All the Congratulations

to Cassandra, Rebecca, Regina, Alan, Charles, & Brian--the ABNA Finalists class of 2012!

Download their excerpts, and cast your votes, won't you? The everything is HERE.

The Golden Ticket, Part 6... after the ABNA finals

This is the hard post. Why? Because while it’s got a little bit of luck, it’s not all sunshine and roses. It’s reality. It’s work.

Here is the truth: traditional publishing is still a hard business. Even for an ABNA finalist.

 

So you’re home from Seattle with some great memories, new friends, and a pretty trophy but no contract. I put my trophy on my desk and look at it when I need a reminder that, you know, people other than my family and friends thought my work was pretty good. The key word is work, because that’s what I was back to doing.

 

If you want to be published by one of the big or even mid houses, the usual way to go about it is by finding agent representation. There are a few ways to do that: get a referral, go to conferences to meet them, and, the most common, hone your query and research who to send it to. Or, you can do what I did.

 
While the contest progressed, I’d been working on my agent research and query-honing, but before I really had to test it, I lucked into one. My husband was out having dinner and drinks with an old friend of his, and after several beers started to tell him about the contest and my book. The friend responded with, “I think my aunt does something with books.” Turns out that thing his aunt does with books is represent their authors. And after she read and liked my work, and I talked to and liked her, now she represents me. The moral of the story is never underestimate the power of connections, spousal enthusiasm, and drunken conversations.

And now, here are the stats:

Months of editing and revisions: 4.5
Words thoroughly chopped from my contest MS: over 30,000
Editor submissions round one: 13 subs, 8 requests for the MS, 8 declines

That hurts, right? In many ways, it’s actually quite good. 8 requests for the MS was incredible. Further, the rejections were at a minimum polite but the majority were incredibly complimentary. Still rejections though. Coincidentally, one editor we queried had already read the MS during the contest, so she didn’t need to request it from our sub. I suppose I could call my request count 8.5 if I wanted to.

 

We’re in the midst of our second round of submissions right now, so I’m going to keep the numbers under wraps while they’re still in progress. I will say that response to our initial submission continues to be excellent. And all that time I spent honing my agent query did not go to waste, because with just a few tweaks, and a single sentence about having been an ABNA finalist, that’s what’s getting our strong editor response.

 

There it is, the State of the Union. Lost in Thought’s been or being read by many editors, but none have offered to buy it yet. And you know what? Maybe none of them will. It’s entirely possible. It’s a tough reality that you can actually go all the way to the top three and still not make it. You might not. I might not. But in the meantime, I’m keeping my fingers crossed and my head in the work!

Up next: While you wait. Follow this story with the golden ticket tag.

The Golden Ticket, Part 5... ABNA Finalist and beyond

Congratulations 2012 semi-finalists! Now you’re all anxiously wondering about the phone call I talked about last time. Hope, but don’t expect. Know this though—it could be you.

Being a finalist is awesome. If you are so lucky to get there, savor every moment. I assume you’ve all read Jill’s blog series, so I’m not going to go into detail about the weekend. I’ll echo everything she said: Amazon, Penguin, and Createspace are amazing, generous hosts and you will meet great people and have a wonderful time. The winners will have been decided before you even get there, so just enjoy yourself and enjoy meeting and getting to know your fellow writers. The competition is already over.

Here’s my bit of advice about the ceremony itself: You will have to get up and say a few words, read a passage. I know the idea of this makes some people choke, but you will survive. No one is judging you. If you’re funny, be funny. If not, just be yourself. Thank the people you need to thank (including, of course, Amazon/Penguin/Createspace and your fellow contestants) and then choose a brief passage to read aloud. It can be from anywhere in the book, not necessarily part of your excerpt, but just make it brief.

Going into the awards ceremony, I already knew who was going to win, and that it wasn’t me, so I wasn’t especially nervous. I was first in line for breakfast and actually ate it. I won’t lie that though I knew, I still harbored a tiny bit of hope that I’d be wrong, again, and they’d call my name. But they didn’t. They called first Greg’s, then Jill’s, just as I’d predicted on the day the finalists were announced.

Pictures taken, goodbyes said, and you’re done. Congratulations, winners! Your Golden Ticket is punched.

For four others, you’re still holding yours. You go home with the title finalist and a great experience. Some accolades, some resume boosters, and a taste of the filling but no slice of the pie. So now what?

Now, it’s back to work.

Does it seem like I’ve said something similar in every post? Yep. Luck is awesome, but doing the work is what gets things done. The work you do depends on what you want. I’m chasing the traditional publishing dream, so the first order of business was an agent. More on that next time.

A last piece of advice I know no one wants to hear: Don’t hope and wait for someone at Penguin to call in the thirty days after the finals. They won’t. It’s all up to you.

Next up: State of the Union. Follow this story with the golden ticket tag.

In which I attempt to answer questions...

An excellent question came in via comment, and with the magic of the internet, I will replicate it for you below. Bibbidi bobbidi Boo!:

ProdigalWife Apr 22, 2012 02:38 PM
I've been following your journey with interest, and I had a question. I know you say early reviews don't help you move forward in the competition (which I think makes sense) but I wonder if you think having reviews would have helped in the final phase? I ask because you say you and one of the other finalists had basically no reviews but I looked up the winning entry and she had 16 reviews--14 dated before finalists would have been announced. It made me wonder if people coming in at the voting phase might have been influenced by the reviews. Or do you think it's mostly author friends voting so it doesn't matter because people know in advance who they want to vote for?

(Amazing, no?!)

Here is my honest answer to the question of whether or not reviews help you in the actual voting phase: Maybe. I can’t say for sure.

Reviews do influence readers, and if there are many good reviews (ie. not of the generic friends-and-family plan variety), it may possibly garner a finalist a few more votes. But that would really be from random voters/readers with no interest in the contest or any of the parties… and those voters I think are few and far between.

I predicted it on the day the finalists were announced and I’ve said many times since that Spookygirl won in YA because it deserved to. That’s really what it boils down to. It was a polished, tight story that appealed to readers. Many of Jill’s early reviews came from fellow contestants; her excerpt was frequently mentioned and recommended during discussions, and for good reason. It was an excellent excerpt, with a great peek at Violet’s character, world, oddities, and humor. It was far, far superior to mine. Rich’s was too. (As I’ve also said many times, I think he may be the best writer of any of us.) However, his story from last year, and this showed in the excerpt, was high concept and not obviously YA. So, based on excerpts especially, as well as the guest judge reviews, I thought the eventual winner was pretty clear, and it proved.

Let’s just acknowledge that most votes come from the authors’ personal networks or people with outside interest in the contest. There aren’t a lot of random Amazon customers just stumbling upon the contest during the brief window of opportunity to vote. IMO, those are the only ones on whom customer reviews may have an influence. So could it get you a few more votes? Yeah, maybe. Could it be the difference between winning or not? Maybe too. You’ll never know how close or far you were.

I hadn't exactly planned this entry, but I'm callin' it Golden Ticket 4.5.

The Golden Ticket, Part 4... So now you're an ABNA finalist

The semi-final round announcement is coming up for ABNA 2012 and I know 500 people are anxiously awaiting it. Last year, I was too, sort of. I just wanted my PW review, believing wholeheartedly that I’d reached the end of my run. It was shocking and delightful to have been wrong. Again. I did as much of a happy dance as I was able. At that point, I was almost nine months pregnant, and was absolutely, not 100 but 1000% sure my contest time was over.

When you’re a semi-finalist, your anticipation day is not the day they announce the finalists, but a week prior. If your phone doesn’t ring, you’re not* a finalist. For me, it became a running joke that I was going to miss a phone call that day, 1) because I didn’t think it was remotely possible I’d get one, and 2) because it happened to be the day I was due to deliver.

Well, the baby had plans of her own, and decided she wanted out on Mother’s Day. In fact, she was in such a hurry, she landed herself in the NICU for nine days (she’s fine, no worries). And so it turned out on the week before the finalists were announced, I did indeed miss a phone call anyway. Because I was napping.

Best. Voicemail. Ever.

I was, um, overly emotional at the time for a number of reasons, which explains why my mom discovered me weeping great big tears over my cell phone. SO now you’re a finalist—CONGRATULATIONS! And here comes the hard part. You actually have to sit on the news for an entire week. Why? Because you have things to do.

During that week, you sign and fax many documents, including a pre-acceptance of the winner’s contract and an NDA. (What the documents say, I am not at liberty to tell you.) They verify that you are eligible and willing to be a finalist. You arrange your travel, send in a picture, correspond with the ABNA team on your bio and your novel’s summary, work with the PR department. It’s a whirlwind, and you keep it all to yourself.

When that week, one of the longest you’ll ever pass, is over, and the finalists—including you!!—are announced, then what?

YOU GET TO WORK.

Do you want to win? Start stumping for votes, immediately and with gusto. It may feel awkward or uncomfortable or like begging and you hate it and you want people to vote because your book is good, not because you asked them and blah, blah, blah… SO. WHAT. You need votes to win, and if you don’t work for them, you won’t win. Consider it practice for when you’re published, because the biggest cheerleader for your book will always have to be you.

Amazon/Penguin do PR and you work with their people, but do your own work too. All press is good, and seek out any media opportunities you can, especially ones that will publish quickly—blogs, twitter, web features, a local paper(s) that can get you in the next day. The voting window is short, so get on it right away. Don’t overlook networks like your college alumni association, even your high school.

Once you’ve done your work, then what? Pack your bags, and make sure you’ve read the other finalists’ excerpts. All of them, even the category you’re not in. I feel that should go without saying, but I’m saying it anyway.

And again, congratulations. Take some time just to feel awesome about your accomplishment.

*Don’t get the call? Technically, you could still be a finalist. Someone may turn out not to be eligible or may have to decline. (That was, in fact, almost me.) But the odds are pretty slim.

Up next: Congratulations!… someone else. Now what? Follow this story with the golden ticket tag.

The Golden Ticket, Part 1

I was asked to do something I probably should have done already--write about my experience as an ABNA contestant and finalist--but now is a lovely time of year too, don't you think?

Everyone wants to win the contest, but the reality is most of us won’t. Only two people get to do this. The rest of us just get varying degrees of close. Me, I was lucky enough to get about as close as you can. Someone commented that being a finalist was not a golden ticket to success, and that got me thinking. Actually, in a way, being a finalist is a bit like getting a golden ticket. All the ticket gave Charlie and the others was a chance, an invitation into the factory. Only one kid walked out with the keys to it. So what happens to the rest?

But I’m getting ahead of myself. What I’m going to start with is before. At the beginning, because I was also asked to give my advice to those entering. So here goes, my ABNA story:

It all started with a challenge to myself, because my husband randomly asked me one day why I’d never written a book and I told him I didn’t think I could finish one. About a day later, I couldn’t get that answer out of my head. Really, Cara? That’s all the try you’re going to give it? So I set out to prove myself wrong.

I did.

Entering ABNA became a motivator and a deadline. I made it with moments to spare, but the good news is it doesn’t matter if you enter on the first day or in the last few minutes. So my first piece of advice (which you can all use next year, I suppose) is:

Don’t be afraid to enter. Use it as a motivator. Plus, it’s free. Free! If the deadline is coming and you’re not sure your manuscript is exactly where you want it to be, enter anyway. You have nothing to lose.

Next: Round and round. Follow this story with the golden ticket tag.