How it all started...

I’m Bern, a frazzled mother of two who now finds herself in the position of trying to pull a new career out of her ass after a long family hiatus.

I’ve set my sights on becoming a successful novelist, a best-selling author, if you will.  Is that all?  My first book, Blunder Babe, is hitting Amazon shortly.  I was aiming for spring but life derailed me right into summer.

Let me back up and tell you how this all came about.  Every time my husband called me at work to tell me a kids’ “first” that I missed, I blubbered harder than a child whose ice cream cone just plopped to the ground so I resigned.  

One afternoon, I caught an Oprah show while the kids napped that enlightened viewers on how to realize their dreams which inspired me to achieve one of my own.  In need of a wingman I enlisted my hubby and unbeknownst to me the plot for my book was born.

My writing adventure started almost a decade ago when I was compelled to realize my childhood dream of meeting Bob Barker and spinning the big wheel.  My fantasy trip did not turn out at all as I had imagined so I penned my story in eight weeks flat.  It sounds far-fetched even to me, but once I abandoned memoir for fiction the words flowed.  Having no clue what to do next, the universe intervened.  A published author and college professor hired my husband for a job where my hubby negotiated telephone time for me in exchange for a discount.  That’s how I met my first writers’ networking group and through them found a content editor.   Don’t underestimate the reach of a writers’ group. 

In hindsight, I realize how gullible I was to trust a total stranger with my baby, but we seemed to be on the same page and she was cheap.   I never even asked for references.  Basically, I was praised for the first half of the book and told to rewrite the second because, “it sucks.”  With a bruised ego but determined attitude, I wrote the new ending, 158 pages in four days.  No easy feat I am told. 

Pleased with my manuscript, I felt my novel was ready to meet the world.  My content editor suggested I send chocolates along with queries, that agents loved gifts and as an extra touch print my pages on pink paper.  I kid you not.  She said my words would rise up from the slush pile.  I figured with the expertise that comes from being in the writing field for a few decades, her word was gospel.  I immediately ordered a bouquet of chocolate covered strawberries to impress a literary agent with my work printed on pink paper.  I’m serious.  The only thing pink paper and strawberries did for me was give her the notion I had a crush and put a huge dent in my wallet.  I found out from the agent’s staff that the bouquet was gorgeous and they enjoyed it visually until the fruit spoiled.  Everyone was afraid to eat anything thinking it may be poisoned.  Of course they would.  I am sure agents get threatened on a daily basis from disgruntled authors and in this day and age, who would eat food from a stranger?

Soon thereafter, I had the added bonus of having my humiliating blunder shared with a few thousand people who attended the Backspace Seminar in New York where guess who was a speaker.  The agent shared my strawberries story to an auditorium full of hopefuls as a big what not-to-do lesson as I shrunk further and further down in my seat mortified.  I have no idea why I tried to hide, it’s not like she could identify me from a pink query. 

I sent out another letter and got a bite from an agent.  I dropped the ball when I was asked for a marketing statement.  I had no idea what was expected of me and instead of doing my homework, I thought getting something – anything – back to her expeditiously was the right move.  It was not.  She recognized me for the greenhorn that I am and did not offer representation.  One query at a time, was taking way too long so I sent out a handful in one mailing.  Sending multiple queries is frowned on by agents but for us writers it is necessary. 

The rejections dribbled in, but it took a good three months to get them.  I am proud to say I did not get the dreaded Dear Author rejection.  Mine were written to me and I was complimented on my story, my voice and my humor, all wished me well in finding my manuscript a home but did not offer representation.

I started reflecting, was I ambushing myself?  Certainly with the colored paper and treats, but what if I had a weak query, synopsis or pitch?  I quickly enrolled in some classes.

The process has been slow due to motherhood and a slew of other excuses.  My kids were three and six when I started this endeavor.  Years have flown by at warp speed. 

To be continued...