Thoughts on resilience

desertgrassI’ve been thinking a lot about resilience lately. After this Ask Polly post and an interesting exchange on Twitter between an agent and an aspiring writer. The agent had put up a link to an article of hers about the low odds of signing with an agent (the number of queries vs. spots on the client list) and the writer replied with something about how publishing folk should be doing more nurturing and mentoring of writers so there’s not so much fear in writing. The agent replied simply, saying that anyone who is easily discouraged has no business being a writer, an artist. Basically, if I’m interpreting correctly, the difficulty of publishing thins out the weak.

And I thought about my path, which hasn’t been easy. It’s been much harder than it appeared it would be on the outset. I got an agent fairly easily, but the book-in-my-hand has proven elusive. Four manuscripts. One sale, but the publisher closed. A number of very close calls. A maddening cacophony of crickets from editors. Yet, I’m still writing, still working, still dreaming, and somewhere in there, factors resilience. I’m not sure where the line between resilience and stubborn stupidity lies. I’m not sure there is a line, or if it’s a some mushy gray space that shifts around depending on how insane the writer is.

Sometimes, I think the near misses and fatal errors that have marked my publishing career is the universe trying to tell me to give up. “You’re a talentless hack who will NEVER be published,” whisper the stars. “You’ll never be more than what you are. Your words will never touch anyone.” But then my imagination conjures a scene of me telling the tale of this long, difficult journey I took before being published. Of the many nights I went to bed contemplating my failure. Of the countless times I imagined quitting writing to do something else. Something easier. But no, I kept going, kept writing stories that pushed me, challenged me, made me doubt my ability to execute them properly. I kept going, and I published. I made it to that’s-my-book-on-a-shelf and succeeded at the hardest job I’ve had aside from parenting (which is harder). It’s a great story and one I will never be able to tell if I don’t keep at it. So I guess my resilience comes from a story I yearn to tell. One I cannot tell, until it becomes the truth.

An Island Adventure

For a long time now, I’ve been itching to visit Seguin Island (pronounced Sae-gin), a rocky blip off the coast of Bath, Maine, about 3 miles out to sea. Last week, we finally went. A thirty-minute ferry ride from Fort Baldwin will take you to this tiny island. There’s really nothing to the place. It has a lighthouse on it. It’s a nice lighthouse. We didn’t visit it. We walked the trails, which is a quick thing to do, but when you stand on the southern end of this little island, the only thing you see is the Atlantic and the curve of the Earth. You feel like you’re on the edge of the world.
Seguin hasn’t changed since colonists arrived. And those folks didn’t do much to it for the brief time they were there, so when you walk the rocky shoreline, you walk someplace not messed up by people. An overlooked place. An isolated place. Writing is an isolating endeavor. The longer I live this writers life, the more I seek out the overlooked, lost things in this world. They make me feel things out of the everyday set. They make me just a little bit better at what I do when I sit down to write. I looked at the other people on our tiny ferry and couldn’t help but wonder what brought them there. I know what brought me.

Hard things and good days

foggybayThis poor blog has been neglected this year. But 2015 hasn’t been kind to this writer. Last year this time, I was celebrating. I had just sold my debut novel. I was staring in wonder and bliss at my deal announcement in Publisher’s Weekly. I was gearing up for my first phone chat with my editor. “My” editor. The sound of that is just lovely. I was ecstatic. Jubilant. All the words there are for happiness. The remembering is painful, because I sold to Egmont USA, and anyone who’s involved with publishing teen fiction knows they closed down early 2015. Contract void. No book, no debut. Sorry about all those dreams come true; have fun back at square one!
“You’ll see: This will all work out for the best.” Continue reading Hard things and good days

Cover reveal: Pintip Dunn’s FORGET TOMORROW

My dear friend Pintip Dunn’s debut book FORGET TOMORROW is coming out November 3, 2015 from Entangled Teen, and I’m so pleased to show off her gorgeous cover.ForgetTomorrowsmaller

Imagine a world where your destiny has already been decided…by your future self.

It’s Callie’s seventeenth birthday and, like everyone else, she’s eagerly awaiting her vision―a memory sent back in time to sculpt each citizen into the person they’re meant to be. A world-class swimmer. A renowned scientist.

Or in Callie’s case, a criminal.

In her vision, she sees herself murdering her gifted younger sister. Before she can process what it means, Callie is arrested and placed in Limbo―a prison for those destined to break the law. With the help of her childhood crush, Logan, a boy she hasn’t spoken to in five years, she escapes the hellish prison.

But on the run from her future, as well as the government, Callie sets in motion a chain of events that she hopes will change her fate. If not, she must figure out how to protect her sister from the biggest threat of all—Callie, herself.

*Sigh.* It really is gorgeous. The team at Entangled did a kick ass job at capturing the theme and tone of her book (which is also kick ass, btw, and I know this for a fact because I read it). Pre-Order at: Amazon or Barnes & Noble


About Pintip: When my first-grade teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I replied, “An author.” Although I have pursued other interests over the years, this dream has never wavered.
I graduated from Harvard University, magna cum laude, with an A.B. in English Literature and Language. I received my J.D. at Yale Law School, where I was an editor of the YALE LAW JOURNAL. I published an article in the YALE LAW JOURNAL, entitled, “How Judges Overrule: Speech Act Theory and the Doctrine of Stare Decisis,” and received the Barry S. Kaplan Prize for best paper in Law and Literature.
I am represented by literary agent Beth Miller of Writers House. I’m a 2012 Golden Heart® finalist and a 2014 double-finalist. I’m a member of Romance Writers of America, Washington Romance Writers, YARWA, and The Golden Network.

I live with my husband and children in Maryland.

My lovely stranger


I heard a poem on the radio about a man with a wife who noticed him as a stranger. It was simple and raw and it didn’t rhyme, but it made me think of you, who I notice as many things.
You and me, who change like rocks beneath a river.
You and me who don’t rhyme, but flow together,
Converging, diverging, running parallel.
Always a pair.
Always strangers.


A post I would rather not write.

I don’t want to write this. I’ve put it off for over a month, though, and it’s been hanging over my head like a piano on a rope.

So. My publisher closed it’s doors. I could end the post right there, because that’s the end of it. No book. No book to hold and smell and dance around the house with. I am heartbroken. The road to this contract was a long one and to have it taken away is, well, heartbreaking. There’s no other way of putting it.

What’s next? Well, I’m on submission with a new book. The canceled one is being set aside for now, and that’s fine. I love the new book with its unusual hero, Reilly. I took a risk with him, but he turned out amazing and beautiful and wonderfully imperfect. It’s possibly the best thing I’ve written and I’ve never been so anxious about a manuscript being out there. This book is being considered by editors of the best YA books published in recent years and I’m sitting here in Maine with a space heater and safety pins holding on the zipper of my sweatshirt, typing this while my toddler naps in the next room. It all feels impossible. Like trying to break through a wall. I may scratch at the mortar for the rest of my days and never dislodge a single brick.

Cover for GONE TOO FAR

So, my talented friend and fellow Golden Heart® nominee Natalie D. Richards got this lovely cover for her second upcoming YA thriller! Isn’t it purdy?

Gone Too Far

From Natalie’s website:

Keeping secrets ruined her life. But the truth might just kill her.
Piper Woods can’t wait for the purgatory of senior year to end. She skirts the fringes of high school like a pro until the morning she finds a notebook with mutilated photographs and a list of student sins. She’s sure the book is too gruesome to be true, until pretty, popular Stella dies after a sex-tape goes viral. Everyone’s sure it’s suicide, but Piper remembers Stella’s name from the book and begins to suspect something much worse.

Drowning in secrets she doesn’t want to keep, Piper’s fears are confirmed when she receives an anonymous text message daring her to make things right. All she needs to do is choose a name, the name of someone who deserves to be punished…

I can’t wait to get my hands on this baby January 6, 2015!!

Short #2: Vandals


In the gray crease before the night,
the man and I tossed milkweed seeds into the wind.
We sent silent wishes,
for patches of earth, space to grow.
That we may one day see them tall and green.
To know our hands had been a part of their travels.
The child watched us,
watched the seeds pinwheel on the breeze.
Like perfection.

Short #1: The Edge of the Sea

Low Tide

So much life here, at the edge of the sea.
I despise each footfall; the crunch of tiny things.
Each footfall, destruction.
And the wild sky shifts above.
Ever moving, floating white and blue.
And the slipping sea feeds the life clinging to its edge.
Tiny life, tinier than me.
Meeting death beneath my boots.
And yet I, too, am just a speck.
Lost, beneath the footfalls of a thousand ghosts.

Normal? Sorry, wrong number.

Blake commentary

Yeah, so did I, Blake. So. Did. I.

But no, the psychosis simply shifts from: No one is ever going to buy my book. I should quit. Clearly, I’m not a good enough writer. I saw Taco Bell is hiring. I’m probably not good enough for them, either. To: Holy sh*t, my book sold. It’s going to be OUT. THERE. What if no one buys it? What if everybody hates it? Oh no, this means I have to do Twitter. And WORSE, Facebook. I don’t know any NYT bestsellers to get a blurb from. And I’ll have to blog in a timely manner. How do I do marketing? My publisher is going to think I’m not savvy enough for this. I’m NOT savvy enough

It goes on and on. And on. Then again, maybe it’s just me. I am good friends with Anxiety. We go way back. But, as days go by, and it sinks in that my book isn’t coming out for like a year-and-a-half, I’m a little less worried about those things. I DO worry, but I mean, this book’s release  is like a full-term pregnancy AND the months of nursing-through-the-night away, and those periods in my life felt like an eternity. I have time––time to stress and time to enjoy this next stretch in my publishing journey.