I’ve debated writing about this—I know perhaps the act of writing about writing is a bit strange and perhaps as a reader you aren’t really all that interested in this topic—but then again, it is so often the things I share most personally and close to me, that end up relating to others the most. Funny how that works. So here it goes.
I shared on IG a few weeks ago a snapshot of an index card with these words hastily scrawled across it in sharpie:
I am not a slave—I am an Artist.
It came to me in frenzy one day when I could feel the synapses in my brain starting to whirr in hum with the machine that demands nothing short of constant productivity. And of course, the drive to create is always there. But not as a machine, or a slave. I need to create as an Artist.
This is coming to mean many things to me, one of which is allowing for the slow work. Allowing for periods of rest and rejuvenation. Allowing for activities that seem “unproductive” but which I know deep down in my soul are necessary for my productivity.
But I also thinking about it on another level. I know we writers are often commenting on the rat race that is social media, of the game that is the algorithm, and sometimes we are even desperate enough to beg for you to help us get eye balls on our work because that’s what we’ve been told we must do. Traditional Publishers care about the eyeballs. They don’t want to have to work super hard to sell my book someday, and I get that. They want a guaranteed 10% of my followers to be willing to spend money on my work. That’s the business of publishing—or so I have been told.
The truth is, I rebuffed all this years ago. I straight up refused to use social media. I was a petulant child who wished I could just go back to the days when writing in a cave and emerging with a magnum opus was the way to do publishing. (Of course, those days had their own issues—the gatekeepers of the publishing houses still had to take a chance on your manuscript in order to be willing to spend their resources making it available to the public.) In that way, these days of social media are special, because anyone can get their ideas out to an intended audience.
But that’s also the problem—anyone can do it. Which is why I see book deals being given to people (not writers, but influencers) with massive social following being the main thing to recommend them, and not their writing skills. Nothing against these people—many of them I have seen have had the wisdom to hire a ghostwriter to help with their project to make it actually well structured and readable, and I think that is awesome. But still the fact remains, things are not the way most writers wish them to be—my good writing is not enough to get me published.
Or is it?
For years I have been such a staunch traditionalist. (I still am, don’t even ask me if I make my risotto in my Instant Pot, or I will look at you like you sprouted horns.) But this led me to feeling like Traditional Publishing was the only way to create a quality product that a reader would actually buy. I had seen some self-published works in the past, and was on the whole, not terribly impressed. Though some seem to pull it off well enough. And the truth is, it was a bit of my ego getting in the way as well. I wanted that external pat on the back saying, “Yes! Well done! We believe in your work enough to pay you to write it.”
So for the past four (+) years, between babies and breastfeeding, I have been trying my best to play the game. I have curated my feed. I’ve worked on my message. I have tried things and (mostly) failed. I’ve submitted articles and poems for other publications in hopes of growing. I tried to get started with speaking—but that was in January of 2020 so we all know how that one went. It’s been a challenging road filled with many highs and lows—and sweet gifts sprinkled throughout. The sweetest of which, is the still crazy fact that I have made real friends in these online spaces. Wonderful connections in the internet space, many of which have turned into in person friendships—and for this, I am so incredibly grateful.
But—I’m pretty much done buying into the narrative that says that building a gigantic platform on social media is the only way to do things. My brother, and fellow writer L.A. Morton-Yates has been a huge guiding light in this realization, and at this point, I am now seriously considering Indie publication as a legitimate path forward for my art—and here is part of the reason why.
I am tired of waiting for a permission slip to do what I’ve been called to do.
I’m tired of waiting for an agent or a publisher to be interested enough in me to take a chance on my work. I’m tired of waiting until I have been “picked.” I’m tired of working so hard at the social media game that I have nothing left to spend on my actual work—my writing!
There are definitely authors out there who seem to handle this juggle really well. Authors that are intentional in their online presence, and seem able to keep on creating quality content across the board while also writing a book. (Or two. Or three.) And maybe it’s just a season of life thing. Or maybe it’s a capacity thing. Or maybe they have hired an assistant. Who knows.
I just am finally admitting to myself, that in this season, there are only so many things I can actually do—and if I’m honest, even fewer that I actually want to do. I want to fill my writing time with meaningful work that I LOVE. Not batch creating content for my social media. (If you love making that sort of thing, this is in no way a knock on you, it’s just not my jam.) The switch to Substack has been super fruitful for me in that—I am no longer wondering what writing to put where. All the good stuff (that isn’t in a book I’m writing) goes here. And that’s exciting. I feel like I’m finally becoming more able to focus on what really matters in my work—and I’m throwing out the book on publishers expectations because maybe I don’t actually have to worry about that quite so much as I thought? Maybe, I can do my good and meaningful work without a permission slip from anyone but God. Maybe, I’ll write my books, and they will be good and beautiful and true, and readers will still buy them even if no one gives me a book contract.
That is the beauty of this modern age—I can go into the cave and write, and then come out and publish the dang thing myself with some sweet tools and collaborators on the internet. (I can’t wait to share with you about the artist I’ve hired to do the original artwork for my first book of poetry.)
I can’t wait to actually share with you all the words that have been on my heart and on secret slips of paper in my planner, and everywhere—these scraps of Holy Beauty that remind me that glory is what is coming for us: all of us, no matter our circumstances. And because I’m doing it myself I get to make up the rules. I can do a book of poetry. And then a novel. And then a work of non-fiction—whatever form the art wants to take. I don’t have to smoosh myself into someone else’s box anymore; because after all, it was never them or their box that I was writing for. It was always you.
Maybe you need a big fat permission slip too. So here it is: You do not have to wait until you are invited or picked to do that thing that God is calling you to do.
There will certainly still be seasons of waiting and growing, but these are all a part of the process of refining whatever his art is in you. You are allowed to be who you were made to be—even if others don’t see it, or understand it. You are allowed to do this good work that God has set in front of you, trusting that as you make your steps forward, God will continue to prepare you for all that is in front of you. It might not look the way you first expected, and that’s okay. There is beauty here too—and there is so much beauty in YOU.
So with that, I’ll give you a little life update. I shared on IG this past week that I am preparing for a re-write of the novel I started in November of 2020. It’s taken me much longer than I thought it would to get back to it, but then again, I also got pregnant with twins in November of 2020, so I've had a bit on my plate. My goal is to be done with the first full draft by the end of March 2023. After that, I’m going to make my final revision pass on my first full book of poetry called “As the Sparrow Flies,” with the aim to move that towards Indie publication later on in 2023.
I feel free-er than I have in a long time. Free to be the artist that I have always been. To call myself a poet and an author. To write the books that I have in my chest, and to find a way to get them into your hands one way or another—it’s scary. But it also feels like such a relief.
I can’t wait to share with you. I hope in the meantime, you give yourself a big-old permission slip too. Write, sing, dance, cook, garden, scrapbook, BE.
Because as my fellow writer Emily P. Freeman always says, we need you to show up fully ALIVE. Click here to check out her book A Million Little Ways: Uncover the Art You Were Made to Live. (It is one of my favorite books she has written, and was a significant influence in my decision to pick up my pen again as a blogger after graduating from college a decade ago.) It’s an awesome book to help you remember that no matter what ways you have been wired, you are an ARTIST, made by an ARTIST.
You really are.
Words have brought my heart to life this year ~ Not always, but I know that my spirit is healing ~ Grateful to so many for their words ~ Your words have a special tenderness ~ Thank you Grace 🙏🏻🕯🕊🤍💚
Your "indie author/I don't need to be traditionally published to be a real author" journey echoes mine in so many ways. Thankful for your words!