How to Keep Writing When Everything is Telling You You'll Fail

Because everything feels like a failure until it's not

They say the most effective way to quit a habit is not to “give it up.” You first have to change your identity around the habit.

You’re not giving up smoking. You’re a non-smoker. You’re not giving up drinking. You’re a teetotaler.

The what springs from the who, not the other way around.

So.

Who are you?

You are clearly a talented writer…

—

Unique and moving premise and strong character development…

—

You’re a great writer, and I was so impressed by the tension you’ve created in this book…

—

We appreciated the strong narrative voice of your sample and your good use of tension in this work…

As I was attempting to answer my own who question, four separate literary agents told me the above. Verbatim. Like the opposite of the Nixon enemies list, this became something of an Agents Friends list. Clearly this means agents were fawning over me and offering me representation?

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I’m sorry, that’s incorrect.

Those were rejections all.

You might say, “Well, lucky you, at least you got nice comments in the first place. I queried 150 agents and got only one full manuscript request!” Been there, too, friend.

The thing is, I knew breaking in as an author would be tough. I certainly expected prolific rejections off the bat. That’s how the journey is for the vast majority. Even Stephen King had his famous nail on the wall, the fulcrum on which he weighed his many rejections.

What I didn’t expect was how it would be so hard the entire way through. I didn’t expect a bunch of agents relating some version of this cruel haiku:

You are great at this

Truly your work impressed me

Alas, it’s still ‘no’

Which is, somehow, especially disheartening.

It’s one thing to struggle through the early miles of a marathon. You expect pain and struggle for a while. But imagine running a marathon for 26 miles, sweating and stinking, only to be told at the end: “Excuse me, a marathon isn’t 26 miles. It’s 26.2. Surprised you didn’t know that.”

You’d think it was some cruel prank.

When I wrote The Perfect Home in 2022, I was pretty sure I’d finished the marathon. I certainly couldn’t imagine squeezing a better book out of myself any time soon.

But then it was time to return to the query trenches (full story here), feeling unstoppable, feeling like I had written what was clearly sellable, able to mention I was previously represented by an agent, and then

CRICKETS.

Rejections again.

After months of being stuck in agent limbo, I forgot what rejection felt like. (Full story also here.)

Now a new emotion reared its head: what if I had given book-writing my best shot, my absolute best shot, and it still wouldn’t work?

I started running the scenarios in my head. What if The Perfect Home really didn’t land me my second agent? Maybe domestic thrillers weren’t my thing. Maybe it was time for another genre pivot. Cozy mysteries? Okay, I could try that. It wasn’t good. I was two chapters into my poor attempt (which, it turns out, was basically already a Richard Osman book) when my now-agent offered me rep on The Perfect Home—and changed everything.

But for that brief moment there, the gap between my confidence in The Perfect Home and the real-world results made me wonder just how delusional I was being about becoming an author.

I had to ask myself big-picture questions:

• What if this really never happens?

• Am I okay growing older while still unpublished, as long as I keep trying?

• If so, how long?

• Am I willing to go to the nursing home still trying to land an agent and be published?

• How am I going to afford said nursing home?

• I’m going to live in a van down by the river aren’t I

Around the time I nestled into that thought (yes, I have decided that this is what I’ll spend my life trying to do), that’s when the second offer of rep came—from the agent who now negotiated my two book contracts with Scribner.

It’s one thing to get rejected off the bat. But what about when the rejections keep coming? How do you keep going when all you seem to get is rejection, when everything is telling you that even your best efforts are going to fail you?

I think you have to know who you are. You’re an author or you’re not. You’re a writer or you’re not.

And that was something I never lost—not in the early goings of flat-out silence or in the later iterations of warm, regretful rejections. I always knew with 100% certainty that this is what I wanted. Become an author or die trying.

(Not that the rejections would literally kill me. But hey, it was always possible I’d get to age 80 and still be an aspiring author, so if nothing ever happened on the book-writer front, I was willing to quite literally die in the attempt.)

So it’s not a “how” question, IMO. It’s a “who” question.

Who are you? What do you want to do with your time here? And are you willing to go your entire life drawing your dreams into the wettest of wet cement in the hope that it eventually sets into hard reality?

If you know the answer to the “who” question, it’s a surprisingly easy question to answer.

Yes. Of course I will keep writing.

Because I am a writer.

Writerstuff Update: We Have a Cover!

Sorry for being a tease; I can’t share it just yet. Sworn to secrecy. But I will say this: Scribner made this choice extremely difficult. There were two finalists for this cover that made me think: “10/10, would buy this book.” However, one felt like it better previewed the tone of Don’t Look Away, and ultimately that’s what swayed the choice.

I think if you’re a fan of my writing you’re going to take one glance at this cover and think: “ooh, I’d read that.”

Writing Tip: Trust Your Reader to Figure It Out

One thing that shouldn't surprise me about being a Published Author™ is that readers are so sharp. Nothing gets by them. Sure, they do occasionally look for things that aren't there, or make incorrect guesses, but generally, my reaction to reader questions is:

"Dang. Nice catch."

And I think that's how you go from amateur to pro. You learn to trust readers more. You let THEM have the fun "a-ha" moments rather than spelling everything out for them.

A tiny example. "Circe" by Madeline Miller:

𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝙈𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙩.

Notice that sentence just hangs there, bursting with meaning about the vanity of Circe's father? You can hear the echoes

of lifetimes in that paragraph.

But since readers are left to process its meaning, since it's a little puzzle we have to put together, since Miller doesn't interrupt the moment with overexplanation, a sentence like this hits us in the same emotional processors we use for real life.

Even though it’s a book about myths, Miller’s talent makes it feel real.

Your readers are smart. After all, they chose your book, didn't they?

All your readers are smart and good-looking and have impeccable taste.

Trust them.

Until next time,

DK