Hello everyone,
Sorry I’ve been away for a bit. I’ve been working through Muse, Unexpected final edits. I am
excited to be so close to getting my first book published. So if you’ll excuse
me, I’m going to make this a longer than usual post.
Five years ago, when I began to write Muse, Unexpected, I thought writing my novel was going to be the
most challenging part of my journey. I doubted myself constantly, wondering if
I was good enough, wondering if my idea would interest anyone, feeling this immense
drive to complete it. I had no idea what was driving me to write this story,
but I had to finish it.
The marketplace was saturated with Greek god young adult
fiction. I remember one time walking past a Barnes and Noble and seeing a
display for some mainstream published author, publishing yet another book of a
young kid battling against the gods. This was three years into my novel and I
almost set it aside, thinking I was wasting my time. Somehow, I managed to put
these ill feelings aside and produced one of many versions of my novel. I felt
I had achieved something great. I had several friends and colleagues read my
novel and they all proclaimed it to be incredible. So with my chest puffed out
and ego probably two sizes too big, I sat myself down and begun the…. Wait for
it…. Wait for it…. Wait for it… the
submission process.
Now, let me offer this, I knew the submission process would
be hard. I mean, my gosh, poor J.K. Rowling had to submit her novel sixty plus times before someone decided
she had something. So I prepared myself to get the usual, “thanks, but no
thanks” responses. I figured it would take me maybe thirty submissions before
an agent or publisher discovered that my novel was the next Harry Potter.
Yeah….
After I reached one
hundred submissions, I changed my expectations and put my ego in check.
Who knew a query letter made such a difference? And what the
hell...a synopsis? Not just one synopsis, but several versions of a synopsis.
You have your one pager, your two – three pager, and let’s not forget the eight
plus pager! Are these people serious? I had just poured my blood, sweat and tears
into my novel over the past five years. I felt my tale was way too complex to
boil down into a single page synopsis. I
dreaded rewriting my query letter one more time. I was burnt out. WTF!
But something in the back of my mind kept pushing me on. My
novel was good. Not perfect, but good. It had potential. I just had to find the
right publisher or the right agent who believed in Muse, Unexpected. I stopped submitting my novel and took a break to
do some research. Several writer friends pointed me in several directions to
various websites that offered submission advice. I adjusted and readjusted and
then readjusted my readjusted query letter. It couldn’t be two pages, it needed
to be one. It couldn’t be too formal because it needed to be written in my
voice. It needed to explain to the potential publisher or agent who I was and
why they should select my novel, out of the thousands they receive each year. I
needed to be smart, but relentless. With a reenergized attitude, I sat back
down at my desk and started again.
When I hit two
hundred submissions, I threw my coffee mug (one I didn’t care much for, it
was ugly) against the wall, smashing it. I keep a small, broken piece of that
mug to remind me of my journey and how humble I needed to be. So, I took
another break and found an editor to help tame my novel. It started out at
126,000 words.
(Go ahead. Laugh. It was a bloated novel full of page upon
page upon page of unnecessary descriptions that one publisher called lyrical,
but unnecessary. ) This kindly and very generous publisher offered some advice
and a small critique of my novel. She stated, “This was a very hard decision
for me. But, I’m going to have to pass and I want to tell you why I’m passing.”
She wrote my novel had great potential, but was nowhere near ready for
publishing. She cited various examples of where she thought it needed help and
strongly suggested I work with an editor to tighten it up. She was also kind
enough to offer a suggestion of an editor she has worked with on a consultant
basis. I was heartbroken that after so many years my novel was still a wreck,
but had hope. She saw the potential and stated she believed in my talent.
Four months later I had a new novel, totaling 87,000 words.
It was my voice, but improved. The story was darker…much darker as I placed my
characters in more peril. I was sure I had something. This was it.
When I hit three
hundred submissions I cried. I still hadn’t found the right home. Rejection
letters began to develop a new level of sting as I became depressed. I was
kidding myself. I had spent money I didn’t have on an editor that appeared to
make no difference. I didn’t have any talent.
I was sick, and to make matters worse, getting my book
published was turning into an unhealthy obsession. My partner, Joel, suggested
I take a break from it and forced me to give up my laptop and focus on us. You
see, my novel had become the third person in our relationship and I was hurting
the person I loved the most. So I took a break. Several months went by without
me making a single submission. Not that the rejections stopped because I had
submitted so many queries that agents and publishers were finally catching on
their workload.
A co-worker suggested that I send my book to her niece,
while another suggested I send it to her daughter. (Just to get a true, young
adult opinion on it.) I did, expecting both girls to toss the book away. The
last thing I expected them to do was finish reading the book. The very last
thing I expected them to do was to finish it in three days.
They loved the book. One girl of the ripe old age of twelve
proclaimed it as the best book she has ever read. (I laughed a little at her
statement.) The other stated she identified with the main character Sophie and
her struggles with self-esteem. They wanted to know when it was going to be
published. I told them, soon.
So I decided to give myself two months. Two more months of
submissions and if Muse, Unexpected
hadn’t found a home by then, I would self-publish. Two more months of what I
was sure would be rejections.
I sat at my desk and wondered what I could change. I wasn’t
going to change the novel. I needed to have faith in something. I decided it
had to be my query letter. So I did some additional research, reviewed it, and
tightened it up. I also looked at my dreaded synopsis and refined it some more.
I took a deep breath and began submitting, again. Rejection…
rejection…rejection…rejection…not for me, no thanks, please keep on trying
since this is a subjective business…blah blah blah. Regardless of the reaction
I got, I continued on.
I took a break for about a week, realizing I was coming to
the end of my two month milestone. My heart sank. While I was down in my
basement, doing some laundry, I came across a box of letters that my mother had
written to me. At the time they were written, I was struggling with the
decision of whether or not I should quit the ballet and go to college. My
mother wrote, “From the day you were born, I saw such incredible determination
in your eyes. I knew whatever you put your mind to, you would accomplish.
Realize no matter which you choose, I will continue to be so incredibly proud
of you. Make a decision and never look back. What if’s are not for you.”
My mother was right. So I kept calm and carried on.
Rejection...Rejection…Rejection…and Rejection. Thanks, but no thanks, Not for
me, Not for us, Not for anyone, Don’t quit your day job…
Finally reaching the end of my two month period, I decided
to self-publish and amazingly enough I felt okay about it. Maybe my work wasn’t
for everyone. Maybe it wasn’t main stream. It didn’t make it bad. It just made
it my own. This was great. Nowadays everyone is self-publishing.
Buzzzz, buzz… My cell phone kept on buzzing, which meant I
had received an email. I happened to be at work and decided to check it on my
computer. I saw three responses in my inbox.
- Thanks, but no thanks.
- Not for us.
- We would love to offer you a contract. Are you still interested in publishing your novel?
Holy Shit! I read the email again. Called a coworker over to
read it to make sure I wasn’t having a stroke.
There it was. Crescent Moon
Press had requested my full manuscript and had fallen in love with it. I sat
there for a while, staring at the email, wondering, what I should do now.
My friend/ co-worker said, “You might want to say yes.”
More to come.
V.C.
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