Although I have published narrative nonfiction before (through the wonderful University of Washington Press), my agent told me I had to create a much more intense proposal for a trade publisher—this before I had even really started writing the book. I sent her a sample chapter.
“No, no,” she said. “That is a Preface. I need a real first chapter.”
She sent me a sample proposal from a successful book as my template. Told me what I needed to include: exciting first “hook” section, brief engaging outline of the book, why I was a good person to write it, all kinds of audience research to show who would be attracted to it, annotated table of contents, the polished real chapter, and any media experience I might have.
I wrote the proposal. She sent it back. “Not good enough.”
She told me how to improve it. I did another draft. She sent that back too. “Better, but not good enough yet.”
I was International Director of an NGO for years where I wrote literally dozens upon dozens of grant applications, I have also written many successful research grant applications. I am a writer. But this proposal was harder than any of those by far. It totaled out at fifty pages. When my agent accepted it on the third try, I was ecstatic.
I was even more so when, after only a few rejections, Sourcebooks accepted it. All that work paid off! As I learned more about Sourcebooks, I felt even more lucky to have landed with them; they are the largest woman-owned book publisher.
Writing and writing and rewriting
So now I had a deadline, a year from their acceptance. The pandemic served me a bit of (selfish) luck here in that Sveinbjorg, an Icelandic graduate student fluent in English, suddenly became underemployed and available to be my research assistant, working virtually with me during this year while I could not go to Iceland, researching and finding all the myriad details needed to actually complete the book. She became as excited about Thurídur and her life as I was, making it possible for me to complete the book from afar working in my little home office in Seattle.
I sent my “completed” draft to my editor at Sourcebooks, who took the time to go over it carefully—and make lots and lots of suggested changes, cuts and rearrangements. I was at first slightly taken aback. But over the years of writing, I have come to realize the vital importance of a good editor, and for all my writing, I would now never try to publish without working with one. I just wish I had learned this earlier!
Their comments are not a reflection of “bad” writing in any way, more that they can see a structure, flow, narrative arc in a way that any writer, immersed in the subject as we are, will to some extent miss. They will help anyone make their project a better book. And here was Sourcebooks, investing in me through having one of their editors spend considerable time working with me to make this a much better book.
Again, I feel lucky.
Coming to life
I took a couple of months to rework the draft—it was as though the editor had given me a roadmap for this new draft, wonderful. I sent it in. She sent it back with more edits, fewer this time. I redid it again. This time the editor had only minor comments.
And now, after all this, Woman, Captain, Rebel is finally to the stage where it is becoming a real book! It has a cover, interior design, readers can preorder it. Thuridur’s knowledge, the adventures, the betrayals and her handling of them, the society that allowed her to live as she did, and also so oppressed, can now fly!
Now I watch where she goes.
