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In Books, Nurture, Personal Growth, Speaking, Writing

Trying and Failing

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I released Post Civ into the world this month. I’m incredibly proud of this novel, as it’s the book of my heart, the one I longed to write but would’ve been too afraid to attempt before this point in my life.

It’s the second book I indie-published under my new company imprint Ruby Finch Books. I took everything I learned from publishing my YA novel, Jamesy Harper’s Big Break, and applied it to Post Civ, which made the whole process seem easier and smoother the second time around.

Except for the launch events. With Jamesy Harper, I created a discussion around identity and the big dreams many of us have for our lives when we are young, as these themes are in the novel. I had a presentation ready, and I felt both nervous and excited to try it at libraries and schools.

But no one came. My writing and wellness classes at libraries were well attended, but I had no one show up for any of the discussion events for the book. I wasn’t exactly sure why these hour-long discussions didn’t draw any readers, but after the launch events last fall I put it out of my mind and started to focus on the long process of publishing Post Civ.

When I began planning for Post Civ’s launch, I remembered that no one came to the Jamesy discussions. I even looked back at my end of the year review that I did for Ruby Finch Books, where I wrote, “I tried to build a discussion event for Jamesy Harper, to appeal to readers who might not be interested in attending my writing classes, but it didn’t seem to work for some reason.”

My intuition was telling me that I should focus on what was working well and choose not to pursue more reader events. But I ignored this for Post Civ, thinking that the themes of climate and equity in this adult novel might draw more people who would be interested in discussing these topics together.

So I created a no-tech discussion, to mimic the way the characters in the post-apocalyptic book sit around the campfire and talk together. I told libraries about the discussion and booked a few of them.

You might be able to guess where this is going. No one came (except my lovely friend and editor which was kind of her, and we had a catch-up visit during the hour allotted for the Post Civ discussion).

I wasn’t particularly bothered by how these discussions failed. Most authors, at one point or another in their career, struggle to draw a crowd. I’ve never been interested in book readings or signings, which is why I thought I’d try something more inclusive, where the themes in the book are only a springboard for discussion about key issues that might interest a lot of people.

I try not to take this personally. In life, we try a lot of different things, and many of those things will fail. What bothers me is that I didn’t listen to my own intuition. But I’m working on speaking more gently to myself, as part of offering nurture and care to me instead of just to other people. The key is to hold loosely and not to expect too much, of myself or of others.

I have a few more of these events scheduled in November. Maybe they will work, and maybe they won’t. I figure I’ll show up, and whatever happens was meant to happen. I’ll listen closer to my intuition when I’m planning for future books and releases and events. Things will continue to change. And trying and failing is all part of succeeding.

In Books, Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, Speaking

Emotion Tunnels

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I first learned the phrase “emotion tunnels” from the book Burnout by Emily Nagoski and Amelia Nagoski. In the book, they explain that our emotions are tunnels and we must move all the way through them. When we get stuck in the middle of a feeling, because we are scared or anxious or try to numb it or distract ourselves from it, the emotion fails to complete and we get stuck, which leads to emotional exhaustion.

This simple and brilliant definition made so much sense to me. But over time, we forget helpful things like this (or at least I do). Thankfully, my Burnout presentation (loosely based on the Nagoski sisters’ amazing work) got booked for an Alberta teachers’ conference this month, and when I reviewed my slides I realised that I hadn’t been completing some emotion tunnels.

One morning a few weeks ago, I was partway through eating my bowl of Shreddies, when I felt an overwhelming tidal wave of grief. I counteracted this experience with my usual defences: focusing harder on the novel I was reading to ward off any sad feelings, logically approaching the situation by saying to myself, “There’s no reason why I should feel teary right now,” and attempting to ignore it.

An image rose up in my mind of a tunnel, the photo I use in my presentation, and I placed my cereal spoon into my bowl, laid my head down on my kitchen table and WEPT. It was like a storm went through me. I shook, I cried, I grieved, I scared both of my cats.

When it was over, I raised my head and took a few long, shuddering breaths. Immediately, I felt different. Lighter. Less tense and stressed. I still didn’t know why I was suddenly overcome by sadness. But it didn’t matter. This was beyond knowing. What happened to me that morning at the table was simply feeling, and getting out of my own way to allow that particular emotion tunnel to complete the work it was trying to do.

Way later, I realised why I was grieving. But the key was to allow the emotion to have its way, in a safe space, alone in my kitchen. We live in such a cold, cerebral world, where we try to figure out our feelings and experiences rather than actually feel them. Sometimes this helps us to survive, when we are in pain, but mostly it gives us a spinning wheel inside of our soul, that’s desperate to complete.

I just listened to Rob Bell’s excellent and inspiring podcast called This Must be the Void. He echoed so many of the same things I’ve been going through, and it was lovely to imagine that this feeling instead of thinking process is actually in the air – that something cool and interesting is happening on a more collective level. He quoted a phrase from a song (I’m sorry that I can’t remember the musician!) that said, “I’m wired for the new world.” I feel like this phrase is doing something in my very bones and marrow. It resonates and rings utterly true.

In the last few weeks, I’m allowing myself a lot more freedom to complete my emotion tunnels instead of blocking them or attempting to understand them. The understanding comes later. First, there’s a lot to feel, and that feeling happens in the body, not in the mind. What a ride it’s been. I feel utterly changed by this process.

What emotion tunnels do you have to complete? Are there any feelings that have come up for you that you’ve been trying to avoid? Let’s discuss!

In Books, Culture, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Introducing Ruby Finch Books!

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

It’s my great pleasure to introduce my brand new company, Ruby Finch Books! I wanted to share a little about how this venture came about, and invite you to have a look at my new website and peruse my first newsletter over at Substack (and please sign up to receive it monthly if you are interested in updates on new book launches, classes, creative retreats, cat pics, and other joyful things!).

About halfway through my 2 year graduate degree in Creative Writing, in the summer of 2022, I realised that somewhere along the educational road I’d lost my belief in myself. Writing is a competitive process, in that so many people are talented and accomplished, and I’d been trying to find a literary agent for my contemporary YA novel for about 18 months with no success. I also queried a number of small publishers, who also said no. I had lots of manuscript requests, and kind feedback, and moments of great hope, but at the end of it all, I couldn’t find someone in traditional publishing willing to rep me or publish my book.

I worked with a counsellor for about six months during this period of rock-bottom confidence, and I asked her, “How do I feel successful as a writer?” She answered, “You get to determine for yourself what success looks like, and then you prove your own abilities to yourself.” This was a revelation to me.

As I was thinking my way through this big idea, I had lunch with one of my undergrad writing profs who has mentored me for the last two decades. When I talked with him about my sadness and disillusionment over not finding a traditional publishing contract for my book, he said, “But Julianne, you can publish it yourself.” I remember how my heart starting pounding in my chest, so loud I could hear it in my ears, and the embarrassed feeling of failure I’d been carrying around began to fall from my shoulders.

So often we just need someone else who believes in us to speak up. To remind us that we don’t have to wait forever for approval from some outside source. We are allowed to give it to ourselves. At that moment, I felt like I was standing in the bottom of a well, but when I looked up, I could see daylight. So I started to move toward it.

I wrote in a journal that a friend gave me for my fiftieth birthday in December, pouring all my dreams and ideas for an indie publishing imprint onto its blank pages. I dreamed up a business name, and a plan, and a philosophy for marketing and launching that focused on public libraries and schools. I wrote down names of good friends who were incredibly talented artists, editors, facilitators, sales people, and writers. I created a team of people I adore and want to work with.

Then a miracle happened: I started to love writing again. I wrote my thesis novel last summer in this healthier frame of mind, and I fell in love with the world that was being built on the page. I went back to the themes I longed to explore and why I wanted to write the book in the first place. I felt so grateful to my UBC supervisor who urged me to write the book I longed to write, and not to worry about workshopping it or getting a grade for it. Slowly, I started to understand what my counsellor meant by determining success for myself and then proving my own abilities.

I graduated from UBC in late May, on a gorgeous sunny day. I felt proud of the hard work I put into my MFA, but I think I was even prouder of my Ruby Finch Books business license when it arrived in the mail. I framed it and put it above my desk. It means so much to me to launch this venture. To teach writing classes that also focus on wellness and mental health. To craft book launch events that inspire and create meaning for participants. To share my writing and believe that there’s an audience out there of readers, librarians, and teachers who value some of the same things I do: risk-taking, simplicity, emotional honesty, intuitive courage, and fun.

I’d be honoured for you to come along with me on this new path. Have a look at the website, subscribe to the Substack monthly newsletter, find us on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. I’d love to build this exciting adventure with you. Reach out, get in touch, ask questions, give me a “hell yeah I’ll read your work.” So often we need someone else who believes in us to speak up. Let’s do this for each other.

Thank you, friends and readers, from the bottom of my heart. I need you, and I’m so grateful for your time, interest, and care.

In Books, Identity, Nurture, Personal Growth, Speaking, Uncategorized, University, Writing

3 Words for 2023

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

Every year, I choose 3 words to focus on. Last year, I picked Process, not Product, and it was fun to learn to live into the concept of enjoying writing and teaching for the act itself, not for the end product of completing the project. Slowly but surely, my mindset changed over the course of twelve months.

This year, I chose Bank on Yourself. The phrase itself came from a new friend in my MFA program who took the time to write me a letter when I felt discouraged after one of my workshops. She said, “You know who you are and what it is you want to say. Your writing is beautiful. Bank on yourself.” What a precious gift of encouragement she gave to me that day, and beyond, for I’ve thought of her words often.

For quite awhile now, I’ve been trying to build up my own sense of competency. I worked with two different counsellors on this, and like all personal growth, I felt like I was floundering until one day I wasn’t. One day, I came to my feet, and found that I was once again standing on firm ground.

I could look back and prove to myself just how far I’ve come. That evidence helped me believe in myself again. For too long, I’d had so many other voices in my ear. Voices saying, “Not quite good enough” or “No one wants to read your work” or “You aren’t qualified to teach this or say this.” But it turns out I am qualified. I am good enough. And I’ve connected with a number of people who have kindly told me they do want to read what I’m writing.

That moment when a new puzzle piece of understanding clicks into place is a sensual experience. It involves all of the senses, making us feel like we are wide awake instead of half asleep. Suddenly, we can see new possibilities that were invisible to us before. It’s magic. For me, it never gets old or boring. It’s fresh and exciting every single time it happens.

In 2023, I’m graduating with my MFA in Creative Writing. I returned to university in 2017, hoping to graduate with my BA in ten years, so I could finish what I started thirty-two years ago. Instead of a decade, it took me 6 years to complete two degrees, and somewhere along the way I discovered a new dream of teaching young writers at the undergrad level. I’m so close now. And my publishing dreams are shifting and changing and taking on new and thrilling proportions.

I’m banking on myself, and it feels fucking amazing. I turned 50, and decided to stop waiting around. The time is now to step up and do all the things we’ve always wanted to do.

What are your three words for 2023?

In Books, Identity, Movies/TV, Nurture, Personal Growth, Relationships, University, Writing

Recalibrate

Author Julianne HarveyPosted on

I’m working with a new counsellor, and she has me focusing on a new word this summer: recalibrate. Making adjustments to my routine or process is not always easy for me. I thrive in predictability, but looking at my plans and goals with the lens of recalibration (or making small, fine-tuning changes) has really opened up fresh possibilities for me.

I survived my first year of full-time grad school in the Creative Writing MFA program at UBC. It was busy, packed with more homework and writing deadlines than I’ve ever had before, but I made it to the other side. I learned a lot about myself as a writer. I met so many interesting and talented people. Over the second semester, I went through a crisis of confidence in my own abilities, unsure if my creative instincts and intuition could be trusted and relied on.

A few weeks off was what I needed to recalibrate and regain my perspective outside of the demands of full-time classwork and TA responsibilities. I took that time off in April, and found myself coming back to life again, the way a plant does with healthy doses of sunlight and water. I read, slept in, walked in nature, meditated, got back to my yoga practice, wrote in my journal, stretched, and watched some great TV (Search Party, Our Flag Means Death, Julia, the final episodes of Ozark, just to name a few).

Now I feel ready to embark on my thesis, a post-apocalyptic cli-fi novel I’ve been thinking about since my third year of undergrad. This story and these characters have been germinating in my mind and soul for more than eighteen months. I’m so excited to start writing and see where it all takes me.

I worried at various points over my first year of grad school that I wouldn’t be up to the task of writing a thesis over a four-month period, but I’ve come to realize that I can do things I didn’t think I could do. I’ve proved that to myself by going back to university in my mid-forties, and deciding to be a professor of Creative Writing after graduating with my MFA. It’s all in motion. I just needed some time to catch up to myself and what I’ve learned.

So now I start writing. I’m determined to hold loosely, to enjoy the process instead of focusing only on the finished product, and to cherish no outcomes. As writer Jami Attenberg said, “The safest place is inside the work.” And to quote Steven Spielberg, “The work that I’m proudest of is the work I’m most afraid of.” I’m going to hold both of these ideas close as I get down to work, taking care of myself by recalibrating my own expectations and shoring up my own confidence in a variety of ways.