UNDER PRESSURE, BY DAVID BOWIE. (OR, HOW WRITING CHANGES IN BIG WAYS AT EVERY STAGE IN THE PUBLISHING PIPELINE.)

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you about making your dreams come true.

Everything changes. And you can’t stop it from changing.

Look, I expected some things to change! Everything does change, at all times, in all sorts of scenarios. I expected change—I just didn’t expect what those changes would be.

And, as your publishing ✨ bestie ✨ it’s my duty to let you know ahead of time. Y’know, so that you don’t go through the agony that I went through. Or, well, you do go through the agony, but at least you aren’t going through it alone.

So, let’s sit down and have a chat about what it’s like to enter the publishing pipeline, the changes that come with that journey, and the pressures that follow.

THE THING ABOUT GETTING AGENTED, WHICH IS THAT YOU ACTUALLY HAVE TO TELL SOMEONE ABOUT ALL YOUR WEIRD WIPS.

Before I was agented, I was on a sickening book writing schedule. My goal was to write three shitty books a year—but realistically, at least two. I had them all planned out, on a color coded calendar, and built in break times and editing passes. It was a bit insane.

In 2023, I wrote two books like I planned. I queried one, and I queried the next early 2024. By the time I was querying the second book, I was writing what I planned to be my next queryable book. Like, it was a whole production line.

My sort-of-actionable plan when it came to publishing was to be as annoying as possible. I was going to throw spaghetti (my books) at a wall (agents) until something stuck (representation.)

The great thing about not having an agent was that I was writing whatever the fuck I wanted. Whatever flavor I was craving. I didn’t care about the market—I was writing to have fun, because I loved it. Because I was passionate about it.

But this changed, as all things do, when I signed with my agent.

I’m tired of talking about how I got my agent because I’ve talked about it way too much, so you can go read about it! Instead, we’re going to dive completely into what it’s like to be agented. Or, specifically, what it’s like to write when you first get agented.

While I was working on revising my book for submission, my mind was teeming with all the projects I had planned before I signed. Realistically, I knew the books I’d planned to write weren’t good follow up books.

Again, I didn’t care about the market. Until I got agented.

So, the fun and terrifying thing is that you actually have to pitch your next projects to this person that you just signed with! And you don’t know (yet) how crazy you’re allowed to be!

I threw a very dark, horror, gory book at my agent and was sick to my stomach for about a week while waiting to hear back. It’s a weird book. Has a lot of, uh, gross things that happen which involve butcher knives and sewing needles. I was very afraid they would come back like, “Hey! This is not publishable haha,” and I would be like “hehe okay” and cry to Mitski’s Washing Machine Heart on repeat.

Thankfully, they loved it, and I was set to write it as soon as I was done revising. Y’know, ‘cause everyone says to write your next book when you go on submission.

Haha. Oh boy. That didn’t happen.

BEING ON SUBMISSION AND WRITING THE NEXT THING. (LOL.)

I’ve talked very, very much about my journey on submission. It was hellish. It was beautiful. It was mostly me, floating endlessly in an ocean I could not see the end to, and hoping that the waves didn’t drown me.

Well, I didn’t drown. But floating is not swimming. Or rather—keeping myself from falling into a long pit of depression while receiving passes on my book is not the same as being productive.

There are two reasons, in my opinion, that people say to write the next thing:

1. To keep yourself distracted from submission

2. So you have something ready to go if your book dies on submission

Both things! Bad! Not beautiful! But the sentiment is there.

The time will pass anyway. Make something of it, or don’t.

Except that is so bullshit when you’re trying to keep your mental health in check. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for everyone who can write while on submission, but my first time? I was frozen. Locked in place. And I didn’t know why.

I had a great book that I was excited to write. My agent liked it. The market was open for it, and steadily growing, and I wanted to take advantage of that.

But I could not write.

I talked briefly in my last blog that I was okay if my book died on submission because I was sure my next book would be The One. That my next book would sell. And I did believe that. But with that belief came immense pressure. Wild, heavy pressure.

Where I was trying to keep afloat on the waters that were submission, the pressure I was putting on this new book to be The One was sinking me in the process.

What if I wasn’t good enough to write this new book? It needed to be The One. It had to be. If not, I was going to drown. One book dying on sub was going to hurt me. But two books dying on sub was going to kill me. I couldn’t let that happen.

I spun out. Instead, I started writing a whole new book that my agent didn’t know about. One that was completely and utterly unpublishable. Because, at least, I knew that one would never go on submission. It was never going to be seen by anyone. I just wanted to write something. Anything.

My identity was whittling away. Who was I without writing?

Things changed, once again, when I scheduled the call with my editor—the call that would end up in an offer for my debut.

I was okay. Everything was going to be okay. But that didn’t make me write. I had a book deal now and I still couldn’t write.

Maybe I really had lost myself to the ocean of submission. Maybe I was never coming back.

BOOK DEAL WOES, A BLESSING AND A CURSE.

Taylor, you have got to stop using ocean metaphors in your blog posts. Okay, fine. I just love the ocean. Should I start using moon metaphors? I also love the moon.

Anyway, I got a book deal! Yay! So many new, exciting things to keep me busy. I had contracts to read, celebrations to be had, and book edits to start. All of these things were taking up my time, but something was haunting me.

Oh, right. The book I was supposed to be writing. That I didn’t write.

What changed this time? I was finally in a good headspace. I was off submission, my book had made it successfully out of the trenches, and I had a great editor and a book deal I was happy with. What could possibly go wrong?

You know what? I don’t actually know.

See, while I was on submission and not writing, my brain was still working. And it was generating so many new, shiny things that I wanted to write. My friends sometimes call me crazy because of the amount of ideas I have; the amount of WIPs just sitting in my back pocket and waiting.

(To all the girlies who didn’t let me write gay archaeology wip, I hope you perish. Affectionately.)

I’m not kidding when I say I came up with 4 new ideas to write while I was on submission. Each one seemed better than the last. More fun! Less marketable! We were back to the days of not being agented, where I wanted to write whatever the fuck I wanted to write!

But what I wanted to write might not get me another book deal. What book would get me another book deal? What book would sell next?

Ah, yeah. That’s why I couldn’t write. I was terrified. I was the epitome of the standing emoji. 🧍🏻‍♀️

I was looking at a long, dark road that had no end. There were a lot of paths to turn down—and not all of them were viable. I had no GPS because no one knew about any of these projects. I was stuck in this darkness with nobody but me and the moon.

(See, I got there somehow. Moon!)

Regretfully, it was time to involve my agent. Well, okay, this is a lie. Actually, my agent does this cool thing where they send out an email after the new year to discuss what’s happened and what’s coming up. A little quick connect. Very helpful, and very nice.

They brought up the projects I said I was working on, that I was actually not working on anymore. And I didn’t know what to say.

So instead, I bit the bullet and asked for help. I sent them my pitch deck and said, “Please just tell me what to write, because I’m lost.”

As with any agent, my agent can see the market much better than I can. And like any good agent, they said of course they want me to write what I love, what gets me excited. But all my ideas were ideas I loved, and they all made me excited.

I was just frozen in indecision, pressured by this new career I was trying to pave for myself as an author, and couldn’t move forward. And you guys know how much I talk about how we keep moving forward.

My passion for writing was somewhere inside me still. The thing I loved, so much, before all these changes. This beautiful thing that I lost to the pressure I was putting myself under.

What’s the lyric? “It's the terror of knowing what this world is about.”

I knew what the world of publishing was about now. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. I was the friend who, after her dreams came true, was screaming “Let me out.”

Thank you, David Bowie & Queen.

PILL, SWALLOWED. (BRIEF PAUSE.)

Y’all ever heard of the B-Pill? 💊

(The Bita Behzadi, represented by Allegra Martschenko at BookEnds Literary, Pill.)

During one of my many spirals, my good friend Bita finally sat me down and told me to slow the fuck down. To figure out what I was chasing after so hard so that I could catch it.

But I didn’t know what I was chasing. There were so many things pulling me in different ways. I was chasing after a book deal—which I finally got. Chasing after a career as an author. Chasing after the next book, even though I didn’t know what that book it was going to be.

I was chasing after my love of writing, because I didn’t know where it had gone. Where I’d left it, and where I’d lost it.

I told her I didn’t think I could write a book anymore. She told me that I could. That I had before and I would again. I just had to stop running from the root of the problem, which was the crazy amount of pressure I was putting on myself. No one else was putting these pressures on me! It was me!

She gave me a hard pill to swallow—the BitaPill. And months later, I finally took it.

YOU HAVE TIME, YOU ARE NOT BEHIND, AND YOU ARE RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE MEANT TO BE.

Let me repeat that for you.

You have time. You are not behind. You are right where you are meant to be.

Look, I know how hard this is to hear and to internalize. I can admit this is hypocritical of me to say because I’ve always felt like I’m behind. I’m twenty-seven. I’ll be twenty-eight when my debut publishes. I have so many stories to tell and not enough time.

But I’ve really tried hard to internalize that I’m right where I’m meant to be. The universe knows better than I do.

You know who else knows better than I do? My agent. So I sat down with them on a call and said, “Please tell me what to write.” And they did. They gave me two books to write this year—two books I knew I could write, for sure—and you know what?

It was a weight off my shoulders. No worrying about the market. No worrying about what comes next. Just the pure confidence that I could write these books and do what I loved again, without worrying what was ahead of me.

(Something something, live in the present. Idk though.)

I was back again. The insane schedule returned, a goal of writing two books a year while editing my debut. The plan was laid out for me, the path was chosen, and I was set free to sprint down it.

And sprint I have. As I work on edits for my debut eco-fantasy, THE GODS MUST BURN, I’ve finished drafting my fourth book. It took me a total of six weeks.

Which is fast. Oh my god. I’ve finished another book. I finally did it. I proved to myself, and to everyone else (who didn’t need proof because they just believed in me lol), that I could write another book.

The point is, things change, and we all have to take the changes as they come. If you can’t write after you query unsuccessfully, that’s okay. If you can’t write when you first sign with your agent, that’s okay. If you can’t write while on submission, that’s okay.

If you can’t write after you get a book deal, that’s okay. You’ll write again.

You have time. You’re not behind. You’re right where you’re meant to be. As long as you keep moving forward, you’ll be alright.

So chase after whatever it is that you’re looking for—you’ll catch it. I promise.

Y’know, Freddie Mercury and David Bowie said it best. “Can't we give ourselves one more chance?”

Anyway, that’s it from me for today. TLDR; There’s enough pressure in the world of publishing that we face. Don’t put more pressure on yourself. Ask for help.

Stay tuned for more info about my debut book, THE GODS MUST BURN, which publishes with Solaris early 2026! (Yes, I hate selling my book. But someone’s gotta do it.)

Thanks for reading and being here with me at every step along the way.

Do all things with love,

Taylor 💖