My First Time: Myfanwy Collins

My First Time is a regular feature in which writers talk about virgin experiences in their writing and publishing careers, ranging from their first rejection to the moment of holding their first published book in their hands.  Today's guest is Myfanwy Collins, author of the novel Echolocation (forthcoming from Engine Books).  Collins lives on the North Shore of Massachusetts with her husband and son.  Her work has been published in The Kenyon Review, AGNI, Cream City Review, Quick Fiction, Potomac Review and other venues.  Ron Currie Jr. (author of Everything Matters!) had this to say about her debut novel: "Myfanwy Collins has the goods.  It's that simple.  Echolocation is about love in all its magnificent slipperiness; it's about how secrets bind us rather than rend us; it's about the endless series of personal reinventions we call a lifetime.  And these are things we had all better be thinking--and reading--about, if we plan to try and get out of this alive."  A collection of Collins' short fiction, I Am Holding Your Hand, is also forthcoming from PANK Little Books in August.   Please visit her website for more information.

My First Acknowledgments

In my mind, I had written acknowledgements dozens of times, always hoping that someday I would write them for real.  I imagined how satisfying it would feel to finally be able to publicly thank all of those people who had helped me and believed in me along my path to publication.  I couldn’t wait to let my husband know how much I appreciated all of his years of sacrifice and to let my family and friends know how much I appreciated their dogged support.

I firmly believed that if I were ever so lucky as to have a book published, that writing the acknowledgements would be the easiest, most natural part of the whole process.

I was wrong.

When it came time to write the acknowledgements for my forthcoming debut novel, Echolocation, I found myself flustered, baffled, and afraid.  These words were no longer fantasy.  They were real and everyone who read the book would potentially read them as well.

Once I started writing, some of the fear fell away.  I remembered that I was writing these words to express my thanks to people and organizations who had helped and/or inspired me.  I was thanking people for their belief in me.  I was thanking people for lending me their strength.  That part was easy enough.

I felt satisfied with the first draft and walked away from it for a couple of weeks.  When I opened the file again, I knew it would be the last time I worked on it before I sent it to my publisher.  I was either on the verge of tears or actually crying as I worked.  The emotions I was expressing on the page were real.  I reached a hand out and touched each of these people and thanked them as best as I could.  I hoped that they would feel that.

It was not until I sent the file to my publisher that the panic resurfaced.  What if I forgot someone important?  After I sent it to her, I read it again and asked her if she would let me know before she sent the book off, just in case I needed to make changes to the acknowledgements.  She kindly agreed.  As I write this, the acknowledgements are still with her.  I’m not sure I’ll be able to take a deep breath until the book is gone and I can make no more changes.

Like all first times, this one has been a mix of joy and fear.  When I am ever so lucky to write acknowledgements again, I will look back on how I feel now and, I hope, be able to use what I’ve learned in shaping my new experience.  And what I have learned is this: what your family and friends give you as you work is a gift.  Like all givers of gifts they have likely given what they have given you expecting nothing in return other than you are enriched by their generosity.  Your gratitude is shown through your perseverance in putting the words on the page and never giving up on yourself.  Your acknowledgements are merely the sweet icing on the hard-earned cake.