Ten years later... I got my agent.

Like so many of us, I started writing at a young age. It started with short stories when I was in primary school. Then, in middle school, the stories grew longer. And then, at 14 years old, I finished my first novel. It was fabulously bad.

Like really bad.

Imagine for a second that a preteen nerd writes a book. It was exactly as bad as you're thinking it could be. Corny, full of clichés, meaningless dialogue, over-the-top descriptions, and lots of Twilight-inspired teen patriarchy.

Even as bad as it was, I was proud of it. And I wanted it published. Self-publishing was never in the cards for me... I admire so many authors who take that route because they have the confidence in their work that I could never have in mine. So much of my value as a writer, especially at that young age, came from external affirmation. I needed to hear from the professionals of the publishing industry that my book was good enough. That I was good enough.

I blame a lot of those feelings on a lot of different things, and if you are a child of Asian immigrants, you probably know what I'm talking about.

So from the age of 14, I knew: my life goal would be to make it in traditional publishing. Can you imagine that? A young Asian teen girl with goals to make it in traditional publishing??

I didn't know then how hard it would be. Especially for someone like me.

My family was supportive. That alone gave me an advantage. So I threw myself into the publishing process. I learned about query letters, and I used a template from Purdue OWL to make one of my own. I knew that no matter what, I would need an agent to back me. After reading article after article, I knew that representation would be my greatest resource and my greatest protection in the publishing jungle. Thus, my querying journey began.

Back then, QueryManager wasn't a thing. Email queries were barely getting started. So my mom bought me some special stationary. I researched all the agents I could find online. And, self-addressed-stamped-envelope and all, I sent out a dozen snail mail queries.

The query letter was in poor shape, like my book. And most of those queries didn't even receive a rejection back. I did get a handful of polite form rejections in the mail, and one letter even had a "keep up the good work!" note from a particularly kind agent. Believe it or not, I still have each and every one of those rejection letters.

They motivated me to keep going.

By the time I was starting college, I had written a new book. This one is better, I thought. This one will be the one that makes it. I was wrong. I thought that so many times about so many books. I was wrong about it so often.

Then, as a university sophomore, I started the process over again. I wrote another book. I wrote another query letter. And, this time via email, I received more rejections than I could count. Not a single full request.

I did this a few more times, each time thinking I was writing the book that would make it. Have you ever been in that strangely familiar and frightening place where your dreams feel so tired and distant that you think it'll truly never happen for you?

For a long time, I was a resident of that place. And sometimes, even now, I'm a long-term visitor. Imposter Syndrome doesn't go away. I hate to write that down because it makes it true. It makes it permanent. But how else can we face those daunting facts? We have to run at them head on. Imposter Syndrome is every writer's worst enemy. Some will argue it's critics or haters or even themselves. But it's not.

It's the belief that you'll never be good enough, no matter how hard you try. It's the belief that you don't even deserve the success that others have.

Fast forward to my fifth and last year of undergrad. I was newly married, student teaching in a kindergarten classroom, working part-time, and rewriting an old manuscript that I had shelved. If you're thinking you've finally reached the part of the blog where I catch my break, you're wrong. BUT, it was a huge step in my writing career, and in a moment you'll see why.

Twitter. Yeah, I know. That was the big step I took. I made a Twitter account. And from there, I learned about pitch contests and agent profiles. I learned about the #WritingCommunity and all the hashtags that get you to make writerly friends. I learned about Beta readers and critique partners. Did I participate in any of that? No, because I was so sure of myself that I didn't think I needed to.

At this point in my life, I'd written four books over the course of 8 years, sent hundreds of queries, and gotten exactly zero requests. Bear with me. We're almost to the good part. Almost.

Then I heard about a little thing called #PitMad. And no, before you get ahead of yourself, I did not find any huge success (or any success) in my first few rounds of #PitMad. I pitched for the first time in 2019. I had no critique partners or writerly help, and I got exactly zero retweets, zero likes, and zero comments. I was failing. That's what I told myself everyday. I was failing.

It was a very humbling time in my life. For the first time in my writing career, I began to understand: I could never do this alone.

Writing books alone was never going to be enough. I needed help.

This where the story gets good. I found a popular query editor on Twitter (@AmqueryingH) and decided to invest. It was time I get a second pair of eyes on what I was sending out to agents. And believe me, it was long overdue. She found errors and improvements and made everything so much better. After about a month of workshopping my query letter, I sent it out again.

And got my first full request.

I was thrilled. Until I learned that it was from a schmagent. Great. One person wanted to read my book. And they weren't even a legitimate agent. And they ghosted me.

I was at an all-time low. What was I doing wrong? I felt, at the time, like I was doing everything I could to get myself traditionally published. And the truth is, I probably was. I was working hard, editing, sending queries. And now that all of that is years passed, I know that it wasn't about how hard I was trying at all. It was about timing.

The year 2020 hits. Now, I'm a first-year English teacher and everything falls to shit. Seriously. I mean, you all were there. You know how bad the pandemic made things. So, so bad. I was sent home from school indefinitely. We couldn't go out in public. I was scared to leave the house.

And after feeling exhausted of querying and editing and failing in general, I sat down to write a new book. What else was there to do with my time?

I told myself I'd take my time. I told myself it didn't even matter anymore if this was good or not. I needed to remember what it felt like to love writing again. I told myself this one was just for fun - just to pass the time until Covid was gone and I could get back to my life.

The first draft was finished in a month.

I had the most fun writing this book than I had ever had writing anything before. It was a rejuvenation. It was a miracle. I felt like myself again. I felt like a writer. I felt like that giddy 14 year old kid obsessed with storytelling and worldbuilding and the journey the characters take you on page after page.

This would be the book that got me my agent.

Did it happen right away? Absolutely not. It took a year and a half of rewriting, eliminating POVs, entering pitch contest after pitch contest, almost making it into #RevPit, editing and editing and editing, and sending it to multiple critique partners to get me to that point.

Above all else, it took a lot of teamwork.

I turned to Twitter with a fresh perspective on writing and publishing. I met some AMAZING people (you know who you are) who helped me see what could be better about my writing. And with their help, I found comfort and peace in who I was as an author, agented or not. Published or not. I knew that my stories mattered.

This book was my fifth book in ten years. And after over 50 queries, several full requests (and full rejections), I got that special email that we all hope to get. An agent wanted to call and talk about representation. I was beside myself. I cried. And I laughed. I felt all of the things that I had waited to feel for over a decade.

Eleven years of carrying a very specific dream had exhausted me, and in that singular moment, reading the words "I would love to schedule a call...", I was filled with new energy and new life and new hope.

Let me be clear: getting an agent is NOT the end-all-be-all of a publishing journey. Some writers' journeys don't even include getting an agent at all. But for me, it meant that my perseverance had paid off. I was doing it - I was achieving my goals. I was taking step after step towards reaching my dream.

I signed with Samantha Fabien at Root Lit in September of 2021. She was everything I ever wanted in an agent. She is everything I could ever want in an agent (and more).

And now, we are on sub, waiting to hear back from over a dozen editors - people who I never thought would actually hold my book in their digital hands and read the words that had come from my brain and my heart.

I don't think there is anything particularly special about my story of getting an agent. In fact, I think there are so many people out there with a story that looks something like mine. But I think it's important for writers to read about other writers failing. So much of what we see online is focused on the successes of others - and that's great and wonderful and I love seeing my fellow authors succeed. But it can also be disheartening because we are left wondering: when is it my turn? Or worse: will it ever be my turn?

The answer is yes. It will be. Whatever your goals are, whether they are to self-publish or find an agent or get an offer from an indie publisher, or even just to finish your current project - you're the only one who gets to determine if you'll reach them.

And I believe, like me, with some help, you will.