One major, that is, left considering my work.
My novel got to this house in a way that will make a wonderful back story post all by itself one day–for now I can’t say anything, or reveal the person I hope to thank.
But for the purpose of this post it doesn’t matter how it got there. What counts is that it is, and so I’m in the waiting game again, with literally my last shot at being launched in a traditional way.
It’s the final shot because I’ve decided that if no offer results, then it is time for my work to be published some other way. Yes, my “first” novel will be coming soon–maybe sooner than expected–to a bookstore near you.
Or to a Kindle app. Or a Nook. Or one of those other things I will have to learn about, but don’t even know enough now to name intelligently. Smashwords? Kobo? How do those figure in?
Don’t know yet.
But the book is ready. An author I love even tweeted about it the other day, bolstering a flagging confidence, or maybe a confidence that hasn’t yet been rooted enough to flag.
How will I take the next step? I don’t know quite yet. As many of you probably know the revolution going on doesn’t just mean new writers are dipping their toes in, but new publishers are, too. A couple of ones who are just getting started have offered to publish my work.
There are some already nicely established independents, whose interesting works and talented authors I’ve been thrilled to trumpet here–Oak Tree Press, for one. And others.
But my writing doesn’t quite fit with mystery publishers. My books are a little more loosely formed, I guess I’d say, with elements of mystery, suspense, thriller, and even women’s fiction. It’s one reason perhaps that they’ve been a hard sell. Maybe.
Or maybe I’m just reserved–by energy in the universe, by whatever you might believe in–for a different path. You guys might remember the blog post where I wrote about getting rejected by every college I applied to.
I didn’t go to my high school prom.
And when I got engaged, my husband didn’t get down on one knee. We created my ring together, from a pair of diamond earrings left to me by my grandmother.
Somehow I don’t seem to get the traditional moments. It’s, We got engaged! versus He asked me to marry him!
But I’m still married to a man who almost 19 years later is my soul mate, the one I can work beside every day, then break to read to our kids and snuggle them in, before remembering to look at each other, and think, It didn’t happen in the exact way I imagined–but it turned out even better than I ever would’ve hoped.
Could the same hold true for my publishing path?