What It Felt Like to Get My First Book Contract

With my third book coming out, an inside look at getting the first one published.

My little girl was turning four, and I’d been working on the same book since she was six months old. It was a summer novel, historical fiction set on the island of Martha’s Vineyard in 1962, and I had worked tirelessly to improve the plot, the characters, the dialogue. All I wanted back then was to get a book published, and the idea of seeing my story in print kept me going. The possibility that one day I’d get to stand in a bookstore and see the cover of my book. That someone might actually want to read it.

On days I felt like giving up, I’d go to Barnes and Noble to see where my book might be shelved in the Fiction section. I’d hunt for books by authors whose last names began with letter the “F” and try to pinpoint the spot on the shelf where my book might sit someday, often somewhere between F. Scott Fitzgerald and Karen Jay Fowler. The thought alone would make me giddy, and I’d get just enough boost to return to my desk and work on the book some more.

One of the first times I saw Summer Darlings in a bookstore in May 2020.

In the fall of 2019, after several rounds of revisions with my agent, she felt like we were ready to go to publishers. We labored over the title and came up with a flashy one: “The It Girl,” and she said she would go out with it on Monday morning. “Go out with it” is agent speak for: She would send it to every editor at the major houses that she thought would be a good fit for my book. That Sunday night, I felt queasy and excited and sick, like I wanted to run up to the top of a mountain and throw up. On Monday, I imagined editors reading the first line of my novel. What if they didn’t read more than single page?

Every few days my agent would check in with me, and I would check my email dozens of times a day, waiting for any news she might send. Two publishers said no that first week, but they were encouraging “no’s.” It might sound funny to readers but authors appreciate being told that an editor loves the manuscript but can’t find room for it, or they liked the main characters but they already have something similar. It’s better than flat “no.” It’s hopeful!

I never expected a bidding war or an auction for my first book, but it became clear after two weeks of discouraging answers, that I should start saying a prayer. One editor whose work I admired came back to us and asked me to rewrite the book with a dual timeline; then she’d be happy to take another look. I considered it, even after all of my hard work. But my agent said we should say no, so we did. Would that be a mistake? I wasn’t sure. At night, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d remind myself of the old adage that it only takes one yes from an editor to get published. Who was my special someone? Was there an editor who would see promise in my work?

I’d relied on editors at newspapers and magazines to see something in my writing all of my life. But fiction editors intimidated me. I didn’t write flowery or fancy prose; I wondered if my writing wasn’t smart enough, if my dialogue was weak, if I should have worked harder at being clever. All of these things go through your head when you’re waiting to hear back from editors on your book. You think about all of the things that your book is not rather than all of the things that your book is.

In the third week, my agent called: Two editors at two different houses were interested. My heart leapt as she told me who they were, what they said about the book, and asked me when I might be available to talk to them. I was in the kitchen cutting apples for my kids when I hung up the phone, and I sunk down against the cabinets and teared up. A good cry, feeling relieved, like someone might actually want to publish my book. After my emotions passed, I started to google the interested editors. My spirits soared when I saw the books they’d published. For a moment, I let myself believe that my novel could land on the bestseller list.

In the first phone call, the editor told me about her vision for the novel, how she wanted me to develop my main character even more, to push the romance plot to the back because my strength was in the rich girl/poor girl dynamics. She thought we could come up with a better title, and she saw the book as upmarket commercial fiction. Then she said she loved the story. She loved the characters. My eyes sharpened to a pinpoint. I remember thinking: This is actually going to happen. A big 5 publisher was going to pay me to publish this novel that I’d worked on for years.

My agent called with the offer quickly after that, and I remember screaming into the phone. Not because it was a huge number but because I did it! Writing a novel is like running a marathon, and getting a book contract is like getting to the finish line. All of that work culminated in something substantial. All of those people whose eyes glazed over at cocktail parties when I said I was writing a book, the husband at the cocktail party who said, “Isn’t everybody writing a book these days?”; I could suddenly say yes, and it’s being published! I no longer felt like an imposter. I was officially a novelist.

A published book is incredible in part because it’s a tangible symbol of your own dreams. When do you get to hold your dream in your hand? I think it’s why authors take pictures of their books in bookshops and post them on Instagram. Maybe it seems vain. But a part of us never really believes we’ll see our words in print, and each and every time we do, we feel the same amazement. That’s mine! I created that!

And those feelings of bewilderment don’t go away when you publish your second book or your third. With my third novel All the Summers in Between coming out on June 4th, I’m still anxiously awaiting that moment when I first see that stunning cover in a bookstore! I will hold my latest novel up, this small little slice of myself, and wonder, not for the first time, how did I do this?