So I woke up this morning to find an email informing me of a book contract offer on my latest book. This is my second contract in just one year, and needless to say I did the happy dance in my dressing gown in the predawn darkness. My first instinct was to say that being offered a book contract feels like winning an award, but upon reflection I realised that wasn’t the best mentality to maintain. Of course I am happy, and of course it is an achievement, but it is a personal achievement. Viewing this achievement in the language of an award places the whole experience in the context of a competition, and competitions by definition reduce experiences to winners and losers. A competition defines personal success by the failure of others. There are simply millions of wonderful authors out there, both traditionally published through a publishing house or indie authors who have self-published, and there are millions more who have yet to be recognised by a publishing house, those who have been rejected time and time again (Keep pushing folks, chase those dreams). Being offered a contract puts me on that spectrum of authors and writers, but I do not need to define my success by those who have not or who have yet to receive the same acknowledgement.
The Poet Priestess 