THE LONG ROAD HOME

(AKA, how I got published)

Sometime around the third grade, I wrote a story about an elf. I don’t remember much about it, other than it was written on wide rule notebook paper with a pencil and smudged fingers.

From there, my writing journey was what one could expect of a kid. I wrote continuations of my favorite series that ended, little ideas I had here and there, but nothing ever really stuck.

Fast forward through schooling and graduating with my bachelor’s. In 2020, COVID struck, I was unemployed, and while trying to find a job, I started writing in the morning. I had ideas that would pop up every so often. This manuscript, in particular, never made it anywhere—and will not see the light of day—but it did teach me about muscle memory. About writing as a routine, out of habit, and how to keep those characters talking.

I wrote a few other projects. Work came to, and I kept my little habit of writing. Then, in 2021, I decided I wanted to get my MFA in Creative Writing. Now, I will be the first to say that you do not need a degree in Creative Writing in order to get published. But, what I learned out of my degree was how to take criticisms, the art of polishing your work, and bouncing ideas off of others. The art of constructing a story, and doing it to the best of your ability.

In 2022, I started my first serious novel. One that I was utilizing all of my tools and researching so much that I’m sure the library employees were sick of me. I went on tours, I dug through historical archives, I emailed people at the newspaper that had access to this wealth of data and information that I so desperately wanted for this novel. Because the idea—the characters, the story, everything—was gnawing at me day and night. I couldn’t eat without hearing these people talk in my head. To each other, and sometimes, at me.

I finished the draft of Project #1. Sat it down. This was around the end of 2022, and I was encroaching on my final courses for my MFA. (Cue the Jaws music). Not only was I manically writing in my free time, but I was staring down the barrel of my Thesis project. And I needed to come up with something good to get approval—otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to defend, and ultimately, be able to graduate. And since I love torturing myself, in November of 2022, I hastily wrote a scene of what would later be A Little Hate. I didn’t know when I would get to flush it out like I wanted, but I needed to at least have this moment written, because Hadrian would not leave me alone. Once he started talking, he wouldn’t go away.

By that point, my Thesis Director and I volleyed back a couple of topic ideas for the research portion of my Thesis. I decided I wanted to focus on character development. I got approval, and in that time, I took that scene from A Little Hate, and I chewed on it. There was a version of this book I could explore, but I wasn’t sure if it would unltimately be what I would want it to be. I’d chosen to present a 'novella’ for my creative portion of my Thesis, and whatever I wrote, I didn’t want it to be the same as what I knew I would want to pitch to an agent—or hopefully, an editor—one day. The initial idea for Hadrian came to me in a nonfiction course, based on the prompt, “When do you first remember feeling true fear? Write about it.” I’d created this personified version of self doubt, hate, you name it, that followed people. But I couldn’t shake the idea that this monster was more than just a ‘shadow’ that followed people. The monster had a story, too. However, I knew I couldn’t lean into the horror genre so much for my Thesis, so in my natural fashion, I decided to work on both at the same time.

So I started both versions. The one for my Thesis, where the monster grows and changes with the girl as she grows older. There is no relationship between the child, Olive, and the monster—it’s a very literal rendition of ‘the monster in a child’s closet, but what happens if it won’t leave?’ I dabbled with the second version, where our main character, Landry, comes upon this monster within an inherited house. Of course, the Thesis Version took priority because I was on a time crunch. But the entire time, all I could think about was the actual story. What is now A Little Hate.

Scoot forward to June of 2023. Everything here is a blur.

I have my “Thesis Version” of my work finished, so I lean more heavily into Actual Story Version. My director and I both agreed that the Thesis Version needed to be a novel—little did she know, I’d already started (insert manic laugh from running myself too thin).

Then two weeks before I’m set to defend my thesis, my aunt suddenly gets hospitalized. On June 13th of 2023, a mere week after going to the hospital, my aunt passes away. And here I sat, with an unfinished novel, a thesis to present in two weeks, and a lot of tears. And a lot of pain.

I defended (and passed) two weeks later. I kept circling A Little Hate. I would stare at it, draft manically, cry, and then repeat. At this point, I just wanted to get it done, but then I would almost compulsively sit down and write it because Hadrian’s voice was so loud I couldn’t not be in the story with him and Landry. Sometime around the last week of July, I finished the draft, and then I tucked it away—because if I’m being honest, the mere thought of reading through it made me want to vomit.

To take my mind off of things, I started editing Project #1. Completed the round of edits, then sat it back down and wrote a third project (because I would have rather expired than edited A Little Hate—it was too soon still, at least emotionally). Came back to Project #1, edited two more times, and then I did the horrid task: entering the query trenches.

For those of you that don’t know, the “Query Trenches” are something you might hear often in aspiring writers circles. It’s the terrifying moment that you take this book baby you’ve polished to the point of your finger tips bleeding, and you send it to literary agents in the hopes that one will take a peak at your query letter and think to themselves, “You know what, I want the full draft of this book. Or maybe half. But I think I could like it”.

I sat in the query trenches from November to January with no bites (not surprised, given publishing practically shuts down around the holidays). I finally pick A Little Hate back up and start editing it.

Then, in March 2024 (the 21st, to be exact), my literary agent asked for The Call. Turns out, she loved Project #1. In a condensed whirlwind, I sign with her for Project #1, and we do 1.5 rounds of edits and go on submission to editors on May 1st. I pluck away at another draft, then FINALLY finish the first round of edits on A Little Hate. By the time late July/August 2024 rolls around, I send A Little Hate to her as a second option. She wants to take it on submission, too, and we go through another 1.5 rounds of edits before tossing it into the ether around the last week of August/first week of September.

Four weeks later, almost on the dot, I get an email. I was sick, croaky, with puffy, crusty eyes and no voice. The subject reads: OFFER NOTICE.

I lose it.

Now—meeting with an editor doesn’t always mean you’ll get an offer on a novel. At a publishing house, the editor typically needs second reads from another editor, approval from marketing/sales, editor-in-chief, or the publisher head (which is discussed in an acquisitions meeting). Basically, every one in that boat has to love the book and think it will sell.

And everyone loved it.

So here we are: with a book baby in the world, and a lot of stress to show for it. Still, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m blessed to be in this position, and I can’t wait to see what He has in store for me. The path is never quite linear, but I trust that He knows the way.

And that’s pretty great.