You've Made My Life

Ah. The first call. I’d waited so long for it to happen, I’d almost stopped believing it would. I even stopped writing for years at a time, but this had far more to do with real life stuff (moving across country—twice, having twins, etc.) than it had to do with not wanting to write. But I always went back to it, and I never lost complete hope that someday that call would come.

Before I get into the specifics of my call story, I want to backtrack just a little. In December of 2007, I became very ill and ended up in the hospital for several months. Long story, and not one I’m going to go into here, but it was a scary time and definitely made me take a second look at my life, as these sort of things are apt to do.

The day I came home from the hospital, it was to find a letter from RWA (Romance Writers of America) that stated my submission for their yearly unpublished contest was being disqualified because I hadn’t double spaced my synopsis. Rather than the intense disappointment I’d have normally felt at making such an error, I really didn’t care. I mean, living through something that could’ve killed me put a lot of things in perspective, this included.

But I was a little a sad. Because I’d had great results in smaller contests with this manuscript, I was proud of it, and I’d really wanted to see how it would hold up in such a large contest. Of course, that sadness didn’t last long, because I was finally home, with my family. And hey, I could always enter the following year.

Fast forward several months and I was mostly back in my swing health-wise, work-wise, and every-other-wise. One of my new goals after being out of commission for so long was to write every single day, no matter what. Even if it was only a paragraph. I was accomplishing this, and by the time May 1, 2008 rolled around, I was deeply engrossed in writing my first romantic suspense novel.

I woke up late on this day, because I’d been up very late the night before. I had work to do, family stuff that needed my attention, and all sorts of other things on my list for the day. But I had a horrible headache, felt a bit groggy, and was way lazy. Seriously lazy. I took to the couch and watched a movie (which, weirdly, was about a fledgling NY editor trying to rise in the publishing business). When it was over, I forced myself to get to work.

So, I turned on the computer with every intention of getting right to the articles that needed to be written. Instead, a girlfriend sent me an IM and we chatted. We talked about our writing, the work we both needed to get done that day, how I’d stayed up the entire night working on my new manuscript. And then, we talked about A Taste of Magic, the same manuscript that had been disqualified from RWAs contest, had been with Dorchester Publishing for a little over eight months.

I didn’t have an agent yet (as discussed in my agent call story here at The Novel Girls), but another publisher had requested the full of A Taste of Magic, which I’d yet to send in. Because I was 1) waiting to hear from the few agents who still had it, and 2) waiting to hear from Senior Editor Chris Keeslar at Dorchester, whom I really felt the story belonged with.

Anyway, my girlfriend wanted to know if I’d sent the book to the “other” publisher yet. I ended up promising her I would print it out that day and that I’d send it out the following day. She asked me if I’d be happy if it sold to this other publisher, or if my heart was set on Dorchester. I replied the obvious – of course I’d be happy to see it sold! But I also told her I had a really strong belief that the book belonged with Dorchester and this specific editor.

My phone rang at the exact same time I finished typing that last sentence. I swear. I’m not making ANY of this up. So I flipped the phone over to look at the Caller ID, assuming it would be my car dealership (they’d been calling daily trying to get us to bring the car to them for an oil change). My eyes landed on the little window. It read “Dorchester Publishing,” and a 212 phone number blinked below it.

I instantly began to shake. My heart raced. I could NOT believe what I saw. So much so, that for a few seconds, I just stared at the phone, and then at my IM conversation with my girlfriend, wondering what to do first: answer the phone or type into the little IM window that Dorchester was calling. Of course, I answered!

On the phone was Chris Keeslar, the editor who had A Taste of Magic under submission. I barely remember the conversation, but he first apologized for taking so long to read my book. Then, he said the words that every aspiring author dreams of hearing:

“I’ve read it now and I’d like to buy it.”

Or something similar to that, if not those exact words. As I said, my memory is a little hazy. But I do remember blurting some crazy stuff. Things like, “I’m going to cry,” “You’ve made my life,” and “This is a dream come true.” Um. Okay. You’ve made my LIFE? What was I thinking? Well, that’s just it. I wasn’t. I was completely emotional, completely in tears, and totally, totally shocked. But he handled all of it very well, and never made me feel like a loon.

Somewhere in that phone call, he asked me if I had a pen and paper, so I could write the deal points down. Which, I did—inside the cover of a book I was reading at that time. Let’s just say that book will be on my keeper shelf forever. Maybe I should have it bronzed…

Suddenly, it occurred to me I’d completely forgotten about my IM conversation with my friend. I typed in, real quick, as Chris was talking, “Chris on phone now.” I don’t think she believed me at first, but after I typed in “YES,” she replied with “OMG.”

Luckily, my hand worked well enough, and I managed to actually write the stuff down that Chris told me. I then told him that a few agents had the material, and that I wanted to give them the chance to get back to me. We agreed I’d be in touch the following Monday, and said our goodbyes. I hung up the phone and immediately put my head down on my desk and cried. Not only because something I’d wanted to happen for so long had actually happened, but because after the year I’d had: the hospital stay, missing Christmas with my kids, fighting to get healthy again, it just was an incredibly emotional moment. I can’t really convey how emotional.

As I write this post, I’m thinking about my second book, as I’m racing toward my deadline for it now. I’m also thinking about the galleys of A Taste of Magic that are sitting in the other room, waiting for me to finish proofing them, and I’m staring at my very first cover flat, which is now framed and on my desk. The path so far has been amazing.

A Taste of Magic is, partly, about wishes coming true. And how apropos is that?