The Day I Sold My Memoir

My memoir was sold on Valentines Day when I was at the Associated Writing Program in Chicago. I was relishing some time away from the computer, enjoying the windy city--jazz on the street corners, the spectacular art museum, ice sculptures of Ghandi and a couple dancing--My agent had tried to sell my book to a number of big houses. No one had wanted it, and I was devastated, again, as I had been trying to sell the book for over ten years, four revisions, three agents and myriad changes of point of view, additions, deletions, and a virtual army of people who had helped me along the way to what felt like nowhere. The "Big House" metaphor was daunting. I wasn't being let in. There was an inner sanctum for a certain set.

I should have stayed a poet, I lamented, instead of this one way ticket to Palookaville. But I wasn't going to give up(the mantra that I tried to repeat) and at the conference saw there were a number of great university presses. I had just come out of a workshop where some seasoned and well known writers talked about their foray out of the major houses. I wanted my work to get out there somehow, some way.

I'll check my email, I thought, even though it was a few chilling blocks to Kinko's. Once in the door, I sat down at one of the computer banks, put in the code and the meter was running. As I entered comcast, my trusty server, I saw three emails from my agent. Why would she be writing me? Then I saw the heading, Good news! My hands were shaking, not from the cold, but from an excitement that would take me out of the trajectory of the last ten plus years into a new place.

"Atlas and Co. a wonderful publisher, loves your book." The loves had three exclamation points after it. When my agent gets excited, she gets really, really excited. "Call me immediately!" I looked at the other two emails before this one, all telling me good news is coming. I thought of the Spiritual I teach "Good News is Coming," and was practically singing the song. I quickly jotted down the two numbers where she said she'd be--paid my money and stood in the doorway at Kinko's looking out the plate glass window and called her. When Laurie picked up, she was ecstatic. "It's a great press. I got you an advance-- They want to know by Monday."

I was silent for a minute. This was my baby about to be placed in a home--I asked more questions. She answered. I said, "Is this really happening." She said, "Yes, this is really happening." I could feel tears well in my eyes.
"This means so much to me," she said. "So much." We talked for another half hour as we often do--about the AWP conference, the workshop, the synchronicity, that this happened on Valentine's Day, that this was all a gift and meant to be.

We finished talking. I went out into the Chicago cold standing a lot taller. "My book sold," I told my colleague and friend, "my book sold." For the next two hours, any time I ran into a friend I told them and that night I celebrated. All the years before--the great interest and then the rejections(two agents worked with me and then gracefully recanted). Somehow, I knew that I had arrived. Was some of this luck? You bet! Was some of this constant work, reworking, learning, growing as a writer and the belief of all my friends, family and agent that this would ultimately happen. Yes it was.
What can I say to a new writer? If you believe in your story, if you believe that you can put in the time to make the writing as good as you can; if you can ask for help when you need it--then with luck, your story will be sold as well.

Burned: A Memoir will appear at the end of April 2010. If anybody reads this and wants to know some more of what I went through in getting this book to print, please ask.