Thursday, July 28, 2016
At the end of last September, Danielle M. Smith, a friend and agent, picked up the phone and called me. My husband and I happened to be away, at a just-the-two-of-us retreat. It was raining. Outside, a river rose. I talked to Danielle for close to an hour.
About life, moose, cookies, hope. About what I was and was not writing. She asked the question. I said "not much." Finally, I confessed. There was this book, this very personal book, a book that I'd been writing. I wasn't sure I'd ever publish again. But the truth was, I couldn't stop myself from writing.
A few weeks later, I finished that book. I sent it to Danielle, a presumption. It isn't as if she'd asked for it. In fact, she actually had not. Danielle was busy building her new list with Red Fox Literary. She was selling story after story. I don't think she was in the market for another client. But there, with this book, I was.
She read right away. She had a hunch. A little while later, the book went to auction.
So, Danielle, this is for you. And this is for Caitlyn Dlouhy, editor extraordinaire, who said so much when we first talked that still resonates here, in my head and heart. And this is for the other really kind and smart editors who talked with me that week. Each of you a boon. Each unforgettable.
Sometimes, we give up on ourselves. Sometimes we're given (a gift) brand new chances.
I'm grateful for this one.