Dumelang (hello),

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If you are receiving this quarterly newsletter for the first time, welcome.

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In case you noticed the date at the top, it’s not a mistake. I had planned to send this out earlier, but I’ve been feeling sluggish this past week. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’ve hit the trough of my energy cycle after pushing hard for the last three months. It’s been a good quarter—though challenging at times—and filled with lots and lots (and lots) of editing.

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As mentioned in the last newsletter, after the Reese's Book Club LitUp Retreat in Nashville, the three months from July to September were dedicated to editing our manuscripts with help from our assigned mentors. I am so grateful these months fell over the US summer school holidays because—though I believe that if something needs to be done, even if a way is not immediately obvious, there is always a way—I would have 'cooked and burned' trying to get the edits done if the kids were home early from school with homework, soccer practice, and everything else in the midst of it all. As part of LitUp, we were given a stipend to allow us to take time off work (if necessary) so we could focus on editing. In my case, that money allowed me to enroll three very active boys in a two-month, all-day summer sports camp that they loved so much that they’re still talking about it to this day. They complained every time I picked them up 'early' (which I never did), but because the coach was generous enough to keep the kids slightly over time, it meant I had plenty of hours to grind out the first of two edits I was to submit to my wonderful mentor, Crystal Smith Paul.

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1. "REVISION IS THE TRUE MEASURE OF A WRITER."

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...said Dhonielle Clayton, one of our four amazing coaches at the LitUp Retreat, as she guided us through one of various approaches to editing a novel. She went on to ask, "Can you rebuild the house you've built without falling apart?" (I’m paraphrasing a little.) Can I? Well, uhm... yes, with lots of sweat, coffee, prayer, and an occasional urge to cry. lol.

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In my tendency to overwrite, I took my then 120K-word novel (post-LitUp Retreat) and, with edit notes from my mentor (who had some plot suggestions to strengthen the story further), ended up increasing the manuscript to 126K words when I returned it to her for a second read.

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Gracious and generous as she is, she read the first part of the story, paused, and reached out to me with, "Hey, I want you to cut your words to 110,000." And when she saw the look of near despair on my face, she added, "I know you can do it!" I’m so grateful for the challenge because, though I love words—and lots of them—this challenge was so pivotal in teaching me the art of writing succinctly, saying more with less when necessary.

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Did I mention that I love editing? Well, I do. What I love about editing is that it’s such a layered process, and one must never attempt to address all the layers at once because ‘overwhelm’ will happen. Knowing this and focusing solely on tightening the manuscript (rather than addressing the storyline), I began to clearly understand what Crystal was getting at. I saw sneaky repetitions, unnecessary elements, and spots where I’d over-explained things—born from insecurity, perhaps, that readers wouldn’t grasp point X the first time I mentioned it.

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When these realizations hit, I smile and rediscover my love for editing. There’s a clarity that comes with it: indeed, writing IS editing. The first draft is just a tentative marking of an untrodden road, but the subsequent drafts—1, 2, 3, 4, etc.—are the deliberate treading of that path or another subsequently discovered to be better until it’s fully established. It’s during the editing process that you truly meet your story. What was once just an acquaintance becomes a dear friend, one with whom you’ve laughed, cried, and travelled.

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2. SO, WHAT NEXT?

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This past Monday, September 30th, was the deadline for submitting our agent packages (i.e., query letter and the first 20 pages of our manuscript), which will be forwarded in the coming days to nearly 50 agents participating in the LitUp program this year. The program aims to bring to market untold stories from historically underrepresented groups—those who haven’t had the same access or recognition as others benefiting from the status quo in publishing.

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I was very excited to see agents representing authors whose books I’ve read never imagining I’d have this kind of opportunity. Books like Behold the Dreamer by Imbolo Mbue (which I recommended in the first newsletter) and Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi (which my book club read way back).

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As we were reminded at the LitUp retreat, while writing is an art, publishing is a business. So, as I approach this next phase, I know I’ll need to draw on my professional experience in finance as well as my community to help navigate the process of finding the right agent—someone who’ll be the perfect partner for my writing career.

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Once the agents receive our package, they have two weeks to express interest in reading the full manuscript. Outside of LitUp, this process can typically take up to 8 weeks or more. After the manuscripts are read, the next step—hopefully—is receiving offers for representation. At that point, we’d meet prospective agents and interview each other to see if we’re a good fit.

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I hope to have some exciting news to share in the next newsletter (like, OMG, I have an agent!). Of course, that would mean I’d be back to editing, as good agents (I am told) often have their own suggestions to prepare the book for submission to publishers.

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That’s it for now!

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Thank you for bearing witness to my writing journey.

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A strange love story (pitting two best friends against each other) and intrigue follow, along with an unlikely friendship between unequals—yet equal in many ways, and sufficient to momentarily banish that loneliness. More importantly, it returns Margaret's humanity to her, allowing her to find herself and, through her talent for art, chart a mystical future. At its core, the novel addresses racial injustice and prejudice, exploring how traditional intolerance can render entire sections of society untouchable. But it also shows how courage—and a kind of selfishness that benefits more than just the self—can lift up those who have been dehumanized. This book, very short at less than 100 pages, felt at times magical. The prose is both rich and poetic, and the true joy lies in reaching the end, only to realize you must reread the beginning—because the beginning is.... okay, I'll stop so I don't spoil it in case you read it.