Fact and Fiction

1999 - An Eventful Year

Seems I got distracted from my past journey by my current journey. I'm going to try to be more consistent in getting the rest of this story told.

The year of 1999 was an eventful one. It saw my first two books published in the CBA market (The Forgiving Hour in February and Whispers From Yesterday in September), and it saw my final three books published in the ABA market. Those final three were also my only contemporary category romances I ever published. They were released from Silhouette Special Edition in February, July, and December. (BTW, all three of these books are scheduled to be rewritten and re-released by Steeple Hill, the first of them in 2006.)

In February, I received a phone call from an Oscar-winning screenwriter who was interested in seeing The Forgiving Hour made into a movie with her doing the screenplay. Was I interested? To be honest, I had to wrestle with that a bit. Sure, I would love to see that book made into a movie. But I also wondered what would happen to it in Hollywood.

I prayed about it. I also asked myself what would be the worst thing I thought filmmakers could do with this story. Some readers might assume that the worst thing would have been if they put the affair on screen, showing the characters in bed together. While I wouldn't have been happy with that, it really isn't what I feared the most. To me, the worst thing would have been to remove God as the reason behind the forgiveness.

Ultimately, I decided I could only trust God with this matter. I asked Him, if it was His will for this story to become a movie, that He would direct what reached the screen. And if it was not His will, I asked Him to prevent it being made.

In early March I received an option offer from a producer. It wasn't for a large sum of money nor for a lengthy period of time. Trusting the Lord, to answer my prayer, I optioned the book.

March was also the month when I learned that I was once again a RITA finalist (the first time was in 1991). Patterns of Love was a finalist in the Inspirational category, and In His Arms was a finalist in the Short Historical category. To say I was stunned is an understatement.

In May, my publisher flew me to Fort Worth to appear on a one-hour television program called COPE. That was my first experience being interviewed on a live show for a full hour with call-ins. I'd done TV and radio interviews in the past, but this was new to me. Thankfully, the woman who hosted COPE was a real pro, and the experience was a great one.

July brought plenty of excitement. First, Tyndale House made me a wonderful for a three book contract which I accepted. One week later, I was in Chicago for the RWA conference where Patterns of Love won the RITA for Best Inspirational. Again, stunned would be an understatement. This book was special to me, and to have it recognized by my writing peers was a such an honor.

In October, I received a contract offer to revise my Coming to America series (of which Patterns of Love was book #2) for Zondervan, a sister company of the original publisher, Harper. Oh, I cannot express how delighted I was for this opportunity. In the two years since I'd written these books, my worldview and my writing had changed a great deal. I wanted the opportunity for these changes to be reflected in these books.

During the fall of 1999, I wrote The Shepherd's Voice, my third book for the CBA market and my final book (to date) for WaterBrook Press. I finished it in mid-December, just in time to enjoy the Christmas season with my family. This was one of too-few years when I haven't been on a killer deadline over Christmas, so it was a special gift in and of itself.

And thus, 1999 rolled to a close.

the forgiving hour

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.
(Romans 8:28, NASB)

Anyone who has ever experienced the betrayal of a spouse involved in an extramarital affair has reason to wonder if the above verse could possibly be true. I know I would have questioned it in the summer of 1974, had I been a believer at that time (I came to know Christ a year and a half later). Little could I conceive of a day when God would take the pain of that experience and use it for good. And how He would do that was also inconceivable. After all, I was years away from thinking about writing a book, let alone seeing one published.

Fast forward almost 25 years to January 1999 and the official release of my first CBA novel, The Forgiving Hour. It's the story of infidelity, heartbreak, and God's wonderful grace and forgiveness. A whole lot of me went into that book (personal experiences, things God taught me and spoke to me). Not just in the betrayed wife, but in the young mistress and in the son. It was a book that I have never felt "ownership" for. It's always belonged to the Lord.

On January 17, 1999, my pastor turned over his pulpit to me and had me share my testimony of how I came to write The Forgiving Hour. Of course, there was much more to my testimony than that. It was the story of how I came to know Christ in 1976, how the end of my marriage in 1981 caused me to look for security in the wrong places which then caused me to drift away from God, how through books and circumstances and loving people God wooed me back into fellowship with Him and then restored me and set me on fire. It was the story of how God took a painful part of my life and was turning it to good, to bring healing and comfort to others.

When I got home that afternoon, I discovered an email from a woman who did book reviews. She said she'd read The Forgiving Hour in one day and that it had made her open her Bible for the first time in years, made her realize that she had been caring more about what people thought of her than about pleasing God. I sat at my computer and wept for joy. That something I wrote might turn someone toward God and His word seemed the most amazing and wonderful thing.

Much more has happened to me and in my career in the years since then. Many highs and lows. But I will never forget how I felt, knowing that God was going to use me and the talent He gave me. I will never be a brilliant writer. I do the very best that I can, yet I constantly see how short I fall from what I hoped to achieve. And still God takes what I offer and uses it despite all my flaws and weaknesses.

I stand in awe of a mighty, gracious God.

Last half of 1998

[Psst. Bet you thought I forgot about this blog, didn't you? Sorry. I'll try to do better. This summer has been just a little crazy.]

Okay, the last time we met, I had arrived at July 1998 and the RWA annual conference. Now I'll give you a glimpse of what happened in the last five months of the year.

August

• Went on 8 day vacation with husband and laptop (meaning I relaxed and worked).
• Wrote 134 pages on Silhouette Special Edition #2 (which I started writing in June).
• Wrote opening 28 pages on second CBA novel, Whispers From Yesterday.
• Wrote proposal for SSE #3
• Received copy edits for The Forgiving Hour on the 31st.

September

• Completed copy edits of The Forgiving Hour.
• Received and completed page proofs for SSE #1.
• Wrote final 53 pages on SSE #2; did final revise and polish and sent to editor.
• Traveled to Nebraska to speak at a writers' conference (four days).
• Traveled to Wisconsin for a Power Plotting retreat (five days).
• Received page proofs of The Forgiving Hour.

October

• Returned to writing Whispers From Yesterday, adding another 189 pages to the total.
• Received, completed, and returned the copy edits for SSE #2.
• Completed and returned the page proofs of The Forgiving Hour.
• Began the "Experiencing God" Bible study (on my own, not as part of a group).

November

• Wrote 97 pages on Whispers from Yesterday.
• Traveled to Denver to present writing workshop (three days).
• Began hosting a women's Bible study in my home on Saturday mornings.
• Sold SSE #3.
• Hosted family Thanksgiving at our house.

December

• Wrote the final 85 pages of Whispers From Yesterday; completed the final revise and polish (adding about another 20-25 pages to manuscript in the process) and sent to editor.
• Hosted the local RWA chapter's annual Christmas party in our home.
• Received author copies of The Forgiving Hour. (What a moment that was, holding my first CBA novel in my hands. Ten times better than the publication of my first book almost 15 years earlier.)
• At request of an Oscar-winning screenwriter, sent a copy of The Forgiving Hour to her for consideration for film.
• Christmas with the family hosted in our home.

And thus ended 1998.

I think those five months gives a good glimpse of what it is like to be a "working writer." Constantly juggling projects in various stages. Trying to have a life outside of writing, too. For if one fails to "have a life," one will eventually have nothing to write about (or about which to write, for the purists among my readers).

more firsts

Wow. I haven't added to this saga for a while, have I? So where were we? Ah, yes.

We've arrived at 1998. By this time, I'd been writing for 17 years. I'd had 25 historical romances released from three ABA publishers, with two more historicals scheduled for publication that year. But now I was embarking in an entirely new direction.

I began writing The Forgiving Hour in January, still not having much of an idea what I was doing. This story was so different from anything I'd done before. It wasn't a romance. It was mainstream fiction, and it was overtly Christian. But although it was new territory, God kept His promise to guide me in the places I did not know.

One thing I had to do was become familiar with my new market. Although many things about the ABA and CBA are similar — and certainly writing fiction is writing fiction — there were differences too. So I subscribed to CBA Marketplace, more or less the equivalent of Publisher's Weekly, and I read all the CBA fiction I could.

This was a scary time in some ways. I felt like a newbie, as if all those previous years and previous books didn't count or hadn't ever happened. I was always asking questions, trying to find out what people meant.

Oh, there was one really wonderful first during this time. I was on the phone with my wonderful editor. I have no idea what I was talking about with her, but her response was, "Let's pray about it, shall we?" And then we prayed together over the phone. Believe me, that never happened to me with any of my ABA editors.

I finished writing The Forgiving Hour in May 1998. Then I waited with trepidation to learn if my editor would like it. To my great relief, she did. The book was scheduled for release in hardcover (another first) in February 1999.

In July, I attended the annual RWA conference in Anaheim. I felt different that year than I had the year before. I no longer wondered where God wanted me. I enjoyed fellowship with other Christian writers, feeling like I belonged, and it was wonderful. Something interesting happened to me during that conference. I was told by several people from the CBA market that my May release (one of my last historical romances) had a strong inspirational theme. One person even suggested that I should enter it in the inspirational category of the RITAs the next year. I realized how much my own spiritual journey had been working its way into my books, even without my knowing it.

Isn't that true? As we grow closer and closer to God, He is reflected in what we do.

leading the blind

Around 2:00 a.m. the next morning, after agreeing to the three book contract from Publisher #5, I woke up in a cold sweat. If I'd been buying a house, I would have called it "buyer's remorse." I was scared stiff about this new commitment.

My fear wasn't because I didn't want to write for WaterBrook. It was because the deal had been struck based upon a dream and an experience from my past — and nothing else. I had no synopsis, no plot, no experience in writing contemporary or Christian fiction. I didn't know if I could do it. And if I couldn't do it, I wouldn't just be failing myself and my publisher. I would be failing God.

Yep. Full fledged panic attack.

I went into my office, pulled out my Bible and started to read. My mind was so blank, I couldn't even pray. As "chance" would have it, I was reading through the Old Testament at the time and was in Isaiah. About 15 minutes into my mindless, fearful reading, I came to this passage:

"And I will lead the blind by a way they do not know,
In paths they do not know I will guide them.
I will make darkness into light before them
And rugged places into plains.
These are the things I will do,
And I will not leave them undone."
(Isaiah 42:16, NASB)

Everything inside me grew still. I knew the Lord was speaking to my heart. The book that I was about to write had come from Him. He'd given me that dream, and He'd drawn me from where I'd been to where I was, and He would take me to where I was going. I didn't have to know what the book was about or how to write it, because He did know. I was blind but God wasn't. He was going to lead and guide me. He was going to make the rugged places into plains.

And so the contract was signed and my career as a writer of Christian fiction was on its way as 1997 rolled to a close.

the call

I told you in my last post how I prayed that God would show me exactly what I was supposed to write and for whom. I didn't want to write for the CBA as just another place to sell my stories. I had to know I was supposed to do this. I couldn't just think it, and I couldn't just walk through an open door and hope it was the right one. I needed to know.

Many things about how we as Christians are to live our lives are made clear in Scripture. But I haven't found the verse yet that says, "Robin, you are to write for XXX." Still, I was praying for a clear and unquestionable word from the Lord.

In late summer, I was driving to an appointment, talking to God as I went, and I said, "Lord, I know that You talk to Your people. But if You're talking to me, I'm unable to hear. If you need a two by four to get my attention, please use it. I need Your answer."

In September, the editor with whom I had breakfast at RWA asked if I would take part in a conference call with the publisher and marketing director of her house. She said she knew my heart for God and she wanted those two people to know it too. So in early October, we had that call. We were still talking about the possibility that I would write historical romances for them. The call went well. Nothing extraordinary, but well. And then as we were about to end it, I had this sudden "inspiration." I don't know what else to call it. I asked if they could spare me a few more minutes. Then I proceeded to tell them the dream that I'd had six months earlier, followed by my personal experience from which it sprang. When I was done, everything felt different.

About ten days later, I had an offer for a three book contract. That was amazing and wonderful. But what I didn't have was a go-ahead from the Lord. I still didn't know if this was what He wanted from me. Talk about putting my prayer time into overdrive. The publisher was waiting for an answer and I couldn't say yes or no.

More than a week after getting the offer, I was in church on a Sunday morning. Two missionary couples, one of them from Sri Lanka, were sharing with the congregation. And suddenly, out of nowhere, God spoke to me in one of those almost audible voices: "For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." (Eph 2:10)

As clear as if it had been shouted from the pulpit, God told me that He had prepared the writing, the books, my career, so that I could walk in them. He told me that what was in store for me was beyond anything I'd hoped for or dreamed of. I was shaking as I heard Him speaking to me.

And after a pregnant pause, God told me what He wanted from me in return: To be sold out to Him. 100% sold out. No holding back sold out. It wasn't only my career that changed in that moment. I changed, too. I knew that never again would I allow my faith to grow cold or lukewarm. Never again would I walk a fence. I would be bold in my faith and I would cling to Christ, no matter what.

On Monday morning, I called my agent and told her I wanted to accept the contract offer and to please start working out the small details. By the end of the month, I had signed with WaterBrook Press (a subsidiary of Random House), Publisher #5.

And then came the fear!

a year of change

Well, I have covered 16 years of my writing life in fewer than 30 posts, and we are now up to 1997. My last post ended with mention of the dream I had.

That was in April 1997. Don't remember the exact date, but I do remember how vivid the dream was in my mind when I woke up. And although it wasn't about me, I knew instinctively the experience from my own life that was at the core of this idea. But I still had another historical romance to write on my current contract with Publisher #3 (Harper) and no time to try to figure out what a single title contemporary women's fiction would look like — or if I had the skills required to write one.

In July, I went to the RWA conference in Orlando. I had breakfast with one of the CBA editors who had asked for a proposal from me. During our time together, she asked me if I felt "called" to write Christian fiction. My reply was, "I don't know if I'm called. I only know I want to be where God wants me to be." That became my prayer throughout the remainder of that summer. "God, show me where You want me to be. Father, what am I supposed to be writing."

Okay, I once again have to do a fall back.

For several years in the mid-90s, I met with three other writers twice a year for brainstorming weekends. We flew into a city, met in a hotel, cabin, or condo and brainstormed book ideas for two or three days. Two of those authors wrote category books for Silhouette. They thought it would be cool if the three of us wrote a connected series, one book for three different lines. They told me that my style of writing would fit perfectly into the Special Edition line. I had to take their word for it because I mostly read historicals and didn't understand the differences between Silhouette lines. But I loved brainstorming this related series with them and was willing to give it a try since I knew I could go to them for help. We put our proposal together and sent it off to our respective agents.

Sometime in the spring of 1997, both of these other authors decided they couldn't commit to doing the series because of personal/family situations that arose. So there I was with that proposal, and the more I looked at it, the more I liked it. I decided it wouldn't take much tweaking to make the book stand alone. So I tweaked, gave it back to my agent so she could submit to Silhouette. I fully expected to be rejected. (Hey, I'd been around romance writers for a lot of years. I knew that even long time Silhouette authors had lots of proposals rejected.)

Now we are back to summer and me praying for the Lord to show me what I was supposed to write. Two CBA editors had historical proposals. Silhouette had a contemporary category proposal. I had one more manuscript to write and turn in to Publisher #3. I also had that dreamed opening of a novel, but I hadn't had any time to even think about what I would do with it, if anything.

In August, two important things happened. First, I signed a contract for that Silhouette book, the one I thought would be rejected. Second, I found out that Publisher #3, who had discontinued their romance line, were not an option for another contract.

Lord, what's going on? Where am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to be writing?

The remainder of summer past. I finished my last historical romance for Publisher #3. I was working on the book for Silhouette, now Publisher #4. But the desire to really know what God wanted me to do with my writing and with my life kept growing stronger. I wanted to know. I needed to know.

And so we arrive at October and the phone call that would lead to the answer I sought. Stay tuned...

Lord, what am I supposed to write?

Sorry for the lengthy break. Been writing, involved with family, etc. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. I remember.

As I've mentioned here and in my main blog, I went through a desert time in my walk with the Lord in the late 80's/early 90's (not in church, not reading my Bible, not praying, and all that goes with that). But in 1993, a crisis happened in my personal life that sent me stumbling back to the foot of the cross because there just wasn't anywhere else to go. Nobody could help me but God. I didn't so much recommit my life to Christ as God restored me to Himself. And it was a slow process, my restoration. He led me with baby steps because I had a load of hurt, pain, and guilt to be rid of.

One thing He did in 1995/1996 was bring me into fellowship with other Christian novelists who were members of Romance Writers of America (Francine Rivers, Liz Curtis Higgs, Patricia Hickman, Angela Elwell Hunt, Gayle Roper, to name only a few). Some of these writers were unpublished. Some were published in the CBA. A few of us wrote for the ABA, including me. A couple of them were editors for CBA publishers. An email group was eventually formed, and what a precious thing that group was to me. How they challenged me to dig deeper in my faith. What wonderful examples they were to me, loving me where I was and encouraging me to grow and change.

Backing up a few years, it was in November 1991, when I read Francine Rivers' novel, Redeeming Love, a retelling of the story of Hosea, that God planted the seed of desire in my heart to write for Him. Redeeming Love was Francine's statement of faith, the first book she wrote after she became a Christian. I remember thinking that I wanted to write something with that much power, that much beauty. But remember, I was still walking my desert experience. How could God ever use me again? I'd destroyed my testimony by drifting and making wrong choices. In April 1992, Francine and I met at a conference in Anaheim. We spent hours talking about the first book in a series she was writing for Tyndale, and again, I felt that tug in my heart, that wish that I could do what she was doing. But I wasn't good enough. And I certainly didn't have enough talent.

But God kept watering that seed He'd planted in my heart. He watered it in church. He watered it when I read the Word. He watered it as I watched other Christian authors serving Him. The books that I wrote began to change subtly. I began to get more and more uncomfortable with some of my choices I made in those books.

It was in the spring of 1997 that the two editors who were part of LoveKnot asked me (separately) if I would like to submit something to their publishing houses. That was the catalyst for me to start asking God what it was He wanted to do with the talent He'd given me. Was I supposed to write in the ABA or the CBA? I put together an historical romance proposal for these editors and sent it off. And I continued to pray.

Right about that same time, I awoke one morning with the opening scene of a novel in my mind. It was unlike any story I'd ever written. It was a contemporary story — and it would have God as a key character. But I had historicals already under contract. I didn't know anything about writing a contemporary novel or a Christian novel. So I sort of shoved that idea onto a back burner, not understanding that God had answered my prayer.

walking in the midst of trouble

In mid-1994, at the end of a period of negotiation that finally caused me to leave Publisher #1 and sign with Publisher #3, I decided to do an audit of my former publisher. My decision was the result of frustration. Publisher #1's royalty statements provided little information to the author other than the number of copies an author was being paid for. When trying to negotiate a contract, it's frustrating not to have information on past print runs and sell-throughs and returns. So I decided I wanted to have that information which seemed just good business sense to me. I hired an auditor and chose 8 of my 18 titles for him to investigate. I was after information, not money (I didn't believe there was any money to be found), so I saw no point in auditing all of my books.

As it turned out, that decision to audit would put me on a nearly four year journey of reporting discrepancies, letter writing, meetings with lawyers, and eventually a class action lawsuit of which I was the class representative. In the end, the publisher was required to pay a group of more than 100 authors approximately a million dollars in earned but unpaid royalties.

Can you say S.t.r.e.s.s!!!?

As class rep, I had a fiduciary responsibility to act in the best interests of the class (not myself), to stay apprised of the litigation at all times, and to make myself available to the courts. Yes, it was very stressful, but there was great satisfaction in doing the right thing.

While all of this was in progress, God was drawing me closer and closer to Him. I was in a small e-mail fellowship with a group of Christian writers. I read my Bible daily. I had become more involved in my church.

It was the Lord who kept me — the woman who likes to avoid confrontation — strong, especially during the three days I was deposed by attorneys in New York City in the fall of 1997. (Hey, there is a reason for all of those lawyer-shark jokes that float around the Internet!) And when I left NYC on October 9th, I made note of these two passages (from the NLT, although I was reading the NASB version at the time), believing that the Lord had accomplished this for me:

Psalms 138:7-8
Though I am surrounded by troubles,
you will preserve me against the anger of my enemies.
You will clench your fist against my angry enemies!
Your power will save me.
The LORD will work out his plans for my life —
for your faithful love, O LORD, endures forever.
Don't abandon me, for you made me.

Psalms 141:10
Let the wicked fall into their own snares,
but let me escape.

A settlement offer was made by Publisher #1 in mid-December, about two months after I was deposed, and the courts approved the final agreement in January 1998. With a huge sigh of relief, that part of my life was behind me.

---

During that almost four year period, from the start of the audit to the approval of the courts, I wrote seven books for Publisher #3 (six novels and one novella). More importantly, I finally recognized and answered God's call on my heart to write for Him (more on that to come).

transitions

Hello, again. Sorry for the break in my story. I've been (1) writing; (2) celebrating a wedding anniversary; (3) celebrating Mother's Day; (4) celebrating my birthday; and (5) writing some more.

In the fall of 1992, I was elected to serve a two year term as President of Romance Writers of America®, the largest genre writers organization in the world. The two years I spent as president of this organization were both gratifying and challenging. I put in 40 hours per week into this unpaid volunteer position, and I wrote my books in the evenings. Somehow I managed to make all of my deadlines (five of them) during those two years.

As I prepared to leave the office of RWA® president, I also prepared to leave my first publisher. I had written 18 books for them, plus two for publisher #2. But my agent had negotiated a nice contract with publisher #3, and I was excited about the change and the opportunity to stretch my wings a bit. I would still be writing historical romances for the new publisher, but they were larger and had potential for helping me gain more readers.

But something else happened to me during my term as president — the first faltering steps of a restoration of faith. It started with a personal family crisis, but once God had my attention, He began to heal hurts and bring me to a place of surrender to His will. Little did I realize that He was also preparing me for ministry — as a writer!

what's your style?

Groan!!! I came nowhere close to the word production I needed for this week. Not happy. Not happy at all. I guess I should be back in my office writing on my wip instead of here in the family room writing a blog entry on my laptop. But I've been up since 4:00 a.m. and the creativity has drained completely out of me. You blog readers get the dregs that are left. Sorry.

Back to our story. As mentioned, I had now discovered what "real" editing entails. I'd survived my first lengthy revision letter (substantive edits) and line edits and copy edits and first pass pages/typeset galley proofs. The book was made the better for it.

By late 1991/early 1992, I had written 15 novels and 12 had been released. Of those 15, one was set in the Civil War era; eight were western romances (mining towns, Oregon Trail, cattle drive, etc.); one was a medieval; one was set after the turn of the century (heroine was on the Titanic); one was a Gothic Victorian; one was a Regency; one was a Zorro-inspired story set in Spanish California; and one was a pirate novel.

It occurred to me as I looked at the careers of other authors that those who did well usually built a readership with a certain kind of story. Later, as their careers developed, they could branch out and faithful readers would follow. Me, I'd been writing all over the map. Adventure. Saga. Gothic. Swashbuckler. Western. While I might have been enjoying the variety, it wasn't smart marketing. Nor did it allow me to find my "voice" because the styles were all so different.

It was right about then that my agent suggested I analyze my writing. What were my strengths? What was it I did best and what didn't I do at all? So I sat down and thought about it. What I didn't do was easy. I definitely didn't write sexy books, and I didn't write humor. My characters were my greatest strength. Readers cared about them, judging by my reader mail. But the main thing I did as a writer was make my readers cry. I tugged the heartstrings.

My next step was to decide what was the best sub-genre to showcase my perceived strengths. The answer for me was Americana historical romances. And it was in those stories that I discovered my true voice.

perspective

The night before I flew to San Francisco for the RWA conference, I had a dream about a particular author — a popular, rising star in the romance writing world — who wrote for publisher #2 and was edited by the same editor that had sent me that 9 page revision letter. I dreamed that I walked up to her at a party and asked her if she'd ever received such a letter. I really was in a funk over this thing.

I was serving on the RWA board of directors at the time, so I had a couple of days of board meetings to occupy my thoughts. But then the conference began, and I went to the welcome reception. Lo and behold, the very author I'd dreamed about was standing with another popular author who wrote for publisher #2 and the same editor. It was straight out of my dream. I hurried toward them. It was like I was compelled toward them.

In a somewhat shaky breath — but still trying to sound cool and composed, I'm sure — I told them I'd received, ha ha, isn't this funny and it doesn't bother me a bit, of course, a 9 page revision letter from the editor. Before I could say anything else, one of them said, "Wow. Only nine pages. You must be good!" Turns out the shortest letter she had received from said editor was something like 13 or 14 pages.

Wow! I wonder if she had any idea what her throw away comment meant to me. I went from thinking I was a horrible writer with a career about to end to being excited about returning home to that revision letter and getting to work on the book. Which I did a few days later.

That book, Rugged Splendor (my title was Bounty of Silver because hero was a bounty hunter and heroine's name was Silver; always hated the change), became my very first RITA Award finalist. Kind of a sweet ending to the story, huh?

Oh, and yes, that is a pseudonym you see on the cover. I only did two books using the pseudonym, the two books I wrote for that publisher. All my other books, before and since, have been published under my own name.

9 pages and a blue pencil

So where were we? Ah, yes. I was now a full-time writer. I had one year to prove I could support myself on advances and (hopefully) royalties.

After I started getting contracts in advance of writing the books, I became a disciplined writer. I maintained a set writing schedule, built around family and office hours. Suddenly I had forty more hours a week at my disposal. I should have been able to write a lot more than I'd written when I had a full time job. Right? Hmm. I found that when I had more time it just insisted on being filled - and not necessarily with what I was supposed to fill it with.

The timing of my resignation from the day job might have been a bit off. My dh was recuperating from a major surgery. Not so bad when he was actually down flat. It got worse when he was feeling pretty good but still not able to return to work. A bored man around the house 24/7 is a tough gig, especially when it lasts for nine months.

But despite that, I did eventually find my rhythm.

In the meantime, I was being challenged by my new agent. That was a good thing. She helped me see that I had the habit of bringing the internal/emotional conflict in my novels to a conclusion too soon, leaving only the external/action conflict to play out to the end. Well, I'll be. She was right. Way too many chapters of external conflict only. So I learned how to keep the internal and external conflicts working together and resolving them both as close to the end of the book as possible. Major improvement.

And like I said, a good thing. Because my agent had negotiated a two-book contract with a second publisher. I wrote the first book for that contract and sent it to the publisher in the spring of 1990. Less than a week before the RWA conference in San Francisco, I not only received my first revision letter (9 pages, single-spaced), but I also got back my manuscript with blue pencil marks on every page. (So that's how editing was done!)

I used to joke that every published writer's greatest fear is that one day she will wake up and discover it was all a dream and she really can't write her way out of a paper bag. As I stared at that revision letter, I thought that day had come. I really couldn't write. And now publisher #2 would call publisher #1 and tell them, and publisher #1 would say, "By George! You're right. She can't." Then both publishers would demand back their advances, they would pull my novels from the shelves, and my career would be over.

And it was in that frame of mind that I headed to San Francisco to meet with other writers, my agent, and the editor who sent me that 9 page revision letter.

the big dream

From the time I began writing my first novel, I harbored the hope that I would one day be able to write full time. Like so many, I'd read those articles or seen those clips on TV about famous writers who make a ton of money. By this time in my career, however, I knew that very few authors make a ton of money. The majority of writers are below poverty level in terms of income. But I also knew that it was possible to make a reasonable living from writing if an author has consistent output.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my most recent advances were only $2000. (FYI, most publishers pay an author an advance against royalties. An author must "earn out" her advance before she is paid additional royalties, and those royalty statements take years to earn out and pay out.) Anyway, those advances I was getting were a very small percentage of what my annual salary was as an office administrator for a financial services firm. It certainly didn't look to me like my "big dream" would come true any time soon.

Nonetheless, I shared my goal with my new agent. Remember, she was big on career planning and helping her authors reach their goals. I told her if she could get me an advance equal to a year's salary (after her agency fee) to put in the bank that I would quit my job. I didn't believe she could do it (oh Robin of little faith) as that would be a substantial increase over my previous advances. It took quite a few books to go from $1000 to a whopping $2000! I was certain my publisher would never make the increase required. So the coward in me who liked the security of a paycheck every other Friday felt pretty safe. What would it matter? I could go on working and writing in the evenings. Safe, secure, insurance, regular paychecks.

I remember well the call I received from my agent that fall. She'd done it! She had an offer that would put a year's salary into the bank upon signing the contract. Not a fortune by any stretch of the imagination, but it was an amount equal to what I needed to pay the mortgage and utilities and other bills (including taxes and business expenses). Now I had to follow through. It was so scary. My new husband and I had just bought a home together. He had surgery that fall that would keep him off work for about nine months. I had a job that I loved and I worked for the best boss I ever had. If I quit my job and the writing didn't pan out, I was fairly sure I could find another job, but interesting, challenging jobs working for a boss who valued me and listened to my thoughts and opinions were rare. Very rare. And after my divorce many years before, I had been on the brink of bankruptcy. Financial security was a fragile thing and something I desired. Could I really do this? Should I do it?

Gulp...

I gathered my courage and gave my notice. It took two months to hire and train my replacement. But finally, the month that my 9th novel was released, January 1990, I was thrown a farewell party and joined the ranks of the self-employed.

Is it ironic that my 9th book had the word "dream" in the title? Hmm.

my champion

From the time my first agent closed her agency (before I'd actually written the first book of the deal she negotiated) and I was once again on my own, I'd made it a point to discover more about literary agents and their relationships with authors.

Some agents act as an editor before they send out a manuscript, sometimes having the author rewrite a number of times before they deem it ready to send to a publisher. Some agents and authors speak almost weekly by phone, the agent holding the author's hand as she works her way through a book. Some agents do nothing for an author in-between negotiating a book contract. Some agents have cozy personalities and some are hard as nails.

So I sat down to figure out what it was I wanted from an agent. Ultimately, two things rose to top importance: (1) I wanted someone who would champion my work, and (2) I wanted someone who could help me plan a career.

I had discovered something about myself when negotiating my first seven book sales. If I said to a publisher that I was the best thing to happen to them since sliced bread (you have to go into a book deal believing the publisher needs your book), and the publisher said, "No, you're not," my immediate internal response was, You're right. I know I'm not. Because, of course, I know my inadequacies as a writer. While I write the best book I'm capable of at the time, I can always improve. So I needed an agent who believed passionately in my current work and in the potential for my future work. I needed a champion who would truly believe I was the best thing since sliced bread and who could then persuade the publisher of it too.

The career planning was also important to me. I didn't want to simply sign another book deal for three or four more books. I wanted a career, and I knew that a true publishing career would look much different from what I was doing at the time. I just wasn't sure what steps I needed to take to make my dreams come true. I needed concrete, achievable goals, steps to take to get me from Point A to Point B.

I believe it was late May (not long after I returned from my honeymoon) when the local RWA chapter's conference chairperson gave me the agency info for the agent she hoped would come to our conference in the fall. Another member had met the agent the previous summer at the national RWA conference in San Francisco and liked her. And since the agent was located in Portland, it would be easy for her to fly into Boise.

I recall looking at that agency bio and feeling my heart flutter with excitement. In the first two or three paragraphs, she said she was a "champion" for her writers and that she believed in helping them with long term "career planning." There was more, of course, but those two things popped out at me because they were the top two items on my agent wish list.

I'm not sure how many days passed before I worked up the nerve to call the agent, not to talk to her about the conference but to get a feel for her. I liked her right away. She was personable and knowledgeable. She'd read one of my books so knew my work. Later, she sent me her agency contract, a simple and straightforward two-page document. However, I was a bit reluctant to sign because my first agent-partnership hadn't lasted. What if I made a mistake? What if this agent wasn't the right one for me? We talked at least three more times over the next three or four weeks, about an hour each time, and the more we talked and the more questions of mine that she answered, the more I felt we were a good fit.

So I held my breath and signed the agency contracted. I had a champion for my work.

a business of rejection

It was frightening to be asked to revise that first time. It felt a lot like ... rejection!

Ah, dear reader, perhaps you thought that, since I sold my first book, I avoided rejection. Wrong. Writing is a business of rejection. A writer had best get that into her head and learn to live with it. Even if an editor or an agent doesn't reject your work, a reviewer probably will, and if not a reviewer, then a reader will. In my secular career, I've been criticized for too little sex in my novels. In my CBA career, I've been criticized for including salvation scenes in my novels and for not including baptismal scenes. Can't win for losin'.

Remember the infamous statement I wrote about on March 19? "If she can get published, I can get published." I can't help but believe that my early books probably launched a career or two. I'm sure there must be at least one writer out there who read one of my books and thought it was a bad book and surely she could do better. So rejection isn't always a bad thing. Right?

I believe the saving grace for those early books — the talent that overcame plot holes and weak prose and the absence of editing — were the characters in my novels. The ability to create living, breathing, believable characters who readers fell in love with carried books that had countless other problems.

Now, lest you think I was a total hack, I worked very hard on my own to improve my craft. I read many how-to books and studied my favorite writers. Since English was one of my two favorite and best subjects in school (the other being history), my grammar and sentence structure and spelling, etc., weren't in a horrid state.

Book #6, Pirate's Lady (August 1987), was my first bestseller. It received great reviews, such as this one from Romantic Times: "Robin Lee Hatcher has created her most endearing heroine and the perfect dashing pirate. She's sure to sweep you into their breathless fantasy." This was also my first published book to be nominated for an award (an RT Reviewer's Choice Award for Best Swashbuckler).

Side Note: By this stage in my young career, I had caved to historical romance market and editorial expectations and had begun to compromise the rules I'd set out for myself at the beginning — no graphic sex/violence and no coarse language. [Not so coincidentally, by this stage in my personal life, I wasn't walking closely with Christ, wasn't reading my Bible, wasn't in regular fellowship with other believers, wasn't practicing my faith. Thus, my choices didn't feel like compromises at the time. Oh, for foresight rather than hindsight!] While the sex scenes I included were brief and "sweet" by industry standards, I was never comfortable writing them. I've never liked reading them in other books either; sex scenes bored me to tears and I always skipped over them, wanting to get back to the "story" as quickly as possible.

I received revision phone calls for books #7 and #8 (and would continue to get those calls through the remainder of my work with that publisher). Book #7 was published in 1988 and Book #8 was released in May 1989. Shortly thereafter, the conference chairperson for our RWA chapter, of which I was president, gave me the bio of an agent she planned to invite to our conference in the fall. Little did I realize how much reading that bio would change for me.

she wanted revisions!

Okay, where were we? Oh, yes. 1986. I'd attended my first big writers' conference, and I now had a support group of romance writers who met three times a year. And my fifth novel would soon be released.

I was home from the RWA conference a few weeks when I received a phone call from — surprise! — the new editor at my publishing house. She was calling regarding my sixth novel that was now in her hands. She wanted to discuss some revisions. Panic! I'd known I was being cheated, and suddenly I was being asked to revise. While I was still four years away from receiving a revision letter and seeing line and copy edits, this was a first step.

Now I realize that the phone conversations I had with that editor on book #6 and those books for that publisher that followed equaled a "substantive edit." Although not a perfect way to do things, IMHO, those phone calls taught me how to take lots of notes and to explore ideas  "off the cuff" by verbalizing them with my editor. (Brainstorming quickly became one of my favorite aspects of being a writer and has remained so through all these years.) I learned how to take a book apart after I thought I was done with it and then put it back together in a better condition.

Book #6, a pirate novel, was definitely a better book for the changes the editor requested. In the years since 1986, I have learned that editors aren't always right about what is wrong with a book, but if they are asking for changes, they are usually right that something is wrong. As the creator of the book, it's my job to seek out the real culprit and do all in my power to make the story better than it was before.

---

That summer of 1986 was when I acquired my first agent. A lovely lady (we remain in touch on occasion and consider each other friends), but it wasn't a successful partnership in business terms. She closed her agency before I began writing the first book of the three-book contract that she represented me on. This forced me to take a hard look at what I wanted an agent to do for me. I was much better prepared by the time I shopped for a new agent. [I will talk about this later; if I don't, somebody remind me!]

Aside #1: Over the years I have seen a lot of writers hurt in agent-writer situations. I do believe that a bad agent or the wrong agent is worse for a writer than having no agent. Too many writers sign on with the first agent who says they like their writing. I tell writers that they didn't marry the first guy who said, "You're pretty," so don't "marry" the first agent who likes your writing. An agent-writer partnership is like a marriage in many ways. You must have similar outlooks. You must be able to communicate well. A shy, timid, introverted writer probably won't do well with an overbearing, tough as nails, brash agent, even if he is the best agent in New York City. So if you are on the agent search, take your time. Talk to the agent several times. Make sure he/she listens to you, to your wants and desires, to your goals and dreams. Meet them in person if at all possible.

Aside #2: I'm pleased to say that I have been with my current agent for almost 16 years, and she has represented me on more than 50 book sales (including foreign editions and one movie option). We have a very successful working relationship, both professionally and personally. I feel quite blessed.

editors are supposed to edit?

Hmm. Been gone from this story for a week. Sorry 'bout that. I was writing and rewriting. (See the I Was Just Thinking... blog for more info on that; the link is in the left sidebar.)

Let's fly through a few years. I sold my third novel when it was approximately half written. I sold my fourth book (a sequel to Books #1 and #2) on a proposal. Then I negotiated my first multi-book contract. That was a stressful negotiation. It's hard to be a tough businesswoman with your editor while you hammer out details of a contract, then switch to a warm working relationship once you start writing. That was when I knew I wanted to get an agent before it was time to go to contract again.

Book #4 was published in early 1986 with Book #5 set for release in October 1986. In April of that year, several writers (published and unpublished) who I'd met during the previous couple of years got together to form the first Idaho chapter of Romance Writers of America. I was no longer alone with stories rattling around in my head. I now knew other people who understood me and the process of writing a novel. Oh, happy day!

And that summer I attended my first RWA conference; it was in Minneapolis. I met many of my favorite authors and attended some fabulous workshops. But the big thing for me was hearing authors talking about "revision letters" and "line edits" and "copy edits" and "first pass pages." Huh? Remember, my books thus far hadn't been edited at all.

After hearing authors talking about these things, I finally turned to a friend and said, "I think I've been cheated." And I was being cheated. No author is so good she doesn't need edited. Not that editing is fun or easy. But it's like eating your vegetables. It's good for you. Sadly, I would not be really edited until Book #11, and that was still several years away.

My dream was that someday I could make enough money to quit my full time job and support myself with my writing. That wasn't going to happen with the $1500 per book advance I got for my last contract.

At this point, I guess I should answer the question of what my writing day looked like back then. Since I had a Monday through Friday, 8 to 5 job, plus two teenagers (in 1986 they were 17 and 15), plus deadlines to keep, I had to be disciplined with my time while still not shutting out my family.

Monday through Thursday, I came home from work, fixed dinner, ate with the family, then while my daughters did the dishes, I went off to my office to write. I wrote from 7:00 to 9:00 p.m. I had an "open door" policy. My daughters could interrupt me at any time (there's some funny stories that go with that, but too hard to tell without voice and hand gestures). Friday nights were reserved for family. Saturday mornings I wrote (teenagers like to sleep late), and Saturday afternoons/evenings were for family. Sundays were for church and family.

With that routine, I managed to write a novel every eight months in my "spare time." I was learning a lot with every book I wrote. I studied how-to books and analyzed the novels I read. Still, I needed a good editor's attention (an editor's good attention?), so it was slow going.

sotp

From the very beginning of my writing career — before it was a career — I've been an SOTP writer (that's seat-of-the-pants for you non-writers out there). Part of the joy for me as the creator is discovering what happens next, just as a reader will discover it when she's reading my book. I don't do lengthy outlines or synopses. I rarely know the ending although I usually have a fuzzy idea of my final destination.

Of course, all writers need to understand what makes a good plot as well as what makes interesting characters. There are a lot of tools of the craft that go into making a book a great reading experience. Most writers learn those tools by trial and error. A few tools come to us instinctively, gifts from God that we are born with. Others seem impossible to learn, no matter how much effort we put into it.

I enjoyed the SOTP process more back in the beginning than I do now. Back then I didn't worry if I could "pull it off." I just sat down and wrote my heart out. After 47 books, I know a lot more so I worry about a lot more. Sigh.

I have tried to learn to write other ways. I've devoured my share of how-to-write books in the past two-plus decades. I used to think that all SOTP writers attended plotting workshops and all detailed plotters attended creativity or characterization or whatever workshops because they were trying to improve their craft by studying other methods. But I ultimately came to believe that what we are actually doing is desperately trying to find an easier way to write a novel than the way we are doing it.

And the final truth is, there is no easier way. Writers must create the way they are wired to create. If a writer loves and/or needs to plot out every scene on 3x5 cards, then she should do that. If a writer loves and/or needs to wing it, then she should. At the end of a novel, we must all learn to tie up loose ends and be certain our plot isn't full of holes and take care that we've made the characters and their situations compelling. But how we get to that ending will vary from writer to writer. And that's okay.

---

Back to my saga: As you'll recall, I turned in my manuscripts to the publisher in the spring of 1983 and didn't see the books again, in any manifestation, until they became bound books. No revisions. No edits. No page proofs. By the time they were published, it had been two years since I'd read Stormy Surrender in my final proof of the manuscript and a year and a half since I'd looked at Heart's Landing. So when my author copies arrived (all six of them), I grabbed one from the box and began to read. My heart sank. The book was riddled with typos, sometimes even changing a "her" to a "him." There were plenty of mistakes that were my own. I think I already mentioned cliches, contrivances, and adverbs. Those I can claim as my own fault, sans editor. But these typesetter errors! I sat down with the book and my manuscripts and I compared and counted. Both books had more than 80 mistakes that had been made at the publisher's end.

I took a breath, shored up my courage, and asked the publisher if I couldn't proof the next book before it was published. From that point on, I got to see the "galleys" or "page proofs." In my ignorance, I still didn't know I should be seeing the book several other times, but it was a start. And when I signed my fourth contract in the summer of 1984, I made sure that that stipulation (to see the galleys) was in writing.

how times have changed

A computer salesman read the article about me in the local paper, the one with the photograph of me in front of my typewriter, and called me. We met. I was pretty sure I would never write on the computer, but a computer seemed like a great way to keep from having to type pages over and over again. I put my paid-for car in hock for that PC, borrowing just over $5,000.

Do you know what kind of computer you could get today for $5,000???

That first PC had no hard drive. It had two 7 1/4 floppy disk drives and not much else. Monochrome screen. I think the color of the type on the screen was orange. I also bought a daisy-wheel printer. I think it printed a page every 2 to 3 minutes. I know it gave me a headache when it was running. It was so noisy. And the house shook with every strike of that daisy wheel.

Oh, my. How far we have come, technologically speaking!

At the time my first computer was delivered, I had written 50% of my third book, Thorn of Love. I learned to use the computer while entering that first half into the processor. By the time that was done I realized I would be able to write directly on the computer.

Oh, happy days!

fairy tale?

Yeah, by now some of you are thinking I was living the fairy tale. Right? And in some ways, I suppose I was. I did sell my first book—twice! I know many writers with loads of talent who worked for many years and many books before they sold a book. I wrote one novel in 1981 and another in 1982, sold them in 1983, and saw them both published in early 1984.

Boise was much smaller then than it is today. A local girl (a native, no less) having her first book published was news. A reporter came out to interview me. The photographer took pictures of me sitting in front of the typewriter I had bought about six months before. They did a half-page spread about me and my upcoming book signing. Heady, unbelievable experiences.

The Saturday of my first ever book signing arrived, along with an ice storm that had TV reporters saying people should stay home if at all possible. Off I went, along with my mother and a good friend. The bookstore had punch and cookies. My mom and friend sat with me. (Wow, things were so different back when there were all those independent booksellers!) The store had 200 copies of my books. I didn't know how unusual that was for a first time author. And besides, I was scared no one would come due to the weather.

I was wonderfully wrong. They came. Family came. Co-workers came. Old friends and new friends came. Women from my mom's Bible study group came. (Mom kept patting hands and saying, "Ignore the cover. It's a nice, clean book.") Even my first grade teacher came. The store sold 150 copies of my book. I have had some good signings in my career, but none were ever quite as thrilling as that first one.

Yeah, I was living the fairy tale.

sales one & two

With a few short strokes of the pen, I agreed to sell On Wings of a Song to Leisure Books. And via phone call, I asked if the editor might be interested in the sequel, Heart's Landing, as well. She was, so I packed up that carefully typed second manuscript and shipped it to New York. By spring, I'd signed my second book contract. Not only that, but my excitement over these sales had a new idea popping into my head, this one set in medieval England. So I was writing again, too.

Since I was doing this on my own — by that I mean, I didn't have the advice of anyone who'd "been there, done that" — I didn't know what to expect in the months that followed those first sales. And I definitely didn't know many of the things that I didn't experience that I should have. I should have had to revise those books. (Oh, the cliches and contrivances!) I should have had to edit. (Oh, the excess of adverbs!) I didn't have to do either. I wouldn't see my manuscripts again until they were actual books to hold in my hands. [Did I just hear a collective gasp of horror from the published authors reading this? Well, if you gasped, you were oh-so-right to do so.]

In September 1983, I joined Romance Writers of America. Although my books weren't technically romances as the genre is more narrowly defined, Leisure Books was a romance novel publisher. By this time the big historical sagas were less popular and I was reading more historical romances. I had a better idea of what would be expected of me in the future (a more narrow focus on the hero and heroine, making them and their relationship the center of the novel).

That month, I also received the cover flat of my first novel, which was now entitled Stormy Surrender. The new title was a huge disappointment to me. I thought it was lame and had nothing to do with the novel at all. I wasn't thrilled with the sexy clinch either. The story wasn't sexy, and I hated that it made it look like it was. And for the record, I always hate covers that deceive readers, no matter the genre. Still, it was my book with my name on the cover. That made it exciting.

We had a lot of fun with that cover where I worked. I was the office manager and bookkeeper in a real estate firm. The hero on the cover looked exactly like one of the top salesmen in our office. Our receptionist was a talented artist, and she did a rendition of the cover with the hero and heroine in front of the southern mansion with a For Sale sign (with our firm's name on it) and a bubble of the hero saying something about her having to sell. That poor salesman. Even his wife thought the cover looked like him. He was razzed for months.

In October, I received the cover flat for Heart's Landing. I liked it better (hey, it was tender, and her dress wasn't falling off!), and the title was mine.

The books were set for release in February and March 1984 (which actually means January and February). I counted off the days and the minutes in breathless anticipation. To be honest, I wished them away. Hey, once they were in print, fame and fortune weren't far behind. Right?

Uh huh.

what now?

Back to the main story...

So there I was with a bankrupt publisher, unemployed, and forced to move because my rental home had been sold out from under us. God was good to us, though. We found a better home in short order and I found new employment without missing any paychecks.

But what about the publisher situation? I'd signed a contract. Was it still binding? Was my novel tied up in that publisher's bankruptcy proceedings? I hadn't received a copy of the executed contract back or my agreed upon advance. So was I free to sell that book again or not? I didn't have any answers and I didn't know for sure where to find them.

I didn't write that fall. I was busy settling into a new home and a new job. I had two completed manuscripts, the second a sequel to the first, and I didn't know what to do with them. And, of course, it's tough being a single parent to a teenager and a pre-teen. Activities multiply with every year. Thankfully, my widowed mom was around to help with chauffeuring duties (but she had a job too).

Fast forward to February 1983. One day I came home from work and there was a letter awaiting me. It had been forwarded from the address where I'd lived in January 1982 to the address I'd moved to in May 1982 to this address where I'd moved in September 1982. It was a self-addressed envelope, like the ones I'd mailed with my manuscript the previous spring. I assumed it was a very tardy rejection so I wasn't nervous about opening it, the way I had been a year earlier when those envelopes arrived in my mailbox. I opened the envelope, read the letter inside, and burst into tears. My mom and daughters were asking, "What's wrong? What is it?"

Nothing was wrong. It was an offer from the publisher who had acquired the assets of the bankrupt company. They were offering to publish my novel. On Wings of a Song had another chance at seeing print.

Would wonders never cease?!?

what about Christian fiction?

I mentioned in an earlier post that I hadn't heard the word "genre" before and that I didn't really know what genre my novel fell into. I wrote the type of book I liked to read (romantic historical saga).

Why, someone might ask, didn't I write Christian fiction since I was a believer when I began writing? Okay, I'm showing my age again. When I first started writing, the fiction section in the Christian bookstore was about two to three feet wide and two shelves high; it was non-existent, for the most part, in general bookstores. It consisted mostly of prairie romances where the people never seemed to be challenged by serious life problems and they handled those problems they did have with ease. To be honest, I couldn't relate to such stories, and so I didn't buy my novels in the Christian bookstores.

I might not have known what to call my first novel, but I did know what I didn't appreciate in the books I read. I didn't appreciate characters who took the Lord's name in vain; I didn't appreciate crude language; and I didn't appreciate gratuitous or graphic sex and violence. So my first novel contained none of those things.

I wish I could say that none of my novels ever contained the things I didn't like to read, but I can't — with one exception: I never let a character take God's name in vain. (I won't go into more on that topic at this time; if interested, you can check out Regrets of Yesterday and two pages on my web site, My Faith Story and Why I Write Christian Fiction.)

So the short answer to the title question is: I didn't write Christian fiction because it didn't exist, at least not in its present form. And, although I didn't know it, God had a lot of things to teach me in the next fifteen years to prepare me for a ministry of writing for Him.

And perhaps I should say here that I don't believe every Christian should be writing for the Christian market. The world needs good fiction written from a Christian worldview. The key is for the author to be certain his/her worldview doesn't get skewed in the secular publishing process. As with any other occupation, it can be tricky living in the world but not becoming part of it.

Obedience is far better than sacrifice. (1 Sam 15:22)

rejection: 20 ... acceptance:1

Twenty-one submissions went out to New York publishers in January.

I know now that a few of them would never have wanted my type of fiction (like sending a chick lit to a publisher who specializes in SF & Fantasy). Two or three publishers never responded at all. Two requested to see the full manuscript. The rest sent form rejection letters of the "your manuscript does not meet our needs at this present time" variety. [Note: I have a great Peanuts cartoon where Snoopy receives a similar rejection, followed by the sentence, "If it ever does, we're in big trouble." Chuckle.]

I made photocopies of the full manuscript (oh, by the way, the working title was On Wings of a Song) and shipped them off. The Writer's Market said I would have to wait six to eight weeks for a reply.

Full of hope, I got to work on the sequel to On Wings of a Song. By the way, I advise all aspiring writers to do the same. Ship off your book and go to work on the next one. Otherwise, the waiting will kill you. And unless all you ever want to write is one book, this is good practice for the future when you may have deadlines, one right after the other.

Later, I would learn that over 100,000 novels were written every year and less than 1% of them got published, but at the time (1982), I didn't know the odds were stacked against me. [Side Note: I'm pretty sure there are more than than 100k novels written per year nowadays, but I doubt the percentage that get published has changed much, even with the many self-publishing options readily available.]

Well, wonder of wonders! In April, I received a contract offer from one of the two publishers who requested the book. I raced to the library and got all of the publishing contract law books that were available (maybe two or three) and studied them carefully. In short order, the contract was signed and returned and I waited breathlessly for the pittance of an advance I'd agreed to. Who cared about the money? I was going to be published! My book was going to be in print!

When I still didn't have my executed copy of the contract back with the advance check six weeks later (I was supposed to receive it in 30 days), I called the editor. She said she would look into it. That was in June.

By the end of July, I'd finished writing and typing the sequel, but I still didn't have the contract and advance check. So I called again. The phone lines had been disconnected.

In August, upon returning from a camping vacation with my two daughters (I was a single mom, in case I haven't mentioned that before), I learned the publisher had gone bankrupt. Shortly thereafter, I also learned I was going to be unemployed as the place where I worked was closing its doors. The next blow was that I had to move because the house we'd rented in May was being sold.

August/September 1982 was not a great time in my life!

what's a query letter?

So the novel was done.

I wrote my first book long hand, then typed the manuscript. I didn't use white out. I'd read that the manuscript had to be clean. So if I made a typo, I retyped the entire page. I estimate that I typed about four copies of that book. (I still have the onion skin carbon copy - which tells you how long ago that was!)

Although Romance Writers of America was birthed the same year I wrote my first book, I didn't hear about them for a while. And unlike today when the Internet puts aspiring writers in easy contact with other writers, both published and unpublished, I was alone in this process. Just me and my research books.

I did, however, screw up the courage to contact that aforementioned first time published author to ask her what a query letter should look like. Writer's Market said I needed a query letter but it didn't give me an example. Bless that writer's heart. She shared hers with me.

So after the Christmas season was past, the tree gone and the decorations put away, I wrote my query letter. And then rewrote it and rewrote it and rewrote it. At the same time, I combed through Writer's Market, looking for any book publishers who might be interested in the novel I'd written.

Today's aspiring writers know they're supposed to know their market. I didn't even know what to call my book other than "historical" and "fiction." I'd never heard the term "genre." Now I can tell you it was a "romantic historical saga," but I didn't know it then.

I made a list of 21 publishers and prepared my 21 query letters. I made sure I knew the name of every editor. (I'm great at following directions.) Either ten or eleven of those publishers wanted a synopsis and three sample chapters. But nothing in the instructions said the "first three chapters" so I tried to pick out my best three chapters to send. Oh, groan. Now I realize how dumb that was. After all, what reader bops around in a book, looking for the best chapters? They start reading in chapter one, and if you don't have them captured in those first three chapters, they won't care if chapter ten is awesome.

By the end of January, I'd made photocopies of those three chapters and the synopsis, boxed them up with those personally addressed query letters, and mailed the 21 submissions to New York publishers.

And then I waited.

the infamous statement

The desire that morphed into a dream (see previous post) brought along with it the kernel of an idea for a novel. My favorite novels at the time were sweeping historical sagas, and one of my all time favorite books was Gone With the Wind. So it wasn't a surprise that the idea was set in the South before and during the Civil War. While that kernel was getting ready to pop, I continued my reading habit, devouring novels one after the other.

And then came that fateful day, that fateful book. It was A-W-F-U-L!! It was cardboard. The characters were wooden. And so I spoke the infamous words that have launched a number of writing careers: "If she can get published, I can get published."

Well, let me tell you. That statement reveals total ignorance. When we say those words, we have no clue how hard it is to write a "real" book. Writing for fun and writing a novel for publication are two different things. A novel needs interesting characters who readers can identify with. A novel needs a plot. A novel needs good pacing. A novel needs a beginning, a middle, and an end. And none of those things happen without effort.

But I spoke them, and within a few weeks I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was, as the cliche goes. So in March 1981, I took a yellow legal pad and a pen and I wrote the opening line of what would become my first novel: Morning burst upon the fields of Spring Haven with bright sunshine and blue skies.

Here's one thing I have learned since 1981: We must always write our best if we are serious about a writing career, but we can only write the best book we are capable of at the time.

I poured myself into that story. I bought a copy of Strunk and White's Elements of Style to brush up on my grammar. I bought Civil War research books and immersed myself in them. I read books on manuscript format and plotting and characterization. And I wrote. Lying in bed at night after my kids were asleep, I wrote my novel on yellow pads. The next day at work, I would type the manuscript on the office IBM Selectric during lunch hours and coffee breaks. I turned my imagination loose in a whole new way.

I finished the book eight months later. Now what?

the horse connection

My mom told me my first word was "horse" rather than "mama." That, I believe, was a fabrication - I don't personally remember - but I was horse-crazy from a very young age. I saved up and bought my first horse when I was 15. Marriage and motherhood caused me to sell my horses when there just wasn't a spare moment to ride. So I was horseless for about 7 years, but once my girls were getting old enough to ride and we had a home on an acre, it was time to start riding again.

What, you ask, does that have to do with writing? Well, buying horses got me involved with a small horse association. That involvement eventually led to me volunteering to do the monthly newsletter. After so many issues of "winter is here; give your horse more grain," I grew bored with the non-fiction articles. I started writing more creative filler pieces, like what my filly looked like running through the snow beside her dam. There was something about that regular writing exercise that stirred up a desire in me. I didn't identify what that desire was for many months, but it was there, all the same.

I few months later, I read an article in the newspaper about a local author who had sold her first romance novel. Talk about stirring up a desire in me. For the first time, I thought of writing as something more than a fun thing to do in private, something just for me. It was possible to write a novel and get it published. The desire began to morph into a dream.

first attempt

The year was 1973 with winter fresh upon us. Although the U.S. had pulled out of Vietnam, the war continued and P.O.W.s and M.I.A.s were still very much in my thoughts. I was a stay-at-home mom to two girls under the age of five. I had recently purchased a Sears electric typewriter. Believe me, it was one rickety clackity little machine.

I remember snow falling outside my dining room windows as I sat at the table, that noisy, clackity, humming machine that wobbled when I touched it sitting in front of me. I began to write a story about a young mom whose husband was serving in Vietnam. I made it either 7 or 9 pages, single spaced, before I set it aside. Years later, I ran across those pages, and they were bad!

To be honest, when I sat down to write, I didn't think *I want to write a short story or a novel* or *I want to be published*. I was just playing at storytelling. I never thought about being a writer, as I said before. I simply wrote for the fun of it, because I wanted to. Had to, maybe.

Over the next 7+ years, my writing remained journals and letters. My sister-in-law used to pass around my letters to neighbors because she thought they were so entertaining. I found that weird. Why would perfect strangers want to read something I wrote? My s-i-l, yes. She was family. But her neighbors? Didn't make sense to me. But I guess they were my trial run.

Next entry: We'll jump to 1980.

life happened

I had what I would call a normal, happy childhood. My dad died when I was a baby, and my brother and I were raised by my mom and grandmother. We had a fairly large extended family, close-knit and loving. I have fond memories of holiday gatherings when we would play games like "Spoon" around a large dining room table at my aunt's house.

I was a B student, for the most part. I studied hard at the subjects I loved best (English and History) and I did as little as I could get by with in the subjects that didn't interest me much (Science). I went through a rebellious period in high school. I wanted to be a hippy but didn't have the courage, to be honest. I never tried drugs; they frightened me. But I did try my hand at alcohol and cigarettes. (What was I thinking? Oh, that's right. I was a teenager. I wasn't thinking!)

My family always went to church, but the mainstream Christian church we attended was more of a social religious experience. Truth was there in its long-ago founded doctrines, but that truth was hard to find in the church it had become. So while I believed in God, I didn't know I could know Him. He was distant, up in heaven, like my grandmother.

Perhaps because I grew up without a dad and was surrounded by mostly women, I didn't aspire to any sort of career after high school. More than anything, I wanted to marry and be a mommy. So that's exactly what I did. As it turned out for the career I would one day have, that was the best thing that could happen to me. I lived life. I experienced people. I met heartache face-to-face. I developed empathy, one of the most critical tools for a novelist (to have the ability to put oneself, in heart and mind, into someone's shoes and understand what they think and feel).

My voracious reading habits grew ever more so. I gobbled up books. Historical sagas and romances for the most part. I was learning a lot about writing during this time, although I certainly didn't think of it as a learning period. I thought I was simply escaping into wonderful stories of love and adventure.