I’ve been querying a memoir about prescription drug dependence, specifically opiates. After submitting to 50 agents and publishers (combined) I have 18 rejection slips and the rest of the agents ignored me completely. What am I doing wrong?
I’m beginning to think memoirs are a tough sell. And so I find myself obsessing on my book, wondering if it will ever see traditional publication. Maybe I’m wasting my time with all these query letters and proposals. While it’s true that the process improves my understanding of my project, getting impersonal form letters is getting OLD! Maybe I should self-publish! Tiffany Jenkins did it with her “High Achiever,” and she sold enough books to get the attention of Harmony Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House. My musings have also made me think of why I wrote the book in the first place. I want to help and inspire people who are suffering like I was back then. THAT’S IT.
Anyway, it’s been weeks of “Dark Night of the Soul” as a writer. But I know that at my lowest points, sometimes a little light peeks through. And yesterday I received an acceptance letter from The Perch, which is Yale School of Medicine’s Program for Recovery and Community Health. It’s a literary magazine that deals with mental health and substance use. (Notice that they don’t use the word ‘abuse,’ but refer to it as ‘use.’ It’s an honor to be published by this literary journal. They are doing good work. I must be doing something right as well. Right? Right.