Hope and grief

My perpetual creative cycle, at least as of late

Hi, friends! I’m back!

No, this is not an April Fool’s joke, but I do want to be upfront: I won’t be resuming my biweekly schedule. I fear that would be biting off more than I can chew and will only lead to burnout, causing me to have to pull back again. I also won’t be unpausing paying subscriptions yet. For the foreseeable future, I plan to post monthly. If that seems sustainable I may turn paying subs back on and/or bump up to posting every other week. But for now, once a month is the goal.

My last newsletter dropped in November of 2024. A lot has changed since then (*gestures at… everything*) and also, on a personal career level, not much has changed at all.

I don’t have any fancy book news to share. My career has not turned a corner. I still haven’t sold anything and there is nothing contracted on the horizon.

However, I am continuing to write. Two things, I might add. Simultaneously! One is a YA novel I’m co-writing with a friend; I’ll code name it CITY. The other is an adult book I’m currently calling CABIN. They are wildly different stories but both very much Erin books in their own unique ways.

I’m excited about these projects, and I’m also feeling hopeful. Hope isn’t something I’ve felt regarding my career in awhile, so this is a welcome sensation.

As hopeful as I am, I’ve also been here before—giddy with anticipation and optimism. I honestly and truly thought that my previous manuscript would be my next published novel, and instead it died on sub.

I should have been more prepared for this outcome. I’ve hit a lot of rejection over the past few years and I know just how competitive and tricky the market is right now. Even though I tried to set reasonable expectations for myself, I was devastated by the outcome of my most recent project. Having your book not find a home will always, ALWAYS hurt like hell.

Once I realized that my book was not going to secure a trad deal, I was numb. When this book first went on sub, I texted a friend and said “If this one doesn’t sell, I honestly don’t know what I’ll do.”¹ I believed in that book SO MUCH, friends, and I really thought it stood a chance. Plus, I’d already faced so much rejection that I truly wasn’t sure I could handle another—emotionally or mentally. So when the worst came to pass…. well, the whole experience sent me into a dark place. I was very “woe is me.” I felt defeated. I grieved. I had other book ideas on the back burner but I couldn’t even bring myself to work on them for a period of time. I was empty. Burned out. Completely drained.

But as has happened multiple times in my career, those other book ideas began to whisper to me—first quietly, then loudly. Eventually they demanded to be written. I brainstormed, plotted, drafted. I jumped back into the query trenches (again). I drafted some more. I secured new representation. I kept writing.

And here I am, finally beginning to feel excited and hopeful.

I’m realizing that this grief → hope cycle is part of my creative process. I need to grieve the setbacks and disappointments before I move on. I know some writers heal by writing the next thing immediately. I’m starting to learn that I might not be that person.

Or, let me rephrase. I was/am that person when I hit an initial roadblock. But when I hit four, five, six roadblocks in a row, as I have recently? That level of disappointment compounds, and I can now confidently say that when I’m in this deep, I need to step away to process it. I need to grieve it. I need to heal.

Would I love to skip this step? Absolutely. It’s a bummer of a state to be in, and I’m happy to be beyond it today. If/when I experience some wins, maybe my grief → hope cycle will revert to its speedier timetable. I sure wouldn’t mind that!

But right now, I’m just trying to acknowledge that I’m navigating a tricky season, and I need what I need. Simple as that. In this most recent case, I needed to sit with my setbacks, the disappointment, the negative feelings, and process it all. When I was in the thick of the sorrow and grief, it felt like it would last forever. But it didn’t. It never has. Not once, in all the times I’ve been gone to that low point during my career. The itch to write always resurfaces, and before I realize what’s hit me, I can’t keep myself away from the keyboard.

It’s always such a relief.

Highs and lows. Grief and hope. My perpetual creative cycle.

If you are in one of those low points now—if you’re struggling to hear your characters or find your story or envision a way back to loving writing—I see you. If you are feeling hopeless about the state of your career, the state of publishing, the state of… well, the world, I see you.

And on that note, I want to acknowledge that these are truly uncertain times. It’s scary, unsettling, and everywhere I look, things seem to be burning. Writing can feel almost silly in the face of it all. But I would argue that writing is more important now than ever.² Writing is how we push back, or imagine a better world, or escape for a few hours, or find joy amid darkness. It’s all of the above, and no one gets to take that from you.

Until next time,

Erin Bowman is the critically acclaimed author of numerous books for children and teens, including the Taken Trilogy, Vengeance Road, Retribution Rails, the Edgar Award-nominated Contagion duology, The Girl and the Witch’s Garden, and Dustborn. A web designer turned author, Erin has always been invested in telling stories—both visually and with words. Erin lives in New Hampshire with her husband and children.

1. Oof. Brutal right?

2. Equally important is calling your reps and making your voice heard. If you are unhappy with how things are unfolding, please don’t forget this simple but crucial step. I recommend using 5Calls to eliminate friction.