Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down…

Seriously, though, the path from zero to 100 in this case study about a debut graphic novel is a strange one. They say that when someone breaks into the publishing industry, they cement off that entrance so nobody can ever break in that way again, but I think there are still some lessons to be learned in how I did it, so hopefully more folks can get into traditionally published graphic novels for adults.

It all started in January 2017. The Moonage Daydreams exhibition opened in at London’s Orbital Comics. One year after David Bowie’s death (and near what would have been his 70^th birthday), Robin Harman organized an art gallery of 20 original art pieces by comic book artists, all of whom reimagined Bowie’s album covers. Though I’m Stateside and wasn’t able to visit the exhibit in person, I was stunned by it. I thought to myself, why hasn’t anyone made a full graphic novel about the man himself?

I sent out a Tweet to this effect, mainly to myself, and that got the gears spinning and the ball rolling in my own mind. I contacted the first artist, who shall remain nameless as it didn’t work out, and put together a book proposal, firing it off to all the best graphic novel agencies in the country. Since this is a nonfiction project, and a graphic novel besides, we didn’t have any pages done, just some ancillary art. However, I had done a ton of research already and had written a first draft of the entire manuscript, which we included.

The first agent to really respond positively was Claire Anderson-Wheeler of Regal Hoffmann & Associates. As mentioned previously, the artist dropped out around this time. Anderson-Wheeler understood the situation, and I reached out to some friends to see who might make an effective replacement. My friend and legendary artist and writer Phil Hester immediately recommended another, equally legendary artist, Mike Allred, who works as a team with his wife, colorist Laura Allred, and is the world’s biggest Bowie fan.

Allred was coming right off a world-class run on the Marvel Comics title Silver Surfer. His yes couldn’t come fast enough, assuming we could get a decent publishing deal together!

We then set out to find a publisher. Insight Editions, the prolific coffee-table book publisher, had recently made a foray into graphic novels under a new Insight Comics imprint. Mark Irwin, the comic book inker, editor, writer, and now publishing head of Mad Cave Studios, was the editor of Insight Comics at the time and a huge Allred (and music) fan. He swiftly grabbed hold of this book and wouldn’t let go. 

Anderson-Wheeler and Insight negotiated a deal quickly, to the delight of everyone involved, and the rest was history. It took nearly three years from that point for the Allreds to produce the finished, more than 160-page book, and it came out in January 2020. By February, the book made the New York Times Graphic Books bestseller list at #15 with a bullet. To this day, it’s the only graphic novel biography, as opposed to memoir, to make the list, which is generally dominated by manga and Dav Pilkey graphic novels. (Later that same year, the book won two Eisner Awards for art and coloring and was nominated for lettering.)

We had a whole tour planned, but you-know-what happened in March. Still, the book sold well and was translated into 15 languages. Now, five years later, I have more graphic biographies in the works with other artists and other subjects, and I’m back with Regal Hoffmann, this time represented by Markus Hoffmann himself, but the strange and swift tale of how BOWIE happened will never leave my mind!

Bio: Steve Horton is the New York Times bestselling writer of the graphic novel BOWIE: STARDUST, RAYGUNS & MOONAGE DAYDREAMS, winner of two Eisner Awards.

I began writing The Coat Check Girl many years ago, without knowledge of what the path to publication entailed or whether that was even my goal. I’d been a writer since I learned to hold a pencil and had dabbled in short fiction. The idea for a longform project came to me by way of the haunted ladies’ room of a restaurant I frequented.

I had a premise—a loving, dysfunctional restaurant staff and a ghostly presence that takes up residence one summer. I started writing the novel for no other reason than to challenge myself, and with the feedback and support of my writing group, I became invested in it. One of my mentors encouraged me to enter a First Chapter Contest, saying, “You have a better chance of winning if you enter than if you don’t.”  So I did, and I won—a small stipend and public reading.

That was in 2008. My book was published in 2024.

Lest you assume this a cautionary tale about the publishing industry, it isn’t. It’s a tale about paying attention when you can’t shake a character and persevering through doubt and rejection.

After winning the contest, I wrote a bit more, then put the story aside in favor of freelance work. Over several years I started other projects but kept coming back to my protagonist, Josie, and the setting, the fictious Bistrot restaurant in Greenwich Village. They were tenacious, and eventually I dove back in.

I met with writing coaches and workshopped with my group, read books on craft, anything I could think of to get me over the finish line.

I completed a draft, revised, revised again, revised some more, then began the daunting task of querying in December 2019. This process required a surgical level of precision in researching because 1) I was advised to compile a list of fifty agents and 2) each agent wants something specific. Some want a synopsis and the first five pages, others no synopsis and three chapters, some want you to list awards and experience, others do not. Since agents inundated with submissions are looking to quickly weed out, any misstep might send your manuscript spiraling into the abyss.

I compiled a poem of lines from my rejection letters that a friend dubbed “the saddest thing [he’s] ever read.”

When 2020 showed up, I put querying on hold. That July, an agent reached out saying if I were open to some changes, she’d like to sign me. I spoke with her, liked her ideas, and signed a contract.

After another round of revisions, in spring 2021, she began submitting to everyone from the Big Five to tiny niche publishers.

A close friend is a prolific novelist who publishes independently by choice. His books are beautiful, a far cry from the prototypes of the early days of self-publishing. As my manuscript circulated unsuccessfully, I contemplated this route, wanting to get it out there and move on. But my agent was confident we’d find a home and launched round after round of submissions. An imprint from one of the Big Five had it for months and was “strongly considering it.” I received a fair amount of encouraging rejection, a concept perhaps best known to writers on submission.

Then came an offer from a small publisher. I was elated, but before I signed the contract, requested minor changes. Things on their end moved at a glacial pace, and it would be months of frustration and disappointment before I’d hear back. This turned out fortuitous as in that time I reached out to some of their authors and learned poor communication was the least of this publisher’s problems. I learned of public complaints and extensive litigation and today the business is defunct. I’m eternally grateful I held off on signing and did my due diligence.

My agent mentioned another publisher she thought would like it but cautioned that they only want multiples. She asked if I were open to writing sequels, and writing them in fairly quick succession. I eagerly said yes, ignoring the fact I’d written The Coat Check Girl as a standalone over the course of a decade-plus. We came up with rudimentary outlines for books two and three and she submitted the package. Within a stunningly short period, I had a contract.

Roan and Weatherford has been a pleasure to work with—creative, professional, skilled. Book One came out last October and I’m in the home stretch of revisions on Two, while keeping copious notes on Three. I love that I get to spend so much more time in Bistrot with Josie.

If there is one takeaway from my case study, I hope it’s that, while rejection stings, it’s par for the course, and it takes only one yes to get published.

Bio: Laura Buchwald is a writer and editor based in New York City. Her novel The Coat Check Girl was published in October 2024 as the first in a three-part series, and is available in hardcover, paperback, and as an ebook. The audiobook will be released in 2026.

Writing and Completing the Book!

I began writing my debut fiction in April 2020. The idea had been rattling around in my brain for several years so the timing was perfect to begin to create the supportive world, characters, and plot. By the end of 2020, I had a first draft and sent it to my developmental editor. By early 2021, I farmed it out to several beta readers. I used all this feedback to take a huge swing at a first revision during spring 2021.

It sounds like I did everything right except…

I was so excited to have completed a novel that I chose to ignore a nagging feeling that the book was lacking something.

The “Learning the Industry” Process

Next, I joined the Maryland Writers’ Association (MWA) and dove into learning everything I could about the industry. Querying. Pitching. Agents. Traditional publishing versus self-publishing. Royalties. ISBN. Copyright. I needed to get educated…FAST. Webinars. Online articles. Subscriptions to writers’ blogs. Jane Friedman’s books. You name it. Finally, I felt armed and ready to get That Summer She Found Her Voice published.

The Querying and Pitching Process

I began by researching agents who aligned with my genre and starting the querying process. I was super organized, choosing to use an excel sheet to keep track of each agent/agency/response. After ten or so rejects or no responses, I’d tweak my query letter (just like all the experts advise) and repeat the process.

In October of 2021, I attended the MWA Conference and signed up to meet three agents in person, where I had ten minutes to pitch my book. Each agent asked for pages for additional review. I was on cloud nine. None of those requests led to anything. I was on cloud zero.

The Reflection Process

By the following spring, I began to self-reflect: What is this nagging feeling that I keep ignoring about the book? And what exactly is my goal for the book? Are there other paths for publication? Would indie or small press be better for a  Retro themed book like mine?

Getting Back on Track

In dealing with the nagging feeling, I went back to the drawing board and took another huge revision swing. I strengthened the protagonist’s arc, added suspense in several areas, and edited it for sensory details (something I always need to work on). Then, I asked two new beta readers to review it (writers I’d met through the MWA). Their feedback was fabulous, leading to more editing.

Another result of my self-reflection was that I realigned with my writer’s purpose. I’m a believer that every writer needs a strong writer’s purpose to guide their writing. Reflecting on questions like “What motivates me to write?” and “What are my goals when I write?” have helped me find that compass. I want my writing to help others and to start conversations. Looking back, getting an agent/big publisher (which would have been nice) wasn’t the only way to align with my purpose.

The Small Press Pivot

Here’s what happened when I pivoted on pursuing a small press publisher.

First, in the summer of 2022 I wrote directly to a small press publisher in my region. The nice thing about small or indie press publishers is that you don’t need an agent to query them in most cases. The publisher of Secant Publishing emailed me a truly kind rejection but that wasn’t all. He wrote two pages of feedback as well as information about the publishing industry. How generous. We continue to bump into each other at conferences.

Next, I attended the fall 2022 MWA conference but only registered to pitch to two small press representatives. The reps for Apprentice House Press loved the idea of my book and encouraged me to submit the entire manuscript. The book was accepted in December 2022; a contract was completed at the end of January 2023; and the book was published in April 2024.

Conclusion

I could not be happier with the result of my publishing journey for That Summer She Found Her Voice: A Retro Novel, despite its many twists and turns. I learned that I was too eager when I began the pitching process, that I needed to listen to that nagging feeling telling me that the book was not ready, and that being in alignment with my writer’s purpose will always serve me best. Whether you decide to query agents, self-publish, or pursue a small or indie press, I hope my experience has been helpful.

Bio: Jean Burgess is a writer, editor, and playwright with a background in theatre and education. Her debut novel, That Summer She Found Her Voice: A Retro Novel, is available at Bookshop.org and other online retailers. Follow her publishing journey by signing up for her monthly newsletter at http://www.jeanburgessauthor.com.

This is part of our ongoing series on how authors published their first book. You can read our other stories in this series, here, here, here, here, here and here.

What a unique relief to be writing about my short story collection Discount Ceremony from this perspective. After many years of wondering if it would ever find a home, the collection is about to be published by Game Over Books, a small Boston-based press founded fairly recently in 2017.

Long before I was submitting my manuscript to small presses, I was in college and realizing my particular affection for both reading and writing short stories, finding myself drawn to their more open-ended nature and the alluringly distilled portraits of worlds and characters they can foster. I began submitting stories to literary magazines, continuing to do so through grad school, and gradually built up a track record of publication. But as I began to amass enough stories to put together a collection, I also came to learn that short story collections were an especially hard sell in the larger book publishing world. Not that finding things like an agent or publisher is remotely easy when working in any form, of course, but the knowledge of story collections’ limited appeal on the market made an already daunting prospect seem even more far-fetched. I did find a few agents over the years who seemed like they might be a good fit—were interested in magical realism (which most of my work falls into), and were open to story collections—but even so, my scattered queries were all met with rejection.

Over time I learned that there was a whole world of small presses out there that periodically accepted unsolicited manuscripts for consideration. I was used to the process of submitting short stories through email and Submittable, and suddenly found that I could do the same—albeit within a much smaller pool of venues—with my entire story collection.

Besides the difference of sending my whole manuscript vs. just a story or two as I did when querying agents, when submitting to small presses I felt a greater confidence that my collection would be read and engaged with in a way less influenced by its marketability. Because while small presses are still businesses, I don’t think many small press editors are primarily in it for the money (not to suggest that all literary agents are, only that marketability would naturally be more considered from an agent’s perspective). I imagined small presses like budget-deprived indie movies made with little expectation of profit—labors of love.

I didn’t know of many small presses, but was told about a couple from friends and found a few others through social media. Still, it was rare that I came upon a small press that seemed like a potential fit and was accepting submissions (most open submission windows, I found, were pretty brief—understandable of course given the combination of submission volume, the length of manuscript submissions, and the small staff of small presses). So the path presented its own difficulties.

Even with my heightened confidence of Discount Ceremony being considered on its own terms with small presses, I still held a certain self-protective defeatism about the matter. Though there are unifying threads of arrested development and adrift characters, the stories in Discount Ceremony range in tone from quirkily sunny and romantic to bleak and horror-adjacent. I used this lack of outward cohesion as more fuel for the emotionally protective idea that finding a publisher—even a small press publisher—would be a particularly long shot, and maybe it wasn’t worth trying too hard. As time went on without Discount Ceremony finding a home, I could simply tell myself that it wasn’t a comment on the collection’s quality, but rather a reflection of its idiosyncratic makeup.

So, over the course of around two years, I only submitted my collection to a handful of small presses. I’m sure that if I’d been more dedicated to researching presses, not as afraid of exhausting so many avenues that it would begin to feel like the book would never happen, I could have found more submission opportunities. But my approach enabled me to hold onto the vague notion that someday the collection would get picked up, without doing much to make that actually happen.

In the end, though, I wasn’t able to escape the sting of rejection from several small presses I had high hopes for (I’d grown mostly numb to single-story rejections from literary magazines, but found that these manuscript rejections cut a little deeper, which I suppose makes sense) before sending Discount Ceremony to Game Over Books.

I’d heard of Game Over thanks to my grad-school peer Ben Kessler, whose story collection, Of This World (out now and very good), they had picked up in the fall of 2021. The press seemed great and kind of punk-rock; fairly new and welcoming to all kinds of forms, dismissive of traditional publishing norms and enthusiastic about promoting work that may be considered too niche by that world. So when I heard through Ben that they were having a month-long open reading period, I submitted my manuscript right away.

A few months later, I got the acceptance email from Game Over—one of the best emails of my life!

Up to the point of accepting Ben’s Of This World, the press had published exclusively poetry, and Discount Ceremony will be only their second release of fiction. It’s a cool feeling of synchronicity, having my debut book be a somewhat new kind of publication for the press releasing it. It took a long time, and a few of the stories in the collection are getting up there in years (a couple in particular are from 2016!), but being here now, I feel deeply glad that things worked out the way they did.

I was nearly finished with my first novel when I met up with an author acquaintance to ask for advice about getting a literary agent. It was a bitter New York winter night, and I felt icy and invigorated as I slid into the bar. Soon I would send out my manuscript and take another step on the path to becoming a published author. As we talked about writing, my acquaintance recounted the many years it took him to finish his first book.

At one point, he’d rewritten the entire novel from scratch. “I’d finally figured out the story,” he told me. “And all I had to do was sit and write it.”

I took a long sip of my drink and felt a frigid fear that matched the weather. “I couldn’t do that,” I replied, trying not to sound horrified.

Flash forwards a few months, and there I was sitting at my desk in front of a blank Word document. A beta reader had helped me see the light of day, and I’d decided that my 64,000-word manuscript didn’t need to be that long, or in the third person. Now that I knew the story, I could write it in a new way. After months of diligent work, what I ended up with was a 40,000-word novella in the second person. Titled Purple Gold, I didn’t know that what I’d written was essentially unsellable.

My manuscript’s inherent un-marketability became evident as soon as I started querying: form rejections, dismissals of my chosen POV, not a single mention of novellas on agents’ wish lists. Not to mention, the disheartening void of unanswered emails. But this version of my book was its truest form. I couldn’t imagine doubling its length to bring it up to an industry standard length. And I loved effect of the second person — it gave the narrator a dreamy disconnect which mirrored her stoner persona.

As every author does, I kept trying. I found novella contests and submitted directly to independent presses. I emailed everyone I had ever met in the industry and asked for advice. Eventually, the founder and editor of the small press, ANTIBOOKCLUB, agreed to read the entire manuscript.

His email response with detailed notes was the most thoughtful one I’d received. In my bleak months of querying, he was the first person to understand my work. He had read my manuscript and taken the time to think about making it better. Not drastically different, but an improved version of what it was. This was the most validated I’d ever felt about my project, and I dove into his notes.

After getting through his edits, my project was much stronger. It was also still…a novella in the second person. Even the editor at ANTIBOOKCLUB didn’t give me a green light, so eventually, I stopped querying altogether. As much as I wanted my novella to be published, I had to work on something else. Without intending to start another novel, I was struck with an idea and started writing to get its words down on the page.

Back when I was getting my literature degree at Pomona College, I’d studied fiction with the writer Jonathan Lethem. He warned us that our first novel risked becoming our second or our third. That while it was important to see ways to rewrite it, we also needed to know when to stop. As I worked on my second book, I knew I had to keep its momentum instead of being stymied on a project I’d started five years ago. Maybe I would turn the novella into an audio book. Maybe I would release it to friends and family. Maybe the manuscript on my computer would be its finished form.

In March 2020, almost a year after I’d stopped querying, I was living in Paris when life froze with the pandemic. Overnight, I lost my copy-writing job and faced a strict police-enforced lockdown. As the world contracted around me, I received a miraculous email. The editor from ANTIBOOKS was organizing an e-book release. With the pandemic in full swing, he wanted to give readers the gift of literature. How would I feel about having a digital version of Purple Gold published?

My project would be finished. My book would be edited and in readable form. By that point, those were my only two goals. Yes, I was disappointed I wouldn’t get to hold a book in my hands, but friends and family across the globe would have instant access. And most of all, my book would be finished.

I haven’t re-read my debut since I skimmed the final proofs. It’s a time capsule of that era in my writing, like looking at a snapshot of me back in college, dressed in tie-dye under the LA sunshine. But I’m proud of the years I devoted to Purple Gold — it’s the book I needed to write so I could move on to my next ones.

Bio: Grace Bialecki is a writer, editor, and book coach who teaches for The Bridge and Hugo House. Her work has appeared in various publications including Catapult, Barrelhouse and Epiphany Magazine where she was a monthly columnist. Bialecki is the co-founder of the storytelling series Thirst, and the author of the novel Purple Gold (ANTIBOOKCLUB). When she’s working with clients, Bialecki emphasizes finding clarity and authentic voice, alongside techniques to be present while writing.

Back in 2015, I started my own consulting business and soon added writing for hire services. With a goal to have a flexible income source that paid more than my last salaried job at a tax law office and let me focus on game development, I knew I couldn’t rely on grinding out business plans and articles all day.

Or at the very least, didn’t require as much ongoing hustling online and in person while also cementing me as an expert in my field.

Enter the very first tax law book by and for indie game developers.

I wasn’t expecting the book to make me rich, but that it would at least demystify several common tax and business structuring problems I saw my peers encounter and that many accountants tended to give misguided advice for. While well-intentioned, they were totally unfamiliar with how life and business actually work for the average “garage” indie developer rather than the more established and well-funded studios with payroll. I saw this as an opportunity to create something that hadn’t been made before, with my unique fingerprint as an indie developer with a tax law background.

Moreover, I figured self-publishing a medium-sized book that made taxes humorous, accessible, less scary, and tailored to my field’s precise needs would send consulting work my way and it certainly did.

The Next Chapter: A Publisher is Interested

As my consultancy and games career evolved, I became a regular speaker at various regional and national games conferences on business topics pertinent to indie developers. It was after one such speaker slot that I was approached by a representative from Taylor & Francis, a UK-based academic and reference publisher with several imprints. A few of these imprints, namely CRC Press and Routledge, cater to the professional and educational needs of the games industry. They’ve now been folded into Informa, the games media behemoth that also runs GDC (Game Developers’ Conference, the largest industry-facing event of the year in games) and Game Developer magazine, formerly known as Gamasutra.

Obviously, I won’t find a more ideal fit in terms of reaching my target market: other game developers.

When I was approached in 2018, it was right after the then-unexpected 2018 tax reform went into effect. It seemed like the perfect time to get a publisher involved now that the largest change to the tax code since the Reagan-era tax reform had taken place, and thus torpedoed a lot of my book’s content when it was barely three years old at the time.

But life had other plans.

A Stymied Contract

I don’t want to scare you with this part, but years of back and forth slog ensued.

Some of the delays were on my part, some on the publisher, then 2020 needs no introductions.

I spent much of 2018 and 2019 dealing with an intensely painful orthopedic issue that completely ruined my quality of life. 2018 was a crappy year because of an unsuccessful surgery that still required downtime and physical therapy. I had to get it corrected a year later. To this day, I thank the stars I had a successful second operation two months before COVID struck.

Although I had the publisher very interested from the start–read: the hardest part was already taken care of!–I submitted the proposal then would follow up on the state of the contract. I would hear nothing for weeks, then get the runaround when I thought we were making progress. Having had the same experience with mega-corp game publishers on licensing agreements, I loathe the “wait and see” game as much as anyone else but thought it wouldn’t take so long.

Then I had my unsuccessful surgery, and needed to focus on recovery and paying bills. Even if I got an advance in the contract, it wouldn’t be paid until the new manuscript was submitted and sent to bed. But I did not have a contract yet so that part couldn’t even be negotiated!

I sent a few follow-up emails in 2019 but they mostly went into the ether, so I assumed a publisher-supported update was dead in the water. I had “update tax book” on my to-do list for a year now and it was not getting done: after all, I was making big bucks with a new column and several indie teams hired me to be their interim business development manager all at once while I attempted to get back to work on my own games. All while I had another major foot surgery on the horizon, and instinct told me I had to change doctors! (Was VERY glad I did. Trust that instinct, even if it slows the process down.) Updating an old product that mostly served as a marketing tool and was making about $10-15 a month just wasn’t a priority.

Then the world shattered in 2020. But to give you the 5-Second Movie version of what happened next, I decided to move across the country to California and would need about a year and a half to make it happen. So I focused on my most lucrative clients, snagged those relief programs, sold possessions on eBay, and prepared for a new life out west.

I arrived in Los Angeles right before New Year’s 2022.

GDC 2022: The Contract is Signed

GDC was back after two years of it being too unsafe to run a massive, multinational event that attracts about 20,000 attendees. I was stoked to work the room again and see old friends and colleagues while making new ones.

Lo and behold, I reconnected with my publisher rep at the show. He was keen on rekindling the discussion of changing my now incredibly dated tax book into a professionally published product with proper support.

This time, the contract was in my inbox before I even touched down in LA.

I had my lawyer red-pen it after I reviewed it on my own. We went through two passes before I signed, including the addition of ongoing grant payments whenever I updated the webpage that would be accompanying the book. If you’re writing a reference book with content that constantly gets updated, this is a feature you WILL want unless you’re already negotiating future editions that entail additional compensation.

Have about $1,000-2,000 on hand for this process. If you can’t afford that, see if you have any free or sliding-scale legal clinics for freelancers and artists where you live. The legal fees I paid were definitely worth getting a higher payout for life.

Revamping Old Content and the Editing Process

Because of the ongoing product support and content creation payments separate of my royalties, I was glad I got a publisher. Other projects and my ADHD, not to mention the book serving more as marketing than a major income source, didn’t make updating the material a priority. But now I was under contractual obligation to revamp this book and deliver by October so it could get out in time for tax season.

So, redoing an old book has different challenges compared to writing a new book. In some ways, it was certainly easier than writing new material from scratch. But there was also so much dated material to read through, redo, or scrap entirely and replace with something new.

Other upsides of having publisher support after being self-published: I didn’t have to think about all of these minute details like page and proof layouts, or pay for an artist if I didn’t want to make an obviously half-assed cover in Canva for free. I only had to focus on updating my original material and approving or denying the changes made by the editor.

But it wasn’t without its challenges.

Just because the audience is STEM doesn’t mean the editor should be, and I really wished they assigned me a legal editor. There were also times when I looked through the proposed edits and saw a complete disconnect from the intended audience, the voice used, and even basic English. Because we were in a hurry to get the book sent to the press–a new process for me that I had no say in–it also meant that it wouldn’t get released until the tail end of tax season.

Harkening back to my Kindle experience, it made me remember how satisfying it was to finish the process and just click “publish” when I was done.

There’s some works in progress that I’d rather self-publish, namely fiction, because it has a much wider audience than a professional reference book for a fairly tiny industry. The proposal and contract processes for fiction writing are also completely different, often requiring you to finish your entire manuscript first. Some reference and academic publishers want to see sample chapters, but mine evaluates proposals based on a tentative table of contents.

Given that my audience is a small and dedicated niche, going with this publisher made sense for me. While I longed for some of the speed and degrees of control that self-publishing offers, ongoing grants plus royalties definitely beat what I was making on Kindle just to get my name out there. But publishing the first edition was a valuable learning experience as well, and also served as a stepping stone to getting traditionally published. You only go up from there!

Key Takeaways From This Experience

• A Kindle book can absolutely be your jumpstart to working with a reference publisher. I don’t want to comment on how effective this approach would be with something like novels or poetry, there’s definitely fiction writers killing it in self-publishing and others who’d be happy to afford a pizza with their monthly royalties. But if you’re a nonfiction writer who doesn’t want to spend hours scouring publishers and submitting proposals out of the gate, or writing the entire thing just to face countless rejections, put it up on Kindle, Lulu, Gumroad, and other distributors just to see how it does. You can say you finished a book on your own, learn from the process, and it could catch a publisher’s eye if it’s fairly unexplored territory (who else would write about game developer taxes but me?) and/or was well-received.
• Consider the content and how frequently it would need to be updated. Are you writing a nonfiction book that would be more evergreen, like a biography of an unsung hero, or a topic that changes as frequently as the tax code? If it’s the latter, publisher support holds a significant advantage over self-publishing unless you have editorial assistants of your own.
• Always have a real lawyer red-pen your contract. Don’t take the first offer. Do not use an AI legal assistant. Sure, use Rocket Lawyer or Avvo to find someone if you don’t already have attorneys you regularly work with, but their templates and basic review services aren’t going to help you here. Yes, it’ll cost money out of pocket but that’s how I won the right to a perpetual annual payment for content updates irrespective of how much royalties the book generates. Red-penning is part of the negotiation process, so if you want an advance or you want to set other conditions like a longer timeline, tell your lawyer.
• Check if your publisher has an affiliate program. I’m an Amazon Associate and you bet I want additional monetization for selling my own books. My publisher has an affiliate program as well, although I wasn’t able to get in. If yours has an affiliate program and you’re eligible to participate, bolster those royalties! You’ll get commission if visitors buy other books in addition to yours. Amazon’s affiliate program is pretty plug-and-play, publishers with affiliate programs might put you through a more rigorous enrollment process through their own website or an affiliate network like Commission Junction or Share-a-Sale. No matter how they do it, get that bag if you’re eligible. Don’t leave money on the table!
• Is your end goal royalties or professional positioning? It’s difficult to say whether the publisher route is automatically more lucrative than self-publishing. It depends on the type of book, the audience, what’s in your agreement, and if you will receive an advance. Many reference publishers won’t pay an advance, others might if you’ve proven you can deliver. But if you want to write a reference book that productizes your knowledge while generating leads, or where you have full control over the content as well as the distribution and marketing, self-publishing would be a much faster and less time-consuming option.
• Think about whether the publisher would help you reach your target market more effectively, or if you feel confident in your ability to work Kindle and other ebook search engines. In my case, this publisher is the big cheese for my particular industry although I’m not opposed to working with other reference publishers, or with a big house for both fiction and nonfiction projects. But I have more risque projects I’d rather self-publish.
• Consider whether you work better under a contractual deadline or at your own pace. I have my own business, my own projects, several interests, and severe ADHD. There are times I don’t cope well with deadlines, and times when setting a deadline on myself is an exercise in entropy. But when it came to finally updating my tax book seven years after it came out, I was very glad I had a defined timeline that had to be adhered to get the book out in time for GDC 2023 and the tail end of tax season.

BIO: Rachel Presser is a former Enrolled Agent who retired from the tax profession just to use her years of taxation and business advisory experience to help other creatives with Sonic Toad Consulting. She has taught courses and spoken at various gaming industry events about business development and tax law issues for indie developers, and is the author of The Definitive Guide to Taxes for Indie Game Developers (second edition through CRC Press). She lives in Los Angeles with her monitor lizard, Liora.

Some years ago, I had written a personal essay about how my father, who had a problem acknowledging disabled people, learned to accept his first grandchild who was born with spina bifida and hydrocephalus. Those two disabilities proved a big burden for our sweet baby girl but also the catalyst for helping her grandfather change his attitude.

I posted the essay on a website for writers where anyone could post whatever they’d written. Some were very amateur in substance and writing while others were well done. I received an email from an editor who had read the piece at Our Echo. She invited me to submit my essay to an anthology that would be published by Guideposts. This was a paying market whereas the other was not. They accepted my personal essay after I submitted it.

In mid-summer of 2019, I happened to notice a listing for a magazine called Kaleidoscope published by the United Disability Services. Their guidelines stated that they liked stories written by people who had a disability but would accept stories from other writers, too. I pondered a while and then decided to submit “The Perfect Grandchild” since they accepted reprints.

Months later, there was no response so I placed a big NO next to the listing I had made in my Submissions Chart and moved on. More than a year later, an editor from Kaleidoscope contacted me with the news that they ‘might’ want to publish “The Perfect Grandchild.” If interested, I was to fill out a form with information about me. Again, they restated that publication was only a possibility.

What was there to lose? Nothing. I filled out the forms and returned them, and then waited several more weeks. Hearing nothing, I figured it was a no-go deal. Not long after I had crossed the possibility off my list, I heard from the editor saying he would like to publish my work in their next issue. Again came the statement inferring it might be pulled at the last minute.

I felt a little like that donkey and the carrot dangling in front of its nose only to be unreachable. Another lesson in frustration.

A year and a half after I had originally submitted to Kaleidoscope, I received a link to the new issue of the magazine including my story, and a check arrived shortly after. The quality of the magazine and the stories published in it pleased me.

Even though it took some time and a lot of wondering on my part, “The Perfect Grandchild” found a home once again. We know very little happens in a quick 1-2-3 fashion in our writing journey. My two keywords as I have traversed my writing path are ‘patience and perseverance.’ I had to use a measure of both when submitting to Kaleidoscope. Would I do it again? Absolutely.

Recently,  I had a letter of acceptance from Chicken Soup for the Soul for a story I had submitted in November of 2019. I had long since considered it a NO. Yet, here was the letter saying “The Four-Legged Nanny” would be in the book titled My Heroic, Hilarious, Human Dog to be published the next September with a $200 check to follow.

I learned two lessons through these experiences:  Reprints work. Never count a submission out even when more than a year has passed since submitting.

Bio: Nancy Julien Kopp lives and writes in the Flint Hills of Kansas. She writes short fiction, personal essays, family stories, short stories for children, poetry, and articles on the writing craft. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies, including 24 Chicken Soup for the Soul books, ezines, magazines, and newspapers.

This is part of our ongoing series on how authors published their first book. You can read our other stories in this series, here, here, here, here, and here.

I’d been driving solo for a few hours. Long, golden stretches of West Texas blurred into New Mexico, and as I scanned the thin line of gray horizon forever ahead of me, I waited for the Sangre de Cristo Mountains to emerge from cacti and brush.

It was the spring of 2019, when days vacillated between ochre dust storms and teasing hints of green, and I was on my way to a small mountain village for a weekend of rest, prayer, and focused writing. I had a book in me, I thought, because I’d been on a different journey – a spiritual one – for some time, and I believed I could use it to help or inspire others, if I could just find a way to write it. Get it into people’s hands. Publish it.

Look up books focused on faith, spirituality, or religion, and you’ll be inundated with options. The market is full of translations, devotionals, theological treatises, faith-focused fiction, and more. Hundreds of large and small publishers, including the “Big 5,” publish books in this vein. These books are important and valuable; matters of faith and spirituality provide many with sustenance, inspiration, and hope. But the sheer number of books on these topics – and which accompanying houses publish them – can be overwhelming.

My book was about a year I spent “searching” for Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and understanding her role in my Eastern Orthodox Christian faith. As a convert to Orthodox Christianity, I had a lot of questions about Mary, and for some time, I’d read, researched, and journaled everything I could about her. What emerged from that writing became a spiritual memoir about devotion to Mary and how it changed my faith during a time when personal sorrows would not stop coming. It was not a book, I knew, that would appeal to everyone, and that was okay. But it might appeal to a few people who were also searching for Mary (or at least wanted to know more about her).

So I spent that weekend in a quiet little mountain village hiking, praying, and typing the first words that would become A Long Walk with Mary: A Personal Search for the Mother of God. I also used that time to research Eastern Orthodox publishers.

Because of the unique focus of my book, I knew that A Long Walk with Mary would appeal most to an Orthodox Christian or Catholic publisher, but probably not to a Protestant or Evangelical publisher. I researched all the publishers of Eastern Orthodox and Catholic writing, including small, independent, and seminary presses, and made careful notes about their catalogs, proposal guidelines, market reach, and comparative titles. The reality is, there just aren’t a lot of publishers devoted to Orthodox Christian writing, which was both a positive and a negative for me.

The negative was that if A Long Walk with Mary couldn’t find a home with an Orthodox Christian publisher, it would be very hard to sell to a broader house. One of the top Catholic publishers I was looking at, for example, required agented work, and I knew I didn’t want to seek an agent.

The positive was that I knew I had a unique story to tell, one I couldn’t find a comparative title for in this niche market. Because there are so many religion/spirituality titles out there, it’s extremely important that writers make sure their work is one-of-a-kind and meets a need that hasn’t already been met by another book. Because of my research on Mary, I had a good idea of exactly what was out there in terms of modern-day memoirs exploring devotion to her (very little) and more specifically, books about Orthodox Christian converts integrating devotion to her (zero).

Ancient Faith Publishing, one of the largest publishers of Orthodox Christian writing in the English-speaking world, fit the bill for my book’s topic, voice, market reach, and need. When I returned from my mountain retreat, I buckled down and produced the best initial chapters I could and composed a book proposal, following all their requirements to the letter. Thankfully, Ancient Faith Publishing’s proposal guidelines were extremely detailed. My proposal had to include many elements, including a complete table of contents and sample chapters. Let me tell you, I labored over that proposal! Because of the small Orthodox Christian publishing world, I knew I only had one shot of making an impression since I had no personal relationships with anyone in the field. Submitting the most polished and professional proposal was my main goal.

After I submitted my proposal to Ancient Faith Publishing, I attended a “content creators” conference they hosted. It was a chance to meet other creators and learn more about what this publisher was seeking. This is where I encourage writers to participate in whatever skills-and-relationships building opportunities you can afford. Join professional organizations devoted to your genre. Save up and go to one conference, regional meeting, or local event to network and better your craft. Develop relationships with other authors and editors, and take advantage of online resources. While I was waiting to hear back on A Long Walk with Mary, I volunteered to be a book reviewer and joined some Facebook groups to connect with other creators in the Orthodox Christian world. I am convinced that anything can be a learning experience.

In June of 2019, news arrived. Ancient Faith Publishing was interested in publishing my book! What followed was a flurry of contract negotiations, writing the rest of the book, and – oh! – a pregnancy! The final book was scheduled to be submitted by May 2020, just a few months from my due date. Those precious, unplanned-for months with a newborn changed the course (and ending) of my memoir for the better. I edited the book and added an epilogue from my laptop while my infant son slept sprawled across my lap.

A Long Walk with Mary: A Personal Search for the Mother of God was released in ebook and print in March 2021, and over the summer of that year, I recorded the audiobook version. Since its release, I have been humbled and challenged by its impact. I have been a guest on several podcasts, spoken to book clubs, and even presented at a women’s retreat.

Reading this, you may think this case study is about one lucky chance at getting a book published right out of the gate, but I want to encourage you. In fact, I just had my second full-length book proposal, which I also labored over, rejected by my publisher. After my experience with A Long Walk with Mary, let me tell you, this rejection hurt! My debut book simply had a unique timing and journey; your books will have their own special journeys, too.

Today, I’m back at square one. Back to waiting for something to emerge from the horizon, to writing in the in-between times. Back to reading and journaling and asking myself the all-important question we must never stop asking ourselves:

“What am I going to write next?”

BIO: Brandi Willis Schreiber is the author of poetry, nonfiction, and prize-winning fiction. A longtime native of West Texas, her work has appeared in St. Katherine Review, New Texas: A Journal of Culture and Literature; Big Tex[t], The Texas Review, Red River Review, All Things Dickinson: An Encyclopedia of Emily Dickinson’s World, 2Elizabeths Literary Journal, and elsewhere. Her first full-length book and audiobook, the spiritual memoir, A Long Walk with Mary: A Personal Search for the Mother of God, were published by Ancient Faith Publishing in 2021. Her fiction has appeared in the Romance Writers of America’s anthology, Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Anthology, and she was the 2017 grand prize winner of the 2Elizabeths “Love and Romance” writing contest. Forthcoming work includes a nativity devotional which is scheduled to be released by Ancient Faith Publishing in late 2023. You can connect with her and learn more about www.brandiwillisschreiber.com

This is part of our ongoing series on how authors published their first book. You can read our other stories in this series, here, here, here, and here.

I am writing about what happened to me, at the threshold of publishing my debut novel. After fifteen years, after realizing there are notable paths to publication that don’t require an agent, Off the Yoga Mat is coming out with Livingston Press of University of West Alabama, a small university press.

My novel follows three characters coming of middle age as the year 2000 (Y2K) approaches: Nate is broke and in his eighth year of graduate school. Nate’s ex-girlfriend Nora finagles a position in Finland where she embraces sisu, the Finnish concept of perseverance, in pursuit of motherhood. And Lulu, Nate’s talented yogi, yearns to get to the bottom of her nightmares of childhood abuse as she returns to her hometown, New Orleans, to care for her ailing mother.

Many times, I thought I was done with Nate, Nora and Lulu. As far as I was concerned, I’d hit on the right combination of character, plot, style, conflict, and tone. But as I re-read it, and received additional feedback from my writing groups and rejections from the outside world, I realized I had not. Years passed and my sense of time wasting felt overwhelming. I put it away, worked on and published stories, poems, scholarly essays, flash fiction, and attended to my demanding teaching job. What also plagued me: jealousy. Other writers found readers. They published their books and won awards. Ironically, my character Nate researches the theme of jealousy through literature and psychology for his doctoral thesis, but claims he never gets personally jealous. What a mighty delusion! As Brandon Stosuy says in his Lit Hub essay Why Failure is Necessary for Creative Growth dated June 21, 2022 (but in a slightly different context), “You end up giving too much space to jealousy, bitterness, comparing yourself to your peers and that’s less room for the creative process to unfold.” I came to realize that.

In 2014, during a round of pitching agents, I received requests for the partial or full manuscript, but did not receive a firm offer. I questioned the novel’s opening. Would it grab a reader’s attention and make them want to turn the page? The sequencing of chapters, told in third person from three characters’ perspectives was also a challenge and took time to figure out. Their lives must stay entwined even when their story arcs take them on disparate journeys. For these and other uncertainties I had about the book, I benefited from what I am calling “key encounters,” exchanges that made it possible to keep going again. These encounters restored my sense of energy and urgency to revise with attention to craft in this coming-of-middle-age story (I kept getting older too).

Out of all the workshops and retreats I attended and consultants I hired, a few stand out as having made a difference, giving me positive energy and the wherewithal to go back into the trenches. The first was a paid mentorship in 2015 with an editor who is also an agent who represented a friend of mine. He sensed what was missing and what I hadn’t realized but needed to work on: pacing, ramping up the stakes, developing emotional layering between the characters. This was before the pandemic and before Zoom, but we mainly had sessions over the phone as he lives in Canada and I live in New York City. What was it about these sessions that helped? His candor and enthusiasm, his specific emphasis on moving the story (he represents mostly commercial fiction), and making every effort to engage the reader. My opening chapter would present all three of the novel’s protagonists even if was only a brief introduction. On his advice, I moved up Nora’s discovery of an opportunity to escape her marketing job in New York City to work for Nokia in Finland; in the first chapter, the reader glimpses her through Nate’s perspective. When the story shifts to her POV, she attends a baby shower for her pregnant boss after Nate refuses to consider her desire for a child. Rather than wait for him, she takes off. Another key suggestion from this mentor was to add a serendipitous encounter near the novel’s end which would bring together Nora and Lulu, main characters connected to Nate whose paths had not yet crossed. How exhilarating to have a careful reader suggest a possibility that brought my work full circle, unveiling and deepening the characters’ vulnerability, pushing me to push on.

A second key pre-pandemic encounter: a three-week in-person master fiction workshop in 2019 at Atlantic Center for the Arts in Florida, with photographers and dancers in simultaneous residencies. This center encourages three cohorts to interact, eat, and socialize. The richness of these exchanges, the fabulous craft details and support of my workshop leader, a brilliant fiction writer with an egalitarian leaderships style, enabled a joyful time to write and walk, to explore our writing and non-writing lives. This workshop brought me back to my novel with a fresh eye, although I workshopped a short story during the residency. Our sessions focused on topics like emotional tenacity for your characters and for yourself, whether or not you need a prologue, and how to bring out sensual details that matter. One of my seminar mates said that our group “was like being in a Ninja blender with plenty of ideas and hope and laughter and tears.” The process of writing thoughtful feedback to the other writers, supportive with constructive critique, and our sessions where each of us was asked to bring in a text, visual or musical influence that informed our work, resuscitated powerful energy into sections of my novel that had thwarted me. We also had opportunities to share our work in forums, and at a gala event before a public audience. This community offered support and respect which matters most at times we doubt ourselves.

A final key encounter: my writing groups and beta readers. Over the years I have been drafting, revising and taking breaks from Off the Yoga Mat, I was in two different prose writing groups that provided constructive feedback. It was not easy finding the right groups; the writers in these were ambitious, well-published and talented. One group came about after we took the same instructor in an advanced fiction workshop through Sackett Street Writers. The other group contained two memoirists and three fiction writers struggling through their first (and then second) books. Sometimes their feedback was hard to digest and overwhelming; often, I could not return to the novel for a few weeks, or months. Yet, when I did, I understood that much of what they said was dead on. With distance, I could go through the comments and apply the ones I found most relevant.

They were especially helpful with Lulu’s back story, which took place in the 1960’s and 70’s; I struggled with scenes that involved sexual violence. How could I depict the decisions Lulu made based on her past trauma, especially with the different political contexts of today? My writing group suggested striking a balance between then and now, and write the story that made sense for the character’s perspective. I excluded graphic description, but conveyed struggle and confusion that contribute to the character’s growth and dignity. I also received an opinion from someone I hired to go over particularly sensitive areas and perspectives the novel touches upon, and she validated much of what I was trying to achieve.

At that point, more than ten years into the process, I started to query independent presses, and I am about to realize my dream of publishing my debut novel although it took much longer and has been a much thornier experience than I imagined.  The emotional highs and lows, and years of disappointment also came with breakthroughs and incredible support. Now another phase of the process of publishing a debut novel is about to begin. I’ve reached a point where I can take a deep breath and experience the joy that it will finally be launched into the world.

Cheryl J. Fish is the author of the debut novel OFF THE YOGA MAT, the story of three characters coming of middle age, to be published on 10/20/22 by Livingston Press/UWA. Her recent books include THE SAUNA IS FULL OF MAIDS, poems and photographs celebrating Finnish sauna culture, travel, and friendships, and CRATER & TOWER, poems reflecting on trauma and ecology after the Mount St. Helens Volcanic eruption and the terrorist attack of 9/11. Fish has been a Fulbright professor in Finland and is a co-editor with Farah Griffin of A STRANGER IN THE VILLAGE: TWO CENTURIES OF AFRICAN-AMERICAN TRAVEL LITERATURE. Fish’s short fiction has appeared in Cheap Pop, Iron Horse Literary Review, Liars’ League, Spank the Carp, and KGB Bar Lit. She is professor of English at BMCC/City University of New York and docent lecturer at University of Helsinki. Her website is cheryljfish.com and you can follow her on Instagram and Twitter @cheryljoyfish. You can preorder OFF THE YOGA MAT here.

I’ll always remember the expression on the teacher’s face when I told him I wanted to be a writer. It was a look of amusement and mild shock, with maybe a touch of sympathy. Years later, it dawned on me that he probably thought I was being sarcastic. I wasn’t. I was deadly serious. Being a writer is the only thing I ever wanted to do, but people from the economically deprived valleys of south Wales don’t usually write for a living.

Admittedly, I wasn’t the best pupil in the world. Like many others, I felt I just didn’t fit into the neat little box the education system wanted to put me in. As a result, I left school at 16 with no qualifications and went to work at a local factory. It was hard, physical work with minimal career prospects, and it didn’t take long to work out I didn’t want to do it forever.

I decided to channel my frustration into making good on my long-held dream of becoming a writer. The problem was, I lacked all the necessary skills. I wasn’t computer savvy, I couldn’t even type, and I had no concept of the business side of writing. But I wasn’t going to let little things like that deter me, and set about researching and writing what would eventually become my first book. I chose a topic, Welsh history and folklore, that I was already passionate about, and saw the project primarily as a learning exercise.

Having only a limited amount of free time in which to work on it each day actually helped me. I devised a routine whereby I would write religiously for an hour a night, and time management became critical. I would spend most of the day at work stringing words together in my head and making notes when my supervisor wasn’t looking. By the time I could actually sit down and write I knew exactly what I wanted to say.

It was a slow process. But even slow progress is progress. There was a lot of research involved, which usually meant trips to various museums and libraries as a lot of the information I sought wasn’t digitized.

Time went by, and eight years later, I was in a position to approach publishers. The first thing I did was use the latest edition of The Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook to compile a list of twenty or so traditional publishers with a proven track record in my genre. Naturally, I put the larger, better-established publishers at the top of the list and submitted to them first, then waited a few weeks before moving on to the next. I tailored and personalized each proposal, and made sure to mention it was a simultaneous submission. If this was a deal-breaker, so be it. I, like most people, couldn’t afford to wait around for six months or more while someone somewhere took their time making a decision. In today’s climate, I find publishers are generally much more flexible and understanding in this respect.

Predictably, the first few publishers I approached weren’t remotely interested in my book. Some offered constructive feedback, most didn’t. A few didn’t even reply. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but as I worked my way down the list my hopes began to fade.

Then, at around the midway point, I contacted a small press called Gwasg Carreg Gwalch. The name, derived from a local landmark called Carreg-y-gwalch (meaning ‘Falcon Rock’) doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but a little research told me they could be a great match for my book. They had good distribution links both online and in bricks-and-mortar book shops, with a large slice of their business coming from the tourist trade. I signed my first publishing contract, and soon after, Into the Dragon’s Lair: A Supernatural History of Wales became a minor hit.

I can’t explain the euphoria of finally seeing eight years’ work in print and the sense of pride that comes with it. Additionally, the book opened more doors than I ever thought possible. It was instrumental in winning me a bursary that enabled me to study for a degree in journalism which became the cornerstone of my career. I am living proof that if you work hard enough, your dreams really can come true.

I only wish that teacher of mine was around to see it!

Bio: Chris Saunders has written over a dozen books and currently writes for a special interest magazine in the UK. Find out more here: https://cmsaunders.wordpress.com/

When poet Robert Frost wrote about two roads diverging in a yellow wood, I doubt he had in mind all the writers striving to get happily (and traditionally) published. But my own publishing journey thus far suggests that there are indeed divergent roads a writer can take to reach the same destination.

At the outset of the Covid pandemic, I was gripped by the idea of writing a novel exploring some of the impacts a devastating pandemic (worse than our real one) might have on American society and culture after the crisis has receded. I can’t honestly recall exactly how and when the arc of the story took shape in my mind, but my files indicate I began researching and writing in March 2020—even though we had barely begun to process our collective new reality. (I must have been crazy, but that didn’t occur to me at the time.)

By setting the novel a few years into the future, around 2030, I was able to psychologically leapfrog past current events and begin imagining an aftermath. In my conception, it isn’t pretty. Fascism rears its ugly head to fill a terrified population’s overweening need to feel safe, social norms that had broken down have not been restored, and acute labor shortages give rise to enslaved labor.

Those ideas coalesced into The Potrero Complex, a dystopian mystery-thriller set largely in a fictional small town in Maryland where civilization is coming apart at the seams.

I worked furiously and completed the novel in a couple of months. I did not seek out beta readers or a professional editor. You can fault me for that—and you’re probably right. I don’t recommend the approach. But the book felt “done” to me (and no, authors are not always the best judge of this!), and I decided to bring it to the marketplace as an unagented author.

It had not occurred to me some agents—okay, many agents—did not want any material addressing a pandemic. Here I thought I was being relevant and topical, but I received a clear message that nobody wanted to read such dire stuff. Several agents specifically said they wanted uplifting books. So I failed that test.

I queried agents and publishers with open-manuscript submission policies for a couple of months. I was on the verge of taking a break from fruitless querying, when I decided to submit the manuscript to the Petrichor Prize for unpublished books that is sponsored annually by Regal House Publishing. I distinctly remember feeling deeply discouraged at that point, and I nearly did not submit because I was certain I wouldn’t even make a short list.

Then that moment arrived that every author hopes for, but which rarely occurs. I received the email from Regal House telling me I was a finalist for the prize. Great news. I could live on that for months. Then a second email arrived from the publisher within a few days, offering me a contract.

This entire experience—from beginning to write to signing a contract with Regal House—took six months. That’s an astonishingly short time. I didn’t set out to rush the process; it just happened. And for this particular book, the journey was just right. The book will be published in August 2022 and advanced reviews are encouraging.

All of which leads me to a couple of conclusions about this difficult business of getting published.

1. Take an all-of-the-above strategy as you seek traditional publishing. That means cultivating a list of likely agents, of course, but also reputable publishers accepting unagented manuscripts. And don’t overlook time-limited opportunities, such as contests for first chapters and/or whole manuscripts. Authors Publish is a great source for these, along with Submittable’s ‘discovery’ feature, New Pages, and other outlets.
2. Write from a place of passion, not market calculation. Had I known that pandemic fiction would be a nonstarter for many in the industry, would I have written the story? I shudder to think about it.
3. Believe in your work and do not give up. You never know when a string of rejections will yield to acceptance. The past is not necessarily a predictor of the future. For interim validation, submit your manuscript to a professional developmental editor who will give you an honest and impartial assessment of the work’s strengths and weaknesses. I didn’t do that this time, but it’s a sound practice.

Getting published is usually a long, slow, emotionally taxing journey. You may improve your odds by exploring different avenues and byways of the trade. After all, any road may lead to success; you just have to start down the path.

Editor’s Note: This is the second in a series about how authors published their debut books. You can read the first here. If you want to participate, please send us an email with a pitch to submissions@authorspublish.com.

Bio: Amy L. Bernstein writes for the page, the stage, and forms in between. Her literary preoccupations include rooting for the underdog and putting ordinary people in difficult situations to see how they wriggle out. Her novels include The Potrero Complex (Regal House Publishing, Aug. 2022), The Nighthawkers (The Wild Rose Press, forthcoming), and Fran, The Second Time Around (Amazon, Audible, iTunes). Amy is an award-winning journalist and speechwriter as well as a playwright. https://linktr.ee/amylbernstein

The story I’d been working on had gone through multiple evolutions, from a strictly factual account, to a blend of fact and fiction, until it had reached the point where I was calling it a novel. The story was loosely based on the lives of my grandparents, a two-piano four-hands team who performed onstage and on radio during the 1930s. While daydreaming, my mind would occasionally wander ahead to what I would do if I ever finished it? How would I go about getting it out into the world? My mind was vague on that point, so I put it out of my head and continued writing.

I had been on the Authors Publish email list for a while, and always enjoyed their articles and tips about submitting to literary journals. When I learned they were offering a Manuscript Publishing for Novelists course in the fall of 2019, I signed up.

I appreciated the convenience of working on the course at home (little did I realize how prevalent that would become) and how Emily Harstone took us step by step through the stages of getting a manuscript ready for publication. The course covered polishing the first twenty pages, writing a hook and a query letter, researching agents and publishers, and more, with weekly homework. She stressed the need to follow the agents’ and publishers’ guidelines exactly so as not to be disqualified right off the bat. I liked that we could read and comment on fellow students’ work as that helped me look at my own writing with new eyes.

Once I finished the course, I put the notes in a binder on my shelf for future reference, and continued revising my manuscript.

In February 2020, I travelled to London, England to explore the city so that I could add veracity to my characters’ movements, along with doing research at the British Library. I’d write up my notes in the evenings back at the hotel while listening to the BBC news.  COVID cases were increasing by the day and I was worried that by the end of the week the airports might close. I did get home safely, but two weeks later the province declared a state of emergency. When my work writing for magazines declined due to the drop in advertising revenue, and I faced free time at home, I decided to buckle down and finally finish the book, which I did, a few months later.

In June 2020 I pulled out my notes from the Manuscript Publishing course and got busy. I set a goal for myself of querying three to five agents and/or publishers per week. Each submission took at least an hour, sometimes more. Some asked for a synopsis, some just a paragraph description of the book, while others wanted the whole manuscript. Some requested that the material be sent by email as attachments, others wanted hard copies to be mailed. As per Emily’s advice, I followed each requirement to the letter. Then the rejections started flowing in. I was impressed with the eloquent, encouraging words I received and the suggestions to go elsewhere. I tried not to dwell on them, but the one that said I didn’t write like Michael Ondaatje seemed to sting the most, even though I had no delusions that I wrote like him at all.

Eight months later, at the end of February 2021, I tallied up the numbers – I’d submitted to 47 Canadian, American and British agents along with 16 publishers that didn’t require an agent, for a total of 63 submissions. I’d received 26 rejections, and the remainder said it could take up to six months for them to respond, or if I hadn’t heard from them within a certain period, to assume rejection. I was losing my motivation and my submissions dwindled down to one a week. I wondered if I should give up altogether.

Then on March 10, 2021, Tina Crossfield of Crossfield Publishing in St. Mary’s, Ontario, sent me an email saying that she was very drawn to my story and writing style, and that she was prepared to offer me a contract, as she believed in the importance of the book! I re-read the email several times, then started to cry. All that work had finally paid off.

Claudette on the Keys was launched on September 24, 2021 to much media attention in newspapers, magazines, TV and radio. I am still pinching myself and thankful that the email about the Manuscript Publishing for Novelists course landed in my inbox two years ago.

Bio: Joanne Culley’s novel Claudette on the Keys is available from Chapters-Indigo and www.crossfieldpublishing.com. For more information, please visit www.joanneculley.com, or like her book page at facebook.com/ClaudetteOnTheKeysNOVEL.