Good Things Take Time: A Writer’s Reminder

As a nature-based educator and a former homeschool parent, I have spent years observing how the natural world teaches us - that good things take time. The same soil that grew last year’s harvest may need a cover crop this season. A seed’s growth doesn't happen because the seed demands it, but it sprouts based on light and the right timing.

Publishing, I’m gathering, is a lot like that.

I recently read a post by literary agent Dan Balow that settled into my thoughts like a skipping stone that didn't skip. He wrote about the unpredictability of publishing, how it’s not an exact science, and that it humbles everyone involved. He intimated that rejection, while painful, often comes not from a lack of talent, but from pressures invisible to the writer.

I didn't truly realize that agents carry responsibilities that authors don’t always see. Of course, I know (all too well) that authors struggle to create a manuscript worth submitting. What hit me square in the eyes is that editors and agents face mounting pressure to make both artistic and economically beneficial decisions about the work they turn into books. I might think that my manuscript is amazing, but it's as much about the right timing in the market as to whether it's any good. Which brings me back to - good things take time.

This post about "book publishing is a failure business" didn't put a damper on my enthusiasm for writing, as one might think. Instead, it renewed my motivation today.

While I am in a season of waiting for agents to respond to my queries, I'm also tending and coaxing ideas from the compost of unwritten work. While I haven't received any rejections to my work yet, I'm encouraged by the revelation that rejection prunes our writing, like pruning a blueberry bush. It isn’t the end of the fruit; it’s part of the process. It shapes what will grow stronger.

For sure, rejections are coming, just like the necessary clean-up in my garden.

With just a week left in July, I can see that the sunlight is changing, signaling to the earth that fall is coming. Admittedly, I took some time off from the summer heat here in South Carolina. It's time to get back out there and see what else needs pruning.