The publisher I was hoping to land my sci-fi horror novel with says they’re not publishing things that dark. Given that I’ve had my attempts at writing horror be called “cute” before, this is new for me. It’s also pretty heartbreaking.
I’m trying to take comfort from the fact that this now means I’m probably 20k closer to finishing the sequel, as I no longer need to try to meet that publisher’s word count requirements. I’m much more comfortable working in the 30k – 75k range than trying to get up above 80k.
I really liked working with that publisher… and I would have liked to keep working with them. But our visions don’t really line up. I like writing shorter books. I like taking a little more time on them, rather than pumping them out as fast as possible.
I want to put out at least two books per year going forward, and I should be able to easily do that… but not 80k books.
I can write two 80k books in a year. But not every year. Not even several years in a row. It would burn me out, and the books wouldn’t be my best work.
Anyway, it’s disheartening to find that a publisher I work with doesn’t really want any books from me going forward. It’s… unmooring. It’s disappointing. It’s a lot of sad things. I guess, I need to take some time to process that.
Part me wants to escape processing those sad feelings by throwing myself wholeheartedly into some project, but realistically, I don’t have wholehearted energy right now. Too much of my heart and energy is going into supporting my kids at the moment.
And really… running from the pain isn’t a cure for it. It just puts off feeling the feelings that are chasing me.
I went into the pandemic with four publishers I could look forward to writing novels for… now, I’m very seriously looking into moving back to self-publishing.