Lost: One Creative Mojo

Dear Readers,

For the past year-and-a-half, I've been working with a book agent on the East Coast -- hammering out a book proposal. The project started as a longer version of my ebook and morphed into a real book, Thank God It's Monday! A week-by-week guide to banishing the Monday morning blues.

Unfortunately -- and despite the fact that several editorial boards liked the book and my writing -- the consensus was that I don't have the platform to sell 20,000 books. Basically, I haven't been on Oprah. I haven't delivered a TED talk.

The agent told me he was regretfully "throwing in the towel" on May 2. I sent the appropriate, and heartfelt, thank you note to him for all his work; we had a lovely farewell chat on the phone; he strongly encouraged me to finish writing the book and self-publish; I thanked him, hung up and gave up.

That's right. The creative instigator's creative mojo meter plummeted to zero. I told the family and a few of my closest friends -- and they were all wonderfully supportive and encouraged me to keep going; this was just a bump in the road.

I heard them, and I tried to believe them. Whenever I gave someone the disappointing update, I purposefully added encouraging comments about self-publishing.

"It's fine! It's all fine!"

But it wasn't. I couldn't even bring myself to tell everyone who knew about my work with the agent that it was over. I still haven't (so if you're on the "didn't know" list, consider this post your update).

One of the people I couldn't stand to tell was Jody Summers. Jody and I worked together years ago and have remained close. She's an incredibly talented writer, understands my writer's mind, and had been a huge cheerleader throughout the months of work on the book proposal. I knew she would be disappointed for me. I didn't want her to be disappointed in me.

Basically, I felt like I had failed at something really important and I just didn't want her to know.

Finally, two weeks after the talk with the agent, I put my big-girl panties on and sent Jod an email update. She immediately responded with kindness and encouragement:

Hi, Jannie:

They are wrong. It’s a great book idea and it deserves to be born. Want to schedule lunch?

This is only a step in the journey, Jan. Don’t give up. Get some time away from it, but don’t let it go.

Jod

My creative mojo meter inched up a bit. Jody still believed in me and the book. Everyone else I had told still believed in me and the book -- including the agent and several editors at prominent publishing houses. Maybe I should press on.

I went online, reviewed Amazon CreateSpace, and got to work formatting the existing copy. Heck, knowing that I had a lunch date with Jod (deadlines are wonderful), I even started writing new copy.

The mojo meter moved minutely in the right direction. I'd write, but then I'd chop it apart. The words weren't flowing. And my words typically flow.

Then, yesterday, Jody and I had lunch. I brought pages from the CreateSpace site as proof that I was doing something. But, God bless her heart, she wasn't concerned about the copy. She was concerned about me, my reaction, and whether I was taking care of my own creative soul.

And, since she knows me and knew the answer to that question, Jod also:

• Gave me the book Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert to read for guidance. 
• Reminded me of the value of morning pages -- I am always at my most creative when I do them every morning, and I haven't done them for some time. 
• Suggested that I be kinder to myself, and go on solo artist dates. Alone time, in new environments, is inspirational. I know it. I forget to do it. 

The waitress brought our check nestled inside a book -- a hardback that guests can inscribe if they want. I wanted. 

I haven't started reading Big Magic yet, but I'll tell you what the magic is for me: It's you. It's Jod. It's everyone who reads my writing, and encourages me to keep going. You are the magic -- and you are the reason my creative mojo is coming back.

So here we are, my friends. I'm going to do the morning pages and take myself on artist dates. I'm going to read Elizabeth Gilbert's book -- and write my own, at my pace, when it's fun. I may finish it this summer, this year, or next year. But I will finish it. 

Why? Because I believe with all my heart that this book can help people. It's 52 quick chapters of stories and inspiration and ideas and exercises that can make life happier and help people regain the creative spark we all had as children. It's a wonderful reminder of our own wonderful potential. And I'm a damn good writer, so it will be a fun read. 

Lunch with Jody reminded me: One person can make a huge difference. Today, she was that person for me. With the book, I hope to be that person for many others. 

Hugs and happy day,

Jan