Keeping Promises to Ourselves and Getting to the Finish Line—- and Beyond

By Lynne Shaner

I started writing what would become my debut novel more than ten years ago. The first draft was messy and awful and all over the place, in the way firsts drafts are (mine, anyway). I printed it out it and boxed it up and lugged it halfway across the country. I tucked it into the closet of the little bedroom that I claimed as my office, and thought I would get right back to it. But I wasn’t able to get to it again for years. You know how that goes, I imagine.

Some of the particulars include the move, the puppy we adopted, my husband still being at our old place while he wrapped up his work there. then a death in the family. Then I had a massive, difficult medical drama. By the time my husband had moved to join me and ideally, I would be getting back into the book, I was just too wrung out to start back in. 

Finally, I gave up and decided that it was probably just not going to happen. I had a couple of short stories published over the years, and maybe that would be enough. I wasn’t getting any younger (I had just turned sixty-one). Maybe my time for all that was over. Who was I kidding, anyway? Who didn’t think they could write a book, right? 

In a bit of kismet, I was at a dinner or reception of some sort at a beautiful historic women’s club in Milwaukee (the Woman’s Club of Wisconsin—it is so gorgeous and stately.) I was introduced to an interesting woman, Patricia Skalka who, as it turns out, had an entire series of thrillers published by a university press. I was a bit awed by this, and we got to talking more, made plans for coffee. (Her books are riveting, by the way, and you should start at the beginning and read every last one of them. You will thank me for this tip.)

Over coffee, Patricia and I talked more about our writing, and she prodded me about that now-dusty manuscript in the closet. I was a little shy about telling her that it was a fantasy, had magic and magical creatures (tiny pegasi, gryphons, pocket faeries, and a dragon, among others.) She was warm and encouraging. I found myself thinking that maybe it was possible after all. She pointed me in the direction of a writing salon in the area that offered many different levels of classes. I emailed Kathie Giorgio at AllWriters’ Workplace and Workshop, and I signed up for a class. Once a month, I could gather with other writers, and we would exchange our pages. I was nervous, but excited, too. 

And then (I know this sounds like a shaggy dog story, but isn’t life like that sometimes?) Covid hit. We were all shut in, shut down, and reeling from it. Naturally, I got one of the early cases, and while I was grateful that I didn’t have to go to the hospital, it was a near thing, and I was really ill. 

Kathy and her staff did that miraculous pivot we all witnessed and experienced, and suddenly the class was online, on this new zoom thing. And in the quiet of those months of shutdown, while all of the insanity whirled around, I was able to revise that draft.  

There were many awful things about the shutdown, but it gave me a long runway for rewriting and revising. For getting my balance again as a writer. It gave me the courage to begin thinking of myself as a writer again. 

And, though this can sound a little nostalgic or precious, it gave me the permission to keep my promise to myself. To finish and polish a novel. To go through the process of writing (and revising, revising, revising) a query letter. A log line. Then, for giving the book a chance by submitting it. 

I decided to send it out to smaller publishers that accepted unagented queries. I put together a long list and submitted in batches of about five or six. 

I got an acceptance by a place that went out of business. A nice pass by a tiny press that liked it but was already full for the next few years. Another pass. My one nibble from an agent came as a “I think I can do something with this; send me pages but be aware that I can’t read them for a year or so.” That seemed odd and I stuck with small presses. One ghosted me. One editor said that it sounded interesting and that they had a new fantasy editor so here was her address, please contact her. Crickets. 

One morning. I was starting the day, getting the computer up and running, coffee in hand. The day before, I had submitted to yet another press. 

There was an email from that press. Please send the full manuscript, the email said, followed by instructions. 

I was stunned. I could hardly believe it. I was abuzz with excitement but didn’t want to hope too much. I sent it out. And waited. 

About a week or two later the subject line “Contract Offer” leapt out of the inbox. I could barely breathe. My hands were shaking as I clicked on the letter, the glowing reader review, the attached offer. I had to read it more than once because I was all teary. 

And one year later, the book, Journey to Everland Bay, was launched. It is one of the most exciting moments of my life. 

I am grateful. Grateful that I wrote it and grateful that I met with Patricia for coffee, took a class, worked with a coach. Revised so many times. It is now out in the world, and I just celebrated the one-year publication anniversary. It has garnered a respectable amount of attention and some great reviews, been on short lists and notable book lists, and I was all over the place talking, signing, being on podcasts and interviews of all sorts. 

What a year it has been. Like so many of you, having a published novel was a lifelong dream, but with the years passing (and, as noted, going faster, it seemed every year), I had really wondered about continuing. Keeping my promises to myself has been worth it. I am now writing other books and will be querying again soon. I have had some poetry published, and another short story. And, yet another unexpected gift, I am a tiny part of the literary conversation we all find ourselves in, and I am happy to be a part of this tribe.  

So, if you’ve been waiting, here’s your sign, your permission—keep your promises to yourself. Your stories and poems and books will add so much to the conversation, and to your own sense of accomplishment. 

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JOURNEY TO EVERLAND BAY, Lynne Shaner

“A beautifully engaging fantasy teeming with dragons, fae, magic, and the importance of family and friendship. A joy to read from beginning to end!” -Julie Boglisch, author of the Elifer Chronicles, the Requiem of Stones series

Jemma Avalon is the daughter of a gentle part elf-fae mother and a father with fiery dragon blood, an unusual combination even in the magical world.

Ten years after her mother’s sudden death, Jemma is working at a major museum in DC, where magic is all but outlawed. Her father wants her to assimilate and live without magic, but Jemma is determined to fully embrace her heritage. She longs to return to Everland Bay, the enchanting world where her Grandmother Annalyn lives, and find a way to join the renowned magical research institute there, like the women in her family before her.

An ordinary day at the museum takes an extraordinary turn, rocketing Jemma to an Everland Bay Institute under violent siege, where dark-arts mages threaten everything important to her. She and her companions work feverishly to overturn their foes, knowing that it may already be too late.

BUY HERE

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Lynne Shaner has been captivated by fantasy, myth, and fairy tales since childhood, when her mother first read Charlotte’s Web and Wind in the Willows to her. She lives in Wisconsin, close enough to Lake Michigan to walk to the shoreline every day. Shelves overflowing with books line her home, and there is always a knitting project on her needles. Lynne lives with her husband, and Merlin, her small, adorable pup. When not writing, she can be found reading and knitting, often in her garden, where she grows herbs, flowers, and story ideas. Her work has appeared in a variety of literary magazines. She holds a master’s degree in creative writing-fiction from Johns Hopkins. This is her debut novel.

 

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