Being in the trenches of querying is a tough go. Feelings change by the minute.
One minute, I’m certain I’ve written something special—a middle grade story I would proudly hand to my students, something an agent, a parent, a publisher might be excited to share.
The next minute, I’m convinced it’s all rubbish. Who am I kidding?
Imposter syndrome takes its turn with me, too.
But then I remember how far I’ve come.
After my head injury, I thought the writing voice in my head had vanished. I felt lost, trying to get thoughts onto the page in a way that could make people think, feel, talk. Before, it had been so easy. I used to have more ideas than I could keep up with—scribbling, typing, racing to catch them before they disappeared.
Now, I write every day. The flow is different. Slower. But maybe deeper, too. More intentional. More grateful.
Grateful the words are still there.
Waiting for a response from an agent feels a bit like sitting outside the principal’s office. You don’t know why you’ve been called in. Maybe you’re about to be named student of the week. Maybe they found out you skipped class for grape ice cream at the Panther Pit.
You just…wait.
And the waiting carries weight, because the work carries weight.
This manuscript is more than a story to me. It marks my recovery. It says, You’re going to be okay. Look what you’ve done. Forty thousand words. A full story where once there was silence.
I’m proud of those words. Protective of them, too.
Emily Dickinson once compared sending her work out into the world to sending a child out with a dirty face. I understand that feeling. I’m no Dickinson, but there’s always a part of me that wonders if what I’ve written could be better.
So I keep revising.
And I don’t think that’s a bad thing—especially in the querying phase.
Still, there’s the quiet question that lingers: what if it’s just not good enough? What if my best doesn’t match anyone else’s idea of best?
That’s part of this process, too.
Are you in the same boat as me? Trust your words, your work, and hold on for the good word. 
In my next posts, I’ll be writing about querying too soon—about burning bridges—and about the path of self-publishing. There’s no shame in that road. But there’s still a part of me that hopes for an agent, a publisher, someone who reads my work and says:
Yes. We want you.
Until then…
Keep your heart open, your courage ready, and remember:
One small brave thing at a time.
