My “instant success” by the numbers

I wrote my first picture book as part of a school assignment when I was 11 years old in Grade 6. I did all the black and white paper cutout illustrations and it was laminated and bound in the office.

I didn’t write another one until I turned 44.

That second book was the one that would go on to become my debut, T. Rexes Can’t Tie Their Shoes. And I know, from the outside, it looks like an overnight success. The kind that seems impossible given how challenging the path to publication can be. But before I explain to you all the reasons why instant success isn’t really all that instant, I wanted to give you a little insight into my debut’s path to publication.

I wrote the first T. Rexes draft in January of 2019. At this point, I knew NOTHING about publishing. I didn’t know what a query letter was and I had no idea critique groups existed. So I did a little bit of research, wrote an early stab at a query letter, and started sending my little manuscript out into the world.

T. Rexes Submission List

Publishers : 4
Agents: 20

One thing I quickly learned all querying writers crave is personalized feedback, the kind that lets you know you’re getting closer to acceptance. Any guesses how much of that feedback I got in response to my initial queries?

ZERO.

A steady stream of form rejections found their way back to my inbox. Many didn’t send a response at all.

By then, my little bit of research had turned into a whole lot more, and I approached the new world of publishing like a complicated puzzle I was compelled to solve. I joined 12X12, SCBWI, signed up for QueryTracker, read Manuscript Wish List, and started making lists of publishers open to unagented authors and agents that repped author-only texts.

I discovered #PitMad and #PBPitch, Twitter contests where unagented writers can pitch their manuscripts in hopes of catching the eye of an editor or agent.

And I dove into all of it.

Order T. Rexes Can’t Tie Their Shoes

My first Twiter pitch contest netted zero likes. Undeterred, I continued. After all, bookstores are filled with books by writers who faced rejection, but they kept at it. So I kept writing too, connecting with critique groups, pitching, querying, and revising.

I stopped pitching T. Rexes because I couldn’t find anyone specifically looking for ABC or concept books and thought the lack of response meant this wasn’t the type of book publishers were interested in.

On a whim, I did resurrect it for #PBPitch in June 2019 where it was snapped up by Frances Gilbert at Doubleday. At the same time, my determined agent querying had netted me five full requests for more work. So when the offer on T. Rexes Can’t Tie Their Shoes came in, I could write back to those agents with the word OFFER in the email subject line.

I know for writers who’ve been writing and querying for years, stories like this seem to happen unfairly fast. But I think a lot of my success can be chalked up to the work I was doing in the 33 years between my first and second books.

I have degrees in both fine arts and journalism, I started freelance writing for various newspapers and magazines when I was 17, and have spent the last 20 years working in public radio.

I spend five days a week writing and producing everything from full show scripts and 20-second promos, to short question lines and longform documentaries. Story structure, character, pacing, tension, and focus are all integral parts of my job.

Working in radio is a lot like writing picture books, but instead of using visuals to make your story complete, you’re using sound to illustrate that other half.

I am acutely aware that when I tell people my first picture book manuscript went from first draft to an offer in six months, it seems like the kind of fairytale that only happens in children’s stories. But I was lucky to have a career that has kept me immersed in storytelling, and gave me two decades to unknowingly hone the writing and pitching skills that would lead me to picture books.

Here’s hoping I don’t wait another 33 years for the next one…

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A little girl, a dark cloud, and a truly perfect beginning…

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Lessons from the critique pile