07.26.25 [on the F train]

yesterday i turned in an author's note and a new draft of the book i'm writing, internets! i am writing a book and i'm pretty proud of it so far! this progress doesn't mean much in practice to people who aren't me, since my potential editor has yet to present it to her acquisitions team and who knows what they'll think, but the vibe i get from her (and sometimes my vibe-based predictions bear out, it's technically possible) is a good one, and the last time we had a zoom call she said she thought we might be ready to present after this draft, maybe. i addressed her notes diligently, and gave her a version that's nearly twice as long as the previous one and full of the stage directions and hijinks she requested; assuming this is all material we can shape and shape as we go and she's not likely to announce that she hates my face and wants nothing more to do with me, it seems like good things are happening? the x factor now is how she will respond to the revelation (and it will be a revelation, we haven't talked much on this to date) that i must work with my sister as my illustrator-partner. this has become more and more apparent to me as i write and talk with people about the project, of course it has; at first i fixated on what a fellow clinic escort who happens to be a children's book agent(!) that i met like two years ago told me about how writers and illustrators almost never come as a package deal, it's standard practice unless you're some crazy-famous pair for a publisher to accept your manuscript and then look to their own contact list for the second half of the book. but we are a writer-illustrator rather than a pair of nobodies, you see; the idea of handing off my baby and waiting to see if it finds a proper life partner has never sat right with me, this story has a million little fiddly parts that an artist needs to have in mind to get it right. filing text and then just trusting that to fate is nonsensical. jo created our wedding art, she created the portrait of chuck that's on my back forever, and i can't imagine anyone but her telling this story with me; i also can't imagine cannonballing into a subcareer as a children's author without her as my partner. our artist mother was our first teacher (not a metaphor, she came in to teach at our elementary schools); we've been absorbing the world in tandem all our lives, and we share an imagery set that we're already referencing explicitly as we plan out how to make the book-folks see what's plain to us. we want to make a new, magical thing together, and i'm so nervous that being honest about what i want will cost me what feels in my shakiest moments like conditional approval from the powers that be, but what if everyone isn't telling me they like my story just to be nice? what if it's finally time to stop being the formerly precocious child who gets bored and gives up on things when they get difficult and actually fights for something wonderful? what if we had the confidence of a mediocre white man?! poor joe is already reeling from how much i've had to hype myself up to keep going with this, and i think he too is a little afraid that my insisting on working with my sister could cost me everything when it comes to this publisher, but if i let myself be intimidated and don't push for what i know i need to be great then it's cost everything already, right? when did i turn into a motivational poster? watch this space.