She was worth the risk ...

When you get an idea you believe in, you chase it with everything you've got

Ideas come from all sorts of places. The frayed pages of notebooks. The “Miscellaneous.doc” file on your desktop. Sometimes, even, a dream.

Mine came in the shower. Yes, the shower.

There I was, washing my hair, and I thought of that scene—you know the one—because ever since I watched it late at night with my mom in the 4th grade, sometimes when I showered, I did think of that scene. Of Marion.

But this time, it came with another thought:

What if things could somehow change? What if Marion didn’t have to die? What if she could turn the knife on her killer? What if her story didn’t end?

An idea like that sends your mind spinning. Your heart picking up a beat. It makes that little typewriter in your head start going double-time.

For me, I finished my shower, grabbed my laptop, and emailed my agent. Her response?

omfg!!!!

love it!!!

But there was something else, too. I knew deep down I needed to change publishers, and this was the idea with which to do it.

That meant risk. Lots of it.

It wasn’t an ideal time. I had two kids, one of them only six months old. My husband, who works in film production, had been in and out of work due to the writer’s strike. Oh yeah, and that newborn again. Not exactly a ton of free hours to write.

And yet …

I walked away.

From a deal. From money in the bank. From a publisher that wasn’t the right fit but was a respected, big-five player. From much-needed financial security. From a bird in the hand, a bird that had paid my bills for the last five years.

I walked away because I knew that this book could be more. I knew that this story, if I could only find the time to get it onto paper, could maybe even be something big.

All last year, when I’d tell people what was going on with me, they’d ask me what it meant to change publishers. Would I just pick someone else? Interview like any other job? The answer is no. There’s an incredible amount of risk. There is no guarantee, when you step away, that anyone will buy your next book.

Publishing is complicated and fickle, and it’s about sales numbers and track records and social media followings, and there are a million reasons for a house or an imprint to say no, so few to say yes.

But I believed in this idea. I believed in my writing. I believed in me. I believed in Marion! And every single woman who gets killed off at the beginning of a movie. I believed it was her turn to have a voice.

I wrote it frantically, during nap times and early mornings. At coffee shops and at the kitchen table, my then-four-year-old singing Let it Go in the background. I wrote it, and then I sent it to my agent, and she liked it, and at the end of last year, just a couple of days before our first-ever family vacation, we went out wide. We submitted it to a whole slate of new publishers.

I’d like to say I knew what would happen. I’d love to tell you I never doubted. But I was scared. I had no Plan B. No solution if it didn’t work out. No other way to pay my rent, to save for my children’s college funds, to put food on the table. I put all my eggs in this twisty basket basked borne of random shower musings and hoped it would work out.

The response was quick; the response was wonderful.

Five publishers interested. A slate of phone calls scheduled. The news delivered to me while I was standing in a corner of Disney World, the baby napping in the stroller, the now-five-year-old buying Minnie Mouse ears with my husband in a shop. People loved this story as much as I did. People wanted this book.

I had all the calls. I loved all the editors. I appreciated every single person who took the time to tell me how much they connected with this story. And then it sold, for more than I’d ever sold a book before. It sold to the editor I’d connected with the most. To the one you knew exactly how to make this story even stronger.

It’s really happening, I texted my closest writer friend. It’s. Really. Happening.

Today, we announced Marion to the world. Here’s the snippet from Publisher’s Marketplace. But the snippet can’t say all that went into it, all the risk, all the fear, all the excitement, all the rewards.

So here’s to taking risks. Here’s to believing in yourself. Here’s to the big ideas that get their hooks into you. And here’s to chasing them.

Happy writing, and happy risk-taking—

Leah