There’s nothing quite so magical as the day an author gets “The Call” telling her she’s sold her first book. I never tire of hearing stories of dreams come true – or telling my own story. Since tomorrow marks the seven-year anniversary of the day the wheel started turning, carrying me toward my first sale, I thought I’d share my own story of how I got “The Call.” 

On January 16, 2003 my agent, called and said a publisher was very interested in seeing the completed manuscript of my Chick Lit REINVENTING OLIVIA, of which I’d written only three chapters.  “How soon do you think you can finish it?” she asked. 

I said something stupid like, “Consider it done.  Give me three weeks to polish it.”  

“So I’ll tell him he can expect the complete on February 2?” 

“Sure,” I said. “Sounds great!”  

Come February 2, I’d reached my projected end-of-the-book page count, but I still had more story to tell. Surely, he didn’t mean this February 2…? I thought as I kept plugging away.  

I know this is a terrible thing to admit, but since the publishing industry moves at an absurdly slow pace, I thought — February 2, February 22, same difference.  Besides, February 2 was a Sunday.  Surely the editor wouldn’t notice if I turned it in a few days/ weeks later. 

WRONG! Bad writer!  No chocolate! 

On February 3, the editor called my agent asking about the book. It seemed he had a slot to fill and needed to see it ASAP.   

Oh. He really meant February 2. Oops.  My mistake.  

See Nancy type.  See Nancy type very fast in long marathon sessions. See Nancy scratch her head and wonder how she could have so much story left to tell when the book should’ve ended fifty pages ago.   

As if that weren’t bad enough, two days later (Thursday, February 6) my little cat who was the queen our backyard decided to go on a royal adventure.  Normally, this would’ve been fine, but she was an animal who never missed a meal.  In her three-year reign of the land, she never strayed farther than earshot.  When she didn’t show up for breakfast, I was concerned, but I forced myself to focus on the writing. 

The next day, she was still missing. I was frantic.  At the time, we lived on a busy downtown street and . . . Well, you can imagine the horrible visions running through my head.  But a quick road check, proved “all clear,” and I kept writing.       

Then around two o’clock that afternoon, I took a break and noticed a huge raccoon sitting on a lawn statue in our back yard.  Florida raccoons prowl at night.  They rarely come out during the day unless they’re sick or very hungry. . . this one was particularly cheeky (not to mention about three times the size of our little cat who probably weighed about seven pounds after a big meal). I opened the back door to shoo the beast away, but the thing just sat there and stared at me, then sauntered over to the cat food bowl for a snack.  

The raccoon was still hanging around when my husband got home from work. I watched out the window as he picked up a broom to chase it away. Just then the phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID – a natural reflex of a writer with projects out in the field. The screen flashed a long-distance number where the publisher who was interested in my book was located.  Despite the fact that my husband was picking a fight with a potentially rabid raccoon, I HAD to answer. 

Of course, it was the editor.  Perfect timing. 

Among other things, he asked me if I was polishing the book one word at a time and if I ever planned on sending it to him. Just then, the raccoon charged at my husband.  The fate of my publishing career was on the line (literally), and I was watching a rabid raccoon chase my husband through the backyard.  I kid you not. 

I don’t remember exactly what I said to the editor  something about having the manuscript to him the following Monday, which I did – I finally wising up and realizing if an editor cared enough to call and goad me along he was probably seriously interested in the book (Hello?!?).  

Long story short, my husband and cat (who eventually showed up) made it through the battle unscathed; the raccoon disappeared; and I got THE CALL for REINVENTING OLIVIA a week later.  I guess you could say we all lived happily ever after. 

Later, when I told my editor the story of what happened that day he called, he laughed and said, “The next time you even think about missing a deadline, picture me as that mad raccoon.”  

Since then, I’ve gone on the sell thirteen more books, including “They Family They Chose,” a Silhouette Special Edition, which will be available next month.      

 

 What’s your favorite true-life funny story?