2026: 1, Ashanti: 0

This year has kicked my butt already. Is that even possible?

As I reflect on my journey, I realize I've gone 30 grueling rounds with this year, and at this moment, I am down for the count, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in my bones.

A few months ago, I took a significant step in my writing journey by inviting beta-readers to dive into my memoir after finally completing my first draft. Honestly, it was a pretty liberating moment to have crafted something that felt, at least almost, whole. The satisfaction of seeing my thoughts laid out across hundreds of pages was a big milestone.

The feedback began rolling in quite rapidly from various sources, and I was met with a mix of responses. Most of the comments were really positive, while others provided constructive criticism; I was deeply grateful for both.

Initially, my plan was straightforward: I would self-publish my memoir simply to share it with the world. After all, it was never about making money or becoming a famous author; my goal was just to tell my story.

However, a surprising number of readers suggested that this memoir could be worthy of traditional publication. This encouragement led me to begin to toy with the idea of seeking out a literary agent. The thought was both exciting and terrifying.

First Reply

A friend in the industry warned me: even the best authors of our time got rejected by agents for years. I understood that clearly being not one of the best authors of our time, I should therefore expect lots of rejection.

That's fine, I concluded.

I would treat it without emotion. Detach myself from the whole process. Just ship out my draft extracts to agents with no strings attached. I wouldn't fear rejection, I would expect it. Like applying for a job.

However, just like applying for a job, there is always that tiny part of us - at least for me - that clings to a glimmer of hope, believing against all odds, we will land the opportunity of a lifetime first time. It’s the same part of me that starts to dream about how I would spend my lottery winnings, even though I only buy a ticket once a year. So when I received my first response from an agent, I was utterly floored.

Ouch.

Well... there's no skirting around that one, is there?

Disappointment (and embarrassment) overwhelmed me. I wondered if I left the house that day whether a neon light would appear above my head to say 'failed writer'.

My friend reassured me, saying, "It's actually a good thing that they even replied to say no; that's a compliment."

I tried to take those words to heart, but the sting of rejection lingered.

Suddenly, the prospect of spending a year sending my book to agents and facing a barrage of rejections felt daunting, even unachievable. After all, a huge part of my memoir revolves around my battle with perfectionism, people-pleasing and the inevitable rejection that accompanies both.

The irony of this situation was not lost on me, as I grappled with the very issues I sought to explore in my writing.

Moving Forward, Embarrassment And All

Ultimately, my conclusion so far is that being able to be embarrassed is a superpower. It's a skill that I want.

As a child I may have felt that the balance of my world rested on being perfect.

Now, I know thats not the case.

So, the first agent thinks my book is crap. (Okay, maybe thats an exaggeration) but honestly, that's okay.

Lot's of things I do are below average, I mean honestly I can't bake for my life as one example. And if you got the chance to witness me try to learn to skateboard last year, then you are a lucky sod.

But keeping going, imperfections in tow is way more inspiring then not trying from fear of being embarrassing.

The takeaway?

If you can be anything, you might as well be an embarrassing. It probably means your trying something new, and not taking life so seriously.

If you enjoy reading my blogs, please sign up to my mailing list and have a read through the free excerpt of my memoir-in-progress. New blogs will be updated... at some point.

Have a great week ❤️