So, I Wrote a Book

Well, it’s still just a manuscript—a middle-grade children’s novel—and it’s taken a bit of courage to say that out loud.

For the past decade, I’ve picked it up and put it down, following the ebb and flow of life, work and ideas. For years I simply called it my story—a creative outlet and a love letter to my daughter, Sophie, for whom I was writing it. Now I call it my book, and I’ve started listening to the little voice in my head (not the crazy one) that whispers, Wouldn’t it be great if it were published?

It all began during my sabbatical year.

In 2016, I took a year off from my elementary school teaching job. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It was early fall, my favourite time of year. As my colleagues were welcoming a new batch of students into their classrooms, I was sleeping in (sort of) and living bell-free, going to the bathroom whenever I felt like it.

My daughter Sophie was three, going on four, and had just started preschool a few days a week. Life felt wonderfully carefree. Imagine me frolicking in the crisp air wrapped in cozy sweaters, picking apples, kicking up leaves and enjoying the endless possibilities of the twelve months that stretched out before me.

What would I do with all this glorious time?

My husband, who could only take off six months (but still!), and I had planned several trips, big and small, to make the most of this precious gift. But I also knew I wanted to pursue something creative.

I wanted to write.

I bought dollar-store spiral notebooks and cracked open Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. I filled those notebooks with writing prompts, memories turned stories, observations and reactions to the world around me. I wrote three-quarters of a short story set in the near future—a story I still like and fully intend to finish one day.

That October, my friend Lorie, her husband John, and I flew to British Columbia for the Surrey International Writer’s Conference. Lorie went to nurture the memoir taking shape in her head, while I went looking for inspiration and craft. John pitched his book, Carnie King—a fascinating history of Patty Conklin and the carnival in Canada—and caught the attention of Dundurn Press, which later published it. I came away excited to create something of my own.

Here’s a little teaser of what became of that creative urge (Note: I am still developing my chops at writing this kind of marketing material). It has a title, but I am not ready to share it just yet.

At the edge of Sophie’s backyard lies a forest full of secrets—and a magnificent woody chair that no one else can see. Beyond it stretches Faerie, a realm ruled by longing in all its forms, where every bargain comes at a cost.

Shy Sophie longs for a sister and finds comfort in the magic of autumn. When a balloon slips from her grasp on her ninth birthday and drifts beyond the Broken Tree, she follows it into a clearing she knows well—and straight into Wimple, a timid pixie bound to a grieving Faerie Queen and a cruel task he does not yet understand.

Wimple has been reporting Sophie’s movements—part of the Queen’s long-laid plan to replace her lost daughter, Nym. From her chair in the woods, the Queen sets a trap. Using Wimple as her lure, she draws Sophie into the hall under the faerie hill, where a single bite of enchanted cake binds her to Faerie forever.

Guided by Wren, a faerie girl who loved Nym, and a tiny silver-winged creature called a wick, Sophie seeks help from Sim Cadel, a wise old pixie. He warns her that she has until dawn to find Wimple and return home—for only the one who led her into Faerie can lead her out again.

Facing whirling sprites, greedy spriggans and the ruthless collector of words and memory, Sophie must overcome her fear and outwit the Queen before dawn—or be trapped in Faerie forever.

The idea for the story grew out of my love of whimsical things—faeries, hidden doorways and enchanted forests—and from the stories I made up for Sophie about what her favourite doll babies, Sweet Pea and Dede, were up to while she was at preschool. Sprinkle in my belief that the best children's stories contain equal measures of wonder and darkness (Where the Wild Things Are, The Hobbit, Tuck Everlasting, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, The Secret Garden, The Widow’s Broom), and the seeds of my book were planted.

Since attending the conference, many friends have shown me that publishing isn’t just something other people do. Lorie has published essays in The Globe and Mail. My journalist friend Bobbi-Jean MacKinnon published her excellent book Shadow of Doubt with Goose Lane Editions, my friend Ian Mitchell-Gill published three YA novels, and my friend and colleague Danny Neville introduced readers to his wonderful Little Bee chapter book series through Annick Press.

I think I can do this, too.

Since finishing the manuscript, I've joined CANSCAIP, worked with a developmental editor and submitted my story to a children's literature competition. This October, I’m set to attend CANSCAIP's Packaging Your Imagination conference.

I think I’ve written a good story, one I would have wanted to read as a child.

Finishing the manuscript felt good, but it has raised a lot of questions. Is it ready to submit? Do I need a literary agent? What kind of publishing is the right fit for me? If it ever becomes a real book, what kind of control will I have over it?

So why the blog?

Mainly to chronicle my journey from completed manuscript (currently on draft nineteen) to a published book. Believe me, I have no illusions that this will be easy.

For now, I am excited. I don't know exactly where this journey will end, but I do know it'll make for some good stories along the way.

I hope you'll stick around for them.

Next time: Behind the Scenes of My Developmental Edit

The faerie door in my backyard.