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“Wendi, thanks for sharing your manuscript. The topic is certainly compelling and you’re a strong writer, but I’m afraid it’s going to be a pass for me.”
If I had a dollar for every time I’ve read those words, I would never need to sell another book.1
Weeks ago, I submitted my novel to a handful of literary agents after a two-month hiatus and a string of rejections last summer and fall. Back in May of 2022, I attended the Atlanta Writer’s Conference with my friend, Peyton, and received a manuscript request from the agent I met there. After months of waiting for her response to the book, she ultimately said no. More nos from more agents followed, until a few weeks ago when two of the agents I queried asked to see the full book within days of my first email to them. I was thrilled. Their quick replies gave me hope that I would soon sign on with a literary agent and have someone else on my team representing my work.
(ICYMI, I once had an agent for Good Enough, but he decided not to renew my contract after six months of rejections from all the major Christian publishers.)
So when I saw that “no thanks” in my inbox, I threw the phone down on the passenger seat and slunk my way into a pity party (with early 2000s emo music as the soundtrack, natch). Then I drafted a thank-you email to follow up and tried to pretend like I wasn’t heartbroken.
I’m no stranger to rejection, and I’m confident enough in my calling and ability as a writer to never question that this is what I’m meant to be doing. But I’m so damn tired. Rejection is exhausting. The emotional roller coaster of my writing and publishing journey over the last thirteen years has at times had me wondering, like all writers do, “When is it going to be my turn?”
Now, before you go all “Um, don’t you have, like, four books published?” Yes, I do. Thank you for noticing…but, as many an author will tell you, it takes a lot of unseen work and a few strokes of magic to ever actually make a sustainable living writing books alone. (Unless you got lucky, went viral on TikTok, and signed on with a major publisher after three weeks. In which case, I grit my teeth and wish you a slightly bitter congratulations.) The first book I published was as an intern for the company I worked for; the second was published by a small press; the third one I self-published; and the last was traditionally published.
Not a single one of them turned a significant profit or had an agent to represent me and fight for my work to be respected.
I had to do so much on my own, including the crazy intense volume of planning, marketing, and strategizing that goes into preparing to launch a book. That work does fall to every author in some capacity, but in my case, as an author without the big budget and full marketing teams of a major publisher, it was almost entirely mine to plan and execute. I worked countless hours for more than six months prior to Good Enough’s book release, emailing authors for endorsements, editing the book (multiple times), requesting, responding, and traveling to and from podcast interviews, creating graphics, putting together the launch team, designing and creating launch team gifts, sending out emails, drafting and posting on social media, and so much more.
It was a ton of fun.
But when it was all over, I longed to be working in greater partnership with a team of people who could help me build a sustainable writing career, not just a book launch.
(My publisher with Good Enough was fantastic, too, so don’t read this as a slight. I would recommend them to any faith-based author. It just was what it was.)
I don’t have access to major publishers without an agent to represent me. It’s their job to sell books; it’s mine to write them. And I’ve done that, over and over again.
So as I look at the pile of rejections in my inbox, I have to wrestle with the reality that while writing is my gift, it might not ever look like I’ve hoped.
I talked about this a little in my post on quitting social media, and I want to expand on it here because, truth be told, ya girl is struggling. We live in a world that capitalizes on nearly everything for profit, so it’s difficult to disentangle that mindset from how we use and embrace our talents. I offer paid subscriptions here because my labor has value, but I also write for free because I believe it matters that I serve others in such a way. Plus, I simply cannot help myself. It brings me so much joy to connect with people through the written word.
Even so, I often bump up against the tender feeling that if my work is never published again or represented by an agent who can help grant me access to resources I’ve never had (and is therefore never purchased by readers) does it actually carry any value?
Is my work really worth anything at all?
Am I really worth anything at all?
Of course, I know the answers to those questions. It doesn’t stop the deeper emotional miscalculations from making their way to the surface. (I bet you’ve experienced them, too.) They’re the same lies I’ve had to address as a stay-at-home mother who no longer receives the steady paycheck of a 9-5, the lies that tell me my highest value rests on whether I am daily turning a profit.
It’s all a complete crock of shit, if you ask me.
But it’s also really hard to let go of that long-internalized belief system.
In the U.S. we’ve made a whole business out of promoting sweet, saccharine faith. We like to platitude the crap out of hard things (“writing for an audience of One!”), which I suspect is because—as many authors more talented than I have already written—we have no deeper culture of lament. We don’t know how to be sad or walk through disappointment without rushing to fix it first. But lament is part-and-parcel of the human—and therefore Christian—experience, and when we don’t learn how to do it well, we end up with a bunch of wounded people trying to walk out a faith that doesn’t live up to the hype. We have no tools to carry us through the frustration and rejection we experience. Worse still, we imagine that the God we worship never even cared about our gifts, hopes, or dreams to begin with.
Rejection doesn’t so much as break my spirit as it makes me sad, and I don’t like to be sad. (Most of the time, anyway…I mean, have you ever had a good shower cry? 10/10 would recommend.) Even with my OCD, I try and remain an eternal optimist about the work God has given me.
Despite all the platitudes that come our way when we’re faced with another rejection, letdown, or disappointment, I still have to believe that the value of a thing lies in the doing it with all one’s heart, not in the profit or platform that might result from it.
This is a hard space to live in since the undeniable reality is that we need money to survive. But it doesn’t change the truth that money exchanged is not what gives value; it only reflects a personal belief in value, the same way an agent’s rejection of a manuscript reflects her personal belief in that story.
I guess what I’m saying to you, and to myself, is do not give up.
I can continue to write, even as I wait for people and things out of my control, and trust that the Lord is present and active in this work He has given me. He is here, in Spirit and on the pages of Scripture, to teach me wisdom, heal me from hurts caused by unmet expectations, and sustain me through seasons of sadness and frustration.
My work—be it books, guides, newsletters, articles, podcasts, or emails—is ultimately for the purpose of bringing glory to Christ, and that is not a platitude. To be a co-creator of stories with the Divine, the One who formed all things with just a few words? To bear a mere whisper of that power, and to continue using it for His glory despite the setbacks?
That is not a disappointment or a letdown.
That is faith with its wheels on.
I need that reminder daily. Hourly, even.
We don’t have to wait for another person’s “yes” to see the value of our gifts. Whether you’re a writer, an engineer, a teacher, a parent, an interpreter, a volunteer, or a CEO, your work is an ongoing celebration of God’s goodness. We are His Body. Your talents do not have to be seen by a single other human to be known and valued by Him. In this world, we look for tangible, monetary, visible success in order to feel valued, but the Lord looks at us,
with our faces scrunched in concentration as we tally another budget,
with our hands flying as we make language accessible to all,
with our children on our lap, singing the same song again and again,
with our employees’ questions and concerns laid at our door,
with our books sitting quietly in inboxes,
and calls us faithful.
I wish I knew how this whole book-writing situation will turn out for me. It’s okay for me to hope and pray and work for publishing dreams to come to fruition. But whether they do or don’t has no bearing on my decision to keep writing.
I will keep the wheels on.
The Word is in me, after all.
To Him I will be true.
Reading in The Nook
I’m currently reading three different books while waiting for another five library requests to come in. (Use your local libraries, people! They are magic.) As such, there is a delightful mess of books on my nightstand and coffee table. Here are a few from February that I loved:
Theology of the Womb: Knowing God Through the Body of a Woman by Christy Angelle Bauman — Wow. Such a tender, empowering read. Even if you find yourself with a different approach to some of Bauman’s theology, this is a must-read. I cried multiple times.
Book Lovers by Emily Henry — A rom-com about books and the people who make them that’s smart, snappy, and sexy. Also, I totally cried at the end? I loved this story so much. Beach Read was excellent, too!
The Year of Less: How I Stopped Shopping, Gave Away My Belongings, and Discovered Life Is Worth More Than Anything You Can Buy in a Store by Cait Flanders — The perfect read as I learn to go gently in all areas of my life, including my spending habits.
And here are a few books I’m excited to read in March:
All My Knotted-Up Life by Beth Moore — Our Blessed Evangelical Spitfire has finally written a memoir. If you know anything about Beth Moore, you’ll know why this book is sure to be a gift to many. I’ve already got my tissues ready.
Marmee & Louisa: The Untold Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Mother by Eve LaPlante — Voted one of the Top Ten Books of the year in 2012, I snatched this up at Atlanta Vintage Books before I’d even finished reading the title.
The Book Woman’s Daughter by Kim Michele Richardson — The sequel to The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek, which was one of my favorite reads a few years back. Thrilled to have this one waiting on my nightstand.
Links Lately
For the low, low price of just $250K, my most outrageous dream could finally come true. 😍😍😍
“It is complete error to suppose that because a thing is vulgar therefore it is not refined.”
“We can’t fix everything, but we can fix dinner.”
Thank you for joining me in The Nook this month! I’m thrilled to share this space with you.
hyperbole
I feel this, friend. ♥️
I felt this in my soul. I am such a big fan of your writing and I wish I could scream at any agent that they’d be BLESSED to represent your work! I am in the querying process as well with a lower middle grade chapter book I’ve recently finished with one full ms request followed by one rejection. It’s tough but you give me hope. I will always be praying for your big break. Your work is more than good enough. (see what I did there 😉) Your gift is undeniable. I’m glad you’re going to keep going. Your voice is needed.