This summer, I finished final revisions on the most
difficult novel I've ever written.
LETTERS FROM HEAVEN is about twelve-year-old Missy Tuttle, whose mother dies from a brain tumor. Dad starts dating too soon, her best friends have gone AWOL, and Missy has no one to turn to. But then, a letter arrives, signed Love, Mom. When the letters keep coming, referencing events Mom couldn't possibly have predicted, Missy realizes she's receiving actual letters from heaven.
This story is so
deeply personal that it
took me a full three years to finish, as I had to give myself several months
between each revision. In fact, last year, I gave up on it completely, certain
I'd never find the emotional distance necessary to write the story effectively.
I wasn't sure if I was ready to share that much of myself with the world.
But my amazing critique partners wouldn't let me put it away
forever. And so, when I started querying TWELVE STEPS, I pulled LETTERS FROM
HEAVEN out of the virtual drawer.
The goal was to have LETTERS ready to query
by the time I reached the end of my query list for TWELVE STEPS. Yikes!
In other words, I chickened out.
Not ready to take the leap of faith required to query, I
entered Pitch Madness. My top agent choices were participating, and the contest
circuit worked with my first novel. It would work for me again.
But I didn't make it to the final round of Pitch Madness, so no agents saw my entry.
After a brief battle with self-doubt (where I forced myself
to re-read
my own blog post about how even phenomenal entries may not be selected
for Pitch Madness), I decided to enter the Twitter pitch party #PitMad.
I knew at least one of the agents on my wish list (we'll call
her Agent A) was watching the #PitMad feed. In fact, I chatted with her
throughout the day, about various topics, but mostly Pitch Madness and #PitMad.
Surely, she'd see my Twitter pitch tucked into my feed as we conversed. I
waited all day for her to mention my pitch and request my pages.
Nope.
Of course, an agent not requesting through a Twitter pitch party is NOT the same as a rejection. The feed moves so fast, there's no way to even know if your agent crush saw your pitch.
But sometimes, it still feels like a rejection.
As much as I wanted a contest to make the introductions for me, the "easy route" wasn't so easy this time around.
And after all I'd been through with this manuscript, I couldn't put LETTERS FROM HEAVEN back into the
drawer.
My first manuscript died because I was too afraid to query
widely. I gave up on it before giving it half a chance. My second manuscript made
its rounds on the contest circuit to find a home.
But this time around, I knew
I had to take that leap, trusting wings to sprout in time to carry me to the ground. In other words, I had to query.
I was meticulous in my research. Because
the story was so personal, I couldn’t bring myself to follow the common advice
to "query widely." I knew I had to put myself out there, but not
that much.
After weeks of research, I had a very select list of "rock star" agents, who were likely, I thought, to connect with my story.
I started with just a couple of queries, to test the waters. I decided I'd write my next manuscript while I waited for responses, and by the time I
got through my select list, I could be ready to start over again with the next manuscript.
But a week passed, and I had not heard from anyone. (Shocking, right? -- A whole WEEK with no response!)
And I was too
nervous to write anything new. So I took a deep breath, sat myself at my dining room table
with my laptop, and wrote out ten more queries to ten more rock star agents.
By the next morning, I had two requests.
The only problem? You're generally supposed to include a synopsis with your full, and I didn't have one.
I spent the rest of the day frantically writing one (with the help of Ashley and Brenda, who dropped everything just to help me whip it into shape!), so I could send the requested pages.
Always have a synopsis ready,
kids!
A few hours later, Agent A tweeted: "I like books that make
me a bad subway passenger--laughing, crying, throwing my Kindle across the
train--well, maybe not the last one."
But that couldn't possibly be MY manuscript. I'd just sent it
to her!
Except... it was.
We'd
spoken on Twitter, and she sent me a note to tell me that my book--my very
personal, very emotional, very heartfelt book--had struck a chord. "Just
so you know, I was crying on the subway. This is powerful. I feel for her. You've
done a good job. So, again, whatever happens from here on out, I just wanted
you to know that."
This didn't make me nervous at all. Not one bit. Nope. Not me. Cool as a cucumber.
The next afternoon, she asked if we could set up a phone
call.
We talked for nearly two hours, about my manuscript and her
ideas for it, about family and hobbies and everything else. And I wasn't even
nervous! (This is huge, by the way! I have a severe phone phobia. I even
have mild panic attacks when talking to my own mother, my husband, or my very
best friends on the phone!)
When she offered representation, it took every ounce of my
self-control not to jump up and down and scream YES!!!
But I had other agents with my work. And I'd queried each of them for very strong, specific
reasons. I couldn't just write them off. So I emailed the other agents to let
them know I had an offer. And within minutes, I had another full request.
Thus began the longest week of my life.
I always thought it would be awesome and amazing to be that
writer with dozens of offers at once, but I quickly realized that the reality didn't fit the fantasy. How could I possibly turn down any of these rock star
agents?
In the meantime, a few agents told me, "This manuscript is wonderful, with a lot to love, but it's not right for me," or otherwise passed. Yet, the rejection didn't sting.
Deep in my heart, I knew I'd already made my choice.
And now, I'm happy to announce that I've accepted an offer
of representation from the fabulous Agent A -- Jessica Sinsheimer (Sarah Jane Freymann
Literary Agency, LLC)!!!
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