From Half Ironman to Half-Ripe: Embracing the Slowness of Publishing
How 2022's triathlon training kept me barreling ahead through a rewrite 🏃🏼♀️, while 2023's gardening and DIY-ing taught me to slow down and enjoy the process
Note: The recording above is a reading of this newsletter, the content is no different. If you’re someone who needs or prefers to hear their news, I hope you enjoy my melodious voice.
Yoo-hoo! I’m Caroline Davis, a YA sci-fi author represented by the agency behind Hunger Games. I’m currently preparing my first book, MAY WE PLEASE THE SEA, to pitch to publishers. This newsletter shares my latest author updates & creative process musings.
Last year, I was all hustle and bustle. 🏃🏼♀️ This year, I’m a green-yellow grapefruit.🍋
What do I mean by that?
Last year in February, I received a Revise & Resubmit from my to-be agent. (An R&R means “if you revise your book, you can resubmit it to me and I’ll look at it again”). I started the mega-rewrite in March, but in July, I had doubts. This rewrite wasn’t guaranteed to get me an offer from the agent. I was 5 months in and only halfway done. Was I wasting my time? Would this rewrite (and this story) go nowhere?
I was obsessing on this “will I, won’t I?”, and it wasn’t healthy. So I decided I need another commitment to distract my mind and refocus my fixation. What did I decide to do?
A Half Ironman.
Yeah….I am not an athlete. I’m 5’3. When I run, my thighs chafe. Everything chafes. When I did a bike fitting, the man told me, “you’re all torso and no legs.” Cool.
This goal didn’t really make sense, but the race day was my birthday, December 4th, so it caught my eye. I figured…it’s only July. That’s 5 months from now. I can finish my book then do this race. That’ll be my birthday gift to myself. (I’m a terrible gift-giver, clearly.)
In hindsight, I didn’t know a half-marathon was as long as it is, and I’m surprised I wanted more commitments when I was already feeling overwhelmed, but as the saying goes, “if you want something done, ask a busy person.” It was the kick in the butt I needed.
I submitted my full story rewrite to the agent on November 30th, 9 months after receiving her edits, and then raced a Half Ironman 4 days later.
That race took me 7 hours, 32 minutes, and 59 seconds (no, I’m not rounding up, you aren’t taking that 1 second from me)….but I did it! I needed that stubborn, barreling-forward energy. I needed to channel that “I’ll show them!” energy and grind.
🏃🏼♀️🏃🏼♀️🏃🏼♀️
This year, I needed a different energy. I received an offer from that agent the first week of January 2023 (yay!), with the caveat that she wanted another rewrite (boo…). Yes, you heard me. More rewriting. It was the first time I cried during the publishing process (even after 86 rejections). I think it was because I thought I’d crossed the finish line, but my finish line had moved.
I said yes, we signed, and I rewrote my story…again. It took me January through mid-July. (almost 7 months). I thought I was done. I thought it was perfect. (I know, I know, this is a character flaw of mine). It was not.
She wanted another revision. No tears this time, but I did stomp around for a week, bemoaning the world’s lack of appreciation for my brilliant art, and then I sent her back an email asking for help. (I don’t like to ask for help. I expect myself to be perfect at everything.) But I was stuck and didn’t know where to go with her edit suggestions. She waved her magical agent wand and helped me get excited for the revision I needed to do.
I did it. From mid-September through last Friday, Dec 1st. Now, I’m “done”. For now. But the finish line keeps moving, the race doesn’t end.
🍋🍋🍋
During this year of revisions, I dug into a different energy—slowing down, spreading my roots, tapping into a deep, steady confidence. Of who I am, of what I want, of what my story is and isn’t. Filtering through feedback and knowing, yes this is for me, or no, this is not.
As I revised, I looked out onto my garden. We planted citrus trees this spring, and the trees came laden with fruits. Ruby red grapefruits, oranges, and tangelos—all green at the time. I thought we’d have citrus within weeks! But the fruits stayed green, then green, then green. I stopped waiting for the harvest. I just enjoyed my trees. Their bright green leaves, the hummingbirds zipping around them. What they were, instead of what they could be.
That is what publishing has taught me this year. To slow down, enjoy the process. I’d love a juicy harvest at the end of it all, but for now, I’m a green grapefruit. Hanging on the tree, slowly turning yellow. I’m not sure when I’ll ripen. Tomorrow? In three months? More?
Maybe my agent and I will pitch this book to publishers in January, like I’ve been expecting*. Maybe it’ll go to auction and it’ll be a whirlwind of glorious hubbub as publishers fight to buy my book, dollar bills flying in the air. Or maybe my rewritten-and-rewritten-and-revised-again manuscript will sit in their inboxes unread as they tackle their own lives’ stresses and celebrations.
I can’t control when they read it, other than breaking into their houses and hacking into their email to set my pitch as their background screen. (My confidence says I can do this, the fact that I get scared by my own partner in our house says otherwise).
So that’s what this year’s energy has been. Not rushing toward a finish line, but enjoying the process of creating. Of reminding myself that I do this because I enjoy it. And not just for a shiny gold star at the end of it all. (Though I do love a gold star).
This year, I didn’t race a Half Ironman. But I did build a fence, a firepit, a retaining wall. I planted more garden beds. I laid some concrete. I built things. Not just a book. And all of it was satisfying.
I’m not sure what energy next year will bring, but I hope, whatever form it comes in, it’ll motivate me to keep pursuing this dream, and other dreams too. I’ll let you know if/when I have exciting news, but until then, I’ll be ripening.🍋
*When I first signed with my agent this January, I was convinced we would have a book deal from publishers by end of year. This year. HA.
I had some beta readers read this latest version of my book. Were you feeling like you needed a waterfall chart in your life? Because here it is:
49 people expressed interest in beta-reading my book. 12 of them never clicked the link. LOL, no judgment to you, my non-link-clickers. I too have volunteered to read a friend’s book and still haven’t opened it. We have good intentions!!
Anyhoo, of those 37 people whose eyeballs did glimpse my words, 14 of them didn’t finish the book. Whether that was taste or time, they didn’t finish. But 23 readers did. They read my whole book! (On a pretty bad betareading software, too).
Are we just itching for a percentage, now? Me too.
Of the subset of 23 finishers and 14 non-finishers, I had a 62% completion rate! (She stands there, arms raised, shouting this into the void, slowly realizing she has no idea what a “good” completion rate is.)
*Shrugs* As someone who’s become horrendous at finishing books, I think 2 out of 3 interested people finishing mine is…a gold star for me!
I went to Yallfest (Young Adult Literature Lovers festival) for the 3rd time this November. Set in Charleston, South Carolina, it’s a gathering of authors, future authors, and young adult book lovers. An author friend gave me a VIP badge to sit in the auditorium’s front row with the published authors, and interestingly, it triggered some serious imposter syndrome!
Because I had this badge, I felt this obligation to take advantage of it. To go sit in the front, alone, and hope some published authors would talk to me. But I’m not published. I don’t have a book deal. I’m not supposed to be up here. Everyone can see I’m sitting by myself. It awoke a feeling in me I hadn’t felt in a long time.
In my first job out of college, which was private equity in Hong Kong, my boss took me to a conference. I had only been working for him for maybe two weeks, so I had no idea how to talk about….well, anything. I was thrown into a room of old men in suits, who assumed I, as a young woman, was a salesperson and not in finance. They exited conversations with me as fast as I could start them. At a certain point, I went into the bathroom and hid in a stall.
At Yallfest, I didn’t go hide in a stall. (Though I did consider that strategy ). I stayed seated in the VIP area, and reminded myself, no one is paying attention to me. If I make even one new author connection, this will be worth it.
And I did. And it was.
Whether you’re ripening slow or hiding in a stall, I’ve been there. We probably all have. 🌊❤️,
Caroline
On the 🌟Instagram🌟:
Love the metaphors!