Pulped Fiction
A remainder notice and last-ditch sales effort
What do Banksy and I have in common?
If you said “having an important piece of work cut into scraps,” congratulations!
Two weeks ago I received this devastating email from my publisher:
Dear Mrs. McCormick
As you are aware, it is now some time since our company published your work. During that time we, as your publisher, and yourself as the author have put a great deal of hard work into your book.
Regrettably, these combined efforts have not proved to have been as successful as we had initially hoped, and we now feel that the time has come for us to remainder your work.
This will mean that all relevant areas of the trade will be informed of the discontinuation of publishing, and all rights to the work will revert back to you, the author.
Remaining stock will be pulped
My picture book, Lorelei is officially going out of print and into the waste bin.
Call me a notebook because I am spiralling.
Well… less spiralling and more stalling.
I’ve been avoiding this post, avoiding telling anyone, and staying down bad, crying at the gym.
Lorelei is (was) my most meaningful project.
It’s the 32-page piece of tangible good I’ve put into the world. It’s the thing I’m most proud of. It’s the fun fact I use in awkward corporate intros.
It’s the reason I feel confident as a writer.
And now, it’s getting shredded like a fit-fluencer before Coachella.
Like pork in a slow cooker.
Like newspaper in a birdcage.
Or some other simile that - despite my best efforts - doesn’t fill the validation void enough to convince myself that I’m good with words (am I?).
Usually, I’m my own worst critic.
Even I don’t think my book should get pulped.
Maybe I’m just being sentimental, but it’s shocking when someone finds a way to be harsher on me than I already am on myself.
In this case, it’s a whole industry.
I am doing my best to not take it personally.
That’s showbiz baby. Some things sell. Some things don’t. You’re hot or you’re not and currently, I am not.
It’s impossible to uncouple my emotions from Lorelei.
In late 2019, my career had become less creative. I was hanging out with successful, older people. I felt this push to do something important or interesting or world-changing.
Just something.
Throughout the pandemic, I obsessed over “making it” as a creative. I started this blog, took courses, and began referring to myself as a writer for the first time since high school.
I wrote badly and prolifically, but I ended up with something I thought was good.
Lorelei is about wanting to keep up.
It’s the story of a lemming constantly falling behind. It was meant to be based on my experience with chronic pain.
It was quite literally about needing to pause amid a scurry or burrow.
In hindsight, I wrote about my anxiety and the unrelenting pressure I feel to… I’m not sure what. To be better, fitter, prettier, smarter, more successful, more generous, more, more, always more.
There is a saying that I’ve come to hate: “Progress not perfection”
Progress is what keeps me moving.
It has also forced me to never stop.
To always seek progress is to never be content. It is the untouchable goalpost. The last unmoving mover (that’s a philosophy joke).
It fosters a life of constant assessment.
No no no don’t worry. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it does have to be something.
You’re doing something, aren’t you? Today is better than yesterday? Now is better than five minutes ago? This second is better than the last?
That unending desire for progress (not perfection) made this news a terrible blow.
Going out of print is a huge step backward.
It’s a stain on my otherwise upward graph.
Co-Star, the app of realty checks, called me out hard on Thursday:
This is probably true, but I genuinely don’t know how to start.
What is art if not ego? How can I put myself in my work and leave pride out of it?
Recently I joined a writer's group. I thought having my piece critiqued by peers could be helpful.
That is its own kind of ego death.
Understandably, everyone has been nervous to read. Every month we ask each other craft-based questions and avoid delving too deep into our projects.
“It’s not ready to be shared yet” Is the common refrain.
And yet we all hover around each other, waiting for the inevitable first sacrifice to test how much blood lust the group has - to see how willing we are to put ego aside.
To break the ice, someone suggested we all bring something we wrote between the ages of 12-18.
The level of fanfiction has been astounding.
But there are two main takeaways from each piece:
I thought this was good at the time, but I’m a way better writer now
I thought this would all be terrible, but there are nuggets I still like
When I try to step outside my ego, I see that Lorelei is the beginning.
The first blog post I wrote was… not good (seriously I can’t believe how many of you read this thing). It also feels so far removed from the creator I am today.
Ergo, this picture book is probably not my life’s masterpiece.
Maybe 22 years from now, I’ll read it in front of a new writer’s circle and laugh about my word choice.
Maybe.
Of course, Co-Star never relents on the mind games:
Two weeks into processing the news I’ve found some relief.
The entire journey to publication was frenzied. My publisher wasn’t very communicative. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t feel like I’d earned it. I never felt like I had enough time to promote it the way I wanted. It was all such a scramble.
And - I cannot stress this enough - I made negative money.
There is still a future for Lorelei. A future that comes on my own terms.
With the rights, I can pitch to other publishers.
I can self-publish.
I can use the remaining copies to wallpaper my house.
I can throw it at people in the street screaming “Have you read this yet? You should read this. I wrote this and I think it is pretty good and cute and has a heartwarming message”
I could post it online for free.
All of these options are, decidedly, better than it getting pulped.
To jump back into ego for a second….
There are moments - typically when I’m deep in the dishes or cleaning Gary’s litter - when it hits me how big of an accomplishment this was.
I specifically think about the copy in my elementary school library.
Little minds are reading my story. They’ve signed it out by writing their names on the tiny paper log glued on the front page. They’ve taken it home.
Loved it.
Learned from it.
And some of them might remember it when they grow up.
Even more importantly: There is a photo of me hanging in the Ottawa Catholic School Board offices as a notable alumni.
Which, more than anything else, is a major “fuck you” to my grade one teacher who thought I was lazy and bullied my mom.
If you’re reading this, get bent.
*SPOILER ALERT*
In the book, Lorelei decides not to jump off the cliff that all the other lemmings do.
She is an independent rodent who don’t need no slice (that’s what a group of lemmings is called, btw)
There is so much freedom in not needing to be with the herd. I try - and mostly fail - to remind myself that the lemmings running in my brain are imaginary.
No one is asking me to sprint as fast as I do.
No one is measuring how fast my stumpy little legs work.
No one cares if I’m always progressing.
No one will think less of me with this book off the shelves.
It’s scary to imagine a life without that kind of pressure.
To quote myself:
Being alone is a curious sensation for a lemming. With no one left to follow, how do they know what to do?
During readings, I would ask kids what they thought she did next.
My favourite answer was, “Eat some flowers”
That’s as good a plan as any.
It’s not too late to get a copy!
Buy it on Bookshop.org to help independent bookstores
Buy it on Indigo or Barnes & Noble to feed my bruised ego (I mean it’s INDIGO)
Buy it on Amazon because they’ve marked it down 55%. Woof.
Y’all did not make choosing our next book easy…
so I’m taking matters into my own hands. Our May pick will be Funny Story by Emily Henry.
I need something light right now, so the satirical horror will have to wait.
Read along on Fable!
Hanging thoughts:
What do you think I should do with my book??
Specifically asking my mom, who is secretly a genius marketer and will be employed for my next book run
How should I pay tribute to Lorelei?