My Writing Life: Chutes and Ladders

I've been thinking lately how much the whole 'publishing thing' is like a game of Chutes and Ladders.

I mean,
maybe all of life is like a game of Chutes & Ladders and that's why it's remained such a classic (or maybe it's just that it's so dang fun to slide the little colorful pegs up and down the curly slides), but, certainly, my publishing journey has felt a lot like playing this game.

Here, I'll show you what I mean.

Imagine my first attempt at writing a manuscript in 1998 as the Start Space, and the completion of the first rough draft of THE JETTY (4+ years) as Space #4.


Up, I go to Space #14 where there's a yummy cake waiting for me. Yay, cake! You know how I love a good cake.

Perhaps at space #15, I submit to my first round of agents, which all come back rejections. Space #16, down I go! But at Space #9, I get a bite, my first agent request for a look at a partial or full.

Woohoo, I'm off and running on Space #31!

At Space #36, THE JETTY makes it to the Semi-finals of the first-ever Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest, but at Space #47, I'm eliminated (luckily, I land in water).

Space #28 is totally elusive for most of us -- there's a forcefield around it or something -- but it's back to Space #36 again, where I get my first real NYC literary agent who loves THE JETTY and my writing and is convinced we will get a six-figure deal.

Up to Space #44. Look how tall I feel now!

At Space #51, I finish the revisions she's asked for and we begin to send the manuscript out to publishers. At Spaces #53 - 63, the, "we love this, but. . ." rejections from said publishers start to roll in.

At Space #64, while at work on a new middle grade manuscript, I fall and break my arm.

No, really. I fell and broke my arm. Totally lost all mojo on that manuscript. It still sits half-finished somewhere.

Instead, on Spaces #61 - 79, I begin work on my second to-be-completed women's fiction manuscript, SWIM BACK TO ME and, at Space #80, it's ready to be submitted.

I land on Space #87. What more can I say?

For a while, I see stars (no, really, I'm telling you, I'm pretty sure I saw stars), but by Space #31 I'm off and running again. This time, it's a young adult manuscript, THE PULL OF GRAVITY.

At Space #36, I get an amazing editor at fsg interested, and at Space #51 she loves it!

Look at me just sweeping up over there.

But at Space #56, another in-house editor says, "Not so much," and sends me sneezing back to Space #53.

I engage in rewrites, my agent newly-confident in the manuscript and on space #71, the editor calls us back to say she misses the manuscript and, voila! I have a book deal.

It's a book deal, peeps. I eat an entire ice cream sundae!!! (Though I am careful to put my bib on.)

After 18 months of Space #91 glee and nerves and joy and revisions and line edits, the book comes out to very good reviews.

Woo hoo!

Good reviews!!!

*looks for ladder space*

Er. Um.

WE COULD USE A LADDER HERE, PEOPLE!!!

What? You say there there are no ladders here? Only more potential chutes? Ah, my TPoG cover hasn't made the Macmillan catalogue (most bookstores buy at least partially on cover appeal), and, as a non-lead title, I receive only mininum marketing support from my publisher.

At Space #93, I scribble profanities all over the walls of facebook and start to slide down.

Days and nights turn into endless self-marketing ventures instead of writing ones, trying to get word of my title out there. I also work on what I think will be my "option" book -- an upper YA called JACK KEROUAC IS DEAD TO ME, which I finish in rough draft and my new agent loves.

Oops, might have left out some chutes and ladders, didn't I? As a result of a layoff at an inopportune time, I split with my first agent and am quickly taken on by a new one who is ready to pitch SWIM again after deep revisions. She also loves JACK KEROUAC, but I've started a second "option" effort, called FRANKIE SKY, which she loves too, and we agree to submit that for my option.

At Space #93 (what is it with that space, I ask you?) my editor rejects FRANKIE SKY as too commercial, but loves a new manuscript I've also started called IN SIGHT OF STARS. At Space 94 she's taking it up to the exec board, but unforseen objects sometimes have a trajectory of their own, and, at Space #95 she rejects it. At the same time, new shiny agent #2 -- not so new or shiny anymore -- loses steam with everything, becomes unresponsive to anything to do with my career, and we part ways somewhat less than amicably.

What day is it?

What year is it?

WHAT SPACE AM I ON?!?

At Space #80 -- aw, come on, you didn't really think I would land on Space #80...

At Space #79, I get a shiny, new agent -- one who comes highly recommended by a writer-friend, and in whom I have lots of faith. He takes me on for FRANKIE SKY*** but asks for revisions which are (gratefully) made. At Space #96 I kick ass (avoiding that damned broken window) and my revisions get approved.
There are just three spaces left that stand between me and a second book deal.

Three.

Little.

Spaces.

And,

one chute.

*stares at dice in hand, and tries not to pull any cat tails.*

- gae

*** 5/13 update: The manuscript formerly known as "Frankie Sky" was bought by an extraordinary editor at Algonquin Books for Young Readers and will be released as THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO in March 2014. The manuscript known as "Swim" is under consideration by an editor at a major house.

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If you liked this post, please check out my books HERE and/or at your favorite local bookstore. 
And look for my third novel THE MEMORY OF THINGS coming September 2016. 

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Things in Motion

Newton said, ". . . .an object in motion will remain in motion unless acted on by an unbalanced force." I don't really know what this has to do with anything, (and I hope my kids don't count as unbalanced forces) but it makes me seem smartish to start with it and gives me a good excuse to post this swinging video, which I love.

But, seriously, it's already late September, and I've been keeping in a whole lot of motion.

September, of course, means the start of a new school year, meeting the teachers, getting the kids clothing and supplies, and helping them to get in the general rhythm of things (a/k/a screaming at them to go to bed at a reasonable time and get their homework done).

Holden, being totally awesome

Fall travel baseball has started for my younger son (yesterday I sat in two hours of traffic to get him to an hour and a half practice -- YES, I am bitter) and travel basketball chimes in next week. It's PSAT courses, an optional weekend math course at NYU, and Jujitsu, for my older son, but at least those don't require too much driving. Speaking of which, my older son is about to start driving.

Sam, loading the kayak early this summer

My "paid" work -- my mediation practice -- has been slow in the actual money-making office visits, though not slow in clients wanting my endless and constant attention by phone, which I rarely ever charge for.

At any rate, I'm not complaining. I like to be in motion. I'm way more productive when I am.

Which leads me to my book(s) and my writing.

I've got a slew of fun book events coming up or in the works for THE PULL OF GRAVITY (school visits, Skype visits, author panels, etc.) most of which I am doing the orchestration for. It's a full time job, I tell ya, this marketing of a contemporary YA novel.

At Bluestockings, NYC, this week with (L-R): Matt Blackstone,
me, Arlaina Tibensky, Christopher Grant and Sarah Darer Littman.

Plus, I'm still finalizing revisions on FRANKIE SKY, but I met with my new shiny agent in person the other day, and he has TONS of confidence in the manuscript so I'm (trying not to get too) excited. ;)

Plus, he's read the first 50 pages of IN SIGHT OF STARS, and he seems to be digging that too.

So, alas, after a bunch of bumps and false starts, hope and adventure are on the horizon! ;)

And, of course, in the midst of it all, I'm still open water swimming, Despite cooler than normal (? I'm not a meteorologist, people!) air temps in NY, the water has cooperated and remained a very tolerable 68 - 70 degrees (at least as of last Saturday), which is pretty much the temp of my pool.

That's me in my spiffy swim cap, last week,
getting in. My friend and constant "BETA reader" Annmarie is with me. She's a gem.

I'm gonna eke every last second out of the open water season and my backyard pool, as the thought of laps in the chlorinated, indoor pool, just isn't quite as appealing.

So fall is here, and I'm in motion. I hope you are all too.

- gae

Books are like babies...

You write one (er, that's the short version...) and then you marvel at it, thinking it is the most magnificent baby you have ever seen. You coo at it. You show it off to your friends. If you're lucky, you get a publishing deal on it and send it out into the world (ok, my analogy is getting stretched a bit here, go with me).

Then, you write a second book. You think it will never be as beautiful, or funny or smart as your last book, that you can never love another manuscript as much as you loved that first one. But, out it comes and suddenly you realize that you do, you love it every bit as much. You think it's brilliant and funny, and you coo at it and tickle its feet (?). You want to send it out in the world to be loved and adored, as that first one was. 

My second (which is really my third) YA manuscript is about to take its first steps into the world: it goes to my agent this weekend, and then, hopefully, if she doesn't hate it (don't hate my second kid, don't hate my second kid...) off to my editor, as my "option" book (oh, dear G*d, pretty please, don't hate my second kid!).

So, without further ado, take a bubble gum cigar and wash your hands and take a peek (geez, don't cough on it like that!). Here's the first page of my new baby. His name is Frankie Sky (please don't hate my kid). I mean, just look at those cheeks, those fingers, those eyes! ;)



FRANKIE SKY

A Novel, by Gae H. Polisner

"It's so silly. All you do is get the heck out of your body when you die. My gosh, everybody's done it thousands of times. Just because they don't remember, it doesn't mean they haven't done it." - J D Salinger

  Chapter One


"It is not more surprising to be born twice than once." - Voltaire


The first time I see Frankie Schyler, he’s diving into the deep end of the Lawrenceville Country Club pool.

All around the pool, clear as day, are big white signs with black letters that say, “NO DIVING,” but, then, Frankie can’t know about those.

I’m not a fan of the water myself for good reason, and, thus, not prone to dive in after him. In fact, I’m not at the pool that day to swim. I’m tailing Mrs. Merrill from across the street.

Mrs. Merrill is beautiful, but in a hard way like Angelina Jolie, not in a soft, fragile way like Kate Winslet, or like my mother.

I’m not usually this nosy, but I’m tailing Mrs. Merrill for a reason. Which, unfortunately, has to do with my father.

The whole thing started totally by accident the week before. I’d been home early for lunch in between final exams – my last ones of 9th grade, ever – and was standing at the kitchen sink drinking a glass of orange juice. Mom was at her “job” at The Foundation, also known as the place that sucks the lifeblood from her. Well, at least whatever lifeblood she has left. Dad was at work, too, or so I assumed, at his job selling houses, which he’d finally started making money at again. Which put him in a better mood, which was good, because our house was bleak enough as it was.

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