Experimenting with Absurdism

Not knowing what I'm doing is my specialty: Publishing edition

Some of you know that I wrote a book last year and have not published it. I wrote this newsletter to try and figure out what to do next…to give you a preview of the book.

Figuring out the next step

A year ago, I finished the first draft of my first book. I started pitching to about 20 literary agents right before I moved to Nashville. I had a new house to warm, and when the “Sorry No”s started rolling in, I let the book sit on the sideline. Something told me it wasn’t quite time to deal with it.

Now, something is telling me to pick it back up. I’ve been feeling the rumblings for a few weeks, and the final wake-up call was a 13-month old rejection letter that I received on Friday. The rejection was from my top choice agent. The same agent that supported Humans of New York and Post-Secret, and the only agent who asked for my full proposal. When I saw an email with the title “The Experimental Absurdist” I let out a yelp. Thinking ‘This is IT!’ I clicked the email to find that This was Not It.

womp womp

The day before I was telling Ken how it’s not uncommon to get a rejection email 6 months to a year later after pitching an agent. I couldn’t remember this agent’s name it’s been so long.

“I think I get it. The whole publishing thing,” I told him. “The reason they leave you hanging so long is because they want to see who else is going to bet on you. They want to give you time to come back and say, ‘Welllll…. So and So at So and So Agency is reviewing my proposal as well.‘ This is why they tell you to pitch 80 agents before you drop a project. ”

I know where I fucked up, probably: I started the process too soon (as I often do). My proposal needed to marinate. I was deeply depressed when I wrote much of the book. I hadn’t started my podcasts - I had barely begun to ask people for money to write. I had no traditionally published articles, and my voice was shaky. But I learn by doing.

I make my mistakes out in the open because I honestly don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. It seems to work out, but when I start something, usually I’m just winging it. I just GO, and I learn along the way. Hopefully, ya’ll gain something from following along. Right now, I feel like I’m being a pussy about this waffling back and forth: Wahhh what do I do??? I probably need to pop this cherry, but I first have to answer some questions: Do I want to be the next Brene Brown (eeeh)? Or would I have more respect for myself self-publishing my own brainguts without intervention from the Commercial Powers That Be, relegated to obscurity and my own bigbrain head chair? Can there be an in-between? I mean Brene Brown did a decent semblance of being authentic on her Netflix special.

Then, this morning I woke up and realized there is no authenticity or way to verify it…so what’s the sense in worrying about it? The world’s a stage, and so think I’ll pull a RayJ. Meaning: I’ll probably wander into very clear and present danger and in my naivety reveal some truths about the world before getting utterly squashed.

The Book

Thanks to Pranjal for holding my feet to the fire on a promise I made to Nita Jain. I told her I would publish an excerpt from my book here. Originally titled The Experimental Absurdist, I divided the book into 4 parts corresponding to calendar quarters. Each chapter moves progressively through concepts in absurdist philosophy taking bits of science, paradox, and stoicism along the way and forming them into daily protocols for dealing with uncertainty.

Each day, I elaborate on a quote, and they are not always comforting. Many of the reflections are meant to be a bit unsettling, like today’s:

September 12

---

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.”

― Thomas Merton , No Man Is an Island

In his seminal work, Flow, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi describes a magical state of being where we are able to focus on some very rewarding endeavor. The world disappears around us and we just VIBE. Writing was one of the first places I found Flow. When I’m on a roll, it’s as if I’m not even in my body. I’m in a transcendental state where my mind is free to be confined to its current mission. For a long time, I hunted Flow. It was a surefire good time. When I found it, I lived in a dream-like trance for periods at a time, drifting from one pursuit to the next: reading, making memes, sitting at the piano, writing…it was like I died and went to heaven.

I never considered the cost of Flow, but I recognized it immediately when I saw the Pixar movie, Soul. When the protagonist, Joe, touches a piano he is swept away into a Flow. Watching this movie with my daughter, I sighed a big sigh because sheeesh I can relate. Joe was lost and found in his art. Then Joe gets a chance of a lifetime to pursue his dream of making music with a famous band. He leaves the theater elated, and of course, lost in the rapture, he walks into a manhole and dies. Flow quite literally took him to heaven.

He wakes up to find himself on a sort of moving walkway to The Great Beyond, and immediately refuses his fate. He does everything he can to get back in time for his show, and along the way he discovers that he really did “lose himself” in his art. He failed to see the beautiful simplicity of living.   

I won’t spoil the ending, but I urge you to think about this quote in two ways: The first and most common interpretation: that we can pursue art, finding a flow state and losing ourselves in the best way, and the second: losing yourself is a huge risk when creating. Making art can feel like heaven, but the only problem with heaven is that you have to die to get there.

The way I see it, I have three options:

1. Rewrite the proposal now that I better understand the formula for commercial success.

2. Make the “Flashcards” and novelty items that the publishers I’ve spoken to want to see and think will sell.

3. Fuck commercial publishing. I don’t intend on losing myself in this art. I’m not against editing or making it better, but I refuse to forsake the soul of this book: It is supposed to unnerve you. These are Protocols for Uncertainty. Holding two ideas in your mind isn’t easy, but I think it’s really what most people need more of today.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, as always.

-Natasha