This past summer I wrote half of a book.
My husband was gracious enough to spend his days off from teaching to watch our kids so that I could park myself in quiet spaces around our city and write. It was glorious, it was rejuvenating, and it was amazing the words I could crank out when my writing hours expanded beyond 7-9 pm.
But here’s the thing: unless you are a New York Times Bestseller, or unless you have a bomb social media platform, or unless your first book called Here Goes Nothing far exceeds everyone’s expectations in sales – there is no guarantee that the second book you wrote half of will receive a contract.
Going through the publishing process with a prestigious company the first time around only confirmed that I am a tiny fish in an extremely large ocean of talented people. But - neither naively nor pessimistically - I decided to try for a second book contract anyway.
And I was told no.