The real-time diary of writing a book and trying to get it published. It's a wild ride, y'all.
A crown breaking on a Montana highway. A query letter rewritten three times until it stopped sounding safe. This is the real, weekly, occasionally-unhinged account of writing a book while running a business — the wins, the rejections filed under "weather," and everything in between.
New post every Friday, straight to your inbox. Come for the chaos, stay for the chapters.
Bert Brows, Gotta Go, Baby
Is it Bert or Ernie with the super bushy eyebrows? Asking for me. Also this week: date night, a kid at Scarywood, and a proposal sent to my dream agent with some truly sh*t odds.
You're So Vain, I Bet You Think This Book Is About You
Someone finally made me an offer, and I didn't even submit my work to them. It's not exactly the one I'd hoped for, but after six crickets and no-thank-yous? So you're telling me there's a chance.
Dear 2012 Brows, You Suck
Self-publishing exists, and nothing's stopping me from putting this b*tch of a manuscript online tonight. But it's about as awesome as my 2012 eyebrows.
Giant Baby Here
Today's oral surgery left me with a drilled hole in my gums, and Claude turned my daughter's last words about her Grammy into something she never said. Some weeks are just holes and bad AI. Here's that one.
Cut the Tension with a Butterknife, B*tches
A week of erratic emotions, one boat ride, and zero queries submitted. It wouldn't take much more than a butterknife to cut the tension around here. And a dull one at that.
The F*ck It Bucket
Finding an agent that's an ideal fit is like Where's Waldo on crack. But I found my book's voice to pitch it properly and differentiate. Sidenote…chewing noises made me murdery.
Whiplash Grand Central
Fourteen-year-old birthday, a burned-down church I can't drive past without crying, and a book proposal that came together kind of okay.
Barely Contained
37% contained is the fire. Barely contained is me. This week the book asked for more than I had to give, including an unexpected full a** book proposal I didn't see coming. I didn’t see much of what came to life coming until it was here.
Filter Thyself, or Don't
Filtering thyself should be a sin. I keep learning that lesson and forgetting it by the next query. This week's version of the lesson, a client, and a very stubborn me.
Out the Who-Ha
One rejection. One "resubmit." One manuscript I accidentally sent unedited. Weird, but true anomaly: querying and volleyball tryouts run on similar odds. I did the math.
Word to Captain Asshole
Popped my query letter cherry this week. Highest word count email I've ever sent, a research rabbit hole I should've done first, and a math problem — five years to write a book, five minutes to decide whether to send it — that isn't mathing over here.
Living on a Prayer
Got evicted from my own office. Over a Darth Vader joke, no less. Also locked the pitch paragraph, finally learned what the hell a query even is, and found out the odds are basically a coin flip with extra steps and a spreadsheet.
Red Bull, Rose from Titanic, and Rogue Thinking
We found some clarity this week. In the positioning doc, and in the dichotomous nature of me. The healthcare-serious side and the snapback-tatted-cussing side were never actually fighting. This week they signed a peace treaty over a salad, a donut, and a beer — same meal, don't @ me.
50 Shades of Book Virgin
The manuscript is done. The over-editing is done. Now comes the part nobody talks about — positioning, querying agents, and figuring out what to call your book when you’re not Oprah.
Have A Drink & Shut Up Woman
Three reheats of the same sad coffee, a teenager who needs the summer itinerary laminated, and a brain that won't stop manufacturing emergencies out of nothing. And somehow, one more chapter still got written anyway.
I Posted About a Former Crime Lord & You Argued About Aerosmith
The most interesting Uber driver alive. A comment section that became an Aerosmith debate. And the gap between a story that lands and one that gets completely lost on the way out.
We're Gonna Publish Like It's 1987
51,869 words, a minor spiral, and ticket to Oahu. The book is almost done. Publishing, however, operates like it’s 1987 and I have thoughts about that.
Cave of Cuteness
Tooth extraction, a cooler of actual poop, Botox before Hawaii, and three more manuscript chapters. Completely normal. Right?
Handcuffs, Broken Crowns, and Botox
The chapter is called "Golden Handcuffs (But Not in a Dirty Way)" and yes, I am funnier in writing than in person. Also a crown fell out on a Montana highway. Come for the chaos, stay for the sweet honey.
Business is a Love Language, Right?
Road tripping to Montana living our best tournament life. This week was taxes, appointments, retainer drama, and grief I've been carrying quietly. The pitch and business side of taking this book somewhere? That's my love language.