Monday Moments: Seeing Things Differently
Introduced By Amber Hall
Our theme this month, which also happens to be the last month of 2024, continues to be ‘Difference’. As December rolls around, I start to reflect on the year that’s passed and think about what I might want for the year ahead.
Admittedly, I find that the end of the year brings with it a lot of anxiety, but I don’t think this is unusual. In December we’re reminded of time’s passing so acutely that it’s difficult not to feel something. This month can be challenging for many people, for all kinds of reasons, and I’d encourage each of us to be kinder to ourselves and one another over the next few weeks.
For my page, I wanted to think about how we might reflect differently on the past 12 months. Can we look at our perceived ‘failures’ as part of our journey – as something integral to our growth? As writers, we’re often faced with setbacks and obstacles, and it’s important that we view these things differently if we’re to continue to write at all. The following pieces are full of honesty, offering insight that I hope will inspire as the year draws to a close.
However you choose to spend the rest of 2024, I hope you spend it well. Thank you to everyone that’s contributed to my page this year, and to those of you who have read Monday Moments each month. It’s a pleasure to curate this page, and I wish everyone in the Pen to Print community and beyond a very happy holiday season.
First, we have a prose piece by Jilly Henderson-Long, who shows us that perseverance and passion can make magic happen.
Long Journey To The Rainbow
Back in 1990, I wrote a book for children. This was nothing unusual. I’d been writing books since I was 12 years old. But I particularly liked this one, so I showed it to an aunt who’d always encouraged me. Her response? “Jilly, this is the best thing you have ever written!” So, what did I do with it? Absolutely nothing. That first draft (written in longhand) went into a folder and was forgotten as I pursued my relentless journey in search of writing success.
Many years later, I had my first children’s book published, swiftly followed by two more, alongside numerous self-published poetry books. During that time, I moved half a dozen times, got married, lost a lot of family, friends and pets, even almost gave up out of pure frustration. Then, about a year ago, following the latest house-move, I came across that 1990 children’s book again. I read it, remembered my aunt’s enthusiastic words and decided to do something with it. I rewrote it, ‘lap-topped’ it and began to look for either an agent to handle it, or a publisher who would see its potential.
I contacted a dozen agents and twice that many publishers about my book. Many of these were found through the WAYB (Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook), which I went through with a fine-tooth comb, always making the correct approach and ensuring I followed each company’s criteria. A couple of agents read the synopsis and asked for sample chapters, only to tell me that it just wasn’t quite right.
What about a publisher? No. Most didn’t even answer my query email. When it was turned down for the umpteenth time, I decided to self-publish. I got quotes from printers, found one who had already printed children’s books for local writers, and I even looked into getting an ISBN number for it. Then a miracle happened. I got chatting via LinkedIn to an agent. Initially, we were only exchanging humorous anecdotes about typewriters and laptops. Eventually, she asked me what I was working on. I told her. She asked to see the synopsis and opening chapters. I emailed them to her. She liked them and asked to see the rest of it. She then said she felt the book had promise but needed some work. That was a couple of months ago and I’ve just sent edit number three of my beautiful book over to her, so fingers crossed.
Even if it remains unpublished, I’ll be forever grateful to this agent for teaching me how to write even better! If she does find a publisher for it, wouldn’t that be a fitting conclusion to my search for the publishing rainbow? It would just go to prove how important it is to never give up. And to always follow that dream, no matter how impossible it may seem. Rainbows can have pots of gold at either end, after all!
© Jilly Henderson-Long, 2024
Connect with Jilly on X: @Jilly52144833.
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Next, Palak Tewary writes about her inspiring self-publishing journey.
Reflections On Poetic Beginnings
The journey of launching my poetry collections has been nothing short of a rollercoaster – an invigorating mix of frustrations and delights. For over 20 years, verses and words have danced around in a quiet corner of my mind, often spilling onto my blog to encapsulate the complex weave of human emotions, thoughts and experiences. Yet it wasn’t until lockdown I finally committed to the passion I’d long relegated to the backburner and spent time learning, understanding and creating.
The initial obstacle was choosing a publishing route. Traditional publishing promised professional support and wider reach, but it felt like navigating a maze of uncertainty, with the looming threat of rejection from literary agents. Self-publishing, on the other hand, offered creative control but required me to shoulder the entire burden of marketing and distribution. I immersed myself in articles, blogs, courses and videos, trying to make sense of it all.
Ultimately, I chose self-publishing; a decision rooted in my desire to go to print quickly, preserve my artistic vision and connect directly with readers. But this wasn’t without its challenges. Formatting manuscripts, designing a cover and mastering online publishing platforms felt like learning a new language. As I wrestled with the mechanics, days blurred into weeks, but each small win urged me on.
Amid the struggles, there were moments of pure magic and seeing my book cover come to life was thrilling. As someone who loves design, I thoroughly enjoyed experimenting with different concepts. When I finally held the finished book in my hands, no words can capture the sense of fulfilment I felt.
Marketing, however, was a new frontier. I quickly learned the value of building a community and stepping out of my comfort zone. A pivotal moment came during a book fair organised by Pen to Print. Engaging with readers for the first time was transformative. Watching them connect with my words, hearing them share how the poems resonated, or seeing them return with friends to buy my book was sheer joy.
These interactions gave me the confidence and encouragement to embrace the ‘selling’ side of publishing. I realised that, to find my readers, I needed to put my words out there and talk about them. It’s an ongoing journey and, while there are times when I can’t devote much attention to marketing, I know I have to keep going back to it.
The accomplishment of seeing my words in print spurred me on the publish my second collection and start working on a mix of non-fiction, fiction and my third collection of poems.
Reflecting on this journey fills me with gratitude. The frustrations have taught me resilience and patience, while the joys of sharing my work have ignited my passion for words even further. Each publication I release is not just a book, but a chapter in my ongoing story: a testament to the power of words to heal, connect and inspire.
© Palak Tewary, 2024
Find out more about Palak’s work on her website: palaktewary.com, and connect with her on Instagram and X: @palaktewary.
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Next, our Thoughtful Tuesdays editor Eithne Cullen shares this poem, which serves as a reminder that our words, however offhand they may seem, hold weight and power. We must use them wisely.
So Easy
A hurtful word, a sneer:
so easy.
Some witty words,
some gibes
and
then
words came.
Hand hovered before…
before she pressed send,
a moment’s hesitation,
not enough;
should have thought
of her teacher’s words:
“No such thing as banter.”
But too late.
In one swift click
she drove a wedge
between them;
broke down the wall
that bound them together;
loosened the cement
of family life –
regretted instantly,
but it was too late.
© Eithne Cullen, 2017
Connect with Eithne on Instagram: @eithnecullen57 and X: @eithne_cullen.
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Since it’s the season of togetherness, I wanted to share this poem by Carolyn Oulton, because it struck me as a perfect reflection of true connection and the importance of the bonds we share.
On The Last Night Late
I learned this week that tears
are an exit plan,
throwing cortisol
from the top of the body.
If you laugh while you’re crying,
there’s a risk (presumably)
of stuffing your mouth
with these feather weights of stress.
Eleven p.m. Eyes spiked
like wet umbrellas, suddenly,
I’m laughing and
your skin is rough with sobs.
© Carolyn Oulton, 2024
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Finally, I wanted to tell you about a new project I’m involved in with the Working Class Collective, our sponsors for Issue 22 of Write On! – Wish We Were Here is the latest project put together by the Collective, which comes from the stories we received for Working Class Fantastic Spaces. We’ll be archiving these stories as postcards, featuring original artwork and storytelling. But we need your support to do it! You can buy a set of postcards via Kickstarter and, if you’re feeling really generous, you can donate to the project here, too. Show some love and solidarity this festive season! More information can be found here: www.kickstarter.com/projects/lockdowndiaries/wish-we-were-here-working-class-fantastic-places
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Issue 22 is available to read online here, you can also find it in libraries and other outlets. Read previous editions of our magazines here.
You can hear great new ideas, creative work and writing tips on Write On! Audio. Find us on all major podcast platforms, including Apple and Google Podcasts and Spotify. Type Pen to Print into your browser and look for our logo, or find us on Podcasters.Spotify.com.
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If you or someone you know has been affected by issues covered in our pages, please see the relevant link below for information, advice and support:
As writers, we’re often faced with setbacks and obstacles, and it’s important that we view these things differently if we’re to continue to write at all.