The Story

It all started about three-and-a-half years ago on a drizzly November morning as I sat blow-drying my hair. I’m often struck with my best ideas when performing some mundane task: washing the dishes, putting on mascara, or staring blankly at my monitor at work wondering how in the hell I spent $40,000 on a college education just to end up an Administrative Assistant.

This is not supposed to be my life.
I’m a sparkly, shiny, special star!
There HAS to be more than this, right?

Or am I eternally doomed to the lather-rinse-repeat cycle of the 8-to-5 grind? I always thought by the time I turned thirty I’d have it all; a fabulous career, a wonderful husband, and a big townhouse in a beachside community. I never imagined I’d feel the furious ticking of my biological clock counting down towards infertility like a nuclear bomb getting set to detonate. I’m not a loser, but sometimes I sure feel like one. Especially as I round the homestretch towards my thirty-second birthday. I’m wondering what exactly I have to show for my three plus decades on this planet. I guess I’d feel a bit more accomplished if I had a stellar career, a fairytale love story, or a home to call my own, but at the present moment, I’m sorely lacking all of the above. What the French, toast? What the French indeed. Wow, that was quite the tangent. You probably don’t remember RSVPing for that pity party, sorry.

One thing I have learned about our time here on Earth is you can waste your time bitching about your life or you can spend your time doing something to change it. If you’re really creative, you can even turn the bitching into the doing and that is why I have decided to write this blog. I began this entry by talking about how “it all started three-and-a-half years ago”. The “it” I was referring to before I derailed on a three-hour tour of my life, was the quest to write and successfully publish a dating advice book that would 1) provide women USEFUL information in a humorous and entertaining way 2) paint men in an honest light, but not create such piggish and masochistic caricatures as to cause the readers want to eat a pint of Hagen Daaz and then slit their wrists with a dull pink Gillette razor. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? You think you know, but you have no idea.

I’m a very title-derivative writer, so I always formulate ideas for writing projects based off the title and build the concept from there. So that fateful morning in November I was blow-drying my hair thinking about God knows what when it came to me like a divine lightning rod from the sky. Cue the celestial music…The Why Chromosome! Yes, that is it! I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do with the idea but I knew it was a great title and my first instinct was to create the He’s Just Not That Into You for women who actually had a clue. I had been festering over my disappointment with that book and my resentment with its runaway success for a few years. As a die-hard fan of Sex and the City, I figured anything affiliated with a writer and consultant from one of the most successful and relatable television shows of all time had to be brilliant and hilarious. Fortunately I didn’t waste any money on the book, but borrowed a copy from a friend. Boy, what a let down. In addition to being not at all funny, the book was completely repetitive and the “groundbreaking” advice it offered was nothing revolutionary to women who had any modicum of self-esteem. OMG, you mean if I call a guy seventeen times and he doesn’t return the call it means he’s just not that into me? Shocking! I can see clearly now the rain is gone! WTF? Really? First of all I (nor any woman I know) would never call a guy more than once or twice tops without a return call. If the guy blows off the call, do you really need a book to tell you the guy wasn’t feeling it? I hope you haven’t invested any money in Goldman Sachs.

So once I had my title and a basic idea of what I wanted to do it was time to find a partner for this project. I posted an ad on Craig’s List and got about 10 to 15 responses. Much like finding a marriage partner, I pretty much knew I’d found “The One” when I got my first response from, let’s call just him Band Boy for anonymity’s sake. Band Boy was charming, witty, and our writing had an instant rapport. I interviewed some others, had them submit writing samples, and of course ultimately chose Band Boy. Band Boy was living in Colorado and had a degree in Psychology. He was also (surprise!) in a band and was moving to Los Angeles after the holidays. Band Boy and I met up one time in Hermosa Beach for a brainstorming session. By that time I had decided the book would be a list of “Why” questions related to men’s behavior in dating and relationships. For each question, I would provide a “theory” from the female point of view and my partner would respond with the “answer” from the male perspective. In my desire for a truly collaborative book, I listened to his stupid ideas about having fictional vignettes interspersed between the questions to keep the book from seeming to textbook. I even seriously considered using the Band Boy’s lame ass vignettes for fear of seeming like a bitch if I shot his idea down. Fortunately, within the month Band Boy told me he was too committed to his musical career to continue to work on the book with me. I was initially disappointed but like a mutual break-up, we amicably went our separate ways and I never spoke to him again. I don’t think his band ever made it big. I wonder if he had to move back to Colorado.

A few months after losing Band Boy, I decided to regroup and try my luck again. I had completed my list of questions (a total of 40) and broken them out into five sections: Meeting/Pick-Up, Dating, Relationships, Breakups, and Sex. I posted another ad on Craig’s List as well as on a website for freelance writers. After getting jackshit from my Craig’s List post, I was about ready to give up when I checked the freelance writers site. I had a hilarious response from a quirky Canadian guy who, once again, seemed the perfect partner to compliment my writing style. Since he lived in the Great White North, we never met up by talked by phone every once in awhile and communicated by e-mail pretty regularly. At first his progress was amazing. He quickly wrote answers in response to my theories and he used hysterical metaphors that literally made me laugh out loud. And then his progress slowed…and slowed. Through our phone conversations and e-mails, I discovered he was still finishing college and worked part time harvesting the genetically-engineered corn grown by the university he attended. A friend of mine dubbed him “Corn Boy” as he shall henceforth be called here. Corn Boy also seemed to have a lot of women-related drama in his life. Finally after about nine months of working together and completing close to half of the book, Corn Boy dropped the bomb on me that he was going back to school for writing and would not be able to continue on as my partner. I guess his busy corn-picking schedule left no time for extracurricular pursuits. Needless to say, I was pissed, frustrated, and finally understood my BFF, Deeves’ inexplicable hatred for all things Canadian.

I shelved the book and decided I’d have to get published on my own and revisit The Why Chromosome after I’d made it independently and had an agent and a publisher who could pair me with a professional (i.e. non-flaky) writing partner. So I focused on other things for about six months. Then one day in the middle of the summer, I found myself quite bored at work. I started rereading the book, deleting all of Corn Boy’s sections. As I read I realized what I had was a damn good idea that could be an even better book. My inner Jiminy Cricket said “go for it”. So, praying that this third time would in fact be the proverbial charm, I decided to post a third ad on Craig’s List. This one had a twist though. A male friend of mine who had read the book-in-progress when I was partnered with Corn Boy has told me Corn Boy was “too much of a girl” and that the book was not really representative of what the average man thought. So this time, I decided I would get two partners – one Good Guy and one Bad Boy to give women a more comprehensive understanding of the collective male psyche. I whipped up the ad, using some kind of pun about a literary ménage a trios to catch potential male writing partners’ attention and within 48 hours I was overrun with responses to the ad. Most of them were applying for the Good Guy position, but I had a few lines on a Bad Boy too. In fact I had so many great responses for the Good Guy, I had to narrow it down and have a test demographic brunch with my girlfriends to pick the eventual winner (who as with the previous two partners, I had been immediately drawn to from his initial e-mail). The Bad Boy was a little tougher of a decision to make. I had two guys, both compelling writers, but both with very different styles. I ultimately had to go with the “kinder, gentler” Bad Boy as the other one’s writing was just a bit too explicit and “shock value” style for a female demographic. Think Oprah, not Howard Stern.

As it turns out, after some serious lessons learned I had found the perfect two partners. They say timing is everything and in this case it really is true. If things had worked out with Band Boy or Corn Boy the book never would have evolved to have the three perspectives, nor would I have found the awesome, talented and most importantly, RELIABLE partners I ended up with. I got my current partners, Good Guy and Bad Boy under contract by Sept. 2008 and the book was completed and ready for editing by April 2009. We put the finishing touches on the book per the editors’ comments by June 2009 and were ready to start pitching the book to agents. Then heartbreak struck again…though this time it was the personal variety. My boyfriend of six months suddenly and inexplicably ended the best relationship I had ever been in. Just when it seemed everything in my life was finally coming together, it all fell apart. “Crushed” does not begin to describe the devastation I experienced. I’m not one to completely meltdown over a breakup, but this one leveled me. I had a lot of trouble eating and sleeping and even when the tears finally stopped my friends were seriously concerned I would never get back to my pre-breakup self.

But by September, I had (mostly) bounced back and we began submitting the book to several agencies in New York and Los Angeles. Bitchslap time! We categorically received either no response (rejection) or formal rejections (more rejection) from over sixty agencies. Just when I was starting to lose all hope of ever finding representation (several industry “insiders” had told us that publishers are only interested in celebrity authors for our type of book), Bad Boy sent our query letter and manuscript to an agent who had represented his friend’s father. She decided to take us on and we signed with her in November 2009. Since then, we’ve been fighting the uphill battle to get published. It’s hard when you are a miniscule fish not just in a big pond, but in an entire ocean filled with all manner of larger and ostensibly more interesting sea creatures. But I believe in our book and will not give up. We’ve gotten rejected from several publishers, though not for lack of writing ability. Most of our rejections have stated that they love the concept and the writing, but they are scared it will not sell in the crowded relationship advice genre, particularly with unknown authors. Great. So according to seasoned editors at big publishing houses I am talented enough as a writer to be published, but they just can’t do it because I’m not Kate Gosselin? I’m starting to believe all editors are secretly those scary lizardy aliens from V in disguise.

But, when life gives you lemons, turn them into limes and make a mojito!
That’s what I’m doing.

I’m told I need a platform (and not the wedge cork variety that come in pairs, I already have plenty of those). I figure if I going to bitch, moan, and complain about my current apparent inability to land a book deal, I might as well write about it on the internet. Maybe an editor will see it, maybe I can garner enough of a readership to warrant myself “print worthy” and at the very least maybe someone else will read about what I’m going through and be able to relate. If I can make one person laugh, or smile, or say “that happened to me too”, then all of this will be worth it.