When I was writing my first published book, I came to feel that the process of seeing it through to publication was as much about developing me as a person, as it was about helping others through what I had written. It made me dig deep to persevere when things got tough; it revealed hidden fears, endless overthinking, and multiple other issues that needed conquering if I was to get my book out there. But I did it, and even if nobody ever benefitted from reading it (though thankfully many say they have), it was helpful in terms of my own personal growth.
Little did I realise that that growth was not a one-time deal. Now I am actively working on my second book, I am beginning to suspect that every book may turn out to be a journey of self-discovery and growth. Especially as this book is so different to my last one. Now I am compiling and editing an anthology, motivating myself to keep writing in splendid isolation is now a very small piece of my workload. My book now revolves around working with others, and that depends on one main thing: good communication, which is an area where my hopes are high but my actual confidence is very low.
First I had to overcome my own feelings of insignificance to approach those I wanted to invite to contribute. And then I had to overcome a horror of nagging to follow up with those who didn’t get back to me with a decision. But somehow I did it, and ended up with a brilliant line-up of contributors.
Next I had to clearly communicate my vision and the parameters involved (word count, target audience) etc, send a contract to every writer, and set a deadline for their submissions. For someone with a strong aversion to being too demanding, this felt like it was killing my flesh every step of the way. Thankfully I am working with some truly lovely people, and there have not been any issues. So far so good.
Now though, I have reached an even harder part (why did I not foresee all these challenges to begin with? It’s probably just as well, or I might not have done it!) Submissions are coming in from the other authors… and I now have to edit them! This means sending back notes regarding places where I feel clarification is needed, or simplification, or where the over-all message of the book needs to be stronger, etc. In short, it means criticising (however constructively) the work of people who I admire – whose writing I really respect! I’m no stranger to editing & critiquing – I’ve helped multiple friends with their writing over the years – it’s just that I hadn’t quite twigged that I would be doing the same to published authors this time, and that is much more daunting. The question of “who do you think you are” looms over me like a giant, constant spectre.
I don’t think I’m anybody, truth be told. But I do feel passionate about this book – like it’s something that I’ve been called to write. And so I dig out my metaphorical big-girl-pants again, take a deep breath, and push through the fears of ‘what if I offend them?’, ‘what if they drop out as a result?’, ‘what if I mess it up by failing to communicate clearly?’, ‘what if they get really discouraged?’, ‘what if they think I think I’m better than them?’, ‘what if they write me off as a result?’
Compiling and editing an anthology is not for the faint-hearted. Neither is it for the highly-sensitive over-thinkers like me. But I never have been one to take the easy road. And thankfully my illusory big-girl-pants are really quite miraculous and seem to have an in-built corset with a steel-enforced spine to prop me up and keep me going when all the things I didn’t know come to try and put me off (I’m pretty sure those ‘big-girl-pants’ are just the Holy Spirit in imaginary disguise). Because writing and publishing – just like life itself – is a process. It might be a bit scary at times, but the things we don’t know – about life, or about ourselves – are there to be learned and overcome, as we continue to grow.
Lecture to myself over…
*Takes a deep breath – and keeps going…
Rachel Yarworth, Writer 