Fandom's Army

I have anxiety. A lot of people might say, “Oh, I have anxiety too,” which they’re likely right about. It’s one of the most common mental disorders in the United States, coming in at around 18% of the population affected (source). It’s a tricky bitch, that anxiety. She wants to protect you and at the same time she wants to suffocate you. There’s no pleasing her.

As a child, I didn’t think my anxiety was anything other than abnormal. I thought it came with the contract of being a “person.” I had irrational fears, doubts, worries and become entirely consumed with my own mortality. My parents would have to sit me down and explain to me that a black hole wasn’t going to descend upon the earth and spaghettify us into oblivion, that, no, my eyeballs weren’t going suddenly burst on their own, that I wasn’t going to die because I ate undercooked chicken. *sigh* My poor parents and their tiny, messy-haired, neurotic kid. If I could go back in time and tell them what I know now, I’d be saving us all a lot of time and effort. Eventually I’d see the truth about those things, understand that it was a silly little phobia, but it would take a long time. A long time.

But I’m a grown up now! I’ve got anxiety, the PG-13 version!

While querying, it was extremely difficult NOT to become anxious. I had sent out my baby, my passion, my precious little manuscript into the cold, scary world and I instinctively wanted to bundle it up in a warm blanket, give it a cup of tea, and plop it by the fire so no one could ever hurt it. But I did it anyway, kicked it out the door and waved goodbye. I sent my manuscript to a handful of agents and I waited. Oh boy, did I wait. Looking back, my query was awful. It wasn’t ready. I was rushing into it because I was so damn excited to share my work with the world. But I had to know. And I had to wait.

I got a rejection the day after I had sent out the initial letters. A form rejection, nothing heinous, but it simply said, “Not for me.” Fair enough. That little anxiety bubble was still securely in my gut. I wasn’t going to panic. Not yet. But rejection after rejection came through, most in the form of silence, no responses. Very rarely did I get the Not-For-Me’s.

Every month or so, I’d tweak my query, send it out to five more agents and wait. That refresh button on my Inbox was my best friend and my worst enemy. “It’s only been two minutes. I need to check my email!”

And that was a major problem. My entire life was about querying. I focused so much on reaching out to agents that I forgot why I liked writing in the first place. Writer’s block followed quickly, then came the depression, and the tears.

I kept thinking, why isn’t anyone giving me a chance? What am I doing wrong? Wait. What if they hate me? Is there a typo in the query? Did I accidentally attach an embarrassing photo? Did I spell my own name wrong? What if I called them by the wrong name? What if I accidentally called them “Douchey McFartFace”?

Aaaaaand there’s the anxiety. Hi anxiety! You weren’t missed! 0/10 Would not recommend.

At 25 years old, I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder last year and I’ve gotten the proper help I’ve so desperately needed. With my doctor’s assistance, I was finally sleeping better, exercising again, spending time with friends, all that good stuff. That doesn’t mean I’m “cured.” I doubt I’ll ever be cured. But now I recognize when those anxious thoughts are intrusive, don’t belong to me, want to interfere with my well-being.

As someone who suffers these intrusive thoughts on a daily basis, it’s very easy for me to succumb to self-doubt and diffidence. I feel like us writers are similar in that way. We’re constantly trying to prove our worth to the world and to ourselves, and it’s an uphill battle and anxiety is cement shoes.

My anxiety is an unwelcome house guest, or an inconsiderate roommate, and I’ve learned how to stand up for myself. But it’s taken me a while to get here and I’m no way near being completely immune to my own mind. There’s an agent out there for us, we just have to believe it.

Persistence is key. We cannot give up. Utilize #MSWL and manuscriptwishlist.com. If one agent says no, find another. Rework your submission, edit your manuscript, send it to beta readers. Show your query to someone who has no idea what your story is about, modify, condense, retry. When you get a rejection, allow yourself to mourn. Cry, eat junk food, curl up on the couch and watch Pacific Rim for the umpteenth time. But you have to keep going. 

Sometimes you’ll want to give up and that’s okay. You can always shelve your project, put it away for later, discover it again after you’ve written another manuscript. Your anxiety will convince you that you’ve run out of ideas and it’s wrong. Your anxiety shouldn’t dictate your life. Anxiety wants you to fail. It wants to protect you from getting hurt because being a writer is hard. It wants you to shy away from things that are difficult, that seem impossible. It’s the same instinctive reflex after touching a hot stove. You’re afraid to get burned.

My story probably sounds familiar to a lot of people, that’s why I felt like I needed to share it today. I wanted to let people know that it’s not something we have to suffer alone. We may be neurotic, and sick to our stomach, and jittery, but we are many. 

HOGWARTS: A STORY - a Harry Potter Challenge