now what?

the first installment on submitting my manuscript to literary agents

Picture this: it’s 2005. I’m at my grandma’s condo sitting on the enormous tan leather couch that swallows my little 7-year-old body as I slide between cushions and fuzzy blankets with printed Loony-Tunes characters. 7am, it’s just me and grandma cozied on the couch, eating cups of mandarin oranges and watching either Iron Chef America on Food Network or CMT, the Country Music Video channel. I watch, mesmerized, as a music video for Rascal Flatt’s new song Skin plays out in tiny pixels on the cube TV across the living room. Sarabeth. The first word of the song. A love story about a teenage girl battling cancer who loses her hair during chemo and finds out her prom date shaved his head. Grandma wipes tears from her eyes. I don’t really know what cancer is, yet. And love stories make me feel queasy. But the girl’s name repeats in my head like a vocal stim. Sarabeth. Sarabeth. Sarabeth. I could say it endlessly. I whisper it to myself as I get dressed that morning, on the car ride back to my parents house, while my sister and I do cartwheels in the grass. I say it over and over and over again so that I won’t forget it.

Sarah had previously been a name of fascination. Every time I said it reminded me of swans with long white necks, swimming in lakes with willow trees dipping leaves into the water. I named half of my dolls Sarah. I dreamed about having a kitten and naming her Sarah. I dreamed of people asking me my name and getting to say Sarah, with an h. I was graced with an incredible name, one I am truly grateful for. But as a hyper-feminine child, Charley felt extremely boyish (which, come two years later when puberty hit and I wore boys clothes to disguise from the fact my girl body was becoming a woman body far too early, the name Charley felt like a blessing). Sarabeth felt like an alternate version of Charley, a version that may have existed if my mom didn’t have such a feminine name and felt the need to push the needle further. In my mind, Sarabeth was not the girl of Rascal Flatt’s invention, she took on a new meaning in my mind. A version of me who was bolder, more confident, who stood sturdy on two feet and made people laugh.

I’d just read Percy Jackson The Lightning Thief for the first time and my whole world had changed. I found it positively kismet that the most captivating character is named Annabeth. My middle name is Ann. My alter ego, Sarabeth. My favorite book character, Anne Shirely Cuthbert. It all felt meant to be.

I sat at the family computer one summer morning and started writing. I’d been writing in wide-ruled composition books for years. Crafting stories about dogs and talking bicycles and a wizarding school.

I looked up at the curled leaves of the oak tree overhead.

The first line. The first thing I wrote that Sarabeth ever did. I was seven.

She grew as I did, each year older I got I went back and aged her up. Her adventures were my fantasies, a magic world in the park near our house, fairies, dragons, castles, mermaids. I read chapters to my friends at lunch. I declared the story complete at 130 pages when I was twelve. My parents bought me a used laptop so I wouldn’t hog the family computer. At 13 I got a virus on my laptop and lost the entire document except for the first 20 pages I’d printed. I crumbled to the concrete floor of the garage when I’d run out to my dad who was coming back from the computer repair shop. The next day I retyped the 20 pages and shoved the computer under my bed, Sarabeth locked away in a digital file for the next 6 years.

At age 19, I was two thirds of the way through a three month study abroad in Barcelona, Spain. I’m hungry and homesick and can’t get myself to leave the apartment when it’s dark. I watch movies about eating disorders and every episode of Modern Family. I have a new laptop now, but all the files have been transferred over from my old one. I find Sarabeth hiding in a document titled Old Stories. It’s funny, she never felt like a story.

I find myself still awake as the sun comes up, sitting on the cold balcony overlooking the city, typing furiously as Sarabeth steps into the magical world for the first time. It was time travel. It was teleporting to the park near my house. It was a friend checking in on me from the other side of the world.

Three years later, when the pandemic shuttered us in, Sarabeth found her way back to me. I read Six of Crows and imagined Sarabeth grown up for the first time, not a twelve year old girl running through fields and climbing trees.

Sarabeth’s character moodboard from Pinterest photos

Twenty years in the making, Sarabeth’s voice is solid. She stands sturdy on two feet and exists in a vibrant world of my own making, a world I escaped to during the most difficult and isolating moments of my life. A world now spanning 127,825 words.

So, now what?

I’m desperate for Sarabeth to grace the minds of willing readers, for her to help others feel less lonely as she did for me. However, my lofty dreams of being a published author by age 13 seem so wildly out of touch as I have started researching. I have yet to find a publisher taking open submissions. The desired path for authors in the year 2026? Literary Agent.

I’d love to share my progress getting Sarabeth out to the world. I don’t want to wait for a magic opportunity to fall into my lap- I am going to make it myself. I am going to make getting my manuscript into the right hands my full time job. I desperately want to document my progress; I have found the entire process like baking with a blindfold; I want to make something amazing but I can’t see the instructions.

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For the month of January, here is what I have accomplished thus far:

• Step 1) Make an agent wishlist. I did so on Manuscript Wishlist and Literary Marketplace ( I made a spreadsheet with links to each agent and what they require in a submission. all hyperlinked of course)

• Step 2) Make a Query Tracker account (this is where I’ll send in query letters later)

• Step 3) What the hell is a Query Letter?

• Step 4) Write a Query Letter that will knock off socks

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Next up for February:

• Step 5) Line edits

• Step 6) Shorten manuscript by 5k words (if possible. Ouch. feels like I’m bleeding out)

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The writing has been the easy part, it’s felt like breathing. When I’m not sure what is going to happen next, I close my eyes and wait for my characters to tell me. It all flows, my fingers unable to type fast enough to keep up with my mind. Now? This is the hard part. Vouching for myself. Marketing myself and the world I’ve created. Finding a way to stand on two sturdy feet and shout from the mountain tops I did it! I wrote a book!

moodboard from Pinterest photos

If you’d like to read the beginning of Sarabeth’s journey, I’ve posted both Prologues (#1 #2) (not alternate prologues, there are two, because I’m a mad woman who loves symbolism and foreshadowing) as well as a synopsis you can read on the glossary.

Wish me luck xx

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