Finding an Agent and Publication (Much) Sooner Than Expected

To the dismay of my chiropractor, I wrote Wildflower sitting cross-legged on the floor, having not yet purchased a desk and chair. It was early 2023, and after a few years of Covid-induced stress that I’m sure was familiar to many, I’d just moved into a newer, much cleaner, and much quieter apartment. The fog in my mind was finally clearing up enough to daydream, and my creativity was returning—as was my ability to travel, and after a spontaneous trip to LA and Vancouver, I was alive with new ideas.

(How I Became a 10-Year Overnight Success Story.)

My earliest “what if?” was considering not the happily-ever-after of the main characters we often see in fairytales, but the best friend. How would you feel if your best friend married the prince of their dreams—and how would your relationship dynamic change? Where would you fit in their new life? This was the beginning of Wildflower, and soon after, I’d created the complicated square of Fliss-Card-Will-Bash. Seeing the potential in Fliss falling for an outcast that her best friend’s fiance was feuding with was just riveting.

I am not the type of person who enjoys things casually. I get obsessed, consumed, and my enthusiasm for Wildflower was no exception. I began to write on every single day off, starting my day slowly with breakfast and a YouTube video, and then sitting on the floor with my laptop for the rest of the day—until the sun had set and the grumble in my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t moved or eaten in a long time. It wasn’t the healthiest and I don’t recommend it (please take breaks!), but it’s precisely what helped me find my way back to myself after a few years of overstimulating reality.

And I loved it.

I loved every moment spent in that world. I loved finding flowers with Fliss. I loved falling for Will. I loved becoming friends with Pigeon. It’s true to say that Wildflower healed something in me. I was writing a story that was just for me, with the type characters I wished to see more of (my stalwart defense of soft and kind main characters like Snow White is an essay in itself…), all surrounded by magic and romance and adventure and queer acceptance.

I finished my first draft in just a few months, tallying up my writing days by drawing a flower in my diary. Then, I sent it to my old university tutor who wrote me an editorial report and gave me encouragement and compliments I am endlessly grateful for. And in early 2024, it was time. The manuscript was in a place I felt ready to query with. I hadn’t written the draft in order to query—that was not the purpose of my writing process, but rather a natural next step. A test of the waters.

So, in my typically comprehensive workstyle, I made spreadsheets of agents, researched their requests and values, narrowed them down to around a dozen, and then spent a day with a friend in a park coming up with the perfect two-sentence pitch to include. I sent my queries off on a Monday afternoon with the mindset that it was probably going to be my first attempt of many at this. I was armed with anecdotal evidence that these things take months, years, and was given advice to not be disheartened by the number of rejections I will surely receive. That is the way. That is what I expected.

That is not what happened.

The very next day at around midday, I opened my email app to find something in my inbox. I thought it was another automatic reply confirming the deliverance of my query. In fact, it was my now-agent asking for the full manuscript. In less than 24 hours after querying! Naturally, I freaked out and couldn’t wait to get home from work that day to reply. And within two weeks, I was officially represented.

My two-book deal was offered a few months later while I was at Tokyo Disneyland with my mum—an offer which was almost halted by the tense 10-minute period where I lost my phone, but luckily, thanks to the magic of Disney, it had been handed in. In the place where dreams come true, my own was beginning.

Since then, there have been times when I felt like things were moving too fast, and times when I had to remind myself to be patient. I’ve met the most incredible people who support this book—and me—with an outpouring of love I’ve never been the recipient of before. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the acceptance of the queer nature of Wildflower and never once been told to tone it down. I’ve squealed at every stage of the cover and map illustrations, and teared up at heartfelt early reader reviews. This is a book I believe in, and throughout my journey to publication, I’ve seen over and over that others do too.

My view is that if you write something you are passionate about, truly, to its core, other people will connect with your work. I honestly adored writing Wildflower, and hope that readers will enjoy their time with Fliss and Will—or at least find it a safe and satisfying escape from reality. And if it heals something within a single reader, I consider that the greatest honor of my life.

As for now, both my chiropractor and my back can breathe a sigh of relief that I’ve finally upgraded to a desk to write my second book, but the floor will always have a fond place in my heart.

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