I'M BACK ON THE MARKET!

Or in the saddle! Or whatever you call it when you're a vulnerable baby writer again!

I’m writing to you from my hotel bed in NYC, where, despite the sunshine outside the window, it’s 20 degrees out, and I have decided to banish myself under the covers because I. Am. Done. With. Winter.

Despite my frostbitten toes, I’m riding an exhilarated high because I’ve just returned from the reading room of the NY Public Library, where I sent off MY FIRST AND ONLY QUERY LETTER EVER.

What is a query letter, you may be wondering?

Well, it’s the worst thing a writer will ever have to write (at least, IMO). It’s the email introducing yourself to prospective agents and outlining the scope of the project you’re trying to sell.

Get it wrong and never hear back. Get it right and sell a book.

NO PRESSURE.

Querying is all new to me because of the unusual, fast-track journey I had to publishing a memoir. For those who don’t already know this story, it’s one I hesitate to share with other memoirists because it is incredibly atypical. Basically, I wrote an essay. It won a contest. The prize was a phone consult with a well-known agent. And the rest is history.

Bypass weeks, months, years of rejection and head straight to GO. Collect $200 on the way.

There are far more advantages than disadvantages to a journey like that, but the downside is that I never got a chance to cut my teeth, to thicken my skin, or become skilled at describing my own work.

So, as I attempt to sell a project wildly different than my memoir, I find myself relegated to baby writer status, learning the basics of the querying pilgrimage and refreshing my inbox every 14 seconds.

I extend much thanks to my friends at The Shit No One Tells You About Writing for introducing me to this alien process and deconstructing hundreds of query letters as examples of what to do and what not to do. I also offer thanks to my kindred writing spirit, Reema Zaman, who reminded me to tuck away other people’s advice and trust my own instincts, and, moreover, voice first.

It’s never easy putting ourselves out there, whether it’s in relationships or at work, because there’s nothing that stings worse than rejection. But as Michael Jordan (the basketball player, not the hunky Oscar-winning Best Actor) reminds us, “You miss all of the shots you don’t take.”*

And as the other Michael Jordan reminds us (yes, this time the Oscar winner):

“I know you guys want me to do well, and I want to do that because you guys bet on me. So, thank you for keeping betting on me. And I’m going to keep stepping up.”

That’s what it means to be part of a community of writers. We’re all rooting for one another. We all feel invested in one another’s success. And I’m grateful to each of you for being a cheerleader on this journey.

I can’t wait to keep you posted on what happens next.

In the meantime, let’s chat about books written by people who are not me!

It took me a long minute, but I finally finished March by Geraldine Brooks, the fictional take on Little Women, told through the POV of their father, Mr. March, while he’s off fighting during the Civil War. Big takeaways:

• No one can write like Geraldine Brooks

• Marmie was one saucy, sassy abolitionist who we should all take cues from

• The Civil War was horrifically brutal and dehumanizing (please let’s never repeat)

As a palate cleanser from Virginia Giuffre’s heartshattering memoir of sexual abuse, Nobody’s Girl, I listened to Meryl Streep’s audiobook narration of Tom Lake, and, ohh, I really adored it. It was such a balm for the soul after several dark, heady books, and I’m not sure I’ve read a book that shone such a tender light on how we make sense of our mothers as actual people.

Here’s what I’m looking forward to diving into next…

I’m a huge fan of the uber-talented Allison Pataki, who never fails to showcase the life of historical figures in a way that has me rabid to learn more. If you know me, I rarely shut up about Pataki’s book, The Magnificent Lives of Marjorie Post (also, if you live in the DMV and haven’t visited Post’s incredible home, Hillwood Estate, it’s a must-must). Her latest novel, It Girl, is all about Evelyn Talbot, the first self-made American celebrity who found herself at the center of a murder of passion declared “the Crime of the Century.” Murder? Sensation? Fashion?? Sign me up!

Also on the nightstand is Juliet Izon’s debut novel, The Encore. Set at a Boston music conservatory, the story follows two young musicians as they form a relationship that is destroyed shortly after graduation, only to resurface when the child they put up for adoption reunites them and forces them to travel together on a rock tour bus for a cross-country journey.

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*Have since learned this quote was misattributed to Michael Jordan. We have hockey legend Wayne Gretzky to thank instead.

**Since we’re talking about Oscar winners, I should share that Hamnet broke my husband. I fell asleep at the end of the movie and awoke to find him drenched in tears. We were both delighted that Jessie Buckley took home the Oscar for Best Actress, and her speech was as gorgeous as her performance.