it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

or HOW I GOT MY SIX-FIGURE BOOK DEAL

By the time I got my book deal I’d fully convinced myself I didn’t want that stupid book to be my debut anyway. So honestly it’s a good thing it’s been eight months and only a handful of passes. It’s the universe saving me from the embarrassment of publishing an overly ambitious, out-of-my-skill-level book—and besides, SMASHwip is WAY BETTER, anyway.

It’s amazing, the gymnastics a brain will do to save itself from the pain of rejection.

And yet, somehow, incredibly, we’re gathered here today so I can tell you all about how I went from giving up on Harper and The Boys, to ending this newsletter with a Goodreads link.

(Please add my book on goodreads… and storygraph… and tell all your friends about it… guilt trip your mom into buying the book in lieu of the therapy she owes you).

read all about the book and deal in question here.

ANYWAY. Here’s how it went down.

In my second to last newsletter, I broke down my path to signing with my wonderful third (and current) agent after two agent breakups.

That was in June 2023, followed by two edit passes before we sent the book to an initial round of editors on Sept 20th, 2023, with a plan to do rolling submissions¹.

Remember, this isn’t the first time the book was on sub. It went out with my previous agent in March of 2023, but didn’t have a ton of movement and was ultimately pulled after two months when I severed my contract.

When the book was polished and ready to go, my agent and I collaborated on a pitch letter and sub list. It was lovely because we were very in-sync in regards to comps, how to frame the book, and which editors to submit to. I was excited to know my agent wasn’t afraid to go after heavy-hitters. There were a few senior editors on the list that I would have loved to work with, but who had intimidating client lists. We knew though, the book was strong, and I’m nothing if not a career risk-taker.

Of course, for the first week. The first two weeks. The first month. I held my breath. Every email notification shot my heart straight into my throat. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

This is so common. This frozen anticipation. This desperate, violent hope that we’ll be the unicorn. The 24-48 hour pre-empt, or the 72-hour Deadline-article-worthy auction.

But of course, it doesn’t matter how many cuticles we shred with our teeth, or how many 11:11’s we spend with our eyes squeezed shut and our fingers crossed—most of us won’t be unicorns.

So, here’s the reality:

September-October: The first month ushered in four passes. Kind enough. Nothing glaringly wrong.

November: Silence.

December: One pass that was extra kind and opened up potential opportunities for the future.

January: One pass. Something about the pacing.

February: Silence.

March: Silence.

April: A very, very complimentary pass. (these hurt the worst)

That brings us to May. Oh May, 2024… how I wish you would shrivel up and die.

My kids started getting sick around the end of April. Runny noses and spiking temps that seemed to resolve rather quickly. Except the smallest of the small ones. He was already small, something I’d been bringing up to the doctor over and over again only for it to be excused and explained away. Every kid grows at their own rate. Just put butter on everything he eats. We’ll check again in a month. Another month. Another month.

By May he’d completely fallen off the growth chart. He was way behind in his milestones. And now he was having trouble breathing. I’ll save you from the full trauma dump, but just know things had gotten Very Bad.

On May 7th, he was admitted to the PICU. There was talk of life-flighting, emergency surgery, intubation.

On May 7th I got another pass.

I didn’t even feel this one. For obvious reasons. But for non-obvious reasons, it felt like a foregone conclusion. BOFAF was dead. I was ready to move on. And really, I’d never write another thing, I’d never take a red fucking cent from publishing if it meant my son would live. So, I closed the airtable for good.

A week later we were back home. He survived. But we weren’t out of the woods.

On May 20th, exactly eight months since we sent out the subs, I got a cryptic message from my agent.

Agent: Good morning, Noelle! Remind me if BOFAF is a duology or a trilogy?

If there’s anything to know about my agent it’s that she’s not a exclamation points first thing in the morning type of person unless there’s something UP.

I messaged her back: It’s a trilogy… why??????? eyeballs eyeballs eyeballs

Agent: Do you have synopses for them?

Agent: Also, be calm please laughing emoji

Insert: [message from an editor]

Editor: AGENT, I’ve dipped into this one and am really enjoying this! Is this supposed to be a series, and if so, do you have any synopses for further books?

When I saw who the editor was I literally fell over and started hyperventilating. My dream editor. From a big five. An editor I was so thoroughly convinced wouldn’t want the book, I almost forgot we sent it to them.

Plus, here’s the thing about sub. And publishing in general, actually. This could have meant NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Truly, until they spell it out with words, I’s dotted and T’s crossed, there are no guarantees about ANYTHING.

Still, I whipped out my laptop and quickly read over and revised my synopses and sent them to my agent. I had prepared for this moment.

Don’t get your hopes up, I repeated to myself over and over again. A fruitless mantra. But still, there was something incredibly validating about having the first hint of interest come from this particular editor.

I checked in with my agent. Asked what I should expect. Of course, she told me that it was unpredictable. The editor likely had to finish reading the book and take it to second reads and acquisitions before we heard from them again. That could take several weeks.

Despite knowing that, for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to dream.

That night, I rushed my son back to the hospital.

By the afternoon, things had settled again. In the lull of the day, I popped into my group chat.

This is a senior editor, I reasoned. They don’t need to take the book to second reads. They don’t need to take it to acquisitions. (i hoped, i prayed, i said with no proof and no reason to even remotely think that)

Exactly ten minutes later my phone pinged.

Agent: Hey Noelle, I messed something up on my end, can I call you?

This time my heart didn’t jump into my throat. It FELL INTO MY ASS.

Blood was rushing in my ears.

A CNA came in to take the baby’s vitals.

My hands were shaking.

My pits were sweaty.

I ran back to the group chat. What’s the over-under on this being a legitimate “messed something up on her end?” I asked.

But I knew.

I KNEW.

I made some excuse about a business call and left the baby with the CNA.

The children’s unit had a balcony. The summer sun glinted off the windows. I could barely open my eyes without burning my retinas. I paced back and forth, back and forth.

My agent called me. I let it ring for too long. I was scared to answer. This was either my dream coming true, or another bit of bad news on top of everything else.

Me: Hello?

Agent: Hey Noelle, I just wanted to call you because I messed something up and I wanted to talk to you about it.

Me: O…kay…

Agent: Yeah, um, I messed something up because you know when you asked me what the next steps with this editor are and I was talking about second reads and all that, well, I was wrong.

Me: [silence]

Agent: I was wrong because this editor is actually such a big editor they don’t need to go to second reads or any of that stuff, and they just sent over an offer for a two-book deal!!

Me: [silence]

Agent: [silence]

Me: [silence]

Agent: … are you… okay?

Reader, I was not okay. For the very first time I was actually, for real life speechless.

An offer. A two-book deal. A TWO BOOK DEAL OFFER FROM MY DREAM EDITOR AT A BIG FIVE PUBLISHER.

Eight months and one day since the book went on sub.

While my son is fighting for his life in the hospital.

Because of course he is.

The offer email was glorious. It was everything I ever dreamed of. The editor had some edit suggestions, but they completely resonated with me. The offer was for 35k, two books, world rights². A perfectly reasonable/normal starting offer.

I’m going to be honest with you here. Maybe to my own detriment. But when I sat down with my agent after I signed with her, I told her that I knew this series was a six-figure series. I’d done my research. I understood where it will sit on the shelves, I knew the comps, I knew my writing, my value, my worth. So, there was a real, honest part of me that was a little conflicted when I saw that number.

Here’s the other thing about publishing. There are people out there who debut with a deal that completely changes their life. There are debuts that get a million dollars. Those people are unicorns.

Obviously, I wasn’t expecting a million dollars. But, I’m a mother, I have kids, bills, debt. We’ve been struggling financially for a while, and sometimes it really is hard to justify the sacrifices I’ve made in order to pursue this dream—so there was a part of me that, when I squeezed my eyes shut at 11:11, wished for a deal that would change my kids' lives. Wished for a deal that would take some of that burden away.

I’m not telling you this because I’m ungrateful or because I was upset about the deal, in fact, quite the opposite. I was over the moon. Because while there was a real part of me that thought the book was worth six-figures, there was an even bigger, way more real part that thought it was dead. A way bigger part that was convinced I wasn’t “good enough” for any of this. A part that was ashamed to pour so much of myself into a “hobby” that might never pan out.

And I just want you to know that it’s okay to dream. And it’s okay to reach your dream and feel that pang of disappointment when you fall short of the heights of your own imagination. That’s normal. It doesn’t make you delusional or selfish or crazy. It makes you human. It means that you’re okay. That you can see a future where you thrive to your heart's greatest desires, and that’s beautiful even when it hurts.

The editor was going on vacation so we would need to push the meeting. In the meantime, we nudged the editors who still had my book and my son was transferred to a children’s research hospital a few hours away.

I packed up our things and kissed my other kids goodbye with no knowledge of when we’d be back.

I know I’m dramatic, and overly-emotional, and I catastrophize everything in my life (someone has to keep my therapist employed), but truly, the wait to hear from editors was the most excruciating, mind-altering, crazy-making process of this entire journey so far. And yeah, maybe a lot of that was compounded by the fact that my son had a mystery illness trying to kill him. Tomato, tomato. But let’s just say I was NOT WELL.

On top of that, the deadline was around Memorial Day, which it turns out, publishing really loves Memorial Day. Because we didn’t hear from anyone.

Anyone!

We didn’t hear from a-ny-one by the deadline.

Que the spiral of all spirals.

I don’t know… I don’t have the words to describe the dichotomy of emotions I was feeling. There was a tangible fear that my child wouldn’t leave the hospital alive. We were in and out of the PICU. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in the PICU, but there are no in-room bathrooms or showers. You sleep in a chair inside of a fishbowl where everyone stares at you. The beeping never ends. The baby couldn’t get out of the crib to play. The only kids show was a never ending loop of Big City Greens with near constant interludes of Tilly’s Queen of Nice.

Needless to say, we were both miserable.

And at the same time, I would pop out weekly to go to the laundromat and peruse the indie bookstore beside it while waiting on the wash. I would find the spot where my book will be one day. For realsies this time! Because even if I wasn’t being paid a living wage, even if no one else replied, even if I got ghosted by every other editor on my list, my book was being published at my dream imprint with my dream editor.

It really, truly was the best of times and the worst of times.

My hair was falling out from the stress. My wildest dreams were coming true.

A day or two after the deadline we got a request for a call. A few days after that, another request. A near miss with a third editor who took the book the acquisitions but couldn’t get it through. A few who asked for an official deadline extension. A slew of rejections with varying lengths and relevancy. A couple of genuine ghosts.

The Wednesday after Memorial Day I arranged with the nurses for them to watch my son while I took a “work call.” I couldn’t bring myself to say anything about the book. It felt weird and embarrassing. Like they’d think I was lying.

I took the first call in the Ronald McDonald House Family Visitation Room. Remember, at this point I still hadn’t even had a call with the actual offering editor yet! (so i was shitting my pants level nervous)

I tried not to show my wrists on camera. I didn’t want them to see the twinning hospital bracelet I shared with my son. I couldn’t talk about the hospital with the editors. I couldn’t talk about the editors with the hospital. Like a podunk publishing rendition of Hannah Montana.

The editor was lovely. The call was incredible. I could have talked to them for hours, honestly. It felt like we’d be good friends. They were from a different Big 5 publisher. They were also a senior editor. But, they were very up front that BOFAF would have to be a duology. I’d always envisioned it as a trilogy (or quartet).

We had an enthusiastic brainstorming session on all the things we could do to make the books work as a duology. The editor had a lot of notes and it was clear they had a vision and a passion for the book.

I left the call feeling invigorated and excited. I really liked this editor.

That Friday I had my second call, this time with an editor at a smaller, but reputable publisher. They’re a major player in the YA space and produce a ton of bestsellers, so I was excited to see what they had to say.

I took this call from the hospital cafeteria. This editor was newer but they totally got the book. They saw my vision for a modern YA written for Gen A/Z but reminiscent of early 2010s paranormal romance. Editorially, they didn’t have a ton of ideas to offer, but they knew their strengths.

Both non-offering editors were taking the book to their teams.

I wanted to throw up.

That Monday, an offer from editor #2 came in.

This time I almost really did shit my pants.

80k for two books, world rights, joint accounting³. 80k! It was so heartening to see the second editor come out of the gate with such a strong offer. It was certainly more than I ever thought I would actually get, regardless of what I felt the book was worth. Ideally, we’d have separate accounting⁴ and North American rights⁵, but those were things we could negotiate during the auction. THE AUCTION!

Two offers plus an email from the third editor saying the book was pushed through acquisitions!

That Wednesday, I finally had a call with the original offering editor. It was a dream. They were super nice and confident in their vision of the book, their editorial thoughts, and how they saw it being positioned within the imprint. They were sitting in an office with the coolest books behind them. I was kinda starstruck and, after a long, very frightening night with my son, exhausted and tripping over my words and a little bit dead inside.

When the meeting was over, I was torn. I loved my rapport with the second editor and was really drawn to their personality and vibe, but the first offering editor was willing to buy the first two books while leaving the door open for a trilogy if sales were good. The first imprint is also smaller which might give me a little more attention. The second imprint is known for pubbing some of my favorite books as a teen.

We set the auction for the following Monday and sent in the guidelines.

I’m not going to get into those details in particular, because my agent’s side of things is not my business to tell, but I’ll say we collaborated to figure out what aspects of a book deal were the most important to me.

Personally, I wanted financial commitment from the imprints in the form of a higher advance, I wanted as clear of a marketing strategy as they could give, and I was hoping to prioritize a three book deal if possible, and North American Rights.

I’ll spare you the details of the rounds and the anxiety and utter FREAKING OUT I was doing during the auction, and I don’t think it’s necessary to give every dollar amount for every round, but I’ll tell you the third editor’s starting bid just to round it all out.

Editor number three initially offered 50k for three books, separate accounting, world english rights⁶.

All offers came in with a letter expressing how passionate the editors were for the book, and two offers came with gorgeously crafted marketing plans.

The auction was extended into the next day, and on June 11th, I accepted an offer from my dream editor for 110k dollars for two books, separate accounting, North American rights, with the opportunity to earn bonuses if my book reaches certain (highly unlikely) milestones.

Now here is where I’m going to sound really crazy. I manifested this. I genuinely manifested this. Before this book ever went on sub, I would write down manifestations every day. And every day I would write that the book sold in a multi-book deal, in a good deal, at auction, and sometimes I would even include my exact imprint’s name.

I know that I didn’t actually make this happen with manifestation, but rather hard work, keen discernment of agents, knowing when to take risks, knowing when to compromise, writing a really good book, and lots and lots of LUCK. I leaned into my belief that I had a good story under all that muck. And maybe there was something divine interfering as well. Giving me two bad-fit agents first, buying me time to revise and revise again, getting the book to a place where not one, but three impressive editors and imprints wanted to buy it.

I knew my book’s worth when I sat down with my agent, I knew it when the first offer came in and didn’t ring true in my heart, and yet, I would have taken it. I would have taken less. That’s how badly I wanted to work with this editor, and this imprint. That’s how much I love this story.

The “six-figure” wording in my deal announcement is marketing. It’s purposefully vague to entice booksellers and foreign markets. But those people don’t read this newsletter, lmfao. It’s just you and me. And between you and me, I barely scraped over the edge of a good deal. And I’m immensely proud of myself and my agent who worked tirelessly, who was incredibly sensitive to the hardship my family was going through during all of this, and who got on multiple calls with me over several days and who handled my many concerningly unhinged voice notes with the grace of an angel. I’m beyond blessed to be working with her.

The week following the auction my son was taken into an unexpected surgery and released from the hospital after five weeks inpatient. We’re still dealing with the aftermath of it. But he’s doubled in size and now looks at me with big round eyes and gently demands “more ‘nacks please mama,” about a thousand times a day.

My daughters ask me when “Harper’s” book is coming out. Like my main character is a real life person and I’m just her assistant. When I ask them if they know any authors, they name my best friend Audrey whose book Hopelessly Teavoted comes out next year with Atria books (you can add it to goodreads here.) Needless to say, they keep me humble.

So that’s it. That’s how I got my “six-figure, at auction,” book deal.

By the time BOUND BY FURY publishes in Spring of 2026, I’ll have been working on it for five years. And I just finished my first round of developmental edits a few weeks ago, clocking in at 130k words for a total rewrite, but you can expect more info on dev edits in the new year.

Speaking of, now that I actually have a thing to market, plan to receive a newsletter from me every third thursday of the month!

Until then:

art by @andersartig_designs on IG!

(it’s like if you took legendborn and ace of spades and set them in mystic falls with all the classic vibes of early 2000’s paranormal romance like in twilight but with the ruthless rebel mc torn between brothers like in red queen)

Ok thanks love you bye.

Happy Holidays and Merry New Year!

XOXO,

1. Rolling submissions are when you send out a new sub every time you get a pass instead of waiting and doing the submission in official “rounds.”

2. The publisher sells the book to foreign markets and those advances go towards your main advance.

3. If you have a multi-book deal, those portions of the advance are all lumped together. So if you get 100k for two books, you have to earn 100k in royalties towards your advance before you can earn them for yourself.

4. Your books are counted separately. if you get 100k for two books, 50k per book, you only need to earn 50k to start getting the royalties from the first book.

5. You retain the right to sell to foreign markets, so if you sell to the UK for example, the advance will go to you instead of to the US publisher to pay down their advance.

6. You retain the right to sell translations to foreign markets.