due to lack of funds. And it was a very difficult experience and I admit that this terrifies me, to throw myself back into space with a cloth in my eyes. but recently I came across a video that took off the blindfold. A Peruvian writer recounted how his life had always been writing. Rejecting offers to work in a long-term position that would allow him stability and a steady income, he kept plugging away several years even though the people around him though he was crazy. But he said, “I write because I have no other choice.” He spoke of renouncing, and how you have to really love what you do no matter what it brings. And he eventually got his chance, and today is a successful and recognized writer, adopted by a large publishing house. Actually humans should do this: love what we do, and understand that it is our only option. Only, if what we want is to be completely happy. Because at the moment that we give up and instead we decide to do something that is not part of our dream but it is useful to live, we also are giving up happiness.
Then I realized that the orphan writer does not always need foster parents. Writers can defend themselves. That is obviously not the ideal way, I agree. But a writer cannot be defeated because there is no one there to protect him, when he can obviously protect himself.
The answer is No. I didn’t waste my time. These years haven’t been years of waiting. They have been learning years. And now I’m ready, I’m counting the days to see my work published on Amazon and find thousands of homes. Homes that really want me. I speak of the readers, those who are ultimately who make these dreams worthwhile. And if what you write comes from the soul, is well made, and above all well presented, you will get to them regardless if you have reputable adoptive parents or not. And thanks to the words of Jeremías Gamboa who made me understand why I do what I do, because really I have no other choice. you can call me crazy if you want.
