I often think about people who spend years on their craft, hoping for financial reward or public acclaim but knowing that it might never come. What fascinates them so much that they keep on working, regardless of the external results? Maybe it’s a love of the process—but the process has to go beyond just having a good time. It has to teach us something about ourselves, our lives, our world.
Last week, insecure about putting myself in cyperspace in a public way, I sent out my first newsletter, which let people know that I’ve finished my memoir, a coming-of-age story set in West Africa. People I haven’t seen in years—and some I’ve never met—wrote back to congratulate me and tell me they can’t wait to read The Geography of Desire. I’m forever grateful for their enthusiastic support.
I’ve tried several studios over the years, but this is where I work best.
When I say I’ve “finished” my memoir, it doesn’t mean I’ve found a publisher—only that after years of writing, getting feedback, and revising, I’m satisfied that I’ve made the manuscript the best as I can. Now it’s time to start looking for a literary agent, who will hopefully sell my work to a publisher. Many writers—especially unknown ones like me—approach scores of agents before landing one. Some never do.
I began my bookover a decade ago, knowing that it might not get picked up by a big house like Penguin. But the longer I worked, the less important that seemed. I became absorbed by the process: making a little-known corner of the world come alive, getting at the emotional truth of my story, and creating a narrative with forward momentum. I became more confident in my writing and gained a deeper understanding of my life. And that—whether I end up publishing with a big house, a little indie press, or a site like Wattpad—is precious to me.
If you’re one of those people making art and hoping to sell it but knowing you might fail, ask yourself what your creative process teaches you about yourself, your life, your world. Then, when the indifference of the marketplace makes you wonder why you keep it up, you’ll have your answer.