Grit is a combination of passion and perseverance.
According to Angela Duckworth, author of Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance, grit is even more important than talent.
For us writers, that’s great news because that means talent isn’t necessary.
Sure, it’s nice to have it, but it’s just fine if you don’t. Because storytelling is a craft. Writing is a craft. You can learn it.
In fact, the more willing you are to learn about storytelling and writing (choosing the just-right words, crafting strong sentences) throughout your writing career, the more likely you are to have the success you’re looking for.
Your ability to keep working on your novel despite distractions, naysayers, and discouragement is one important part of the equation—the perseverance part.
The passion part is the story that you’ve been working so hard on, maybe for years, maybe without telling a soul.
Every writer I’ve worked with as a book coach has come to me with a passion project. A novel that’s so important to them to finish. A novel they want to get in the best shape possible, and ultimately to find a publisher for.
My own story of grit
I know exactly how these writers feel. I’ve got one of those novels in the works too, a middle grade contemporary novel I’m calling No Dogs Die in This Book.
The idea for this story arrived on a summer day in Wisconsin’s Northwoods in 2011. I was walking with my Brittany spaniel, Diesel, on a narrow, wooded trail on our property. We were rounding the curve near the creek when the idea hit me: A young dog dies in an accident and immediately wants to return to Earth to be with his girl.
The idea came to me a couple of months before Diesel died unexpectedly of acute kidney failure. He was 9.
I was wrecked by Diesel’s death. For weeks and weeks I’d suddenly tear up. (Even as I’m writing this my throat closes tight and it’s been 14 years since he died.)
Anyone who’s ever loved and lost a beloved pet knows the pain of that loss. Their everyday presence and energy … suddenly absent. That big hole ripped in your heart.
I’d never experienced such painful grief before. I wanted to write a novel to help kids experiencing the grief of a pet.
A first draft
I started writing it in 2012 using a main character based on Diesel. But Diesel was just too smart, too experienced.
I needed a main character who wasn’t that bright, a character with a newer soul. Like one of our other dogs, a young goofball of an English setter (whom Diesel disliked with a passion) named Chester.
My feelings for and relationship with Diesel informed the emotion of the story. But Chester became the physical and mental model for the main character.
A few months later I completed a draft. My critique group read it. I made revisions.
I started querying agents about it in the fall of 2012.
In other words, Way. Too. Early.
Between 2012 and September 2017, I experimented and revised. I worked with a published mentor through the Wisconsin chapter of SCBWI. I tried different things, like changing the point of view from first to third (and back again).
I also queried about 60 agents. Most of them sent me a form rejection or didn’t respond. Three requested the full manuscript and then said no thanks.
In 2017, I set my dog novel aside to work on other things. I still loved it, but I didn’t know how to make it better.sk new clients for a 3-month commitment. After that, we work together month to month.
What I thought was a turning point
In 2019, I decided to get more perspectives on it. I submitted the first 10 pages to be workshopped by peers and a published faculty member at an event for alumni of Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA).
Our workshop was led by Liz Garton Scanlon, a VCFA faculty member whom I didn’t know but found to be so lovely. The reactions of my fellow workshop participants were encouraging. They suggested my novel wasn’t starting in the right place, so I worked on that and started querying again in spring 2020.
During 2020 and 2021, I queried 50+ agents. I received a lot of form rejections and “Not right for my list.” STILL. NO. POSITIVE. RESPONSE.
Why not? Was an animal novel too hard to sell? Was my writing not good enough? Was I not targeting the right agents? Was my query letter terrible?
I just couldn’t figure it out. When the annual VCFA alumni event rolled around again in November 2021, I registered right away and snapped up a critique appointment. I wanted a critique with either an editor or an agent (because I assumed—falsely, I now believe—that only an editor or agent would know what my novel needs).
Tricia Lawrence, an agent, told me during our Zoom session, “I think your novel’s starting in the wrong place. It’s too sad. What if you started it with Chester in dog heaven having a good time?”
Her feedback resonated with me. I revised again.
Yes, again.
Grit, remember?
Or maybe stubbornness.
What I thought was another turning point
During the next few months, I rewrote the first 30 pages of my 130-page manuscript. Then I combed through the rest carefully to make sure I was delivering the best work I could. (The tools I learned from my book coach training helped—especially the Inside Outline.)
In early 2022, I started querying again. I asked a writer I know for a referral to her agent, a woman who’d been on my list for years but was closed to unsolicited queries. The writer forwarded my query letter to her agent. The next day the agent requested my full manuscript. Two days later the agent sent me an email “Offer of Representation” as the subject line.
That was a thrilling time!
Eventually the agent gave me comprehensive feedback about the characters, their motivations, the magic, etc. I did a major revision in 2023, but then … crickets. The agent and I ultimately parted ways.
If I were less stubborn, less perseverant, less passionate about this story, I might have quit then.
But I didn’t.
A change of tack
I sought feedback on my whole novel. In August 2024, I went to Highlights’ Whole Novel Workshop where I got some very helpful feedback from Crystal Allen, my faculty reader, and from my Brain Trust group of fellow writers.
I revised again. It felt like the 533rd time. And then I started querying it. Again.
In the meantime, I followed up with an agent who’d requested the full manuscript of my middle grade zoo mystery. She ended up offering representation in early 2025, which I accepted. Hurray! And we’re on submission with it.
However, she doesn’t like my dog novel.
Some writers, perhaps more logical and less stubborn writers than I, would set aside the project their agent isn’t interested in and work on something else.
I did. I am. For a while.
And then I decided to go to Highlights’ Whole Novel Workshop again with my dog novel. I rewrote it from first-person, present-tense into third-person, past-tense to see if that would make a difference. I also wrote a short new beginning scene.
A few days before the workshop, I received an editorial letter from my faculty reader, Nora Shalaway Carpenter. She has so many excellent ideas!
And her ideas are sparking my ideas.
So much of what she wrote resonates with me, but I especially liked this part: “in order for this book to be truly impactful, it can’t just be crafted well. It must be exquisitely crafted.”
That is my new goal—an exquisitely crafted novel that will support kids navigating pet loss. Oh, and it would be cool if it became a classic too.
Are you working on a novel that takes grit?
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