By Abbey MacMunn (Guest Blogger)
Hello! My name is Abbey MacMunn and I write fantasy/paranormal romance. I’m
a new author and I’d like to talk about my journey to publication.
I hope my story will inspire other writers too.
It's
the stuff dreams are made of, well, my dreams anyway.
Last
year, December 10th,
I was on Twitter and came across #SFFpit, a Twitter pitch party. For
those of you who don't know, a Twitter pitch party is where you
compile a tweet about your completed, polished, unpublished
manuscript in the hope of attracting an agent or publisher.
I’d
done Twitter pitch parties before, including #PitMad, so I had a few
pitches ready, but I wasn’t sure whether to pitch or not—after
all, this pitch party focused on science fiction and fantasy novels
and I had a paranormal/fantasy romance. So I read the guidelines and
yes, my book did fit into one of the categories. I also looked to see
which industry professionals were taking part and noticed a couple of
publishers and agents I wanted to submit to.
So
I went for it. I tweeted my pitch and waited to see if someone
favourited/liked my pitch. Going on my past experiences, I knew it
didn’t always happen, but I enjoy taking part. If nothing else,
I’ll know if my pitch is good or not, and I love reading all the
other pitches too, seeing which ones get a favourite and why, then
learning from them.
You
can probably guess I got a favourite. WHOOHOO! But hold on, I had to
do my research, make sure the person who liked my pitch was someone
I’d be happy to send my manuscript to. Another whoohoo! The
favourite came from an editor at Tirgearr Publishing, a publisher on
my submission list.
After
a sleepless night, I sent my manuscript and waited. And waited.
Anyone
who has submitted a manuscript will know the agony of waiting, the
obsessive checking of emails when you’ve finally plucked up the
courage to send your baby out into the big bad world.
So
while I was waiting, I sent out more submissions. Christmas came and
went. So did January.
I
got back a few standard ‘no thanks’ replies to my submissions,
but I was also getting a number of what I call positive rejections.
Rejections that were encouraging rather than disappointing. And I’d
had a ‘nearly but not quite’ rejection last year for another
submission, a sci fi romance. The editor there had been kind enough
to write a long, insightful email explaining the reasons why she
rejected it, so I’m rewriting that one based on her advice.
But
back to my journey to publication. I got impatient. Three months went
by and I’d heard nothing from several publishers and agents, so one
Friday afternoon, February 12th
to be precise, on the spur of the moment I decided to send a gentle
nudge.
Within
twenty minutes I got a reply from Tirgearr Publishing. ‘Yes, I’d
like to contract the manuscript.’
WHAT??
I
couldn’t believe it. I questioned it. It can’t be true. They’ve
sent the email to the wrong person, surely? My stomach churned, my
hands shook, I started to laugh.
Real
life took over. It was time for the school run. I couldn’t wipe the
ridiculous smile off my face as I picked up my kids. ‘Yes, I’d
like to contract the manuscript.’ Those seven words kept repeating
in my head. I must have looked like a mad woman, but I didn’t care.
I returned home to find another email—with the contract attached.
So
that’s how I got my publishing contract. My advice to aspiring
writers out there? Give it go. Take part in Twitter pitch parties,
you never know where it might lead. The next #SFFpit takes part on
23rd
June 2016 and there are plenty more throughout the year.
GO
ON, TRY IT!
~
Abbey x
When
inquisitive antique dealer Cami Wilson learns she’s the revered
offspring of an immortal mother and a mortal father, it’s not just
her hybrid status that has her all flustered. The title comes with
her very own super-sexy guardian.
Jaded
immortal Joseph Carlisle has only one thing on his mind; his sworn
duty to protect the hybrid from those who wish her harm. Anything
else would be complicated. That is until they meet.
Chemistry
sizzles between them but there’s a problem—the hybrid’s
curse. Cami’s touch, skin to skin, proves near fatal to her and all
immortals, Joseph included.
But
the fated lovers discover her curse is the least of their concerns
when a friend’s deadly betrayal threatens to tear them apart
forever.
Buy
links
He
might have just saved her life, but pinned to the freezing concrete
by some wannabe hero was not her idea of fun. Cami Wilson
shoved the unyielding wall of his chest, fighting not only him but
the rising panic. ‘Get the hell off me!’
The
guy remained on top of her, using his large frame to protect her from
the chunks of smouldering metal hurtling to the ground around her.
Icy air met with fiery heat and smoke infused the atmosphere like the
fifth of November, but there were no sparkling fireworks to admire,
only the flaming inferno, which seconds earlier had been her car.
Maybe
if she hadn’t been so intrigued by the antique brooch she held in
her hand or distracted by the weird, periodic buzzing emitting from
it, she might have seen him coming at her in full, rugby tackle mode.
He
lifted a little, easing the crushing pressure on her ribs, but
remained inches from her face. Glacier-blue eyes met hers,
captivating and intense. ‘Are you hurt?’
His
gravelly voice did something tingly to her insides. She went to
speak, but no words came. Nothing came to mind. Not the explosion.
Not the contents of her shopping trolley strewn all over Morrisons’
car park. Not the fact she could have been killed. Somehow, none of
it registered.
She
gawped back at him like a doe-eyed teenager, taking in the angular
sweep of a jawline peppered with dark stubble, and well-defined lips
that parted invitingly as he drew in his breath.
His
gaze lingered on her mouth in a breath-taking moment right out of one
of those soppy rom-coms she liked to watch.
Forget
burning cars and curious brooches… hel-lo, future husband.
Somewhere
to her left, an engine revved loudly, and he turned his head towards
the sound. Overlong, tousled hair tickled her cheek, and she got a
faint whiff of citrus shampoo.
Hmm,
lovely…
A
second later, his attention returned to her. His grave expression
burned with an urgency that brought her down from the clouds.
‘Dammit! I asked if you were hurt.’
‘No,
I…’
In
a move so swift it wasn’t humanly possible, he leapt to his feet
and hauled her up beside him. The brooch slipped from her gloved hand
and landed on the ground.
The
man cursed under his breath and stooped to retrieve it. With an
exasperated look, he waved it in front of her as though she were a
baby dropping her dummy for the hundredth time. ‘You need to take
more care of this. Don’t you know how important it is?’
Sudden
indignation flared. Cami snatched the jewel from his grasp and
slipped it back into her coat pocket. Okay, the guy rocked the sexy,
just-rolled-out-of-bed look, but his patronising attitude set her
teeth on edge. What right did he have to tell her what to do? And
what on Earth did he know about a weird, vibrating brooch she’d
been given by her adoptive mother, the only clue she had to her past?
About
Abbey
Abbey
MacMunn writes paranormal, fantasy and sci fi romance. She lives in
Hampshire, UK, with her husband and their four children. She is a
proud member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association.
When
she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows –
anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.
Website
and social media links:
