THE ONE WHERE “THE ONE WITHOUT AN ENDING” GETS AN END
Cat/genre: Adult/YA Fantasy
The funny thing about endings is they’re inevitable. And yet, you rarely see them coming.
You may recall this post I wrote for the Sub Stories blog, entitled “The One Without an Ending.” I had been on sub for thirteen months at the time. I thought sub experiences like mine were important—I still do. Publishing isn’t a black-and-white world, divided into instant successes and crushing failures. Even though my story wasn’t over and nothing was set in stone, I wanted to share it.
So there I was—thirteen months on sub, going out to Round 3 of adult and YA fantasy editors. My new list was eighteen editors long. I couldn’t help but feel the sting of hope. That’s a LOT of editors. Surely, one or two of them would warm up to me.
Surely.
But after six months, I had only a handful of rejections. The rest had ghosted me. My agent sent out an optimistic nudge email, asking the remaining editors if they were still considering. Only two responded: an adult editor, who sounded generically noncommittal, and a YA editor at a flashy imprint I had no real hopes for.
At this point, my book had been on sub for over twenty months. I wasn’t naïve. I recognized a death knell when I heard it. My agent recognized it, too. She told me we were better off tabling this book and focusing on my WIP. So I scheduled a call with her to discuss my next project, and how to avoid the mistakes of our last foray on sub. It was a productive call—even encouraging. I came off it feeling semi-hopeful about the challenges ahead.
An hour later, my agent called me back. I assumed she had a detail or two she forgot to cover, so I answered with cheery indifference. I wasn’t expecting her to tell me an editor was interested in my book, because after almost two years on sub, there was no way an editor was interested in my book. I’ve read the internet, that simply doesn’t happen. It especially doesn’t happen an hour after your agent signed that book’s death certificate.
So then, why was my agent calling to tell me AN EDITOR WAS INTERESTED IN MY BOOK?????
The gist? The YA editor at that unlikely imprint said she would love to take my book to acquisitions—but first, she wanted to talk about revising to place it firmly in one age category or the other. I was intrigued, but skeptical. This wasn’t the first time I’d been told my book was too adult for YA (or too YA for adult) without being offered a roadmap to get there. But the editor seemed eager to connect with me to discuss her vision and the plan moving forward. So, after twenty months on sub with no movement, I scheduled my first phone call with an editor.
On our call a few days later, I was surprised to learn the editor had a good grasp on my book—the characters, the world, the themes, and how they worked in both a YA and adult context. She offered notes that would eventually help transform it into something firmly teen, without compromising what I loved about it. Although I was wary of undertaking another R&R that might end in nothing, I agreed to rewrite the first 50 pages based on her input. That partial MS was what she would bring to her team.
Even with the editor’s support, I still had to run the gauntlet of second reads and acquisitions. After several false starts and heart-exploding delays, we passed the editorial stage, and the acquisitions meeting was set. Then, I waited. Again. In a matter of weeks, I would know if I had a book deal—finally—or if I was going back to the cemetery.
We went to acquisitions with strong support from the editorial and sales teams, but I wasn’t holding my breath (after long enough in publishing, you learn that no matter how promising things look, nothing is guaranteed). The day of the meeting, I tried to stay busy at work, to keep myself distracted. I didn’t even know if I would be hearing back that day. Just when I had given up, I got a text from my agent: “THEY LOVED IT!” We had a verbal offer, with details to follow.
A week later, we received the formal offer: a two-book deal with a healthy five-figure advance. My agent nudged the other editors who were considering, but we had no competing offers. After a brief negotiation period, we accepted. It was a good deal, especially for a debut author with no other prospects. I’d gotten lucky. It was finally over.
I suppose I should have been ecstatic, but mostly, I was tired—and a little pissed off. If my book was good enough to be acquired by a major imprint, why the hell had it taken so long? What was the point of all this waiting and despairing and struggling?
So, is there a moral to this story? A takeaway message?
No. Not really.
I won’t lie, and I won’t sugarcoat it for the sake of sentimentalism. You can be on sub for twenty-two months and get an offer, or you can be on sub for twenty-two months and watch your book die. I don’t believe there’s much of a gap between those two paths. All the time, I wonder about another version of myself—a messier version. A version who never got to write this follow-up post. Sometimes, she seems more real than the me who’s here. Getting a deal feels satisfying, like fate has been guiding you by the hand all along, but it’s not the only honest outcome. I can’t bring myself to delegitimize those other versions of me by acting like things couldn’t have ended any other way.
All I can do is remind myself that endings like these come and go, but stories—the important ones—persist, whether or not they find an agent or an editor or a wider audience. No matter what publishing tells you, never abandon your story. I won’t promise you’ll get the ending you wanted, but I can promise the ending will sort itself out.
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The stories on this blog are posted anonymously so that authors can speak candidly about their experience. If you have a sub story you’d like to share, drop me an email at: katedylanbooks@gmail.com
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