After
the Call or, "What I did on my Summer Vacation"
By Susan
Donovan
It was 6 p.m.,
Monday, May 14. I was up to my elbows in raw meatloaf
mixture. My son was hitting my daughter over the head
with his language arts folder. The dog was clawing a hole
through the screen door to get to a squirrel. And the
phone rang. Upon hearing my son repeat the phrase "Who
is this?" with escalating rudeness, I quickly washed my
hands - aware that I was likely covered in e-coli - and
grabbed for the phone with slippery fingers.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Susan.
This is Monique Patterson from St. Martin's Press. We
met at Harper's Ferry."
Ka-Thunk! My
heart made the sound my old Maytag makes at the end of
a spin cycle. I immediately tried to recall which critique
partners I'd told about Monique Patterson, and which of
them would perpetrate this kind of sick joke.
In the next
instant, I realized I recognized her voice. It really
was Monique Patterson. I really had met her at the WRW
Conference at Harper's Ferry two weeks before, and I really
did send her a partial manuscript soon after. Then it
dawned on me that I might be getting "the call." I responded
quite profoundly.
"Yikes," I
said.
Those of you
who've been through this know how hard it is to hear anything
when your blood is roaring through the tiny capillaries
in your brain like water over Niagara Falls. As she spoke,
I heard snippets of things like, "loved it" and "funny"
and then I heard this sentence: "When can I see the rest?"
Well, she had
me there, seeing that there was not a whole lot more to
see at that time. I chuckled casually, then said, "Yikes."
Don't worry.
This story has a happy ending. And we all know happy endings
are that much sweeter when the protagonist faces impossible
odds along the way.
So here is
a summary of what happened after the call - in essence,
what I did on my summer vacation. (Warning: those with
heart conditions may want to skip to the end.)
May 14,
7 p.m.: I telephoned literary agent Pam Hopkins and
left this message on her answering machine - "Help me."
(I met her at Harper's Ferry too, and sent her three partials,
including the one Monique got.)
May 15,
10 a.m.: Pam returns my call, tells me she's not had
a chance to read my stuff but she'll get back to me. (Yeah,
right.)
May 16,
9:30 a.m.: She gets back to me! Pam takes me on as
a client, immediately assuming the role of attorney, cheerleader,
intermediary, and mental health professional. After a
nice long chat, we agree that I can have a completed manuscript
for Monique by July 30.
May 17,
2 a.m.: I awake in a cold sweat, completely panicked.
What the hell had I agreed to? I had about half the book
in rough draft form (and I do mean ROUGH) and the rest
briefly outlined. That meant producing an additional 300
pages of quality fiction in 79 days, or 3.8 pages a day,
while the kids were on summer vacation!
May 18:
I buy a laptop. Cost: $1,200.
May 18 through
June 11: I take said laptop everywhere - ballet rehearsals,
little league games, the swimming pool (but not actually
in the water), doctor's offices (my son broke his arm),
the dog groomer's, and on any car trip that lasts more
than a half hour in which I'm not driving.
June 11:
Pam tells me St. Martin's wants to have exclusive rights
to my manuscript while they decide if they're going to
buy it. I open my big mouth and say that I've got another
100 pages I could send if it would help. She tells me
to express mail it to her and she'll send it on. Little
problem: our family is leaving the next day for New York
City and I haven't packed yet. I stay up nearly all night
making revisions and copyediting, a process that continues
into the next day.
June 12,
11 p.m.: I'm editing the hard copy in the car by overhead
light during a thunderstorm on I-95. My husband thinks
I'm insane and may very well be hyperventilating.
June 13:
I'm in NYC. I insert changes on my laptop that morning,
meet a friend for lunch, take my laptop to the Kinko's
on 54th Street to print out the clean version, use the
hotel business service to mail the package to Pam. Cost:
$104 and three years off my life expectancy.
June 20:
I am writing a love scene at a shady picnic table at the
community pool, when a child wanders over and reads over
my shoulder. "Why is the man biting her?" he asks. Then
he tells his mother, and within days everyone in my small
town believes I'm writing smut at the pool. And really,
"smut" is such a subjective term!
June 30:
I have a rough draft of the whole manuscript. It needs
a lot of work and I still have two children's birthday
parties to plan.
July 13-16:
I'm in Boston for a conference and stay with one of my
oldest and dearest friends. I ask her to read the manuscript
and she tells me she loves it! I'm ecstatic - until I
recall that this is the same woman who loved the headpiece
I wore on my wedding day.
July 16-24:
I work harder than I ever have in my life. My kids are
bored and angry. My husband tries not to complain about
the lack of clean clothing, clean dishes - clean anything.
July 24,
6 p.m.: Pam tells me that St. Martin's has decided
to buy my book and they also want whatever I write next.
I scream. We go over the details of their offer and I
take copious notes with a broken purple crayon on the
back of a pizza coupon, which I later cannot decipher.
I inform Pam that the manuscript is almost ready. During
the call, my daughter demands that we have macaroni and
cheese for dinner and my husband lurks in the doorway,
waiting to hear the phrase "million-dollar advance." He
gets miffed when I suggest that he just go make the @#%&*!
macaroni and cheese and give me a moment's peace. Later,
my family celebrates with champagne, and after the kids
are in bed, my husband and I have a bitter argument about
family finances. Mmmm… this is not exactly how I pictured
my big day!
July 25-27:
I send Pam the whole manuscript. She sends it to Monique.
Monique likes it. We agree on the terms of the contract.
It's official! One itty-bitty snafu: there is already
a romance writer using my actual name, Susan Delaney.
I have to come up with another name so that it can be
part of my legal contract. I start trying to name myself.
July 27-August
2: It's very hard to name yourself. It's frightening
to see some of the monikers suggested by my mother, husband,
relatives, dear friends, and editor. I'm sure the other
Susan Delaney is a lovely person, but I'm starting to
have violent thoughts about her. I throw a temper tantrum
the night of August 1. On August 2, we agree on Susan
Donovan. At that point, I would have settled for "Hey
You."
August 13:
I receive Monique's editorial review of the manuscript,
in which she tells me she doesn't like the title. I slam
down four Advil with a Heineken chaser. I begin revisions.
I try to come up with another title. My deadline is October
1.
August 27,
7:30 a.m.: It's the first day of school. As I sip
my coffee and watch my children walk out to the bus, I
realize - with a start - that the summer is over. But
do I say to myself, "My goodness! Where did the time go?"
Get real. I'll forever remember each week, each day, and
every single smutty page of it.
Susan
Donovan lives in Western Maryland and writes contemporary
romantic comedy. Though she feared her first book would
appear on the shelves as "Whatever" by "Hey You," Susan
is pleased to announce that KNOCK ME OFF MY FEET
will published by St. Martin's in December 2002. Her second
book, JUST PERFECT, will be available sometime
in 2003.
Click
here for more information on upcoming events
