I’ve been asked several times to write about my publishing journey, and for some reason I’ve balked at the task. Is it because I have an aversion to the word ‘journey’ in reference to personal experience now that it’s become the cliched term for every reality television star’s storyline? Possibly. Or perhaps it’s because actually getting published is such a fraught, exhausting, soul-crushing process that it’s difficult to ruminate over it, parse it into words, and then arrange those words on paper in a cohesive, relatable fashion.  

Every writer walks a singular, solitary road, yet unless that individual is writing purely for their own pleasure, we all share a common goal—for our work to be recognized as worthy, for the sentences or passages we agonize over to be appreciated by another eye. We want validation—and that validation comes in the form of publication. 

When I began my first novel, I had already published a handful of short fiction in various anthologies and journals. Nothing spectacular, but enough to keep me writing. The short form was my comfort zone, so I’m not quite sure when or why I made the decision to turn a chapter-length scene I wrote as an exercise into a full-length novel, except that I couldn’t leave the characters there. So I just kept going.

When I had what I thought was a nearly publish-ready manuscript, I enlisted a developmental editor to help me work through what I now realize was a very flawed first draft. Enter the amazing Katherine Pickett and some serious editing. After revising, rewriting, and more editing, I began the fun and exciting process of researching and querying agents. I joined Publisher’s Marketplace. I signed up for a Querytracker account. I got a subscription to Writer’s Digest. And Duotrope. I hit up Manuscript Wish List. Relentlessly. I made a spreadsheet of all the agents who might possibly want to represent a women’s fiction novel with themes like friendship, toxic friendship, family trauma, overcoming childhood trauma. I made a spreadsheet. And then I wrote query letters, dozens and dozens. And then I waited. And waited.

I received nothing but rejection, one after another, if I got back anything at all.

I was in quite the quandary. The rewriting and revising process had been grueling. Discarding paragraphs (even words!) that I had so precisely crafted gave me the same feeling of standing too close to a window in a high rise or at the very edge of a cliff. Breathless. Panicked. At the end of that first editing process, I swore I wouldn’t change another word, that if I didn’t get any hits from an agent, I’d assume it simply wasn’t meant to be and move on. 

But I couldn’t.

Instead, I adjusted my thinking. I glared at my dejected face in the mirror and sternly told myself that if I ever wanted to grow as a writer and craft something worthy of publishing, then I needed to be able to look at my own work objectively, without the emotions of a mother shielding a child from critical eyes. My work needed to grow up. And I needed to stop being so over-protective. 

With this fresh perspective, I dove back in. I paid closer attention to the novels I was reading. The rhythm of words and sentences. The pacing. I read Sol Stein. I worked with another editor. I re-read my manuscript with a critical eye. I cut scenes and eliminated chapters I wouldn’t have dreamed of touching before. I added depth to my main character and gave a supporting character their own point of view. I wrote and rewrote and revised. And then I did it again. Eventually, I had something worth sending off. I started the process all over again. Researching more agents. Re-querying those I thought might give me another chance. This time I had several requests for the full manuscript. Oh, joy! It worked! 

And then nothing. Rejection and Dejection. 

At some point during the agent querying process, I had decided to add some indie publishers to my list. While many people go the self-publishing route, it was important to me that I work with a traditional publisher. I don’t have the interest or capacity to deal with the business side of putting out a book, and I know my singularities. After much research, I felt comfortable sending queries to a group of small, independent publishers willing to accept unagented manuscripts.

 This time I had a bit more interest. More rejections. More waiting. And then, finally, an offer of publication from Left Field Publishers. I found an attorney to look over the contract, and then I signed! My debut novel, The Sun in Winter, will come out in September. Working with Left Field has been a delightful, collaborative experience. They’ve included me in all aspects of the process, including cover design. I’ve continued to revise and edit with abandon—I don’t think I’ll ever actually be satisfied. I’ve come a long way from the pseudo-writer who insisted she wouldn’t change another word.

A trait many writers share is the tendency toward introversion. For me, the most difficult part of the post-contract publishing process has been the need to establish a social media presence to market the book. While I understand the importance, I’ll never feel anything other than exposed when posting about myself or my work on the internet. I cringe with each post. It’s not who I am, but it’s a necessity in the world we live in. So I do it.  

When I look back, I realize there are several things I should have done during the process that I neglected. I should have researched and included comp titles in my query letters. I didn’t because I couldn’t seem to find good fits, and it made me uncomfortable to compare myself to other authors. Now that I’ve broken into the world a bit I’ve learned that agents rely on the comps to orient our work on a commercial bookshelf. It’s as important as that opening paragraph. I also should have put myself in the publishing arena physically and made a point of attending conferences and meeting agents in person or through zoom opportunities. It’s a simple way to establish a connection, break the ice, and naturally talk about our works or works-in-progress. I suppose the more you do it the easier it gets. 

The Sun in Winter comes out in just a few months. I have no idea what’s ahead for me. Hopefully good reviews and interesting discussions, but I suspect there will be both good and bad, and probably more rejection. I’m well prepared. In the meantime, I’ll continue to write.