Sold!

by Susan Sey

So I've been sitting on this news for so long it almost doesn't feel like news anymore, but since my agent is currently in possession of a contract with my name on it (and since I am currently in possession of my first ever revision letter) I'm going to go ahead & spill it:

I sold.

Seriously. I sold a book. TWO books, one of which isn't even written yet. I can't tell you what kind of cold pit of terror that little fact opens up inside me. But there it is. I sold my Golden Heart winner, Money Honey, in a two book deal to Berkley not even a week after I got home from San Francisco.

But do you want to know the really good part? The really rewarding part?

I never meant sell Money Honey. This was a book I wrote purely to prove to myself that I could still write all the way to a happy ever after.

Now I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say that prior to writing MH, I suffered a deeply personal loss. The kind of loss that sucks the wind right out of a girl's eternally optimistic sails. The kind of loss that rips a big, gaping hole in the center of your soul. For a while there, it took every ounce of my energy just to get through the day, & I had to wonder if I'd ever have another creative impulse again.

But slowly, as time did its magic thing, I healed. And after a while, I started writing again. Not romance, of course. I didn't have the wherewithal for a happy ever after just yet. Just the usual, repetitive, cathartic stuff where I imposed a narrative on my loss. Where I gave it a story line & made it make sense.

After a few months of that, though, I had an idea for a romance. Mind you, it wasn't a good idea. It involved a hero with a lengthy criminal record & a heroine with such a heinous backstory there was no really plausible explanation for why she was still functioning like a normal human being. But I figured, hell. Why waste a good story idea on what will most likely end up in the recycling bin anyway?

So I wrote it. I wrote the darn thing & fell in love with my crazy characters & mourned when every contest I entered it in confirmed my suspicions that it was fatally flawed. So I put it under the bed & wrote something else. And that something else landed me an agent, so I felt pretty good about my comeback.

But when it came time to prep my 2008 GH entries, I just couldn't put MH under the bed. I ponied up the extra $50, kissed it goodbye & sent it off. My beloved dark horse. Imagine my shock when it finaled.

Imagine my shock when it won.

Imagine my utter & absolute astonishment when it sold.

So that's my story. I wrote a book I knew wouldn't sell just to prove to myself I had a happy ending left in me. And that's the book that brought me my own happy ending. So how about you? Has the universe ever rewarded you for doing exactly the wrong thing? Let's hear about it!

p.s. Look for Money Honey in the Fall of 2009 from Berkley Sensation! But if you forget, don't worry. I'll remind you.

The Call ... Finally!!!

By Kate
Will it ever ring?

Will they ever call?

They never call. Sigh.

I think I've been waiting for "The Call" since ... well, probably since I had a phone that looks like this one.

Fifty years? Okay, maybe not that long. Maybe only ten or twenty years.

But the waiting is over, my friends.

I GOT THE CALL!!!

And oh, it was a sweet moment. And at the risk of sounding really silly--like that's ever stopped me!--I've got to tell you, everything changed in that single moment when my agents told me that a senior editor at a top publishing company had enough confidence in my writing that she was willing to buy three--THREE!--as-yet unwritten manuscripts -- from ME!

In that moment, the world changed, I changed, everything changed.

I know it shouldn't be that way, should it? A word from one person and suddenly you're more important or special or different than you were a minute ago? Validation shouldn't have to come from outside. I should have confidence in my own work. And I do. Really. But come on!

It’s like magic! When "The Call" comes, everything changes and all the years of hard work and rejections and hitting your head against the wall and stumbling and picking yourself up and starting over again ... all that background story suddenly hits an incredible turning point and then it spins and twists and explodes in an amazing climax. And whew, everything is different. And it's fantastic!

And then I hang up the phone and go back to the day job.

So sad!!

But someday soon …

Meanwhile, here’s a little history of what brought on the sale. I was sooo tired of hearing that my current mystery didn’t have a hook (My agent said “your voice and humor is your hook” – isn't that sweet! But, uh, no sale.). So I pushed myself to write a cozy mystery proposal with a HOOK. You might say I wrote it for revenge. And hey, it worked! I sold the first three books of a new mystery series to NAL. Woohoo!!

Here’s the announcement from Publishers Marketplace…

Kate Carlisle's HOMICIDE IN HARDCOVER: A Bibliophile Mystery, a cursed copy of Goethe's Faust leads a rare book restorer into a murder investigation that only she can solve -- with the help of clues she uncovers in a valuable first edition, and three other books in the series, to Kristen Weber at NAL, by Kelly Harms and Christina Hogrebe at Jane Rotrosen Agency (world English).

Homicide in Hardcover. Isn't that cool? It's really real! I’m still over the moon but starting to get used to the feeling ...

And my fondest wish is that every one of my Bandita sisters experience that moment when everything changes. I can't wait to cheer you on!!!

Cheers!

How I Met My Editor -- The Latest "Call" Story

by Aunty Cindy

July 2006 Atlanta, Georgia -- RWA National Conference

My "roomie" and writing buddy, Willie Ferguson and I leave our room on the 20th floor of the hotel to go to the continental breakfast being served before the start of the workshops. (Amazingly Aunty is up and dressed at the ungodly hour of 7 a.m.)

The elevator door opens and we get in with two other people, a woman and a man. The man asks the woman what she writes and she tells him she's not a writer, but an editor. Then she looks over at Willie and me and seeing the Golden Heart ribbon on my name badge, she says, "Oh, you're a Golden Heart Finalist! My name is Deb Werksman and I'm an editor at Sourcebooks. I'd really love to read your manuscript." I tell her sure, I'll be happy to send it to her and she gives me her business card.

Once we get off the elevator and go our separate ways, Willie gasps, "I can't believe how cool and calm you were!" I am staring at the card yawning, and she realizes I'm still half-asleep.

However, I DO send the editor the full manuscript of my GH finalist when I get home from the conference.

Fast forward six months...

At the urging of my fellow Bandita and CP, Jo-Mama, I send an email to the editor as a friendly little request on the status of my manuscript and while I'm at it, I throw in a query for my current WIP. A month later, I get a rejection of the "not quite right for me" variety and figure that is the last I will hear.

Two months later...

I receive an email from the editor saying she would like to read more of the WIP. I am surprised, but also in the midst of doing a mass query of agents and sending out a requested full of my GH manuscript. I take my sweet time until Jo-Mama kicks my arse and I send the partial a month after the request.

Friday, July 27th

Still somewhat in a funk because I didn't get to go to Dallas with my Bandita buddies, I return home from my usual Friday lunch "date" with 3 friends, to be greeted by the DH. Looking unusually frazzled, he clutches a piece of paper with his semi-legible scribbles all over one side of it. He says, "Deb Werksman called here on her way home from work. She wants you to send the entire manuscript of Death In The Fens!" As I stare dumbfounded at the paper (an editor has never called me before), he adds, "She said you would know what to do because you already sent her the first four chapters."

I hug him and praise him profusely for doing a "good job" (men need this kind of positive reinforcement!), and then spend the next few days in a frenzy trying to polish up the last few chapters. Finally, on August 2nd, afraid to wait any longer, I dash off a cover email, attach the whole file and hit "send."

Now the waiting starts. I query a few more agents and two more editors. I fumble around with ideas for my next project and do some research, all the while telling myself, "The first editor to see a manuscript NEVER buys it!" Meanwhile, I continue collecting rejections.

Friday, September 14th -- a day that will henceforth surpass all others for sheer joy!

8:45 a.m. The phone rings and wakes me up. A woman's voice asks for Cindy and I groggily identify myself. Then she says, "This is Deb Werksman from Sourcebooks..."
For one nano-second my heart stops while my mind races. She would NOT call me to REJECT the manuscript...
"...I'm calling because we want to publish Death In The Fens..."

I leap out of bed! Scream! Cry! Somewhere along the line, I actually calm down enough to have a semi-coherent conversation with her -- MY EDITOR!
Fifteen minutes, or a lifetime or so later, I tell her that I may have to call her back on Monday just to be sure all this REALLY HAPPENED! She laughs and tells me to go ahead.

That morning in Atlanta, I never dreamed that getting into the elevator would eventually change my life!

What about you? Did a seemingly random event turn out to be life changing? Aunty would love to hear about it!

GOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL!

by Jeanne Pickering Adams

I recently saw a UTube video of soccer players celebrating winning goals that sums up how I'm feeling this week. I can't do back flips, but I understand the euphoric desire to do so. Why, you might ask, desperately curious? Because I reached my GOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLL! I SOLD. I got what writers love to dub The Call, and oh, yeah, I answered it. Ha! This means a reputable publishing house offered me a contract to purchase and publish my book. I love saying that, seeing it written. It's so yummy.

Of course, in my imaginings, when I got The Call, I would have ideally been sitting at my desk, hair coiffed, dressed in actual girl clothes (as opposed to jeans and a t-shirt), with real, honest to goodness make-up on, working on a pithy rejoinder from my heroine. Imagine with me: Rrrriiiiing.
"Hello," says imaginary me, in my most professional voice.
"Ohhhh, is THE Jeanne Adams, the author?" gushes the desperately-seeking-manuscripts editor. And I deign to stop working, speak with her and, once I'm satisfied with the deal, I sell her my book.

Is this the way it happened? Hahahahahaha! Of course not. I was in the car. It was already 91 degrees and the AC in the car was hardly working. Errand two for the day was to take it to the shop later that day. My two boys were in the back, alternating between singing Scooby-Dooby-Doo-Where-are-You at the top of their lungs and squabbling over a toy. We were, blessedly, on the way to camp where I was looking forward to dropping the older one to play baseball before taking the younger to daycare. Into this maelstrom comes the ring of my cell phone. My sister usually calls to say hello on the morning drive, so I simultaneouly hit Answer while fussing at the boys, "Hey, pipe down, Aunt Sis is on the phone!"


Ahem. Professional? Nope, not a bit of it. Thankfully, my editor (oooh I love saying that!) has a sense of humor. After I got over being totally flustered that SHE-Who-Has-the-Power-to-BUY has not only CALLED, but called my oh-my-gosh-cell-phone(!!!!), I ask as calmly as I can muster if I may return the call when I've dropped the boys off.


She agrees, I hang up. Then I yell and sing at the top of my lungs. This promptly shuts both my children up. Imagine that. Total silence. "Uh, Mom?" comes a tentative voice. "Are you okay?" You see, I don't usually spontaneously break into an incredibly raucous version of the Hallelujah Chorus (alto part) in the early morning, in the summer. Closer to December, the bets are off, but in July? No.


To my seven-year-old, I explain in his terms: Well, son, in my business, its as if I've just hit a Grand Slam Home Run to put my team into the playoffs. (I'm reserving the World Series analogy for when I make the Times List!) To my two-and-a-half year old's repeated, "Mommy, otay? Mommy otay?" I just pat his knee and say "Oh, yeah, Mommy is OOOOO-Tay!"


I broke several speed laws getting them to their respective places, eager to get home and call the editor all the while thinking, is it real? I have to tell my husband. What if its a mistake? I have to tell my sister. What if they want so many revisions I can't do it? Oh, #@)$#@)($*. I had worked myself into a true tizzy, between bouts of hysterical laughter, more singing, and a call to my husband, who was thrilled.


As I whip my car into the driveway, I nearly hit Errand #1, the vet. She was at the house for my dog's annual check up. I love that she comes to the house. Usually. Not today. I don't want to tell her because I don't know her THAT well, and heck, I don't know what's going on! She wants to do the full work up, chat about the dog, his health, his age, his teeth. All the while I'm thinking, if I don't call this editor back, she's going to hate me. She's going to call someone else. Aaaaaargh.


Thankfully the vet finished up and blissfully unaware, went her merry way. I called the editor and managed to be reasonably professional, get the details and agree to the deal. Now what? Yikes! I decided to wait to tell anyone other than my sister and my husband until I had the contracts in hand. Insecure? You bet. Worried it was all a figment of my very vivid, hyperactive writer's imagination? Totally.


Its never what you think it will be. But its usually better. And let me tell you Banditas, and Bandits, and all as-yet-unpublished marvelous writers out there, it is one AMAZING feeling to know that your story, your book, your imagining, your PEOPLE will grace a book cover, and a book shelf in a real bookstore and that actual REAL human beings will buy it and read it and hopefully, enjoy the heck out of it and buy another.


So, like Caren, you bet I'll direct people to the bathroom when it comes my time to do a book signing. Heck, I'll direct 'em to any section in the store they want - I know 'em all! For the sheer privledge of getting to BE there, I'll reshelve books for the bookstore if they want!


Big or little, every writing goal met deserves a celebration. How do YOU celebrate? Bubbly? Godiva? Both? (After all, why be stingy w/ the joy?) A bubble bath? Wild monkey sex with your significant other? Heehee. How about multiple back flips....check out the soccer guys on UTube - Now, that's celebrating...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fc1JcYQvrZo&mode=related&search=

A writer's dream come true

By Trish Milburn

Yesterday morning at around 10:20, while sleeping because I was suffering from a sinus infection and a fever, I got The Call. My agent called to tell me I'd sold my first two books, young adult titles, to Razorbill, an imprint of Penguin. How did this fabulous event come about? Here's the skinny.

Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away...

Okay, so it was really the 1990s, and I was in Kentucky, but whatever. I began writing my first romance manuscript when I was in college at good ol' Murray State University in Western Kentucky. It wasn't an everyday kind of endeavor at that point because, well, I had a lot of studying to do and typically held two jobs while I was at it. I continued to piddle after I graduated in 1993 and started my first job as a newspaper reporter while the hubby did the grad school thing. The piddling continued when we moved to Tennessee in 1995 and I began working in the marketing department of an insurance company.

But in 1996, my local RWA chapter formed,I became a member of RWA, and I started learning more about the business and craft of writing. I continued to write when I left the insurance company and went back to journalism as a writer and editor at a magazine. I left that job 2 1/2 years ago to freelance write and edit, believing I was on the verge of sale (one of those that fell through.) Now, 11 years after beginning to submit to publishing houses, I finally have sold my first two books. Not the first two I wrote. Those are safely tucked away in the deep recesses of my computer and on floppy disks (yep, floppy disks). I've written 18 full manuscripts since beginning to submit to editors, and there have definitely been days when I got rejections or felt I was "thisclose" to selling only to have it fall through that the thought of just chucking it all occurred to me. I'm so glad I didn't. I will forevermore be the queen of preaching perseverance to other writers. After a point, if you are getting good critiques and finaling in or winning contests, you've got the grasp on craft you need to be published. You just have to find the right editor at the right time with the right project while continually studying the business side of the industry and endeavoring to always push your writing to the next level.

I'm, of course, not the only writer who has taken the long and winding road to getting published. My good friend Merrillee Whren, who writes for Silhouette Love Inspired, wrote for 15 years before getting published. Super YA and paranormal author Stephanie Rowe, like me, wrote 18 manuscripts before selling, and now she's a multi RITA finalist. I owe Stephanie a lot because she encouraged me to write young adult books, and that's what got me my agent and, three years later, my first sale. She also nearly hyperventilated on the phone when I called to tell her and sent me these beautiful flowers today.



I have so many friends who are in the boat I was in two days ago -- they're super talented, they've finaled in and won lots of contests, and they've completed lots of books. I'll do whatever I can to help them climb from that boat into this new boat. I'm hoping they get that wonderful, unbelievable call very soon.