So here we are. I’ve written a book. The next steps? Finish the book proposal→ Pitch it to literary agents→ Agent pitches it to publishers→ Edit, design, print, and market.
The 105,000-word book is about my journey from the thought of running across America for my mother to actually doing it—written as a compelling, emotional, epic story. If you don’t have a concept of how many words that is, it’s a lot. I sent the draft to a mentor, and after their assistant printed and placed it in a binder for reading, they said to me, “Oh. You wrote a book, book.”
I wrote a book, book. And maybe too much of one. Maybe not. I can’t decide yet. An agent/publisher may see that number and think I don’t know how to edit my words. (A typical memoir word count is around 75-80K.) I’ve revised it four times, and after my fourth revision, I felt it was in a great spot. Then I walked east down a cement path and cried to my friend on the phone (as aforementioned) and took a break. Upon diving back in I pondered whether to do another revision on my own or move towards the review of outside eyes. Revision as a writer is tricky. I want what I submit to be great, but at some point you just gotta hand it over.
Writing the whole thing wasn’t actually necessary, mind you. To publish a memoir, you minimally need a well-written book proposal and three chapters. I tried to do that, which was supposed to take me three months. Four years later, I wrote the whole book instead. Why I did that is a different post entirely, but in short, I needed to write the entire thing, learning a lot about who I am and the essence of what my story truly is.
The state of the book proposal? Well, I’m in a genre where the success of the book relies on how interested others are in who I am and what I’ve experienced. I’ve been asked to outline my bio, how many followers I have, and my database of contacts. Is there anyone significant I know? How many followers do they have, and will they help promote my book? How many people can I sell the book to? Prove it.
If you want the truth–like the real truth–I say, pay a New Yorker to tell you. Those are some truth-tellers. So, I’m paying a NYC Editorial company to tell me what needs work, specifically with my book proposal. They’ve asked me the question I need to answer for myself–would I like to take the traditional publishing path or a hybrid model? Traditional, I said right away because that’s what I always believed.
But this is how I see it so far: There’s a great big castle on a plush hill in the distance. For my whole life, I have been told about how beautiful that castle is with its sky-high rooms and chandelier lighting. I’ve been told that I should want to live in it. Everybody else wants to. So, for years I worked my way through a forest–a path with an occasional offshoot here and there, but always toward the castle where I thought I wanted to live.
Along the way, I passed a cozy cottage with a quaint little pond and a moss-covered roof, shown brightly by a beam of sunlight that peeked through the treetops. I stopped in my tracks.
“Holy shit!” I think. “Look at that place!”
It’s not as big as the castle–a little remote and intimate–but I feel its pull. I envision a firepit out back and a babbling fountain to the side with coy fish as bright as clementines swimming in the water. I could make this place like home, I think—welcoming. Exactly like the kind of place I was looking for all along.
But what about the castle? Don’t I want to live there? Hasn’t it been what I’ve thought about? I can hear the music playing and the people laughing in the distance. I like laughing. As I stand between the two, I can’t help but wonder: Do I want to go to the castle and join the big party, or have I been told for so long that I want to live there that I believed it? Am I stopping at the cozy cottage because it's comfortable? Am I wasting the potential of more space by staying? Do I want more space? What if I make it up to the castle and find I don’t want to live there after all? What if I just want to be invited in so I can say, “No, thank you. I like the cottage instead.” What kind of person does all that work just to say no thank you? Is there anything worse than wanting validation?
I told you I have a lot of questions.
I vote for the cottage...to me it feels more intimate, comfortable, honest, cozy and inviting while still full of its own surprises, challenges and lessons to be learned.
Question, only you can answer. Why do we do what we do? Life is always changing. We are always learning growing updating and becoming more. I think it’s always kind of funny that people strive for a great destination only to discover the part they enjoyed the most was the journey. my vision has always included building a strong company built with leaders who are continuously, growing and learning. My culture is based on communication and winning attitude, courage, learning, and growing. My mission is to create an environment of leaders that provides the highest degree of service and satisfaction, not only for our customers are employees, but also the world around us . Ashley, as a friend, I believe the greatest ability that you have is to bring people along on your story. you inspire people to be more and understand that at times there are difficult questions to be answered that brings a very human side to your story. Keep leading and inspiring the people around.you and know that you are making a difference. We live in a world where there are so few good leaders. Thanks and keep up the good work.
your friend Doug, GM at Committed Contracting.