Rebuilding, Reconciling, and Writing Again

In 2019, I wrote a book.

In 2019-2020, I wrote another.

In 2020-2021, I wrote another.

I was published twice with the promise of more; I had plans for a 3rd book in my series and 2 additional sci-fi books drafted.

My publisher, an indie small press, brought me on as an acquisitions editor. Within a year, I was asked to take on a lead editing role and manage a team of “volunteer” editors.

In early 2023, my concerns regarding solvency, integrity, and transparency from my publisher had grown to a head. At the start, I’d suspected that my publisher did not value the things I did, but I’d believed we could still find some professional common ground. Unfortunately, this was not the case.

I won’t detail the fallout here, but I’ll summarize it to say that by mid-2023, I had not received any royalty payments or sales reports for my two published books, nor commissions for the books I acquired and edited, despite multiple promises and claims made by the publisher. Both on a personal and professional level, my publisher had a long history of exploiting others for financial support and unpaid labor in order to maintain the business. I’d hoped for years this pattern would right itself, but I was foolish to expect that. What’s worse is that my books were removed from distribution and unavailable for sale due to these ongoing disputes.

Now in 2024, the only compensation I have ever received was my initial advance, and not a cent since, though I know my books sold relatively well.

I will say only one final note on this topic: I don’t believe it was malicious intent, but truly a lack of competency and financial literacy combined with inexperience which led to complete incapacity to care for my needs as an author and as a contractor.

It took me nearly a year to process this grief. As a mother, I can relate my books to my children in many ways: both are freely out in the world as representations of their originator, standing on their own yet attached, like little pieces of your soul that experience the world separately from you but always remain connected. To have my books ripped away from that existence was devastating. I felt (and still feel) as though I would have been better off never publishing them at all. The sense that I have to “start over” has grown consistently, feeling like an insurmountable task.

The idea of writing again felt so daunting and depressing, I couldn’t bring myself to do it at all in 2023. I felt as if I were missing out on my own birthday party, as so many of my writing colleagues and partners shared their encouragement and invited me along for “sprints” but every time I started to write, it was like reopening a wound that I refused to let heal.

Finally, I turned a corner when I had an epiphany, one afternoon in December. I’d just been asked to take on a more serious role within my church and I was hard at work on forming a Christian worship band. What’s more, I’d been asked to develop a brand for promoting inclusion and “reconciliation ministry”. For those who aren’t deeply involved in church, “reconciliation” is a blanket term (but also a sort of ‘qualification’) for churches that actively update their language/messaging and environment to be a safe and welcoming space for LGBTQ people. The belief is that the church writ large has caused great harm to LGBTQ individuals, and therefore certain churches take it upon themselves to seek healing and therefore reconcile with this wounded community.

It’s something I believe in down to my core. A few examples: in 2006 I did a 16-credit college research project on the history of homosexuality and acceptance within the Christian church. In 2018, I started a project for a faith-based LGBTQ anthology. 

All of these connections made me pause and realize: my path as a writer had not aligned at all with my personal spiritual path. My author identity and my sense of self were in conflict with one another, all along.

Digging further into this, I began to see how I had ignored red flags with my publisher that contradicted my own values. Truth be told, I should not have been surprised that our professional goals did not align when they had never demonstrated a sense of accountability or integrity among their core values. 

This helped me realize: there was nothing wrong with my choices as a writer, but I had compromised and denied myself by setting my values aside in order to gain a publishing deal. 

Putting aside our core values and identity is a dangerous tightrope, destined to fray and eventually fail. I'd done this before–of course I had. I was once a queer, homeschooled, Christian growing up in the 90s in a small town. I’d lived through culture shock when I obtained my bachelor's from a formerly-experimental liberal undergraduate college without grades or majors. After 7 years of being “out” as a lesbian I went back into the closet and enlisted in the military under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”.

I understand only too well how intensely harmful it can be to deny one's true self. Most of all, I understand how it doesn't last. Before long, pressure mounts, the facade cracks, and we are forced to reconcile our sense of belonging in the new environment we created.

My faith AND my queerness are the core of who I am. And despite messages of wayward conservative churches, my faith and my queerness live in perfect harmony, both bringing me closer to the image and intentions of my Creator.

I realized that I'd pushed my faith aside because it was not only an uncomfortable topic within publishing, but especially discouraged within certain circles. I know many LGBTQ people have religious trauma (so do I!) and avoid Christianity, but that’s no excuse for repressing an individual’s spiritual beliefs. I know firsthand there is a generous gap between avoiding an oppressive organized religion and discrimination or intolerance against a person. The latter was my unfortunate experience.

Moving into the new year with this epiphany, I've found peace, wholeness, and purpose.

My writing has changed for the better and will continue to change. I'm no longer considering any partnerships that don't align fully and completely with my vision as a Queer, Christian author. I have become content with writing for myself and pursuing projects that bring me joy. I'm also changing the themes in my writing to focus more on forgiveness, grace, and healing. These themes are rare in fantasy, where many character arcs center around revenge, justice, and karmic consequences.

I won't share too much about my next projects, but I've already been so inspired in the past few weeks. I've shifted my works-in-progress and started revising existing works with this newfound passion.

To celebrate and also remind me of how far I've come, I've decided to return to my childhood nickname as my author name: CJ Pearce.

I’m so excited for this next stage that feels like the right stage. Not like starting over, not like a setback…but finally aligning who I am.