I am not a patient person.
I try—I really do. But regardless of how hard I work, patience eludes me. That’s probably why I keep encountering more and more opportunities to build this particular skill in my repertoire. And very likely why the past few weeks have turned out the way they have.
Just after Christmas, I decided that I was ready to stop waiting for something to happen. Typing that, I can see how contradictory this sounds to my previous statement. I’m not good at waiting, yet I’d been waiting around. Alas, it is true, but I can guarantee, I was not waiting patiently.
Nearly three years ago, I wrote Two White Pills. The version you can purchase from Amazon today is almost exactly the same version that was there when I typed “The End” the first time. I knew I wanted to look into getting my book published, but finding an agent is really quite brutal. Query after query, I’d wait the allotted timeframe just to receive a lovely email back telling me my writing was great, but my story just didn’t really fit anywhere. My first thought when I started getting this response was, great, I’ve created something completely outside of the box—this is bound to get noticed. Unfortunately, that’s not the way things work in publishing. Agents and publishers prefer that the projects they pick up fit nicely into a genre box, that way, they can deliver on their promises to any given audience. I mean, I totally get it—you don’t want to invest in something you can’t guarantee will be successful, and having no clear set audience limits things quite a bit. And heaven only knows that if I picked up a horror novel hoping to scare the crap out of myself and ended up with a sweet romance instead, I would be pretty mad.
So, there I sat for about two years, sending out queries, receiving rejections, and struggling to remain positive. There’s only so many times you can be told no before it starts to take its toll, especially when the thing being shot down is a piece of your heart and soul. But after dusting myself off for the umpteenth time, I decided that I was done waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone to choose me. I’m not one to give up easily, and this was one fight I was willing to give my all.
I read everything I could about publishing a book. Every step that should be taken. Every element of a media kit and how to write a press release—everything the big-name writers have set in place when their books release is what I wanted to have for mine. I worked really hard and devoted most of my time to getting things in place. Then, four days before my release, the pre-order was cancelled and no one could tell me why or help me fix it. Then the paperback version wasn’t being approved. I was told my title could be confusing to customers, which made me wonder who on earth is going onto Amazon to search for simply two white pills. I mean, really?
Through my frustration and impatience, my dad spoke the wise words, “It’s all going to work out, just not in your timeframe.”
Now my initial reaction to this was, “But it has to! I’ve worked so hard for so long!” Case in point—I’m no good at waiting.
But the more I thought about it, the more it rang true. So many things in this journey have gone sideways or been delayed for one reason or another.
Ever since the start, my timeframe has been off. But every single time, it’s been for the best. Had my book been picked up by an agent, it’s unlikely that I would have started thinking so far outside of the box to decide to donate a portion of the royalties from every sale to NAMI. I can’t even imagine if that was the case—raising money for NAMI is such an important element of my release and this whole project in general. Had things worked out differently at any point, I may not have been forced to take a good, long look at my book and myself to determine why I wrote this particular piece. But because of that, I’ve been able to draw awareness to the lack of proper representation of mental illness in literature. And I know that somewhere out there, there’s a person who needs this book more than I do. To that person—I don’t know who you are or where you are, but you are not alone. Please know that you are enough just the way you are.
While patience is something I’m obviously being forced to work on every day, if it wasn’t for these opportunities to become more patient, I wouldn’t be where I am now. This project is about so much more than me. It’s about making a difference and spreading acceptance. It’s about letting people know that it doesn’t matter what other people think—be the most you version of yourself, and you’ll live your happiest life. Mental illness is really good at making us feel isolated. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt so completely alone. But talking about my anxieties, talking about the struggles I face, helps. It brings these topics out of the darkness and into the light. And the more light we shed into those dark places, the more people will see that they are not the only person going through their trials and dealing with their struggles. You are not alone.
There’s a place for all of us in the world. My son told me about a SpongeBob episode last night where someone tried to make SpongeBob get rid of the gap in his teeth, something that is apparently a huge part of his identity. While losing the gap made him cooler, he wasn’t happy, because he wasn’t himself. So, like I told my son, don’t let anyone close your gap. You keep being you, no matter what, and you find that happiness that you deserve. Because you’re worth it.