Hurrah! Praise God. I have a publisher interested in my novel. The novel is in phase one of what I am sure will be a year-long process. First, real eyes looked at my query and a few pages. These passed muster, so I was invited to submit the entire novel, exclusively for three months.
I did that and waited, and waited. Two weeks after the 3 months had expired, I sent a short email query….”Have you made a decision on my novel? Are you still considering it? If not, any suggestions on how I might improve it?
My depression worsened. Our adversary (the devil) had convinced me I was a worthless writer, would never be published and since the publisher did not answer my email, must not be interested, after all they get hundreds of submissions a week.
Two weeks passed. I steeled myself to “make the call.” I went into my office, closed the door to escape the dogs and dialed the publisher.
“Yes,” a woman says. “That editor is here and can speak with you.”
I had a nice 15 minute conversation with the editor, whom I have never met. He alluded to the fact that my novel might be brought up before the board this fall for further consideration, BUT he asked me to send him info on my publishing credits, who might buy this novel (Be specific, not just adults, or women) how I might market it, etc.
The conversation ended. I was elated that my novel has not been lost in the Mt. Everest slush pile.( He stated they receive more than 100 submissions a week.) I spent three days preparing my reply. Listing my publishing credits was easy, but “Who would buy my book,” “What book is similar to mine,” and “What authors write in a similar manner,” stumped me. I visited a local bookstore and a library for help and sent the requested information.
I never heard from the editor again. A good indication they are not interested.