‘Working Title’
I want to be an author so freakin’ bad.
I started writing a book a little over a year ago. I have never written a book before, but it has been something I have always had on my bucket list. Unfortunately, I don’t know the first thing about what it takes to become an author.
How long should your first novel be?
What kinds of stories are publishers looking for?
If you have no connections to the publishing world, how does the everyman get published?
And that is just the logistical side of this mammoth task. First things first. You actually have to write a whole book.
So why the heck do I want to do this you may ask? Well, I have a story I want to tell. A love story about people who grew up on opposites of the world. One was a young girl in America watching the Twin Towers fall in her seventh grade Social Studies class on live TV. The other a slightly older boy hearing that “Muslim radicalists” were attacking America from his home in Amman, Jordan. The story is about crossing cultural lines to find that your soul mate could end up being the least person you would expect it to be. Together the protagonists battle political obstacles and racism all while learning what it means to fall in love.
So far, I have only squeaked out six chapters of this novel. Looking back, I thought I would have been farther along, so I dove deeper into why I haven’t given this project more of my time.
Deep down I am afraid.
First of all, I am not a real writer, in the sense that I have no degree in literature and no previous writing experience. Hell, I haven’t even picked up a copy of Jane Austin. If you asked me to name some of my favorite authors I couldn’t do it, though I love reading and could prattle off at least ten titles to my favorite books.
Secondly, the imposter syndrome I feel is palpable. Even though I have no credentials and truly have no business sending my thrown together manuscript to editors, I still want to. I don’t want to self-publish. I want a publisher to read my writing and choose to publish my rough draft. I have the audacity to ask for that kind of validation. Perhaps this is the product of my cushy American upbringing, believing that I deserve things that I didn’t earn.
I understand that six chapters is not enough to capture an editor's interest and I just recently realized how incredibly costly it is to hire an editor to even read your work. Yes, I am delusional in thinking that I can write a best-selling novel with no experience, no education and no money.
And still, none of that deters me.
I am plowing ahead, rather blindly, throwing proverbial pasta at the wall to see what sticks. Why, may you ask? Maybe because I am a privileged white woman in America, and I think the world needs to be subjected to my novice and albeit mediocre writing abilities.
Or maybe because there is something pulling at me from deep inside. I hear this call to put pen to paper and expose myself in written form. I want to share with people in a way that my stunted social prowess has not allowed me to do in person. When I finish writing a piece such as this one, I feel not only a sense of pride but a feeling of freedom. Writing has unlocked the door to my normally closed off personality and from even the small following I have here on Medium, has connected me with my peers.
I don’t know the first thing about what it takes to become an author.
But I will be damned if I let that stop me from introducing myself to publishers like Random House as:
Salma Foudeh, Author of ‘Working Title’
