I’m currently in the process of self-publishing my memoir. I tried going the traditional publishing route. I paid $200 to have my query letter polished by a professional and sent that letter to the agent who was at that $200 session. . .and heard nothing.
I revised the book and queried agents again. Out of about a dozen, a handful immediately rejected me, one sent me very thoughtful feedback, and the rest never bothered to contact me, not even via rejection letter.
I finally decided, Screw it, I’ll just do it myself.
First step: publish through Lulu and edit in book form. Yesterday I finally got it in the mail.
I’m not so visually inclined, hence the minimalist look. Still, it’s pretty cool to have my book in actual book format.
I already see formatting mistakes. The spacing should be 1.5, not double, and I shouldn’t indent before a new section or chapter. I’ve yet to get started on the real nitty gritty – the content! I’m both scared and excited to read it again. It’s been almost a year, and I’m hoping I’ll see things I missed before.
March 2011. That’s my target date. Maybe sooner.
The cover’s going to look different by the way. I’m enlisting the help of a pal who has a great eye and the same aesthetic as I do – clean and simple.
In other news, I’m trying my hand at fiction again for the first time in ages. The Creative Nonfiction journal has a fun weekly Twitter game, in which they offer a theme, and they select their favorite tweets to be published in the next issue.
Last week’s theme was SHOES, and while I didn’t post a tweet, the theme inspired me to start writing a story.
When I was four, I wanted Dorothy’s ruby slippers in the worst way. That’s what I got out of The Wizard of Oz: girl, where’d you get those shoes? I asked my mother if she could get them for me, and for some reason she said yes.
The next time she went shopping, I waited by the door, waiting in anticipation for her to come home. When she finally did, I pounced.
“Did you get the shoes?” I asked.
My mother was loading groceries in the house. “The store was sold out,” she told me.
I had never been so disappointed before. I cried and cried and cried.
I thought, I could get those shoes now but it wouldn’t be the same. Then I started to think, What if there was a woman who did get those shoes as an adult? What would happen?
So there I am. Let’s see where it takes me.