Chapter 25 #2
My phone beeps with yet another new email.
I’ve been getting so many. Most of them are from people reaching out to tell me their personal experience with bullies, and some have been from other news sites, asking me if I’d be interested in writing an op-ed for them.
They’re all emails I have loved receiving, so every time I hear the beep of an email, I get a little shot of endorphins.
But now, the shot of endorphins is much bigger than the usual one.
Because the email is from Haven’s ex-agent.
Dear Fern,
Let me introduce myself. I’m Rachel. I used to represent Haven Lee.
Since your op-ed came out, I have parted ways with Haven.
I have been in long discussions with my colleagues.
What you wrote was incredibly powerful. I really admire your courage in sharing your story as well as your unflinching honesty.
You didn’t hold back. You showed us everything, warts and all, and I think that’s why the piece was so successful.
You have a gift, and that gift is writing the truth.
This op-ed deserves to be a book. It is going to change many lives, and that is not an exaggeration.
Everyone has been treated badly at some point in their lives.
Many people are currently going through abuse like this.
This topic is timely and relevant and I have no doubt that your book will find a good home.
You have an amazing voice for writing nonfiction, and I would love to be your champion who will take your book to publishers and negotiate the best possible deal on your behalf.
Let’s set up a Zoom call to chat. I look forward to hearing from you.
Warmest regards,
Rachel
For a while, the email leaves me speechless.
Or rather, thought-less? I merely sit there and try to digest what I’ve just read.
I go back to “Dear Fern” and start over.
Oh my god. Is this real? Did Rachel Reed just offer to represent me?
The Rachel Reed? The Rachel Reed whose client list includes actual celebrities and authors whose books have been on the New York Times bestseller list for years?
I log on to Publishers Marketplace and look her up, and yep, she’s made eleven deals this year alone, and not a single one was below six figures.
In fact, only two of them are below “significant,” and out of the remaining nine, four were for “major deals.” In the previous year, she made fifteen deals, and again, they are all above six figures.
This agent is nothing like Poppy. Rachel Reed is in the big leagues. And she wants to represent me.
I start drafting a reply immediately, though it takes me over an hour to settle on a message with what I deem the appropriate tone.
As I delete and rewrite my message over and over again, I find myself thinking: I should go to the private chat and ask Lisa and Jenna to help me draft it!
Then I remember that I am no longer in the Slack group. Oh well.
Dear Rachel,
Thank you so much for your email! I really appreciate your kind words. It means a lot to me that you understand where I’m coming from. I would love to talk to you over Zoom. Please let me know when you are available.
Best wishes,
Fern
Short and sweet. I send it off and flop back onto my bed, grinning wide.
Never in a million years would I have ever thought that a superstar agent like Rachel would reach out to me to offer representation.
Not me, quiet, mousy Fern Huang. But that’s just it, isn’t it?
I am no longer quiet or mousy. I have made my voice heard, and I’m only now finding out that people like what I have to say.
I’m still deep in my thoughts when my phone beeps.
When I tap on the email, I find a link to a Zoom meeting.
Oh my god. She wants to talk right now. I jump up and hurry to the mirror.
I check my teeth to make sure there’s nothing stuck on them, then I quickly brush my hair.
Fortunately, I’m wearing a plain black shirt, so I don’t have to change out of it.
Having made myself somewhat presentable, I click on the link and log on to the meeting.
“Hi, Fern!” Rachel says. To my relief, she’s dressed casually as well, wearing a sweater with her hair tied up in a messy bun and reading glasses sitting atop her head.
“I was hoping I could catch you right now. Sorry, I know I didn’t give you much of a heads-up, but I am just so excited to speak to you. ”
Rachel Reed is excited to speak to me? “Oh, no worries!” I squeak. “I’m really excited too!” Okay, tone it down.
“Well, like I said in my email, you have such an amazing voice. It’s so relatable, Fern, did anyone tell you that?”
“Um, a few people did, yes.” I giggle. Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I just giggled to Rachel Reed.
She doesn’t seem to mind. “Well, I’m glad they did, because ah, your voice!
” She kisses the tips of her fingers. “Let me tell you, nonfiction is a toughie. People think fiction is tough, but nonfiction is next to impossible to get just right. Well, that’s my opinion, anyway,” she adds.
“So when I came across your op-ed, I just knew. You are that one-in-a-million writer that we’re always dreaming of.
Do you have any thoughts or plans to expand your piece into a book? Tell me your ideas.”
Oh no. What ideas? I want to cry. I haven’t had any time at all to prepare a pitch.
And for a nonfiction book, no less. I’m a fiction writer, I wail inwardly.
Then, just as I’m about to descend into a spiral, my mouth opens.
“Well, to be honest with you, until you suggested it in your lovely email, I haven’t thought of the possibility of turning it into a book, no.
But,” I add quickly, “as soon as I read your message, I was filled with so many ideas about how I could do so. I think there are so many themes to explore here, and obviously the main thrust of the book would be about mental health and my journey to learn how to accept myself.”
“I love the sound of that,” Rachel says.
“Yes, mental health. That is so timely, especially with how bad it’s become for so many people right now.
I mean, we’re all going crazy locked up in our homes.
” She chuckles, and I laugh along with her, and wow, I am having an actual conversation with Rachel Reed.
“I love that. I presume you’ve saved all of your journals from school? ”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Amazing. I was thinking, you know what we could do? Maybe start each chapter with a photo of one of your journal entries. I mean, my god, that journal entry about the hissing cockroaches? Fern, my heart stopped when I read that. And it was even more visceral because it was handwritten in a teen’s journal.
I could almost see you writing it after that horrible thing happened, and I just wanted to reach out and give you the biggest hug.
I think that was what won a lot of people over. ”
I can only manage a small nod. Hearing these words is so beautiful and so empowering.
“So each chapter will start with a journal entry, and hopefully we can come up with a theme for each one. I’m thinking the cockroach one can be about public humiliation maybe, or ooh, a form of gaslighting?
We can brainstorm on the themes. Sorry, I was so excited to jump right in with your book that I forgot to tell you a little bit about myself and the agency. ”
For the next few minutes, I listen, enthralled, as Rachel tells me about her work experience and how their agency is run.
It all sounds amazingly professional, and I can see why Rachel is always hitting her marks.
She’s incredibly well spoken and confident without being arrogant, and she’s obviously knowledgeable and well connected.
If I hadn’t been convinced before, I certainly am now.
“So what I think we should do is we need to come up with a submission package for the book. Usually, for nonfiction books this is the first three chapters plus a chapter outline. But since you have the op-ed, we can use that instead of chapters, so all you need to work on right now is a chapter outline. Does that sound good to you?”
I nod firmly. “Yes, I’m so excited.”
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! I’m so excited too. I haven’t been this excited in a long time, I can tell you that much. I’ll send along our agency agreement later today. Look it over, and if everything looks good, we’ll make this partnership official.” Rachel beams at me, and I grin back.
I actually skip around the room like a little kid when we end the call.
I’m going to be represented by Rachel Reed!
I’m going to have a nonfiction book! Okay, never mind, I know better by now than to count my chickens, et cetera, and I shouldn’t celebrate the book before I sell it.
But still, even though logically I know that, it’s hard to keep my joy contained.
What a turn of events. I have to believe that the universe is sending me a message at this point.
I mean, to get not just an agent, but Haven’s ex-agent?
In a way, one could say that I took Haven’s agent from her.
The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t decide if it’s a good shiver or a bad one, because yes, part of me feels bad when I look at it that way, but part of me also feels really good about it.