Today Is Where Your Book Begins

On the stories I loved as a kid, and the tales yet to be told...

One of my favorite things about being on Substack so far is the community of fellow writers I’ve already found. The other day, Laurie Flynn* of My Menossance reached out and we started swapping stories about various things — including the books we’ve worked on, and the projects that never quite made it to market.

It got me thinking about all the stories that inspired my love of reading and writing, and how I wound up becoming an author myself. So, now I wanna share a bit about all that here, because I’m pretty sure plenty of you will be raising up your reading lights in solidarity (this one’s about incest — let’s rock!).

Oh Very Young

Early on, thanks to my British mum, I got hooked on the English fantasy novels she read to me and my brother while we snuggled up next to her in bed. Those included the entire Chronicles of Narnia series (I used to imagine myself as Lucy and my brother as Edmund), and several by Susan Cooper which, even though I still have the hardcover originals, I recently snagged from a little free library while walking in a friend’s neighborhood (an entire paperback box set!). I immediately texted a picture of them to my brother:

Tell me if you’ve heard these ones before…?

As soon as I started picking out books of my own (Scholastic Book Club in the house), I became obsessed with Judy Blume. I think I read Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, Blubber, and Deenie at least a dozen times each. They were just the salve I needed whenever I was feeling awkward, unattractive, or otherwise inadequate (especially when it came to being a late-bloomer — thanks, Margaret).

Then there were the gothic sagas from V.C. Andrews. Flowers in the Attic. Petals on the Wind. If There Be Thorns. The Mother-effing Seeds of Yesterday!? I can still picture Chris, Cathy, and those towheaded twins delighting over a plate of powdered-sugar donuts (ahhhh! Don’t eat them!), and obviously cackle over the intimate stuff that went completely over my head when I was all of 11 years old. V.C.’s Heaven series was another favorite from that era.

But the book that’s never been far from my mind, even after all this time? Dreams Can Come True by Jane Claypool Miner.

Scholastic, 1981, rah-rah-rah!

You guys, the jacket copy is everything:

Ellynne has dreams of being popular, becoming a cheerleader, and having a great boyfriend. After losing 30 pounds and trying out for the squad, the only thing left is Kip. Should she go for him even though he has a girlfriend? Is it right for Ellynne to want to date him? How close are he and his girlfriend, Merri? All Ellynne knows is that Kip is very, very special...

I’m telling you, I read it approximately ten thousand times, lying on my Castleberry Pink Tulip Laura Ashley comforter. And then, after my debut novel came out in 2008, in a fit of obsessive nostalgia, I tracked down a used copy online for one cent! When it arrived, I held it up like it was the holy grail.

These books were my escape. A way to process my innermost insecurities and silly aspirations, and to connect with characters who were going through similar things (well, maybe not Chris and Cathy, but…!). That’s what I hoped to give readers when I became a published YA author, too. And the way I became one is, in retrospect, spectacularly insane.

Every Day I Write the Book

I had recently given birth to my son when a friend’s sister, an editor at HarperTeen, reached out looking for a writer with a SoCal voice. Within minutes, I was on the phone with one of the top execs at Alloy Entertainment (the media company behind Gossip Girl, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants … no biggie), who subsequently sent me a few sentences about the project, and asked me to write a sample chapter. He told me to check out The Clique series by Lisi Harrison for inspo.

After inhaling a few books (which were ah-mazing), I knew exactly what I wanted to do with the concept and churned out a chapter. I sent it in with an incredibly casual note saying: “I have no idea if this is what you’re looking for, but I had fun writing it so all good either way.” The exec called me back to say he loved it (whaaat?). Then, after some back-and-forth revisions, discussed while driving my baby around in the backseat to keep him from crying, I decided maybe I wasn’t right for the gig. The exec said he understood but still wanted to send my chapter to HarperTeen and, before I had fully registered what was going on, I was offered a four-book deal.

Yeah. That happened.

After I developed maybe three different plot ideas with the Alloy editors, and at least one full manuscript was completed, scrapped, and re-started — which was honestly the most fun I’d ever had writing — Frenemies debuted. And tanked. (Even with the keyhole cover, which was a total nod to V.C.’s books.)

Peek-a-boo, can’t sell you!

We pushed forward with the second book which was an even better experience. I was so proud of how much I’d grown as a writer, and with the end result. But just as it went to print, the series was cancelled in the U.S. Womp, womp.

All of that said, it had already been sold to a French publisher, and they still wanted all four (merci bien, Michel Lafon). Just goes to show you what different markets and promotional plans can do, oui? The translated collection did so well, they turned them into graphic novels, too. Oh, and then there was a Disney Channel movie based on the book starring Zendaya, although I don’t think they used a shred of what I’d originally written — and I’m pretty sure Z isn’t including that credit in her career highlights reel.

Oh. Mon. Dieu.

Not exactly Euphoria

Don’t Dream It’s Over

Despite its mixed success, writing the Frenemies series was an absolute career highlight for me, and I was determined to keep going. Thanks to my deal with Alloy, I had scored a big-time agent, and I began pitching new ideas to her. But, truth told, I was feeling a bit like a fraud after the stateside cancellation, on top of juggling magazine deadlines and raising a small child, and the things I sent to her kind of sucked. Plus, she was busy with another client whose books about vampires seemed to be causing a stir.

So, I did what any rational, emotionally regulated professional would do: I broke up with her.

Several years later, the YA writing itch returned, and I began crafting an outline for a high-concept YA thriller, working title Learning to Die. Off the strength of the concept, I signed with a new heavy-hitter agent who was super enthusiastic and couldn’t wait to read more. Alas, it took me forever to get going, and by the time I workshopped a solid set of chapters, she had also become busy with a movie deal for some book called Gone Girl.

Once again, I felt like a pathetic imposter and, after waiting for feedback that seemed to take an eternity (it was probably a month or two), I fired off yet another breakup email. I didn’t even give her a chance to send me her notes! Which, when they arrived moments later, said the writing was great but she was having trouble connecting with the characters.

So, yeah. I fired Stephenie Meyer’s agent, followed by Gillian Flynn’s. I would like to say I’ve grown enormously as a person since then, but I guess that’s still a work in progress. Kind of like my YA thriller.

I did work on it a bit more and sent the partial to the editors at Alloy — the ones who’d taken a chance on me in the first place — wondering if they might want to do something with it. The response was super encouraging: “If anyone has a shot of selling in this space,” one editor commented, “it’s with a project like this.” Still, they said the thriller market was saturated and Alloy wasn’t in the business of developing outside projects, and suggested I pursue more agents.

That was back in 2019, and instead of pitching it further I decided Learning to Die probs needed to … learn to die. The timing was off, and so was I. Then the pandemic happened, my dad died, my kid graduated high school, and I forgot all about it.

Back to Life

But here’s the thing about rediscovering your voice, as I’m doing with this Substack: It has a way of waking up other things too.

When I launched The Gen-X Journals last month, I wasn’t totally sure I’d stick with it. I knew I wanted to write for myself, without any publishing industry pressure, marketing plans, or monetization getting in the way of the words. What I didn’t expect was how much it would help me find my own value.

When Laurie and I had our conversation about our YA books that didn’t make it, I found myself thinking about Learning to Die again — not with the ache of failure and rejection, but with a new sense of hope. Maybe even a hint of swagger?

So, I guess I have 30,000 words I need (no, want) to read this weekend. To see if there’s anything still there. To see if it’s a story I still believe in. And to see if, this time, I might have the thing I didn’t have last time: A clearer sense of who I am and why I’m still writing.

The books that shaped me in my youth weren’t trying to be great literary works or mass market moneymakers. They were trying to reach readers, like me, who simply wanted to feel seen, heard, and understood, or to escape into someone else’s world for a while.

So, here I am, 40 years later, with a Substack full of new essays and friends, a memoir in progress, and a partial YA thriller sitting in my TBR pile. I don’t know exactly how I’m going to feel about that old manuscript yet. But for the first time in a long time, I’m pretty psyched to find out.

*BTW, Laurie also runs an incredible nonprofit called Link to Libraries, boosting access to books for underprivileged kids, and that’s also got me all kinds of inspired!

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BOOK CLUB! How about you? Are you a writer with a manuscript languishing somewhere in a drawer, or did you have other favorite books as a kid? Hit reply or tell me all about it in the comments :)