Plot Points #24 💌
Book birthdays, women's healthcare, picking sides, and looking for light
Guess what I forgot about last Friday?
I forgot to remember that it was my book’s 3rd birthday!
Yes, that’s right. Good Enough is three now. Like, how? I knew Friday was special for some reason, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. At first, I thought it was the 17th anniversary of when my husband and I started dating. (Nope, that was Saturday.) Then, I assumed it was one of the many to-dos all jumbled together in my brain that I would inevitably remember only after it was supposed to be done. But no. It was my book’s birthday. NBD.
So, I will now reflect on the absolute utter chaos that was releasing my first major title during a worldwide pandemic.
It was sort of like that time my daughter threw up on me (don’t run away yet), but there was so much tender sweetness in patting her little back and saying, “It’s okay, baby, let it all out.” You don’t want to get thrown up on, of course, but you do kind of love getting to care for your kid.
That was what publishing Good Enough was like. (I promise I mean that in the best possible way.)
I finished the first draft in January 2020 and was supposed to fly up to Cape Cod to record the audiobook the last week of March. Bet you can guess what happened instead…
Even though the audiobook never materialized, after many months of edits, endorsement requests, launch team marketing, giveaways, interviews, and countdowns, Good Enough was released into the world on October 20, 2020 and topped out at #23 on Amazon the next day. My kids, mom, and I stopped by our local Barnes & Noble that afternoon so I could finally see my book on the shelf and I sobbed into my face mask. Very profesh.
It took over ten years of failed writing projects, two degrees, one internship, one small press novel, one self-published title, lots of unread blog posts, even more rejection letters, signing with an agent, losing said agent, and one bout of postpartum depression (plus all the essays that stemmed from it) before I got to experience that moment.
Every single one of them was worth it.
No publishing journey is the same, and I hope—if you’re a writer of any sort—that you keep that in mind. These days, it can seem like success happens overnight for so many people, but that’s really the exception, not the rule. (I promise.) Most of us have stewarded our craft for decades and walked through a number of valleys before arriving at what looks like “success.”
Case in point: Yes, my book was stocked in Barnes & Noble stores across the country. Did I ever earn back my advance? Just barely. Lucy even asked me today, when I reminded her that my book was now three years old, “Does that mean you’re famous?”
I just laughed. Bless her.
“Not even close, kid,” I replied.
The best part? I’m finally at the point where that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is creating good and beautiful work that connects with people. Of course, I would love to make a full-time (or even part-time, let’s be real honest) salary off book sales because that would mean even more people have found my work meaningful. I’m learning, though, that that sort of success takes time. Good things always do.
For now, thank you for being one of those readers who finds yourself here every week. It means more than I can say.
Have a wonderful weekend!
P.S. Good Enough is on sale now for just eight bucks, more than 50% off the retail price. I’m not above a shameless plug!
Collect: For When You Can’t Take Any More Bad News
The world is groaning under the weight of its own sorrow. We all feel it. Our bodies and souls cry out for God, even if that’s not the name we would give it, and He is near to us. He mourns with us. In the midst of this brokenness, we are not forsaken.
As I was kneading a loaf of bread this morning, I kept thinking of the mothers, the fathers, the brothers and sisters who are desperate for hope. With each turn of the dough, I named them, asking God to be their provision, their sustenance, and their redemption. This collect is specific to that moment, but it’s a prayer for all our weary souls, no matter what weighs them down. Speak these words over your own sorrow today and know that your prayer is met by a Creator who knows you by name.
Almighty Father, Redeemer and Hope-Giver, restore to us the joy of your creation and be our everlasting refuge; save us from these trials, from the fear that threatens to be our undoing and the anger that removes from us the ability to love as You do; redeem what seems forever lost, as only You can, Father, so that peace may abound in all the hidden places, those upon which we tread and those tucked within our hearts, to the glory of Your Name and to the praise of Your Beloved Son, Jesus, Who lives and reigns with the Holy Spirit, our Helper, one God, forever and ever. Amen.
Point #1: You can call down justice and peace in your ordinary work.
Sarah Bessey always knows how to put words to what breaks my heart. Despite how our theologies have diverged in recent years, she remains one of my all-time favorite writers, and this harrowing, hope-filled essay she recently shared was one of the only things that gave me language for my sorrows this week. There’s also a prayer from Rabbi Danya Guttenberg linked at the end that is well worth a few moments of your time.
Point #2: “Our broken and sinful health care system chews women up, spits us out, and asks us to pay for the privilege of being shamed and harassed.”
Oooh, boy. This guest essay from Missy Ewing on is an infuriating peek into the way our healthcare system still (!) misses the mark on how to care for female bodies. For centuries, male bodies were the standard for study and we see the reverberations of that still in how reproductive illnesses are diagnosed. (Or not.) Missy’s story is one that deserves our attention because, in truth, it’s a story many of us are all too familiar with, as well.
Point #3: “Social media is where nuance goes to die.”
This quick, four-minute video from The New York Times is a searing portrait of our hypocrisy during times of crisis and a much-needed reminder that behind our posts and hot takes are real people enduring real suffering. (CW: violence, death)
Point #4: The days are growing darker, but the light is still here if you know where to look.
To wrap this thing up, grab a warm beverage and read through this lovely piece by sl-ow-ly. As we move toward winter, and the world grows darker faster, let’s follow Katherine’s example and take note of what is good and life-giving around us. And, as always, let’s remember the words of Albus Dumbledore: “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”
Bonus Point: “She’s a crock pot.”
Read this and try not to pee your pants laughing. I, of the weak pelvic floor, was unsuccessful.
Reading In The Nook
I checked two novels off my TBR this week, including They Never Learn by Layne Fargo and Immortality by Dana Schwartz, the final book in the Anatomy duology.
They Never Learn was…a journey. The plot centers around a college professor who moonlights as a murderer bent on justice for women who have been assaulted or abused in some way. As you can imagine, this involves lots of violence and mentions/descriptions of r*pe. It was definitely a page-turner and the premise was certainly interesting, but the more I read the more the protagonist, Scarlett, became a major issue for me. Perhaps she was supposed to knock the reader’s expectations out from under her a bit. (There was a solid twist in the middle, that’s for sure!) Scarlett is not exactly the sanest person, likely as a result of her own trauma, but this is where I got annoyed. The author seemed to present the main character almost as a template for how she believes survivors should respond to their abuse. If vigilante justice could prevail, Fargo appears to say, then it should. Scarlett eventually stops reading like a vigilante, though, and just looks like a psychopath in her own right. I liked it, but I’m still not sure how much.
Immortality, on the other hand, tied up Hazel’s story with a satisfying bow and I’m so happy I picked up this series! Such a fun, delightfully dark, historical romance. I’ve gotten to where I adore duologies these days. They offer readers the perfect balance of pacing and plot so we don’t have to wait twenty years to find out what happens to the characters in the end. If you love gothic historical fiction with a feminist twist (oh, and you’re also not squeamish) you’ll love the Anatomy series.
Tell me what you’ve been reading lately! 👇🏼
Word of the Week
Coddiwomple: (v.) To travel in a purposeful manner towards a vague destination.
“I was quiet, but I was not blind.”
—Jane Austen—
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