If there's one thing that many aspiring writers have few clues about, it's the submission process. There are good reasons for that; authors aren't exactly encouraged to talk in detail about our own submission experiences, and - just like agent hunting - everyone's story is different. I managed to cobble together a few non-specific questions that some debut authors have agreed to answer (bless them). And so I bring you the submission interview series - Submission Hell - It's True. Yes, it's the SHIT.
Today’s guest for the SHIT is Diana Urban, an author of dark, twisty thrillers, including All Your Twisted Secrets (HarperTeen). When she’s not torturing fictional characters, she works in digital marketing for startups. She lives with her husband and cat in Boston and enjoys reading, playing video games, fawning over cute animals, and looking at the beach from a safe distance.
How much did you know about the submission process before you were out on subs yourself?
Well, first of all, I was on submission four times before landing my book deal for All Your Twisted Secrets. So let’s start at the beginning.
The first time I was on sub, I knew nothing. I hadn’t researched how to get published until I was ready to send my first manuscript… somewhere? Anywhere? I was vaguely aware that I’d need a literary agent, so I Googled how to get one. I quickly discovered that #PitMad was later that week — a Twitter pitch contest where agents “like” pitches as an invitation to query. I tweeted my pitch, knowing nothing about the publishing industry, the author community, or the submission process. Yet a few days later, I had my first offer of representation. Several offers followed, with agents throwing around phrases like “the next Hunger Games” and “probably a two-hundred thousand dollar advance.”
So I went on sub with sky-high expectations. At the time, I wasn’t even aware of how difficult it was to land a literary agent. I assumed publishing normally moved this fast. OH PAST-DIANA, YOU SWEET SUMMER CHILD.
That book wasn’t the next Hunger Games. That book didn’t get a two-hundred thousand dollar advance. After a year and a half on sub, that book didn’t sell at all.
I was crushed. I think if I’d known more about the submission process from the get-go, I would have had more realistic expectations, and the results wouldn’t have been so devastating. But public information was sparse; in fact, the SHIT series on this blog was my primary source of information, and there were fewer posts back then.
Fast-forward to signing with my third agent, and I had more experience and industry insight under my belt. I’d been on sub three times, had completed four editor R&Rs that went nowhere, and had many friends who’d been on sub with a wide array of agents. I learned how fickle the industry is, and how timing and luck play enormous roles in this process. So the fourth time I was on sub, I knew a lot. And I knew to keep my expectations low. You get less hurt that way.
Did anything about the process surprise you?
It surprised me that landing an agent is absolutely no guarantee that you’ll land a book deal. I have many friends who also had multiple agents before selling, and many friends who haven’t sold yet, even after being on sub 8+ times. And the most surprising thing of all is: this is normal.
It’s weird that something so normal is so surprising. But if you look at social media, you see good news and happy book deal announcements all over the place. So that seems like the norm. But it’s not like authors are tweeting things like, “I’m thrilled to announce that my agent and I have pulled my book from submission!” You’re not seeing all the waiting, all the rejections, all the second, and third, and fourth tries.
So to anyone out there gobbling up every post in this SHIT series looking for reassurance, here it is: You are not alone. You’re not the only one who feels left behind. Far from it.
Did you research the editors you knew had your ms? Do you recommend doing that?
I did and I absolutely do not. 😂 The first three times I was on sub, I asked my agents for the names of the editors along with the imprints. Then I’d create private Twitter lists these editors and would check that feed about three bajillion times per day, looking for clues that someone was reading and/or loving my manuscript. DON’T DO THIS.
My fourth time on sub, I explicitly asked my agent not to give me editor names, only imprint names. I didn’t want to be tempted to look. And I was much happier that way.
What was the average amount of time it took to hear back from editors?
This varied tremendously. During my first three times on sub, it would usually take 2-3 months for the first responses to start trickling in. There were a lot of responses after 8-10 months, and some editors would never respond. And I usually would go on a second round of sub somewhere between 4-6 months.
During my fourth time on sub, we got the first response within a week, and had heard back from half of the first round of editors within a month. We went on a second round of sub after only two months. I was on sub for about four months before selling to HarperTeen. This felt lightning fast compared to my past experiences!
What do you think is the best way for an author out on submission to deal with the anxiety?
The biggest piece of advice I could give is to reframe your thinking around your need for control. Think of it this way: Once your manuscript is in your agent’s hands, your actions won’t sell your book any faster.* Checking your email accomplishes nothing. Stalking editors on Twitter accomplishes nothing. Checking your author website’s Google Analytics for traffic from NYC accomplishes nothing. (Yeah, I’m not proud of that one.) Writing your next book accomplishes something. You can control your creative output.
Of course, “write another book” sounds so cliché, but you really should — not only to distract yourself, but to have another project with which to go on submission in the (likely) event that your current project doesn’t sell. And if your current project does sell (yay!), you’ll have a nice head start on your option book (or book #2 in your contract). Always be writing!
I also recommend befriending authors at the same stage as you that you could vent with any time. I’ve bonded with many authors this way, but special shout-out to Shana Silver, Mike Chen, and Dan Koboldt for being on-call pretty much 24/7 over the years. 😂
Another thing that really helped me during round #2, #3, etc. was RPG video games. I beat Skyrim and Fallout 4 during this time! Find something completely enjoyable outside of publishing that you can fully immerse yourself in.
*Caveat: Signing with an agent I trusted, Jim McCarthy, helped a lot — I trust in his relationships with editors in my genre, his knowledge about who to match projects with, his effectiveness to get responses, and his timeliness to reply to me. That took a LOT of the anxiety out of the waiting game for me this time around. (For authors still querying: Do your research, ask lots of questions on the offer call, and speak to existing clients!)
If you had any rejections, how did you deal with that emotionally? How did this kind of rejection compare to query rejections?
Badly.
But you get used to it.
In the early years, the rejections hurt a lot — and more severely than query rejections — because I felt so close to the end goal, yet so unbelievably far (and farther each rejection, since the pool of editors is so small). Querying was easier because with each rejection, I could fire off a new query. When you’re on sub, there’s nothing you can do to boost your odds.
Over time, the rejections were easier to take, simply because I got used to them. I racked up 120+ editor rejections and non-responses over the years before getting “The Call.” After a while, you just get numb.
If you got feedback on a rejection, how did you process it? How do you compare processing an editor’s feedback as compared to a beta reader’s?
The level of feedback I got varied over the years. In my experience, editors used to give more concrete reasons for rejecting. With my first novel, unlike my beta readers (who each offered similar feedback), the feedback was all over the place and contradictory. It gave me no solid basis for revising between submission rounds. But at least I got a sense for why each individual editor was rejecting — and I learned how incredibly subjective this business is. And that was surprisingly reassuring.
During my second and third times on sub, I got four R&R requests, and had concrete feedback from which to revise. Unlike beta reader feedback, where I felt free to choose which feedback to incorporate, I wanted to take action on all of the editors’ feedback — they were the specific people I wanted to impress right now. (With one exception: There was a 5th R&R request I didn’t do because I didn’t agree with the feedback.) But most of the editors responded with vague “this isn’t for me” passes, or didn’t respond at all. So for the most part, there was nothing to process, which was more confusing than anything.
My fourth time on sub, HarperTeen asked me for a partial R&R — they wanted me to change the weapon in the room and to reduce the number of characters locked in. By this time, I was jaded about R&Rs. I’d already spent so much time revising projects that ultimately got shelved, and was wary to “waste” more time. But I had a fantastic call with my now-editor. I could hear her enthusiasm for my story, as well as my ideas for tackling the revision. And it was reassuring that she was only asking me to revise 50 pages — it felt like she loved the project, and all her team needed to know was that I could pull off the edits. So I went in with a bit more confidence than my previous R&Rs.
When you got your YES! how did that feel? How did you find out – email, telephone, smoke signal?
My editor had read my revision just before BookExpo, but needed to wait until after the conference to get the rest of her team to read. I could relate; I work in publishing and go to BookExpo each year, and know how everything else gets pushed to the back-burner. So I expected it would be months before I’d hear back — which is what you expect after four years on sub, I mean, come on.
But it happened the Wednesday after BookExpo. I was busy writing an article at work, and my phone rang for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day — I’d been getting so many spam calls lately, but I always answered just in case. It wasn’t a 212 number (a common NYC area code), and I expected more spam. So I barked, “Hello?”
My agent replied, “Uh… hi? It’s Jim.”
I kid you not, my stomach dropped into my uterus.
I sprinted across the office to the nearest available conference room, and it was THE CALL. HarperTeen was making an offer. I couldn’t believe it had finally happened. I couldn’t believe the book had gone to acquisitions so quickly. I couldn’t believe any of it. After hanging up with Jim, I immediately called my husband, and shrieked, “IT HAPPENED!!!!” He thought something terrible happened and kept trying to find out what was wrong until I finally coherently conveyed the good news.
After I called my parents to scream a bit more, I slinked back to my desk with a huge grin plastered across my face. My coworker who sat across from me, clearly suspicious, messaged me on Slack: “So how are things post-BookExpo?” Me: “Things are great because I JUST GOT THE CALL!” This led to a scene straight out of a sitcom; she announced the offer to the whole office, and there was clapping, hugging, and lots of blushing profusely on my part.
Did you have to wait a period of time before sharing your big news, because of details being ironed out? Was that difficult?
I had to wait about three months for the contract to be finalized before announcing via Children’s Bookshelf. The first month or so was easy — I already knew my book was getting published, and that’s what mattered! — but then I started getting a bit antsy keeping such a huge secret. But it was worth it when the email went out, and people started tweeting at me immediately. I couldn’t even post the announcement I’d prepared right away because I was sobbing so hard. I couldn’t believe it was really happening. I still can’t believe it’s happening, and here we are.