Letting go...
i.e., When is it time, and how the heck do writers do it?
“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything—anger, anxiety, or possessions—we cannot be free.” ― Thich Nhat Hanh
Letting go is a major theme of my new novel, What Comes After. In Paradise Gate, the newly dead must let go of their unfinished business—all of the emotional garbage (fear, shame, regret, doubt) that holds them back from inner peace. Sixteen-year-old Mari, an anxious rule follower, eventually realizes that she must let go of the rules themselves. She has to untangle herself from the notion that one must do X and Y and Z to be a successful person, of that empty, panicked feeling of constantly striving and never measuring up.
Do any of you recognize that feeling? I bet a few of you do, my fellow writers especially.
I wish I could say that I, the author of a book that deals with this theme of letting go, were any at good at it. But something about launching a new book—the intense vulnerability of sharing something so personal, of not knowing how others will react or how the book will fare—has put me right back in that clinging place where I spent most of high school. I am, after all, an anxious rule-follower like Mari. I want to make my publisher happy. I want the internet to tell me I did a very fine job. I want gushing, glowing, starred reviews, exclusively.
And I can’t stop checking various bits of online data for indicators of my book’s fate, for measures of… let’s be honest about what this really is about… my own worth. I can’t stop worrying that I haven’t done enough.
Why in god’s name would you look at GoodReads??? several friends have asked. A fair question.
Because here’s something else that is true: I am no long a 16-year-old at the mercy of anxiety and low self-esteem. I’ve benefited from excellent therapists, read more than my share of books by the likes of Thich Nhat Hanh, and done a shit ton of yoga. I know exactly what is going on inside my head right now, and I absolutely have the tools to get unhooked.
The question is, will I choose to use my tools, or will I linger in this familiar (and weirdly comfortable) state of panic and self-doubt?
It takes effort and intention to let go. Self-compassion, too. To watch the thoughts and feelings burble up. I didn’t do enough. I am not enough. To name them—fear, uncertainty, vulnerability, shame—without judgment. To choose—over and over, every day, sometimes multiple times per day—to steer away from internet sinkholes and back to the wiser inner self who knows that I am absolutely freaking enough. (Gawd!) To not beat myself up when I slip.
I made a promise to myself several months ago that I would let go of this book more gracefully than the last.
I put a lot of time, money, and precious introvert energy into my debut. I enjoyed much of it—especially the interactions with teens—and the rest was a learning experience. No regrets. This time around I don’t have the budget or the bandwidth for a lot of travel or constant online interaction. Plus, I have two novels in process that I’m genuinely excited to finish. So I’m making an intentional choose to go easy, to focus on the part I love—writing—and to let my publisher and booksellers do their jobs.
It’s scary! I’m already experiencing guilt as I watch my fellow authors hustle. I admire the hustle, especially when it’s paired with a plan. I don’t want to give up on ambition entirely. There is a difference, though, between setting a goal and giving it an honest try and that other thing—the clinging, terrified wheel-spinning in which we throw all of our inner resources at a specific outcome, when we let ourselves be crushed when it doesn’t work out exactly like we’d imagined. There is a difference between investing in the parts of the work where we writers have control—what we create on the page; how we choose to interact with readers—and the parts where we have none: the reactions of total strangers.
I’m not sure I’ve got it right this time either, but I’m testing something: stepping back sooner, unlatching from external measures and my own expectations. It’s going to take some time to get my head where I’d like it to be (the book only came out two weeks ago! gimme a break! geesh!), and I’m giving myself grace in the transition. My goal is to be back into healthier habits by mid-June. Wanna be accountability buddies?
There are a few things I’m doing to set myself up for success:
I’ve created an archive of the good stuff. A photo library of my packed launch event, which was pure fun! A folder where I’ll keep reviews and emails from people who loved What Comes After, who let me know that, yes, I did the thing I set out to do.
I’ve set limits. Starting next week, I’m only going to check on the sales data once per week. Eventually, I’ll transition to monthly spot checks. No more Googling!
I’m repeating helpful reminders: My worth is not determined by a sales figure, or by the success of one book (or 10).
I’m redirecting my energy to the next thing. I’ve got a plan for revising my next YA novel, and I’m meeting with beta readers to discuss my front burner project (a novel for adults) next week. After that: butt in chair every morning until one of them is ready to send my agent.
I’m making space for life and love. The sun is back in New England, my porch garden is bursting, my six-month-old niece is the cutest thing anyone has ever seen, and I have two more nieces on the way! Plus, an incredible new dance project, friends to see, ice cream to be eaten. Protests to attend. I’m making room for all of it.
How about you? Is there anything you’re ready to let go? Space in your head that you could free up for more more productive and/or joyful things? Anything you can do to set yourself up for success?
Feel free to post a reply in the comments—seeing others’ goals and intentions can be empowering—or you can reply directly to me.
Next month, I’ll let you know how I’m doing with my goals—#2 especially ;)
xx
Katie