I’m a big believer in radical change – jumping off cliffs and taking huge risks and all that.
It all started when I was sixteen and decided to move to California. You can read about that on a piece I did for Dear Teen Me. It’s funny to me, now, that a few days after that was published, I’d take another leap. June 19th, 2012 was either a disastrous day or a liberating one. Either way, I woke up living in San Francisco and ended up on a plane to Paris that night where I’d live for a while. In a few horrible moments, I made a decision that changed the course of my family’s path forever.
Some people would say I’m reckless and don’t think things through, but I disagree. I believe overthinking can drive you crazy, and sometimes your gut just knows. It knows when someone is lying to you; it knows when it’s time to make life adjustments; it knows when to jump.
I’m jumping. In six years, I’ve had two different agents. My last one and I parted ways back in May when he decided to get out of the business. Since then, I haven’t given my career much nurturing because I’ve been busy doing other things. And honestly, part of me was scared – what if no one else wants to rep me? What if I can’t write a book that an agent likes? What if all my shiny new ideas are actually dull and dingy?
I could keep on worrying, I suppose, but my gut’s telling me to put my armor back on and dig into the querying trenches. I have too many books sitting around on my hard drive that need and deserve homes.
So this is me shoving my fears aside and leaping.