It’s embarrassing how long it’s been since I last wrote a blog post. I could list all the reasons why I didn’t, but they probably wouldn’t sound much different than yours or anyone else’s (aside from one of my reasons being that my toddler literally demolished my computer by shoving it off my desk. If that happened to you too, let me know so we can cry together). Life is busy, days tick by, and less important things get (rightly) pushed to the side.
Not that I believe this blog is unimportant. I used to think so. And by “used to” I mean, “as recently as yesterday thought so.” Such is the plight of any writer. We constantly question whether our words mean anything. If we’re wasting our time. If those big bad publishing houses who rejected us are right. (Not that I’ve ever experienced such rejection, of course.)
But today, in this moment, I do believe it’s important. Not because I think my words are great or new (nothing is new), but because words – voices – are part of what make us human. And there’s something powerful about sharing experiences that can somehow encourage or comfort someone else (2 Corinthians 1:1-11).
So if you’re a writer who is curious about launching a book, or a mom trying to love your kids well, or a 30-something woman trying to trust God in the everyday mundane, or somewhere in between – welcome. Be encouraged. Or amused. Or horrified. Whatever.
So now – the last year.
I last posted in March 2023 – yikes. Last March, April, and May were a whirlwind. I learned how to launch a book, conduct school visits, lead writers workshops, story times, create pitch sheets, write book-related content, and so much more.
It. Was. A. Ton. Of. Work.
And now I’m happy to say I’m TOTALLY raking in the cash as an author.
(Just kidding. Authors make no money.)
Ok not NO money. I actually learned a few months ago that I earned out my advance, which I’m super excited about! (An advance is the amount of money agreed upon in the book contract that the publisher pays the author before the book comes out. It’s an amount based on how many books the publisher believes they can sell. Statistically, only 25% of authors earn out their advances. Once the advance is earned out, authors then receive periodic checks with their earnings from ongoing sales.)
I have several other manuscripts out on submission now, and I’m hopeful they will find the right homes at the right time.
In addition to manuscripts, I’ve enjoyed finding other places to write such as various websites and print magazines. Last year I got my first spread in Clubhouse Magazine, and I’m excited to have a story coming up in Clubhouse Jr. soon. I was also pleasantly surprised to find out one of my articles was placed in a Lifeway Bible Study Magazine.
I’ve been so blessed and humbled by the feedback I’ve received over the past year about The Anxious Lily. I’ll be honest – some days I have major imposter syndrome. I look at a copy of The Anxious Lily and think, “I have completely humiliated myself. How in the WORLD was this accidentally published? The publisher MUST have tripped and fallen on their computer and mistakenly sent me a contract, right??”
But then I get a message from a mom who cried when she read it, because it described the way she felt internally. Or I hear of a child who asked to read about Lola because he was feeling anxious. Or another family that was driven to Scripture after reading it together. Or a child who tells me it’s her favorite book. And then I’m reminded that maybe success isn’t about selling hundreds of thousands of copies or making a certain amount of money or having a certain number of followers on Instagram. Maybe it’s about using what you have to point whoever you can to someone greater than you. And I just feel so grateful that God has allowed me to share Lola’s story with anyone at all.
People ask me all the time when my next book is coming. And that’s a hard question to answer, because I just don’t know. The publishing industry is really difficult, there’s no way around it. Have I written other stories? Yes. Have I spent HOURS and HOURS writing proposals and pitches for them? Yes. Will I ever hold them in my hands as books? I just don’t know. Having a book already published helps, but it’s no guarantee for future contracts.
Because this industry is so uncertain, I’ve gotten back into writing just for the FUN of writing – not for publication. For me, that looks like poems in my kids’ lunchboxes, stories scribbled in my journal with the express goal of making my family laugh, or song parodies that no one outside the four walls of my home will ever hear. I’m even well into a children’s novel I started because of a decrepit old house my kids and I drive by every day that was just begging to be written about. The stress and long hours of launching a book and writing proposals – while fun and totally worth it – are exhausting. So writing on my own timeline without the constant worry of “will this be good enough?” has been therapeutic.
On that note, I’ll share a little something I wrote one night out of frustration. I was working on a writing project and kept hitting wall after wall. So I flipped open a blank page of my journal and wrote what that felt like. If you’re a writer, I’m guessing you’ve felt some of this before too – so I hope it makes you feel a little less alone.
Until next time (which I promise will be sooner than 12 months),
– Mary
The Worst Torture
(Or, what writing feels like)
Writing feels like coasting down a hill –
Smooth and steady.
Words unfold like a winding path
Snaking past blurred colors
and breathtaking views.
Writing feels like biking uphill –
Rough, unsteady, legs burning,
lungs straining.
Words out of reach – out of step –
with icy self-criticism and doubt
pelting me in the face.
Blocking anything beautiful from view.
It’s both. Freeing and frustrating.
The best rest and the worst torture.
Tangled words with no order, no meaning,
no rhythm, no anything.
Until – finally, blessedly, mercifully,
(and adverb-free) –
Words fit together, fall in line.
Chiseled away, and all that’s left
is smooth and steady.
Coasting down a hill.
And I breathe, long and deep.
Ready. Once again –
for the torture lying ahead.
Mary Holloman 