Wednesday afternoon, I signed a contract with Skyhorse Publishing in New York to publish my second novel, Fog of Dead Souls. I'm really thrilled. Even my wretched experience with one of the nasty viruses going around can't dampen my enthusiasm.
There was no bidding war for my book. In fact, 56 or so editors had read it and most had really liked it, but just not enough. Too dark, said one. Not dark enough, said the next. Loved the characters but didn't like the plot, said a third. Loved the plot but didn't like the characters, said a fourth. This had gone on for 18 months, but my agent never lost her enthusiasm or her energy behind the book. "It just takes the right one," she said.
And Skyhorse is that one. As a college mate remarked, now I'm a real novelist. Actually, I started feeling like a "real" novelist, when I started Fog. I'd finished one novel and moved right on to the second. I just love writing them.
I'm excited that my book may have a chance to make it big. I'll keep you posted.