So, how's the book going?
The question you should never ever ask a writer.
Today, December 1st, marks two years since I began writing my memoir.
My favorite DJ came out with an album on the same day, a pandemic project that became the soundtrack to mine. It was 54 minutes long, which was all the writing time I could muster up in those days, between early-stage lockdowns and school closures, periods of intensive parenting and pandemic anxiety.
That’s how this book got written in the beginning.
Fifty-four minutes at a time.
Two years later, who would have known it would take so long?
Not me! I thought I would get it done in four months—a naive fantasy my writing coach Nina never discouraged, only met with a wry, knowing smile.
Not the people who ask me: “I can’t wait to buy your book! When’s it coming out?”
My honest (and disappointing) answer is: I don’t know. I’m glad to hear you can’t wait, but I’m afraid you’ll have to.
Also, give me a break, man! I have a husband, boyfriend, child, day job, friends, and a life.
Most people think the file on my laptop, once complete, will simply appear on Amazon or a bookstore shelf as if by osmosis or magic.
In reality, the road from Scrivener file to published book looks more like the road to Mordor, stretching beyond an uncertain horizon, with multiple obstacles to be cleared —not to mention ambush attacks from the nasty Orc-ish battalions of Self-Doubt, Distraction, Rejection, and Fear along the way.
First hurdle: finishing the first draft in March. Up until then, I had received Nina’s feedback on every chapter as I completed it, a drip-feed of validation that was just enough to fuel my momentum. “Your instincts are right,” she would say, “but don’t work on my comments yet.” Keep moving forward—like a shark was our battle cry.
A month of rest and a solo trip to Portugal brought me back to life after first draft burnout. In April, I began working through Nina’s feedback, one chapter at a time.
Having a seasoned novelist and journalist’s eye on my writing has been both illuminating and challenging. Nina zeroed in on holes and inconsistencies, anticipated doubts readers might have, and posed questions that made me reckon with myself more deeply as both protagonist and narrator. She sniffed out where I was holding back and hiding, revealing the places where vagueness demanded vulnerability and clarity required courage.
Turning myself inside out once wasn’t enough. I had to do it again.
I remembered details, stories, events I had forgotten. Some were light bulbs switching on in my brain—oh yeah! I should put that in!
Others led me down shadowy paths of memory, to childhood wounds that had been secretly yearning for attention. Writing helped reveal them; therapy helped heal them. I mean, are you even a writer if you’re not in therapy?
Maybe someday I’ll write about those dark weeks, the hole I climbed into and what I tended to there. Maybe that’s another book. A second book, what am I talking about—I still need to finish this one!
From infinite reserves within me, I filled in the holes, replacing pages I had ripped out and slashed through with my red pen. This time, I was flying blind. No encouragement to mark every chapter and coax me onward. I was alone, plugging forward on instinct that quickly went from bold and brave to constantly chewing on its fingernails.
“Your instincts are good” began to feel like a whisper from someplace far away, a very long time ago.
I tested chunks of material by doing live readings: at a lingerie store, a poetry slam, inside an inflatable dome in an exhibition about pleasure, on a porn night at an arthouse cinema. Every bit of applause, every kind word from real people in real life helped pull me through troughs of self-doubt.
This was part of audience building, which I discovered I also needed to do—getting the word out about my work, piquing people’s interest, adding to the subscriber list, growing the social media following.
Because the competition for a book deal is so cutthroat, being a good writer isn’t enough. I also need to prove there’s an audience that will want to buy my book. All the industry advice says: there’s no better time to start marketing your book than yesterday.
All this while, life did its best to lure me away from writing. Everything we missed these last two years came roaring back. Festivals. Dancing in the sun. New experiences, unmissable opportunities. Being naked in France! Home! How could I resist?
A publication date is beyond my control. I can’t tell you when my book will be out. Instead, let me attempt to answer everyone’s favorite question: How’s the book going?
Second hurdle: I finished the second draft. Yay!
It took me six months to grow my baby from 78,200 words and 12 chapters to 96,000 words and 15 chapters. I gave it more tenderness, more depth, more detail, more honesty and vulnerability—as much as I can muster. I think—I hope—the period of scavenging my insides is over. All the big rocks are in place.
I know I have something good. And yet—I just can’t bear to look at it! It’s irrational. Something in my writer brain tells me it’s garbage.
I’ve sent my second draft to writing coach and my next batch of readers: husband and boyfriend, and two writer-friends I respect and admire, for their feedback. By January I should have the stomach to look at my own work, start working on a third rewrite, and focus on making my sample chapters the best they can possibly be.
Until then, the next hurdle is before me: finding a literary agent to represent me in the international publishing marketplace.
I’ve chosen—for now—not to self-publish, to try to dream as big as I can, and aim for a publishing deal that will bring my work to the widest possible audience. That might still change.
In the Netherlands, where the Dutch-speaking literary market is small, I’m told any writer can basically rock up to a publisher and say, “Hey, I wrote this book…” But most international publishers won’t even look at a manuscript unless it’s repped by an agent.
To find an agent, I have to scour Twitter, dig through the acknowledgment sections of books I love, comb public listings, study each agent’s list of authors and books they represent, and compile a long list and a short list of prospective names.
Then I have to win them by writing the pitch-perfect query letter: a one-page document that flatters each agent with a personalized opening, pitches my story in a single line, summarizes my 96,000-word plot in a one-paragraph synopsis, and compares my book to similar (commercially successful) books or series that are already out there.
That letter, along with my sample chapters (or my first 10,000 words, or my first 10 pages—every agent wants something different), lands on top of a mountain of other letters and sample chapters called the slush pile: where writers’ dreams go to die.
Then I wait.
Oh wow, you say, I had no idea publishing a book was so much work.
Neither did I, dear reader. Neither did I. But now we know.
In the meantime, would you like to help me out?
I would like to offer three Substack subscribers the chance to read and comment on sample chapters from my second draft.
Then maybe everyone will stop asking me: when can I read your book?! This sneak peek the best I can offer, for now.
To be eligible, you must be able to commit to all of the following:
Read one or two sample chapters (each chapter is anywhere between 4,000-6,000 words) in PDF, Google Doc, or ebook format
Answer a set of questions to guide your reading and organize your feedback
Email your written feedback within the week of 9 to 13 January, 2022
Guarantee in writing that you will keep my sample chapters absolutely confidential
Can you commit to all that? Great!
To join, reply to this email with the following:
Your name (no hiding behind anonymity! I’m trusting you with my baby here!), age, gender, and where you’re from
Can you commit to reading one chapter or two?
The titles of the last three books you read
The title of the book you enjoyed most this year
Tell me: “Why are you interested in reading my book?”
I will close entries on the 10th of December and will notify winners on the 12th of December. That gives you one month exactly to finish your reading assignment!
It feels like a risk to involve total strangers at this stage, but I appreciate this community so much. You’ve helped me grow and stay strong; I’ve gotten to know many of you along the way.
Even if you don’t want to join the giveaway, I love reading your replies. Send your thoughts, questions, encouragement, wisdom, inspiration.
Thank you for being here. I can’t wait to hear from you.