My First Sale. . . seems like it was yesterday!

My first book. Rapture's Ransom. Yes, I know, I've cringed at that title for more than two decades. I was first published in the era when historical romances had to have one of the "magic" words in the title: rapture, ecstacy, passion, or love. At least for many publishers.

Let me take you in the "way back" machine to the early 80's. Romance was booming, everybody was getting published (or so it seemed), and everywhere you went, you saw racks of paperbacks: gas stations, drug stores, supermarkets, restaurants, truck stops, and even hardware stores.

I started writing when a friend gave me a copy of Kathleen Woodiwiss's "Shana." (Interestingly, I had read a book by Frank Yerby years before ("Lord Johnny") with a similar plot.) At first I dragged my feet about reading the book; it just wasn't my cup of tea. But I knew my friend would ask AGAIN if I had read it and I was desperate for some diversion. (I had a five year old with a broken foot.) So I picked it up and by page 75 I was hooked. When I finished the book I went back to the start and read it again. The whole thing. Then I headed for one of the paperback "racks" and picked up another historical romance. . . and started to have some prime fantasies of my own.

One fantasy kept going around and around in my head: a handome hunk would kidnap me and make love to me every day until I lost 40 pounds. Yeah, I know. Everybody has that fantasy. Anyway, one day I got a yellow legal pad and started to write it down. Forty or fifty legal pads later, I had a book. And I had to learn to type in order to put it into legible form. I sent it to my sister, who had a subscription to The Writer magazine, and she encouraged me to submit it. . . even sent me a list of publishers names and addresses.

I chose four and sent out a letter and a sample of my manuscript. Chapters 3 and 4. Hey, they said "sample" and nobody told me they had to be the FIRST chapters. I knew nothing about publishing. I didn't even know anybody who had published a book.

Believe it or not, one of the houses asked to see the whole manuscript. I sent it and waited 6 months. I finally got up the nerve to call and got-- the janitor. The publisher had gone bankrupt and the printer had seized the assets! I have no clue what happened to that manuscript. For years my nightmare was that somebody pulled it out of a dumpster in New York, put their name on it, and sold a million. FYI-- I no longer have that nightmare. I don't think anybody else would have wanted to put their name on it!

My sister sent me another list of publishers and I sent it out to 13 more houses. That made 17 altogether! I made a chart to keep track of my submissions. 12 more rejections came back. . . #13 asked for the completed manuscript. I sent it and waited again.

About six weeks later, I got a telegram asking me to call the publisher to speak to an editor about my manuscript. I couldn't believe it. I called the next day from work and she made me an offer over the phone. I was terrified to let her off the phone without saying yes-- so I said yes! Pitiful advance. Just pitiful. But to me it was just a thrill to know that I'd be seeing my words in print and my name on a book jacket. I had to do a few revisions. . . which I did in record time. And then I settled in to wait for publication.

Then I got a one line letter from the editor saying that my book "Destiny's Choice" had been retitled, "Rapture's Ransom." ACKKKK! Ptooey! I hated the name, but when the cover came with my name on it. . . yes, in teeny tiny white letters. . . I forgave the indignity.

I didn't tell anyone-- except my family-- that I had written and sold a book. I was delighted when it came out and I got author copies. I just loved having this "secret writing life." And as soon as I could, I started on another idea. I wrote that 2nd whole book before submitting it. I didn't know you could sell a book "on proposal." I didn't know you could "negotiate" for money. I was a lamb waiting to be fleeced. And I was.

But I kept writing.

It took another two years before a friend mentioned seeing in the paper a meeting of romance writers. . . the RWA National Conference. It was too late to attend, but I got contact information and the week after the conference, I called Susan Johnson. . . who graciously invited me to a chapter meeting. I had published two books by then, but felt like a complete newbie. Everybody knew more about the business than I did.

Since then I've worked for four publishers-- five now, with Harlequin-- and probably a dozen editors. Through it all, I've met the most wonderful women. . . creative, generous, open-hearted women. . . smart, savvy, intelligent women. . . women I am honored to say I'm writing in the same genre with.

And I've had two young women tell me they named their daughters after my heroines. Now that's humbling.

Through all of this what have I learned? Persistence pays. Almost nothing else does. If you fall on your face or your rear: get up, dust yourself off, and try again. And I've learned that I probably do better when I have to "earn" my way along. Instant success might have made me a one-book-wonder. Having time to develop my voice and style was a blessing-- even though it didn't seem like that at the time.

I'm turning a new page-- writing a historical for Blaze and planning my first contemporary. I've written a small non-fiction book that's out for consideration right now and I'm working on two larger pieces-- one a paranormal and the other a women's fiction. You just never know what's around the bend, folks. It pays to be open to all kinds of possibilities.

Oh, and I did meet Kathleen Woodiwiss later, at an Avon party in Minneapolis. She was warm and gracious and lovely-- and I did a fangirl "Oh, I love your books so much; you inspired me to write" number on her. She didn't even flinch.

So, does my story ring any bells for you? Have you ever gone all "fangirl" on an author you admire? If you write, how do you handle success? Does it make writing easier or harder for you? What is your definition of success these days?