Jen Rubin's Blog
January 30, 2019
Clearing those Writing Hurdles to Publication
Clearing those Writing Hurdles to Publication
In 2012 I was unexpectedly laid off from my job. I had been kicking a book idea around in my head for years and decided to use this sudden unemployment as the push I needed to start writing it. I figured I would find some part-time work, research for 3 months, write for 9 months and then by the end of the year I would have some semblance of a book. Instead I embarked on a six-year exercise in self-doubt, picking up and putting down the book multiple times.
My book idea was to write a small business memoir. More specifically, to write a memoir of my family’s business – Radio Clinic. My immigrant grandfather, who ran for his life from Russia in 1919, opened up a small radio repair shop in 1934 on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. To draw the attention of the neighborhood he sat in the storefront window in a doctor’s smock, fixing sick radios. For the next eighty years Radio Clinic anchored the block until – as with small businesses in communities across the country – it could no longer withstand the economic forces that hammer small businesses out of existence. I have long been incredulous that small businesses are not considered enough in the public interest that they are meaningfully supported with policy. By telling the story of Radio Clinic I wanted to remind readers that small businesses are important to their communities and that their viability is ignored to our collective detriment. Essentially I wanted to answer the question of what exactly does a neighborhood lose when it loses a long standing business.
From 2012, when I started writing We Are Staying, until I published it in 2018, I had four hurdles to clear.
First: Was there enough material in my story to be a book? I quickly realized I had more anecdotes than I could fit in the book. My grandfather repaired radios for free for the wives of neighborhood men fighting in WWII, he was a foot soldier in the Cold War gathering information on Russians for the FBI from the store, and my dad was renowned for optimistically hung up a 'we are staying' sign in the window the day after the store was destroyed during the 1977 blackout and looting. The historical context for these stories included the Depression, WWII, suburbanization, urban renewal, economic decline and the early years of gentrification. I had more than enough material for a book. First hurdle cleared.
Second: Am I a good enough writer to keep reader’s interest for roughly 80,000 words? I know I am a good storyteller. I co-produce the Moth StorySlam in Madison, have told stories on stages around the country and teach storytelling workshops. But I quickly realized that is not the same thing as writing a full book. Taking full advantage of the UW Continuing Education writing programs – first the online writing class and then Write by the Lake – helped me get my writing to the level I wanted. Second hurdle cleared.
Third: Do I have the perseverance to stick with the writing and re-writing over 4 drafts – each one taking a slightly different approach to the book? The main part of the title was always clear to me. We Are Staying. But the subtitle took me awhile to figure out. Was it 80 years in the Life of a Neighborhood, a Family, and a Store? Or was it 80 years in the Life of a Store, a Neighborhood, and a Family? It took me awhile to figure out where I was dropping the needle. But it clear to me that each draft was better than the one before it – and I stuck with it until I was content with the final draft. Third hurdle cleared.
Fourth: Can I get it published?I knew I had a story to tell, but had a hard time convincing others of that fact.The first round of rejections from publishers and literary agents derailed me for about a year. I tend to believe complete strangers when they tell me something I have done, or created, isn’t any good. Two years later, my second round of rejections made me angry. By this time, I felt confident that my book was worth publishing. I had done my due diligence researching the literary agents interested in this genre of book, but they had all said no.
By 2017, I started to feel like the clock ticking. My dad was 82. He was a big part of this project; we had plans to do book talks together, but first I needed to publish it. I am usually more comfortable not pursuing ambitious goals than trying and failing. I am more comfortable championing other people’s projects than my own. And as a result, I have under-achieved professionally. But over the past six years, I’ve been reminded of the lessons from my grandfather and father. I am the granddaughter of a man who used all of his savings, took a leap of faith, and opened Radio Clinic during the Great Depression. And I am the daughter of a man who declared, We Are Staying, and against a lot of odds, made those three words come true. Surely I could do this far simpler and much less risky thing. It occurred to me there could be a publishing company that didn’t care that I was an unknown author without a large social media platform—my own. I created Carb House, my own tiny press. I hired an editor and cover designer and published this book. I think of myself as more of a problem identifier than a problem solver, so I am inordinately pleased with myself for solving this problem—and seeing this book to fruition.
In 2012 I was unexpectedly laid off from my job. I had been kicking a book idea around in my head for years and decided to use this sudden unemployment as the push I needed to start writing it. I figured I would find some part-time work, research for 3 months, write for 9 months and then by the end of the year I would have some semblance of a book. Instead I embarked on a six-year exercise in self-doubt, picking up and putting down the book multiple times.
My book idea was to write a small business memoir. More specifically, to write a memoir of my family’s business – Radio Clinic. My immigrant grandfather, who ran for his life from Russia in 1919, opened up a small radio repair shop in 1934 on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. To draw the attention of the neighborhood he sat in the storefront window in a doctor’s smock, fixing sick radios. For the next eighty years Radio Clinic anchored the block until – as with small businesses in communities across the country – it could no longer withstand the economic forces that hammer small businesses out of existence. I have long been incredulous that small businesses are not considered enough in the public interest that they are meaningfully supported with policy. By telling the story of Radio Clinic I wanted to remind readers that small businesses are important to their communities and that their viability is ignored to our collective detriment. Essentially I wanted to answer the question of what exactly does a neighborhood lose when it loses a long standing business.
From 2012, when I started writing We Are Staying, until I published it in 2018, I had four hurdles to clear.
First: Was there enough material in my story to be a book? I quickly realized I had more anecdotes than I could fit in the book. My grandfather repaired radios for free for the wives of neighborhood men fighting in WWII, he was a foot soldier in the Cold War gathering information on Russians for the FBI from the store, and my dad was renowned for optimistically hung up a 'we are staying' sign in the window the day after the store was destroyed during the 1977 blackout and looting. The historical context for these stories included the Depression, WWII, suburbanization, urban renewal, economic decline and the early years of gentrification. I had more than enough material for a book. First hurdle cleared.
Second: Am I a good enough writer to keep reader’s interest for roughly 80,000 words? I know I am a good storyteller. I co-produce the Moth StorySlam in Madison, have told stories on stages around the country and teach storytelling workshops. But I quickly realized that is not the same thing as writing a full book. Taking full advantage of the UW Continuing Education writing programs – first the online writing class and then Write by the Lake – helped me get my writing to the level I wanted. Second hurdle cleared.
Third: Do I have the perseverance to stick with the writing and re-writing over 4 drafts – each one taking a slightly different approach to the book? The main part of the title was always clear to me. We Are Staying. But the subtitle took me awhile to figure out. Was it 80 years in the Life of a Neighborhood, a Family, and a Store? Or was it 80 years in the Life of a Store, a Neighborhood, and a Family? It took me awhile to figure out where I was dropping the needle. But it clear to me that each draft was better than the one before it – and I stuck with it until I was content with the final draft. Third hurdle cleared.
Fourth: Can I get it published?I knew I had a story to tell, but had a hard time convincing others of that fact.The first round of rejections from publishers and literary agents derailed me for about a year. I tend to believe complete strangers when they tell me something I have done, or created, isn’t any good. Two years later, my second round of rejections made me angry. By this time, I felt confident that my book was worth publishing. I had done my due diligence researching the literary agents interested in this genre of book, but they had all said no.
By 2017, I started to feel like the clock ticking. My dad was 82. He was a big part of this project; we had plans to do book talks together, but first I needed to publish it. I am usually more comfortable not pursuing ambitious goals than trying and failing. I am more comfortable championing other people’s projects than my own. And as a result, I have under-achieved professionally. But over the past six years, I’ve been reminded of the lessons from my grandfather and father. I am the granddaughter of a man who used all of his savings, took a leap of faith, and opened Radio Clinic during the Great Depression. And I am the daughter of a man who declared, We Are Staying, and against a lot of odds, made those three words come true. Surely I could do this far simpler and much less risky thing. It occurred to me there could be a publishing company that didn’t care that I was an unknown author without a large social media platform—my own. I created Carb House, my own tiny press. I hired an editor and cover designer and published this book. I think of myself as more of a problem identifier than a problem solver, so I am inordinately pleased with myself for solving this problem—and seeing this book to fruition.
