How My Crappy First Draft Led to an Interview with President Obama
Think you need more experience to open doors? Ever wonder if your latest slog's even worth it? I'm living proof: Every tentative step you make toward your dream presents unimaginable opportunities.
Here’s a recap of the first-ever, virtual Google+ Hangout from the White House on January 30, 2012. I was lucky enough to have been selected to participate, and the way it happened still amazes me…
Scroll down to see the entire Hangout, as well as specific video clips and a promotional ad.
We all have to start somewhere, and that “somewhere” is often the bottom. I know, because that’s exactly where I began.
The bottom SUCKS because it’s easy to look around and think, “So many others have more experience…more followers…more confidence…more bylines…more awards…more money…more connections…more insight.”
They might, and if they do, good for them. They started at the bottom, too, and they didn’t give up.
The bottom also SUCKS because moving away from it can feel like an uphill grind that leads to frighteningly uncertain destinations.
For example, about 10 years ago, around 2010 or 2011, I was working on the first draft of my first book, a middle-grade novel, thinking, “If I even get to the end of this beast, I still have no idea how to find an agent or an editor or a publisher.”
I could have (and seriously considered) throwing in the towel, especially when non-writers asked, “Are you STILL working on that book?” or “When are you gonna get published?” or “Are you still writing for a hobby?” or “When you’re done writing your book, do you think you’ll go back to your real job?”
I’d make matters even worse by fantasizing about getting interviewed by Oprah (Dear God, what was I thinking) or winning a Newberry Award for best children’s writing (seriously?) — only to blink hard and ask myself what the hell planet I actually thought I was on.
Wrestling with dreams vs. reality, my internal struggle was real, but somehow, I kept going — and you should, too, because you never know where your efforts might take you.
Case in point: Here’s my story of how my crappy, unfinished, FIRST DRAFT of my very first manuscript led to an interview with a sitting president.
How It Began
It’s the morning of January 23, 2012, and I’m sitting in my home office, working on the last chapter of my first book, a middle-grade novel.
As any writer will attest, it’s easy to find distractions when the writing feels hard, so what do I do?
I open up another tab on my laptop and check my email.
What’s this? A new message from Google, requesting questions for President Obama following his State of the Union Address to be held the next day?
Now, you need to understand that I was SO DESPERATE to avoid working on the final chapter of my book that I pretended I cared what this email said. I was NOT a political person then. I wasn’t remotely interested or involved in politics. I didn’t understand politics. I felt intimidated by politics. The last thing you’d catch me talking about, let alone getting involved in, was politics.
Here’s what the Google email said:
Tomorrow, President Obama will deliver his State of the Union address at 9:00 p.m. ET. During that speech, he’ll lay out his vision for an America where hard work and responsibility are rewarded, where everyone does their fair share, and where everyone is held accountable for what they do.
There is a range of ways to get involved with this year’s State of the Union address.
Immediately following the President’s speech on Tuesday, be sure to stay tuned to WhiteHouse.gov/SOTU for a live panel featuring senior White House advisors answering your questions about the speech. Then, on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, a group of policy experts and advisors to the President will sit down for Office Hours on Twitter — discussing the issues that matter to you and your community.
Finally, on Monday, January 30, President Obama will join the conversation in a special Google+ Hangout, a live multi-person video chat, from the White House.
Participating in the Hangout is easy — just visit the White House YouTube channel to submit your questions and vote for your favorites between now and January 28. A few participants will be chosen to join the President in the Google+ Hangout to ask their questions of the President live!
It’s important to note that, as I read this email, I am unshowered, still wearing the sweatshirt and flannel pajamas I’d slept in, and I haven’t even brushed my hair.
Nevertheless, I scribble a question on a scrap of paper — not from my own head, exactly, but from the head of my protagonist, a young girl whose parents had lost their jobs in the global financial crisis. I make a quick video recording of myself using my webcam (remember…this is back in the olden days, before we had phones that recorded video), posing the following question to the leader of the free world:
“What can you say to children whose parents are struggling financially? What hope and encouragement can you offer children when they see their folks worry about health coverage, struggle emotionally, search for work, or show signs of giving up hope?”
Then, without overthinking things (which is, frankly, unheard of for me), I submit my question to the Google YouTube channel.
WHOOOOOOSH. Done.
That’s enough distraction for one day, I think. Time to shower and get back to work.
Three Days Later
On January 26, 2012, just before I’m scheduled to head to O’Hare Airport for a writer’s conference in New York, I open this email:
Hi,
Thank you for submitting a question for the YouTube Interview with President Obama on Monday, January 30th! As part of the interview, we are incorporating live questions asked from Americans directly to President Obama via Google+ Hangout.
We’re interested in speaking with you to gauge your interest and availability for speaking with the President live on Monday at 5:30EST/2:30PST. Please call me at xxxxxxxxxx at your earliest convenience. We are planning to select participants by tonight, Thursday, January 26th. Please let us know the best phone number to contact you to discuss the opportunity further! Thanks again!
Best,
Ria
Google Marketing Team
Ummmm…. WHAT?????
I call Ria and leave a voicemail. My heart races.
I think, Even if they don’t pick me – which they probably won’t – it’s nice to know someone actually reads these things.
And then I think, Oh shit. This means they saw the video of me in my pajamas.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Three minutes after I leave the voicemail, my cell phone rings. It’s Ria.
“Tell me more about your question and how you came up with it,” she says.
Hang on. Did she say she was from The White House? YouTube? Google? Is this for real?
I also wonder how many thousands of people are receiving this same phone call. As a former advertising exec, I think, What a brilliant direct marketing plan they’re executing, creating excitement about this Google+ platform they’re rolling out!
I tell Ria about my children’s novel, and how my main character’s world turns upside down when her parents lose their jobs. The parents use words and phrases that make no sense to my main character, like foreclosure and layoffs and crisis. My character’s confused and scared, constantly wondering when her life will go back to *normal*.
Ria and I talk for 10 minutes, then she asks if I’d be willing to participate in a live event with some other Americans — and The President — on Monday, 1/30/12.
“Absolutely,” I say, overjoyed. “I’ll definitely be back from my conference by then.”
“Oh,” she says, “we’d also need someone at your home the day before, on Sunday, 1/29, just so we can make sure your Internet connection works. Do you know what sort of bandwidth you have?”
“I think it’s a pretty fast speed? Um…”
“Don’t worry about that just yet,” she says. “We’re still considering candidates, but we’d like to make a decision within the next 48 hours. Is this the best number to reach you when you’re in New York?”
I try to sound calm, but when I hang up, I immediately call my parents, tell them what’s happening, then burst into tears.
“I told you,” my mother says. “This is going to be your year!”
This is all very flattering, I think, but let’s be real. They’re not going to pick me.
I’m so frazzled from the phone call that I tell my taxi driver to drop me at the American terminal instead of the United at O’Hare. When I try to print my boarding pass at the American self-serve kiosk, the machine tells me I have no upcoming flights and my stomach drops. My face must have gone gray, because an American Airlines agent notices and points out that I’m just in the wrong terminal.
Are you kidding me? Where’s my BRAIN???
As I take off running toward the airport tram, my cell phone rings again.
“Good news,” the nice Google lady says, “and congratulations! We’d like to include you in the group of interviewers. If you’d like to do it, I’ll have someone else call you with all the details, but let me give you his number, just in case.”
I kneel down on the floor to write the details…probably a good thing because I haven’t stopped to eat all day, and I’m suddenly feeling dizzy.
“Oh,” she adds, “please keep this confidential until the segment airs. You can tell your immediate family, of course, but no one else.”
According to The White House YouTube channel, when the question submission period was over, 228,100 people had submitted 133,158 questions and cast 1,630,112 votes.
If I thought I was frazzled before, I am now completely out of my mind.
I’m going to talk to The President!
I step onto the next airport tram without even checking where it’s headed, and instead of speeding toward the United terminal, we go in the opposite direction toward the International Terminal. UGH!
I get off, switch trams, and quickly speak with my family members, all of whom are as shocked and excited as me.
As I step off the tram, my phone rings again. I have 25% battery life left and – Oh no, I don’t think I remembered to pack my charger! Andrew from Google Product Marketing introduces himself with some serious details:
“I’ll be emailing you a confidentiality agreement. I need you to fax it back with your signature.”
“Okay, but I’m about to get on a plane,” I say.
“Oh dear,” he says, sounding disappointed.
Just as I suspected, I think. They need a live person with a signed commitment NOW. Here’s where he’ll say THANKS BUT NO THANKS.
“That’s okay,” he says. “When you get to New York, can you fax it to me?”
“Absolutely! Thank you so much,” I say, adding, “This just feels like it’s all a dream.”
“I understand!” he says. “It’s incredibly exciting. Another woman I just spoke to calls this a chance of a lifetime,” he says, and I couldn’t agree more. I hang up the phone shaking.
As I weave through the airport’s security line, looking at every person with an entirely different perspective, I want to shout, Guess who I might talk to in 4 days?
I think, Is this really happening? I think this might actually happen!
After crawling through security, I have 5 minutes left until takeoff and I need to get all the way over to Terminal C. I skip the escalator and hit the stairs running. Once I get to the bottom, I skip the moving sidewalk and run the length of the hall. I haven’t run in months after spraining my ankle last summer, so I’ve had nagging pain ever since, but now, I don’t care. I feel like I have unlimited energy and, as Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue plays throughout the terminal, the colorful, Chihuly-inspired neon lights flicker above my head.
I bolt up the stairs and dodge rolling suitcases and strollers…only to arrive at Gate C26 to read the monitor: FLIGHT DELAYED.
Thank God, I think. At least now I can finally eat!
After United switches my departure gate 2 more times, I finally fly to New York.
Arriving at my hotel after 10pm local time, I dump my bags in my room, then head to the Business Center to print and fax the confidentiality document that Mr. Google emailed earlier.
When I get to the Business Center, I realize I need my credit card to use the printer. I race back up to my room, cursing under my breath.
It’s so late, I think…they’ve probably given up on me at Google and picked someone else who already faxed in their agreement. I’ve taken too long, and they’ve picked someone else.
After printing, signing, and faxing the document, I head back to my room, hoping to order room service and finalize my manuscript — but room service ended 3 minutes ago.
So, I head back down to the convenience store in the lobby, grab a day-old sandwich, and take the elevator back to my room.
And that’s when I receive an email from Mr. Google saying he’s received my fax. I am now officially one of “The 5”, as he refers to us. Just five “regular people” who’ll interview a sitting president. My brain can’t handle this info.
After putting on my pajamas, I finish the last of my edits and type the last words of my first manuscript — THE END — at 4:25 a.m. I email copies of the completed manuscript to my family and to a literary agent I’ve been crossing my fingers about, then fall into bed.
I’ll be lucky to get 3 full hours of sleep tonight I think, but in 3 days, I’ll be talking to The President of the United States.
Trying To Focus
I attend conference meetings all day, then take my friend to dinner to celebrate her debut novel’s contract. That night, though I’m exhausted, I stay up in my hotel room until 2:30 a.m. reading about and thinking of Barack Obama.
And, I begin to freak out quite a little bit.
The next day, I attend more conference meetings, including listening to Henry “The Fonz” Winkler (who’s now a children’s author) speak brilliantly about being yourself and writing what you know. I also meet the 2012 Newberry winner, Clare Vanderpool, in a breakout session.
During a lunch break, I walk around Grand Central Terminal. I swear I feel the pulse of New York and America. I stand in the terminal wishing I could scream that I’d be speaking to The President in 48 hours.
And then, though there’s still another full day and half of conference sessions, I head back to my hotel room to pack. While doing so, I receive a call from the moderator of the Google+ Hangout, Steve Grove, YouTube’s head of community partnerships. He asks me to tell him my question for the president, and I do, making sure to add the backstory that the other Google folks wanted to know.
“That’s a great question,” Steve says, “and it took you about 3 minutes to say it. We’ll need you to shorten that to about 30 seconds on Monday.”
I talk too much, I think. They’re going to fire me.
I stop by the conference one last time and, while pulling my rolling suitcase, I say goodbye to some conference friends and make a point to thank Lin Oliver, the Executive Director of SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators) for giving the event such a warm, familial vibe every year. She notices I’m leaving early and says, “You’re heading home now? Everything alright?”
I want to tell her why I’m heading back. Instead, I just say, “Yeah, I think everything’s going to be okay.”
I’d give anything to whisper to her, “I get to talk to The President, and my protagonist made it happen!”
Later, I receive an email with the contact names of two women scheduled to arrive at my house the next morning to set up the technical equipment: Whitney from Google (to help me understand Google+ and answer any questions/concerns); and Carolyn from Pixelcorps (to set up the equipment necessary to link directly to The White House).
On my way back to Chicago, I have a layover in Washington, D.C. As pathetic as this sounds, I spend an hour in the airport gift shop buying ridiculous and overpriced White House souvenirs, including Obama t-shirts for my kids and a $9.00 roll of toilet paper with the White House logo printed on every sheet.
On Sunday morning, Whitney from Google shows up at my house an hour early, direct from Iowa, looking just as excited as me. Carolyn from Pixelcorps arrives soon thereafter, having flown in from either San Francisco or Toronto (I honestly can’t recall) with a 70-pound rolling case of equipment (monitors, modems, microphones, headphones…).
I practice and edit my question with Whitney so I might fit it into the 30-second window Steve Grove mentioned earlier. I find myself alternately shaking, laughing, crying, and feeling completely exhausted and overwhelmed. Carolyn sets up her equipment quietly, no doubt wondering to herself how she drew the short straw for this assignment at Wackadoodle Central.
I’d already set up my first Google+ account while I was in New York (just to try and understand what the platform is. Remember, this is 2012). Whitney gives me a quick Google+ primer as to how it works (easy) and how it differs from Facebook (even though it looks very similar, its capabilities strike me as further-reaching). We even joined a live Hangout, just so I can see what it might feel like with The President.
Sometime around 1pm CST, all of the Google+ Hangout participants and I (minus The President) have a live, technical run-through to understand how to ask questions with microphones snaked up our shirts and earpieces jammed into our ears. There’s a guy standing in for Obama who actually looks a lot like him. The 4 other people who’ve been chosen seem as nervous and excited as I am.
After our “tech check”, we all come to learn that lots of Google personnel also tuned in for our live technical run-through…and that they’re happy with how the Hangout worked. It must have felt fantastic for the Google folks who’d created the platform to see it in action for such a unique event. It feels fantastic to receive the Google folks’ thumbs up, especially since none of the 5 of us have ever done something like this.
After the tech check, someone in P.R. from Google HQ calls my house to say she watched the tech check and loved it…then asks if I’d be willing to talk to the press at some point.
“Of course!” I say. I’ll admit I feel like a P.R. whore of sorts (yup, I said it), but I also think, I’m a taxpaying citizen in a capitalist society and I have a book to bring to market — a valuable story that only I can promote until someone agrees to help me do it.
After the P.R. phone call ends and the equipment’s packed up, I drive Whitney and Carolyn to the Hilton Orrington Hotel in Evanston and look forward to tomorrow.
That night in bed, I wonder how I’d gotten here, with a dining room full of (lovely) strangers and equipment and nervous energy and excitement. When the 45-minute tech check was over, my body was physically exhausted. I’d been tense the entire time. My husband had taken the kids out for the day, and when they came back, I loved how “normal” things felt.
As I fall asleep, I think, Tomorrow’s the day.
HERE WE GO!
Monday, January 30, 2012, 9:00am CST
I take my youngest son to school and, as I say goodbye, I whisper, “Later today, when you get home, The President of The United States will be talking to us in our dining room. He’ll be on a monitor…but still. You’re the luckiest 3rd grader in America today. You know that, right?”
He walks into the classroom with a proud smile on his face. Later, he confesses that he’d whispered the news to two little girls in his class, which doesn’t surprise me in the least.
The Google team shows up at my house while I’m at a school meeting with my daughter. Then, while the team’s setting up, I search all over downtown Evanston for a buttoned-down shirt. I finally find a black one at The Gap and a white one at Anne Taylor Loft. I stop by Panera to get bagels for the team, then drive around my neighborhood for 30 more minutes, practicing my question for The President aloud in my car.
“Hello, Mr. President.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. President.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. President.”
“This is crazy, Mr. President.”
“’S’up, Mr. President?”
When I get back home, Command Central is fully up and running in my dining room. After checking to see how my newly-purchased shirts looked on camera (unfortunately, neither one works with the microphone wires or the lighting in my house), I settle on a pink top I already had in my closet. Sigh.
I practice and tweak my question, then go over it, and over it, and over it.
At 1pm, I walk to the middle school to sign my two older kids out of school early. It’s a gorgeous, warm, sunny January day, and I haven’t realized until this moment how much I need to walk off some stress. We walk home and walk up to the front door just as my parents arrive, having picked up my youngest son from his elementary school.
The excitement is hard to contain.
Only 2 ½ more hours to go.
Though the Hangout’s scheduled to begin at 4:30 CST, I’m sitting in my chair in front of the monitor, dressed and ready with my microphone on and an earpiece in by 3:15pm.
We do rounds of sound checks to make sure all systems are a go, then have a 10-minute bathroom break, or as they apparently call it in the biz, a “bio break”) before settling into my chair for good.
Thank God for my parents. They came over to help corral the kids and watch from the sidelines. They’re sitting to my left, just off camera. My kids are off camera to my right, lined up like little ducklings.
What I haven’t realized is that my kids and parents won’t be able to hear the Hangout. I have an earpiece in one ear, and Whitney & Carolyn will share a set of headphones, but my parents and my kids have to remain completely silent. I give all of them, especially my kids, all the credit in the world for sitting for 45 minutes before the interview AND for the full 50 minutes of the Hangout in statue-like silence.
Aside from a few moments of uncontrolled giggles and a few elbows in the ribs, the kids sit at attention without a sound. Every telephone in the house is unplugged. We’ve also taken the doorbell button off the side of the house so no one — including any unexpected UPS drivers or neighbors — will ring the bell and interrupt the interview.
We’ve also closed all the shades so the news crews (who are now idling outside the house) won’t peek in. Please, I think to myself, do not let Comcast High-Speed Internet fail during this interview. If it does, I don’t care what the commercials say: I’ll switch to a dish in a heartbeat.
I should also mention that our 100-pound yellow lab spends the day at a local daycare called Rex’s Place where the owner’s dog, Rex, happens to be a Portuguese Water Dog, just like the Obama’s dog, Bo.
The Hangout with The President begins at precisely 4:30pm CST, and for the 20 or so minutes leading up to that time, the 4 other participants and I sit in our chairs, our senses heightened by equipment and anticipation. There’s a woman from Texas, a med student from Chicago, an entrepreneur from New Jersey, and a high school student and his classmates from California. I’m shaking like a leaf, and thank goodness the high schoolers are serving up welcome comic relief. They make faces, tease each other, churn imaginary butter in their chairs, and get us all laughing. We ask each other questions about when we each learned we’d been picked, which was within a 24-hour period.
Once The President comes on camera, however, the 5 of us fall silent.
As we’re about to begin, I look at The President and think to myself,
Just remember. He’s a regular guy from Chicago who’s got kids and a job to do. I get that.
I also wonder if he might be a little nervous, too. After all, this has never been done before…
Steve Grove, our moderator, kicks things off, and from the beginning, The President seems happy to be here. As I look into the monitor, I can see the 7 small boxes across the bottom of the screen…and I realize that my small box is directly next to President Obama’s. Unbelievable.
After brief introductions, the questions begin. The President answers them thoughtfully, though not always succinctly. I can’t imagine being put on the hot seat like this, especially since the five of us have the opportunity to respond to The President’s answers.
My parents are to my left, sitting by the dining room window. My kids are to my right. Whitney & Carolyn sit across my dining room table, staring at their own monitor, sharing a set of headphones. My then-husband is at his office watching on his computer.
No one in the dining room moves a muscle during the interview. We’re all perfectly quiet throughout the nearly hour-long call. The only sound in the house is the occasional burst of my voice as I introduce myself, ask my questions, and say goodbye at the end.
Am I nervous? Absolutely. Am I shaking? Like a leaf. Am I scared? Not as much as I thought I’d be. I think a face-to-face interview would have been far more intimidating. I think an interview without 4 other Americans and a moderator would have sent me into cardiac arrest. The controlled distance I felt with a monitor between us helped calm my nerves.
During the interview, I take mental pictures throughout the experience. Even though chances are good I’ll get to see the whole Hangout on YouTube after we wrap up, I just want to remember what it feels like, being face-to-face with Barack Obama. I know that this experience will pass in the blink of an eye, so I want to make sure to stop every now and then to take a mental snapshot of what I see, feel, and hear.
I never once take my eyes off my monitor during the entire Hangout. My eyes zero in on either the screen itself, or on my one-page, typed question which I clutch (just in case I forget what I’m here to say). I see The President looking directly at me through a webcam. I watch my children wave to The President as he waves to them.
I tell myself not to be overwhelmed by it all, and I somehow manage not to let myself think of the things my mind wants to consider, like,
“Is George Clooney watching this?”
“Why did I pick this pink shirt?”
“How on earth did my question make it?”
“What about all the other questions submitted? Will anyone address those?”
I feel grateful to have my mom and dad at my side and my kids witnessing this once-in-a-lifetime experience.
The Entire Google+ Hangout:
My Specific Interactions With President Obama:
1. Christine Wolf meets President Obama:
2. Christine Wolf’s Question for President Obama:
3. Christine Wolf asks President Obama about his upcoming 20th wedding anniversary:
4. Christine Wolf introduces her kids to President Obama:
5. Christine Wolf’s shameless self-promotion of her unpublished book:
Yep. I went there! At the end of the interview, as we were all wrapping up and saying our goodbyes, I shamelessly, and I mean SHAMELESSLY, plug the manuscript I’d literally just finished days earlier. And, though a lot of people poked fun at my “audacity”, I’ll point out that every single participant shamelessly requested a little something of The Prez: Jennifer Weddel asked Obama to help her husband find a job; Adam Clark asked Obama to visit his high school and play tennis with him; Paras Patel, a medical student, asked Obama if he could be his physician once he completed medical school and residency training; and Ramon Ray offered to stop by the White House to share his small business tech expertise. lol
The minute the interview is over, our friends stop by to congratulate the kids and me on the interview. I am so happy with the way everything turned out, especially having the opportunity to let the kids say hello to The President, but it’s such a relief being finished.
Or, at least I thought I was finished.
The knocks at the door and the telephone ringing continue until close to 10pm. Family, friends, and local media want to hear about the experience, and I’m more than happy to oblige them. My husband had posted the Hangout details on my Facebook page the minute the event began, so when I go to check out my page, I can’t believe all the traffic. I hadn’t appreciated how many people would tune into something so unique, and I quickly realize it’s a lot.
Once the interview ends, I bring out a bottle of wine to toast the team for surviving the experience intact. Earlier, Carolyn points out that our team (interviewer/Google representative/producer) is the event’s only all-female group…even more reason to be proud!
As the first glass is poured, the ABC TV affiliate shows up, then CBS, asking for interviews about my takeaway from the experience.
I thought the live stream interview format worked without a hitch. Seven of us (including the moderator and The President) got a chance to talk about a wide range of topics. I’d anticipated he’d extol an attitude of continued hope, but I liked the tangible examples he used to make many of his points. For instance, when I asked about how we might create a new financial narrative for today’s children, he mentioned an initiative for financial literacy — called “Know Before You Owe” already in the works. I just hope it comes out as soon as possible.
One regret I have is not following up after my question. I’d wanted to ask the President why The White House doesn’t have something actionable for children, like a button on The White House website for kids, or, at the very least, a list of resources for parents and caregivers to help facilitate tough discussions about finances and economic struggle. I was happy to hear about the financial literacy initiative, so I didn’t want to take up any more of his time, but why must I always be so accommodating???
Post Interview…
For anyone who writes, you know how your characters can inhabit you in powerful ways. In the case of the protagonist of my children’s book who inspired my question for the President, I can say without a doubt that she spoke to Barack Obama as much as I did.
To this day, I’m still asked about the Presidential Hangout. The experience was a once-in-a-lifetime moment for my family and for me, but I hope it’ll always serve as a reminder that even the smallest voices can be heard when they choose to speak up.
And, for all the writers out there wondering if their work will ever lead to something meaningful, mark my words: Every word you write and every step you take with your writing is an opportunity to open a new door. And so, be ready, keep your eyes open, and step out of your comfort zone.
It’s worth it!
After the Google+ Hangout aired, I was approached by Google again to appear in a commercial promoting future Google+ Hangouts. Here’s that commercial:
Finally, for what it’s worth, thanks to the Obama interview, I landed a literary agent who then ran my manuscript past multiple editors and major publishing houses. Each editor offered vastly different bits of advice, leaving me wondering what on earth to do next. That manuscript is STILL sitting in a drawer. Maybe it’s finally time to pull it out?
P.S. I sent a copy of my crappy manuscript to President Obama. He sent back a signed thank you letter on White House stationery. It’s framed and hangs on my office wall.
Wow! And thank you for helping all of us, your readers, keep going. Your kids are beautiful as are you!
My first novel was middle grade, too. I still believe in it, but have set it aside while I focus on another work. I've been to SCBWI conferences as well. They are a lot of fun.
Love this so much, for two reasons:
First, the self-talk you did to try to set expectations / protect yourself from disappointment is all too familiar - curious if it works better for you than it does for me!
Second, that something you set out to do opened a completely different door than you expected - and it was something amazing.
Literally got chills reading it!