About a year ago, I thought I had a book deal. The publisher provided me with their edit requests, we talked about marketing, I even had the green light to reach out to authors for blurbs. Then with no foreshadowing or reason offered, it fell apart. Now, I’ve been writing long enough to develop pretty good callouses, but this one devastated me.
Maybe it was because of how over the moon the publisher had been just a month earlier. Maybe it was the embarrassment of reapproaching authors I admire who said “yes.” Maybe it was just that this was the wolf gust that smashed up my brick house after so many other concussive blows.
Some things held. My would-be blurbing authors offered encouragement and most said they would be happy to help me when my book found its next home. My writing circle encouraged me to write and inspired me with their works and successes. New story ideas edged their noses out like groundhogs. Neither of us were ready to venture out, but the hint of floral air encouraged me that spring might return.
Out of stubbornness or habit, I worked on a few new things. Sent out a scattering of submissions. I even reworked the book a little.
Hearing positivity about my book from authors I respect helped speed the healing process. My writing group contains some really great writers. By most metrics, they are much more successful than I am.
Then one day on a Discord channel, I read a post submitted by a publisher who was celebrating a mention of their imprint in a Reactor.com article. So, I clicked the link and read the article. This publisher, Atthis Arts, was listed as one of the small presses that consistently produced high quality works.
I was tempted. My chutzpah gained control of my fingers.
I reached out and asked if we could chat. The editor said she loved talking about Atthis and so we DMed. That first conversation lasted about two pages and over an hour. It surprised me just how easily the conversation flowed. We ranged on topics far beyond the work and submission process. Like many creatives, we traded war stories and even admitted to hard times and rejections. To my delight, as we wound down, she volunteered to take a peek at what I had written.
Almost immediately, I started getting updates. If I’m being honest, most of them were apologies for not getting to my novella yet. Then, on a Saturday, she DMed that she read it, loved it, and offered a few impromptu high-level notes.
I liked what she had to say. I could see where she was leading. I asked if she would be willing to wait a little while longer out of respect to a publisher who had the book in hand. She agreed.
Today, well maybe not the today you are reading this, but the today I am writing this… I signed a contract. My silly, deep, wonderfully weird Jewish fantasy noir has found a home.
And I think it just might be the right home.
