In defense of taking a break. (Maybe forever.)

About a month ago, I dumped a writing friend. I dumped her because she told me I was being a miserable jerk and miserable jerks don’t like hearing things like that.

But like it or not, her assessment of my mental state was valid.

And it needed to be addressed. Pronto.

Because I, like so many of my writer pals, have had the historic tendency to experience something I refer to as “dark waves.” Powerful and unmooring moments wherein all the light seems to get snuffed out and the churning ocean floor renders you unable to stand and hence unable to catch your breath. You feel like you’re dying. You feel like there’s no hope. You begin to believe a whole slew of unpleasant things about yourself, your talent, your future—all of them untrue—but when you’re in a wave and you can’t identify up from down, true or not, these horrible feelings and beliefs become all-consuming.

And that’s no good. We all deserve better than that.

My friend’s tough words made me recoil and bear my fangs. (At that time, my mental health was fragile.) But in hindsight, it’s become abundantly clear that I desperately needed to hear those words. I needed something that would cause my eyes to fly open so I could truly see where this publishing journey had taken me, and then question if it was a path I should continue to take.

And from what I’m hearing, and observing, some of you might benefit from some straight talk too.

Are you OK?

With love and tenderness, and your permission, I now take you gently by the shoulders and ask:

Dearest Baby Writers—are you OK?

I know the road to traditional publishing can be a minefield for folks who aren’t made of titanium. Rejection is so often a trigger for those of us who first picked up the pen to scribble something along the lines of, “First I got born, then the troubles began.” Writers en masse are ironically (cruelly?) often poorly designed to withstand what can feel like unending criticism and rejection. As a group, we have big feelings, and skin that is thin enough that the world around us can easily seep in, churning and fizzing until we turn it into Story. This fragility is integral, as it allows us to do what we do when it comes to the art of spinning a yarn.

A short time after my friend’s tough words, my husband found me in that closet, utterly heartbroken and covered in snot.

As my pain poured out about how devastating this most recent rejection was, he suggested I self-publish. I wailed even louder. I didn’t have the marketing chops for that, and … and … he just didn’t get it.

But then he asked me a very simple question.

“Babe, you know a lot of writers now. Writers you’ve beta read for and then spent weeks declaring them brilliant geniuses. But can you name one who, in the last five years, in this order, wrote a book, queried to the slush pile, got an agent, and that agent sold their book?”

My mouth dropped open. I forced it closed. I wiped my snot on the hem of my T-shirt and stepped out of my dungeon and into the light.

Here’s what’s recently been illuminated for me.

Unrelenting perseverance toward a publishing goal isn’t a healthy option for everyone. And that’s okay. Maybe it’s due to some childhood un-awesomeness, or maybe it’s just your DNA. But if continuous criticism and rejection rob you of your ability to feel the sun on your face, I think you need to ask yourself if it’s worth it.

I began writing so I could have a voice when I felt like I had none. I kept writing because I wanted others to feel less alone. I wanted to change things via the mighty pen, and in the wake of so much rejection, I began to feel like my words were worthless. Like I was worthless.

To borrow a quote from the late, great Amy Winehouse—“What kind of fuckery is that?”

So I’m taking a break from trying to get published, maybe forever. Instead, I’m now focused on finding my way back to my love of writing, just for the utter joy of it.

Step One: Hi, Ego. Please stop messing with my art. I need my art in order to be happy, healthy, and fulfilled. You are not useful here. Byyyyyee.

Step Two: Goodbye to the shame and embarrassment I’ve been carrying for so long due to the fact that I’ve never had an agent request to have “the call.”

Neither of these are easy tasks but they are made a bit easier by realizing this. Now lean in close, Dearest Baby Writers, because from where I’m now standing on the outside of the journey, I’ve discovered a truth I need to share:

And honestly, that’s the big thing that crushed my heart and led me astray.

Your purpose and your passions don’t need to be monetizable or applauded by the masses, in order to be valuable. We are not here to earn money for ourselves or for others. (Do we need money? Yes. But is making it our purpose? No.) We are here to witness this period of history, perhaps record it with our written words, and emit goodness wherever and whenever we can.

Your writing, your words … You … have tremendous value just by existing. And if you’re sitting here reading this and thinking that statement is wrong—because if it were right, you’d have an agent/book deal/bestseller/TV deal—I implore you to take a break. Take a breath. Reassess.

You’re not quitting. You’re bravely taking the space to grow. The move you make next —from a place of peace— will feel so much better than whatever sludgy hellscape you’ve been dragging yourself through lately. I promise you.

Authentically and wholly, I adore every member of this community. I applaud your every effort.

Go look at a star, whose light took a billion years to reach you. Admire a flower as it exists in the breeze.

Write from a place of joy. Take all the breaks you need. Agents, book deals, all of it— it’s all just business, baby. Don’t let it hurt your soul.

The planet is so lucky to have you here.

You are amongst friends. Be well.

Carly

And should you be interested, here is my Publishing Break-Up Playlist. Shake that ass you sexy thing.

Gatekeeper - Jessie Reyez

Batshit - Sofi Tukker

Toxic - Britney Spears

Pursuit of Happiness – Kid Cudi

Salt – Ava Max

About Damn Time - Lizzo

I’m Still Standing - Elton John

Thank u, next - Ariana Grande

Don’t Look Back in Anger - Oasis

Non, je ne regrette rien – Édith Piaf

Alright – Jain