It took me 2 years, 23 query letters, frantic internet research, and countless conversations with good people willing to lend me their expertise. It took all this time and work to reveal a central flaw of my manuscript: it's too concise, too brief, just plain under the mark when it comes to word count.
My 50,000 word memoir needs a bit more heft.
It's missing 20,000 words.
My initial reaction to this news was frustration and anger. How did I not know this?
But the last four years have taught me to face crisis as an opportunity to reframe my thinking and seize the feelings of unease, anger and fear as opportunity, no matter how painful it may be.
So I've decided to say goodbye to the memoir genre and make my book a piece of historical fiction. (I simply can't squeeze 20,000 more words from my life events: they aren't that interesting).
I'm not going to lie: I dread the hours of work before me, but I also know this will be fun in a bizarre way that only tortured writers understand. And, who knows, I just may be one step closer to creating a publishable piece.
A girl's got to keep dreaming.