Kimly's · Kimly's Trade

I’m Back! I think.

I don’t know entirely what the hell happened between me and blogging, but after a long break-up, we’re talking about getting back together. In many ways, this is the conversation; I’m having it with the keyboard and I’m having it with you.

Honestly, this is all pouring out of me so quickly, maybe I’ll give you a little background.

Earlier this week, my publisher contacted me about rewriting my already published novel, Where the Water Rages, so that they could sell the rights to a larger book distributor, where it could be marketed it to a wider audience. The larger distributor had read the novel and emailed a review, which included changes that needed to be made so that the story would appeal to more people. Some of the changes made me laugh, and I was able to distance myself from work that I did so many years ago. During which time my library grew, and I had the opportunity to have many talented professors and academic peers speak into my writing. So, when I heard that they thought Kimly was unbelievable—too impulsive, it made me smile a defeated grin. Kimly was penned, nine years ago, by a woman who herself was impulsive and made reckless decisions, often getting in over her head. Broken pieces of me pierce through that manuscript and some of them are fraught with inconsistencies. To put it more bluntly, I was a hot mess, trying to work out my shit. This, of course, is not a reason to disregard the editorial recommendation. Maybe Kimly does need a face lift. The top two comments about Kimly are one: that people find her annoying, and two: she reminds them of me. Hmmm…how odd. Hearing now that the woman with whom I can relate, doesn’t seem like a real person sends my little Enneagram 4 heart onto a rollercoaster of introspection.

So, yes, I would be willing to work with editors and make Kimly more likable. If there is an opportunity for me to grow as a writer and to learn how to be more relatable to people, sign me up!

But, wait, there’s more.

And this is where I get agitated.

I start to remember why I felt pressure to be creating something. Making something, churning something out. Churn. Churn. Churn churn church churn church. Churn Church…work for it, work for it…earn it…deserve it.

The change that the bigger book distributor recommended ((SPOILERS)) was that the romance between Kimly and Dak be made more intense, and possibly that their relationship lands differently at the end of the book. In other words, Kimly needs to fuck Dak and leave her cheating husband. Hmm. Do I want to write that story? I didn’t then, Praise God.

The next non-negotiable idea they suggested to increase sales was to have Kimly do something significant by the end of the story. As they put it, quoting my publisher reading their email, “readers feel cheated watching Kimly go through all of these experiences, but at the end, she doesn’t even write a ground-breaking editorial piece. She only saves one child.”

Wow.

For a long time, I felt so much pressure to do something significant. The feeling runs deep and goes back far, and I’ve done a lot of work to break it down and understand it. But as for writing, as I remember it, I was feeling pressure to stand apart, to be excellent at something and it emerged with the digital age. This need grew inside of me. A need to have a lot of followers, a bigger team, a best seller. To do something big within this new digital world. The idea of just being a kind human living a simple life was out there, but I didn’t know how to make it what I wanted. I wanted to want it.

And then I did.

And so did Kimly. She just did it before me.

So when the bigger book distributor suggests I write a Hollywood ending, my answer is a firm, maybe.

I mean…I am writing again, and if a woman emerges who gets the guy, cracks the case, and sells a truckload of books, then, by all means, she is welcome to the story! But as for Kimly, no.

Kimly went on a search for significance, where she met a man that made her question what she had within her marriage, she saw the love she could have for a child, and she discovered how deeply God loved her and the places he would go to save her. Kimly realized that the most significant thing she could do was to be involved in her marriage to make it work, to become a more attentive mother, and to care for the person directly in front of her. She didn’t write the big editorial piece because that is not what this particular fable is about.

Anyway, all of this to ask, does anyone read blogs anymore? Just wondering if it’s worth my time.

Kimly's Trade

Why I am Thankful for my Failure

11168856_10153348741096970_5894260610798824795_nToday is the final day of a fundraising campaign that didn’t reach its goal, and we are thrilled about it failing.

There are a couple of reasons the failure  brings us pleasure. First, it is a reminder that God has called us to walk by faith in all things. The phrase, “One Step at a Time” or “Walk by Faith” are quickly tossed to people who are facing difficulties. If a friend tells you their child has been diagnosed with a rare disease, if a coworker shares the shame of an upcoming bankruptcy, or if a close friend admits to an addiction it is natural to offer hope by reminding them to walk in faith. We know that while our loved ones can’t see their way out of the darkness–walking through it one step at a time is all that is required.

Through this experience, we have been reminded that the same is true for good things. If an adventurous soul wants to accomplish their dreams, they still have to walk by faith and shower themselves with the same grace they would offer to someone who feels like their life is in chaos. Faith walking is not reserved to the chaotic life, it’s an everyday calling–for ordinary souls to achieve their daring dreams.

The second reason we are thankful we didn’t reach our targeted goal is because the goal got better.

When we realized we weren’t going to raise enough money to hire an experienced fictional editor AND pay for self publishing, we had to make a choice. It was going to have to be one or the other. Trust me, it wasn’t an easy decision. If we used the money we raised to hire an editor, we may end up with a polished manuscript–but how would we get it to those who had made pledges? And if we decided to forgo the editor and publish the manuscript in its raw state, would we be missing a step that could make the work more appealing and convey its message more clearly?

After praying and rehashing the situation, we decided that there was much more to be gained {and risked} by using the funds to hire a seasoned editor, even if it meant we wouldn’t have the necessary funds to self-publish. We decided that while self-publishing may be where we eventually land, we didn’t have to go to that place without first getting the manuscript into the best shape possible, then pursuing an agent and publishing house.

I don’t read my writing the way other people read it, so I cannot imagine an agent or a publisher seeing its value, but because we didn’t raise the money to do both, I am taking a step of faith that I would have never taken.

It’s much easier to walk down a well lit path. Heck, I even turn on a light to make the short journey down the hallway in my house. It’s normal and we will always strive to see more and know more–it’s in our nature. But, oftentimes when it comes to the dearest things in our life, the braver choice, the choice that brings the most growth and the greatest joy involves walking down a dimly lit path.

Follow this LINK for more information about Kimly’s Trade 🙂

Kimly's Trade

Don’t Believe Me; Just Watch

e4893f2c9316df7e33677cf4a90b3ae7I have lived with a nagging, disgruntled voice in my head for an indeterminate amount of time. Late at night, she sneaks into my room, crawls into my bed, and whispers words like, “more” “different” and “better”. Sometimes I don’t recognize her when she comes calling until I’ve listened too long. She’s a persistent dame. Beautiful, and forever young, she shops at high end stores, and lives in a house I’ll never occupy. I use scripture to silence her and I ask for help when I am overwrought. Oftentimes, my husband will spot her before I do. He’s not fond of her, at all, and does his best to keep her silent.

The battle for significance and the acceptance of one’s self is an age old war. It’s an inner battle, and for many people it takes decades to be able to stop internal lies from paralyzing us from moving forward.

You would think my inner critic would be proud of me today. Why today? Well, today I have been “interviewing” editors to work on my fictional manuscript, Kimly’s Trade. Several years ago, a friend read through Kimly’s Trade and helped me with basic grammar errors, and I was grateful for what she brought to the project. A lot has happened since then, (understatement) and through everything that had happened, my writing improved, and when I returned to the project I knew it could be better.

This month, I am hiring a professional editor who has experience in fiction, specifically one who has worked with characterization, plot, pacing, and voice. I am looking through the resumes I’ve received from my advertisement on Outsource.com and I am struck that I have such an assortment of talented individuals to choose from.

My inner critic could have taken the day off, maybe used the time to go to the gym or get a pedicure. I mean, there’s no room for judgement on a day like today, right?

Of the twenty+ applicants, some have submitted work for me to evaluate. Looking at what they have offered, I have been tempted to devalue my own manuscript. In awe of what I was reading, a paralyzing insecurity began to come over me. I suddenly saw myself differently, suddenly saw myself as being inadequate. I heard the shrill voice I recognize, and it whispered, “Oh Jackie, this world of literary people is a land of  incredible talent, and you aren’t a real writer. You are a waitress.”

The liar never leaves. She’s bound to look for me, bound to chase. And, eventually, she’s bound to find me.

As much as I want to, I can’t shut her out completely, because some of her words have an element of truth to them, but she is a distorter of truth: “You haven’t received a contribution to the publishing campaign in over week.”(TRUTH) “You are never going to have enough money to pull this off.”(LIE)

But, shutting her out completely is not the important thing, anyway. It doesn’t matter if her whispers wake me every single morning at 3:22. What matters is what I do after I hear her whisper. What matters is what I do at 3:23. She isn’t the only voice living within, after all. There is another voice, the voice of Truth, and that voice tells me to keep moving forward. If my inner critic doesn’t believe it can happen, then she will be the one who misses the adventure, not me. With or without my inner critic, I will reach my goals. She doesn’t have to believe it, she can sit back in all her disbelief and watch it unfold anyway.

She may have whispers for me, but I’ve got words for her, too. Don’t believe me? Just watch. (Cue, Bruno Mars)

For more information on being a part of Making Kimly’s Trade Happen, visit our Indigogo fundraising page at the following link: Kimly’s Trade, A debut novel by Jackie Sill