A Dream Deferred

I'm sorry I haven't posted for a couple weeks. I really am trying to get into the habit of writing every week. I'm even sorrier that I am posting now to bring bad news.

I got an email yesterday from my publisher that they are shutting down and thus my novel, The Shifting, is not going to be published. All rights revert back to me, so legally I am free and clear to start shopping it out to publishers and agents, but still, I'm back at square one with one year wasted. I don't know where or how to start again.

Honestly, I'm not doing too well right now. I'm hurt and angry and extremely disappointed and looking to blame someone. I don't blame my publisher, because bad business happens and it's not like they were trying to hurt me. So the blame is landing back on my own head: I should have farmed out the book to bigger publishers or found an agent. I should have sent other things out so the year wouldn't have been wasted. I should never have gotten my hopes up, because I should have known happiness couldn't last as long as it did without a huge fall coming.

This is a downer post, I know. But it's my blog and I have to talk about how I feel. This is worse, to me, than rejection. Rejection means "work harder and try again." Rejection means "we don't have space for your work here, but try something else later," if you're lucky. Rejection is a bump in the road. What I have here is a stalled car on the wrong road, and now I need to figure out how to fix it and find my way to where I should be.

The hardest thing about this is that I had a glimpse - a glimpse - of my dream coming true. I've wanted to be a writer since I was 11. Since then, I've wanted to see my work printed. Having a novel published was my big dream since before I had the skills to make it happen. And then, on one miraculous day, it happened. For one year I saw my dreams coming true, and now suddenly it's gone. I feel like Cinderella might if, while sitting in rags and weeping, she had her fairy godmother come to her, only to disappear again. I wonder if it would have been better if I never had my hopes up at all. It feels like too much, right now, to ask for another miracle, a permanent one this time.

I don't know how many people read this blog, but if you're reading it and know of any publishers or agents who might be interested in my work, feel free to leave me a tip. I need all the help I can get right now.