Writers Write

By Erin Cashman

I’m sure you’ve heard about those incredibly lucky people who write a book in a couple of months, send it off to a few agents, and before they know it they are at auction, getting huge advances and ultimately becoming best selling novelists. Usually these authors say something like . . . “An idea just popped into my head so I wrote it down. I never set out to be an author.” I hate these stories. Not because I’m jealous (okay, I’m a little jealous), but because it is so discouraging for the rest of us, the majority of writers – who, if we are lucky enough to garnish a publishing contract  at all -- only do so through hours upon hours, years upon years of trying. Of never giving up.

I’ve written for as long as I can remember. It has always been my dream to be a published author, but my father encouraged me to go to law school, so I could support myself. I took his advice, and stopped writing anything except legal briefs and memos for several years. And then one night I had the strangest dream about a family of vampires. I just had to write it down. I finished it a year later, and sent it off to agents and publishers, certain I would realize my dream and become an author.

Boy was I wrong.

After Twilight, romance vampire stories were in demand, not middle-grade adventure ones.

And then I wrote another middle grade adventure novel, about a long lost Irish treasure. This one would certainly be published, I thought. I sent it out to many agents and editors, running each day to the mail box. I received a seemingly endless amount of rejection letters, postcards, and my own letter mailed back to me, with Sorry, not for me, scribbled along the bottom.  One agent even sent me two rejection letters! I guess she really didn’t like it!

And then a few encouraging letters and emails trickled in, all with very positive feedback. These agents and editors loved my writing and enjoyed the characters and suspenseful plot. BUT – treasure stories weren’t selling.

Ugh.

I realized then that I would likely never be published. But I discovered something far more important.  I write because I love to. I wasn’t about to stop writing because dozens of people – experts in the publishing field – told me my manuscripts were not good enough, or wouldn’t sell.  I may never be published, I thought,  – but so what. Writing could be my hobby, not my profession.  As much as I would love to be a published author, in the end I wrote for myself.

And so I started The Exceptionals, which is about a teenage girl named Claire who must use her long-ignored ability to communicate with animals to unravel the mystery behind the disappearances of the most talented students at Cambial Academy, a school for teens with special abilities. I loved writing The Exceptionals. I really enjoyed thinking up the different “specials”, and how they would influence the characters and the plot. Creating Dylan (a gorgeous but secretive guy who may know more than he’s letting on) was especially fun. He is interesting and mysterious. Every day I woke up and couldn’t wait to write!

Six months later I finished, and I sent it to about ten agents and editors. I didn’t run to the mailbox, or obsessively check my phone messages or email. I had no expectation that it would be published.  A couple of weeks later I got a call from an agent, Erica Silverman from the great literary agency, Trident, offering to represent me. She loved The Exceptionals! I couldn’t believe it! I spoke with Erica for about an hour. She was wonderful. I not only had an agent – I had a GREAT agent!

The very next day Pam Glauber, a very talented editor at Holiday House, called and made an offer to buy the book! So after years of writing, and two novels behind me, I was finally going to be a published author. Third time was a charm! I was elated.

I am so glad that I never gave up on myself or on my dream. I write as often as I can, and I write what I want to write, not what I think will sell. I realize I may never see another book in print (although I hope I do!) but in the end, I write for myself, as I always have.

So remember, writers write. They don’t count their rejection letters, wallow in self-pity, or throw their laptop out the window (although I am guilty of the first two – and was tempted to do the third!).  If you are a writer, write. Keep at it. Maybe you’ll find an agent, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll sell your book to a traditional publisher, maybe you’ll self-publish. Maybe you’ll just keep trying. In the end, you are still a writer – whether you are one of the lucky few to be published, or not.  You owe it to yourself to give it your all. It may not be an easy path. Like me, it may take you years (six to be exact!) and be more hard work than you can ever imagine.  But no matter what the outcome, you’ll be glad you did.  Because writers write.

Once You Sign With An Agent, The Wait Is Over (Oh, I Crack Myself Up!)

by Amy Sue Nathan

In January 2010 I started querying agents with my novel. My query letter had been workshopped and critiqued and rewritten many times. Within minutes after I finally pushed “send” – and that took me about 30 minutes the first time (so not kidding) – I received both a request for pages and a rejection.  And so it began. The yin and yang, the tug-o-war, the ups and downs of the query-go-round.  Subsequently I received more requests and even more rejections. Some were sprinkled with kindness and advice. Most were not. 

I met Jason Yarn from The Paradigm Agency about halfway through my agent-quest via a pitch contest on QueryTracker.net. I was one of five winners even though it wasn’t my pitch that got his attention, it was my first line. (Note to aspiring queriers, paste the first page(s) of your novel at the end of your query letter unless expressly forbidden. You just never know.) Next, I was invited to send Jason the full manuscript.  Emails followed. Conversations ensued. Manuscript changes were made. Then, ten months after my first query letter was sent, which was about six months after connecting with Jason, he was my agent.

Ten months and 116 queries to get an agent! That’s longer than it takes to give birth to a real live baby!

Was the process what I expected? Yes and no. I expected it to take a long time to find an agent because that’s the word on the virtual street. And you know, if it’s in a blog or on Facebook or Twitter, it’s true.  Ok, maybe not always, but it is true in this case. Also, I never expected a male agent to connect to my book because the main characters are women and I’d always pegged it as up-market women’s fiction – or as some like to say – a book club book. But I was wrong! Jason connected with the book. And more importantly he connected with me and the way I write and work. And I connected easily to the way he offers his spot-on advice.

What I was right about, and what everyone seems to be right about, is that the perfect agent for your book is the one who loves it and sees its potential as a saleable book in the current market. 

Then – after about another ten months and another round (or two) of revisions to the manuscript, Jason sold The Glass Wives to St. Martin’s Press. 

Just to kill myself kindly refresh your memory – that was twenty months after sending my first query letter. 

And last month, March 2012 – I started my official-real-can’t-believe-it-actual edits from my editor. And soon I’ll wait for her feedback. And then I’ll wait to be published in the Spring of 2013. And then I’ll wait for reviews.  

Get the gist?  

When you want to be a traditionally published author (which many, many writers still do – do not let the naysayers sway you from your dream) waiting is not idle time. There are fulltime jobs and fulltime families and time-worthy friends. There are other books to be written, short stories and essays to compose and to publish, there are industry blogs to read (ahem, you’re reading one now, good for you!) and lists to make. Heck, there are books to read!

During my waiting time since signing with Jason I have written one full novel that is under my bed conducting how-not-to-write-a-novel workshops for the dust bunnies. I’ve sent one kid off to college and learned how to live with just one kid at home. I’ve read about 100 novels and many writing books and articles and blogs and magazines. I’ve had lunch with author friends. I’ve spent time with non-writing friends. I’ve managed a freelance career. I have a full outline and the start of a synopsis for another novel. I’ve gotten a few manicures and pedicures. I have 5,000 words of a novel that will never be finished. And I have a spiral notebook full of beloved scenes and ideas and phrases and characters who are calling me. Loudly. I’ll write that novel when the waiting begins again.

Because it always does. 

Celebration Time

 by Brenda Remmes

The importance of celebrating small successes can never be overestimated.  Would that we could cheer ourselves on in our daily successes the same way we cheer on our babies and toddlers with each tiny accomplishment.

We are writers and writing is a time consuming occupation.  We write and rewrite; critique and revise, analyze and test and then rewrite again.  We need to celebrate more often.  Each day that we get up and sit down at our computers one more time - celebrate.  Every time we find a better word to express a thought – celebrate.  When we nail an emotion so well that we, ourselves, burst into tears – good heavens, what a moment to celebrate.  If we only celebrate when we finish the book,  find an agent,  get the contract,  or receive the five star reviews there are too many other opportunities that slipped by. What do we hang onto when we don’t find an agent, don’t get the contract, or don’t get the five star reviews?

I had a wonderful aunt who started every conversation by saying, “I have the best news to tell you.  I am so lucky.”  She would then launch into a description of something as mundane as the nicest server who brought her an extra serving of potato salad at lunch.  Regardless, we would all listen intently, smile, and rejoice with her at the conclusion of her story.  I will never forget the day she told me, “I have the best news to tell you.  I am so lucky.  I committed my son today and he understood exactly why I had to.”  I looked at her in complete disbelief.  Instead of bemoaning a hardship, she celebrated her strength in making a very difficult decision that she believed to be for the best.  It was.  What a gift she shared with us.   Her smile was contagious.  Her presence electrifying. 

This weekend I turn sixty-five.  Do I plan to celebrate?  You can bet on it.  I’ve been working for a long time to get here.  I’ll start by trashing all of my underwear and going out and buying new ones, as I do every year on my birthday.  A good foundation is the basis on which new goals hold firm.

This year I might get a book published.  I’ve still got some challenges ahead of me, but regardless, it’s been a good trip.   I learn more about myself each step of the way, and I continue to meet new and interesting people as part of the process.   I plan to continue to celebrate each morning I wake up and sit back down at my computer.  Both of those things deserve applause, individually and together.  If one day I should decide to skip writing and do something different, that’s okay, too.  There are other things in my life that I want to celebrate.  You never know.  I might just get an extra helping of potato salad from a waiter who smiles back.

My Anti-Climactic Book Deal Day

by Mindy McGinnis

It happened. The day I'd dreamt about ever since I knew what a career was came and went and... I didn't feel much different.

To be clear - I'm not an OMG type of girl. I don't jump up and down, I don't overly-italicize things, and I certainly don't have a victory dance. I'm Irish, so I've got a barbaric YAWP in there, but it only comes out on certain occasions. Most of the time I keep the poker face on.

I'd been on submission for about six months when my agent, Adriann Ranta of Wolf Literary, sent me an email letting me know that somebody cared. A few somebody's, actually. So we were at auction, and it's a lovely place to be. I monitored my emails like a buzzard hovering over a sick mammal, but things didn't get terribly exciting until late afternoon. The offers came in, and I was stuck in what passes for traffic in rural Ohio - behind a combine.

I don't have a smartphone. My phone is in fact, a dumbphone (I have to manually spell the word "text" of all things), so I had to get home before I could check email. Once I managed that, Adriann and I fired off a few emails to each other discussing pros and cons and made our decision. And it was done.

I closed my laptop and looked around my house. I picked up dumbphone and called my mom but she couldn't find her phone (this is typical). I dialed my sister, who was already talking to someone else and didn't pick up (also typical). The boyfriend was at work. So, I scooped the litter and went to knitting class.

No glitter canons, no Hallelujah chorus, no really attractive men giving me armfuls of white roses. But you know what?

It was still damn cool.