Category: What I’m Writing

So much curriculum writing this summer, right? Unfortunately, that doesn’t leave me much time for my actual fun, fiction writing. Fortunately, I am one of those strange people who loves writing curriculum. Good thing I’m in the education profession, right? After my first son was born, writing middle school language arts curriculum was my part-time, work-from-home job.

I had taken three full semesters off from the community college where I teach to deal with some health issues. (Public Service Announcement: Lyme disease is real and unpleasant. Always check for ticks after you spend time in a wooded area.) This upcoming semester I will be teaching EN101, online, as a seven-week course.

Teaching at a community college is equal parts difficult and rewarding. It’s rewarding to offer classes to the general community, those that aren’t necessarily college-bound, those that didn’t graduate with a high (or even decent) GPA.Those that can count the number of positive memories or academic success stories from high school on one hand. But that’s also the reason it can be difficult; often my students are juggling many other things outside my classroom. Jobs (some of them full-time). Families. Low income lives that have them in affordable housing many miles outside of town with cars that barely run and sometimes don’t start at all. In the seated classroom, regular attendance is difficult. Even with an online class, consistently meeting the demands of weekly deadlines can just be too much. It is typical in my EN101 classes to begin the semester with 25 students…and end up with 17 at the end of the semester.

Now I’ve been challenged to take my typical 15 week class and smush it down into a mere 7 weeks. And it’s not as easy as simply doubling up the workload. Writing is a process, takes time, has necessary steps. In my previous EN101 classes, the research essay took 4-5 weeks. And I needed every one of those steps, those individual deadlines to walk them through the process: choosing a topic, evaluating sources, creating a thesis, performing research, crafting a rough draft, working through revision, submitting a final draft. Currently I’m scratching my head at how that entire process can be condensed to 2-3 weeks.

In my 25 years of teaching, I have come to understand writing as a process so much more than simply a product. But grades and report cards and state standards and limited time force writing as a product to take precedence. I have fought it as much as I can in my own collegiate classroom, but in only seven weeks, I’m not sure how much space there is for any process at all. I fear my semester will be one of writing a draft, offering a quick revision and submitting a final draft.

That brings me back to the current moment: attempting to plan a 7-week EN101 course which is meaningful and engaging and doesn’t overwhelm my community college students to the point where most of them find they have no choice but to drop out.

Wish me luck.

LMWP Summer Camp

For the past few weeks I have been writing curriculum for one of my favorite weeks of the summer, the LMWP summer writing camp.

I have been a member of the Lake Michigan Writing Project (affectionately known by us insiders as LMWP), which is a chapter of the National Writing Project. The LMWP serves to provide a community and professional development opportunities for teacher-writers to grow in both areas of their world.

I’ve led LMWP summer camps for nearly a decade, first with middle schoolers in grades 6–8. More recently, I’ve been working with a younger group—rising 3rd through 5th graders. My co-teacher and I, both more experienced with older students (she teaches AP at Hamilton High), walk into the week with what we call “organized chaos” and a healthy dose of humility. We fake it ’til we make it, and somehow it always works.

What I love most about this week is that all the writing stakes are off—for the kids and for us. In schools today, writing has become a high-pressure subject. From an early age, students are taught that the final product is what matters most. Rarely do they get the chance to enjoy the process or discover who they are as writers. Writing is graded, and grades quickly become labels.

By time they arrive in my Developmental English class at the college where I teach, most of them tell me the same thing on the first day: “I’m not good at writing.” When I push back and ask them to tell me how they know, they refer to low grades or negative comments from previous teachers. But none of them actually know if they’re “bad” writers, and as I find in my class over the course of the semester, it’s not true. They’re not bad writers. Perhaps a bit unpolished, most lacking in confidence.

Historically, writing has been a form of punishment. Staying in at recess to write lines, writing forced apology notes. That’s a quick way to strip the joy out of it. It’s similar to how making a kid run laps can take the joy out of running.

On the fourth Friday of each month, I offer a writing prompt or a story starter. And I wonder how many of my readers actually take me up on my invitation. I often wonder how many of you actually write from them—or if not from those, how many of you carve out space for writing at all. I wonder how many of you find joy in writing. In the simplicity of putting thoughts on paper. In the beauty of creating a word or phrase that sings to the ear or resonates with the soul.

I don’t expect the twenty campers I’ll teach this summer to all become lifelong writers. A few show up for the wrong reasons—one was sent because she got in trouble at home. Another came “to become a better speller.” (Spoiler: we don’t do spelling lists.) But most of them will walk in on Monday morning with a new pen and a hope that writing can be fun again—light, expressive, and pressure-free.

Just the way it should be.

I’ve finished my manuscript. I’ve had it read by a test audience and made significant revisions based on their feedback. I’ve launched a website, started a newsletter (hello!), and gathered nearly 300 subscribers. I just wrapped up my book proposal.

So… I should be all set to publish now, right?

Unfortunately, no. Traditional publication contracts are only made these days through a literary agent. And as of the writing of this newsletter, I do not have one. And in order to get one, I have to send out query letters—essentially, carefully crafted pitches that ask an agent to represent me and my novel..

There are over 1,000 literary agents in the United States, which might sound encouraging at first. But once I narrow the field to those who represent middle grade fiction (my novel’s category), the list shrinks dramatically. Many agents focus on adult fiction, and quite a few work with picture books. Middle grade and young adult literature often sit in the “forgotten middle”—another reason I feel so passionately about writing for this age group. This is one of the reasons I so passionately want to write for this age group, since I believe they should be offered quality literature which is neither below their reading level nor too adultish in their topics.

My number of potential agents is further reduced when I check the “accepting query letters” button. It turns out that many agents receive more query letters than they can handle, so they often close their own submission page to new applicants.

Of those still open, each has specific guidelines: some want queries emailed with no attachments, others prefer online submission forms; some request only a letter, while others want the first 5, 10, or even 50 pages of the manuscript included.

The query letter itself is fairly standard: a brief description of the novel (title, genre, word count), a one-paragraph plot summary (think back-cover blurb—teaser + summary), and a short author bio that includes credentials or relevant experience. This is also the moment to name-drop any noteworthy mentors, editors, or writing-related accomplishments.

The challenge, of course, is standing out. With dozens (if not hundreds) of submissions pouring in on a regular basis, how does one letter rise above the rest? What is the magical term, characteristic, plot detail, name that gets you noticed?

I don’t know yet. But I’m trying.

Since I had never sent out query letters before, I asked the internet how many queries a new author should send out. The consensus seemed to be that new authors should send around 30 query letters—enough to reach a diverse group of agents with a differing level of interest and amount of availability. However, more than 30 was noted as unnecessary. As one agent put it, if you’ve been denied by 30 agents, you might need to step back and reevaluate your project.

I recently finished sending my 30th query letter. Agents typically take anywhere from 2 to 12 weeks to respond—if they respond at all. Many say, “If you don’t hear from us, assume it’s a no.”

So now I wait.

Fingers crossed that one amongst the 30 notices my letter, finds something special in my synopsis, believes my novel to be a worthy publication.
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If no agents accept me, I might send out a second round of query letters or I might consider taking the self-publication route. It’s quite common these days and is months faster than traditional publication.
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But I’m not crossing that road yet.

For now, I’m holding out hope for one small “yes” in a sea of “no.”

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had a different idea in mind for this month’s “What I’m Writing” update. But if I’m being honest with you, there’s really only one thing consuming my writing life right now—and that’s my book proposal.

What’s a book proposal? Good question. It’s the same one I asked last November when I was told I needed one.

After some panicked Googling, I learned that a book proposal is basically a detailed pitch an author writes to show an agent (and eventually a publisher) exactly what their book is, who it’s for, and—most importantly—why it will sell. Most writers craft their proposals early on in the writing process. Me? I finished the manuscript first and then circled back to the proposal. Not the typical path, but then again, not much about this journey has followed a straight line.

Here’s the surprising part: most of the proposal isn’t about the book itself. My current draft is about 7,500 words long (that’s 30 pages!) and only 2,500 of those words are actually a sample from my novel. The rest? It’s all about marketing.

Let me give you a peek behind the curtain:

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📚 What’s in a Book Proposal

🔹 Book Hook & Summary First up is the “hook”—a one-sentence pitch that captures the heart of the story, introduces conflict, and makes readers (and hopefully publishers) want more. Here’s my current version:

“In the wake of her mother’s sudden death, 14-year-old aspiring writer Lily grapples with grief-induced writer’s block, only to uncover an untold secret from her mom’s past that could either break her or reignite her passion for words.”

This is followed by a longer, multi-paragraph plot summary that walks the reader through the story’s arc, tone, and emotional stakes.

🔹 Comparative Titles Next, I read 5–7 books similar to mine (in terms of genre, age group, and themes) and wrote short analyses of each—highlighting why these books sold well and how mine offers something fresh. Think: “the same but different.”

🔹 Platform & Network Reach Here, I share details about my personal network, professional connections, and public platforms—any way I might help promote the book once it’s published. From school visits to social media, publishers want to know who’s in your corner.

🔹 Launch & Marketing Plan Finally, I outline what I plan to do to help launch this book into the world. For me, that means writing a middle school unit plan, creating book club questions, and showing I’m ready to partner with publishers to get the word out.

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So there you have it—Book Proposal 101. It’s not glamorous, but it’s necessary. And I’m deep in revision #3, aiming to wrap it up by the end of May. My goal is to finish my book proposal (I’m on my third major revision) in May and find my agent. From there, we send my book proposal out to publication companies and hope for a contract.

Fingers crossed. And as always—stay tuned.

My workstation, where chaos and creativity collide

(note super-helpful emotional support dog in the background)

My Unexpected Writing Detour

My journey as a pre-published author has been a wild one. Every time I connect with someone in the writing, editing, or publishing industry, they are kind and supportive. However, lately, every conversation about my novel seems to end with a big “But…” or “Before you publish, you should…”

It reminds me of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie—that comical picture book where one simple task spirals into an endless chain of unexpected chain of events and activities, ultimately complicating this simple task and almost rendering it impossible.

That’s exactly how my life has felt lately. Each new suggestion or requirement pulls me further off my original path, making publication feel both thrilling and exhausting (much more on this in a later post).

One request, however, felt doable: creating a “pre-publication piece.”

What is a Pre-Publication Piece?

Essentially, it’s a way to build excitement before my book’s official release—a teaser to generate interest and maybe attract a few new readers. Many authors write a novella or a prequel, but I didn’t feel there was a story worth telling before Chapter One of my novel. So, I took a different approach.

A Funeral Home Short Story Collection

When I talk about my book, people are most intrigued by the father’s role as a funeral director. That curiosity sparked an idea: instead of a novella, why not a collection of short stories centered around a funeral home?

For three days in early March, I locked myself away at Michigan State University (yes, even though I bleed maize and blue for the University of Michigan, their instate rival). I told my husband my goal was to write 10,000 words in those 72 hours. But with no distractions—just me and my laptop—I surprised myself by writing 25,000 words.

By the time I left East Lansing, I had a complete first draft of my short story collection.

Perhaps I’ll pre-release one of the stories in a future newsletter or on my website. But for now, here’s a sneak peek at the titles:

• The Stolen Flowers​
• The Secret Room​
• The Unknown Mourner​
• The Last Goodbye​
• The Tense Reunion​
• The Call from the Casket