Martha O'Connor's Backstory

In February of 2003, I was one disheartened and frustrated girl. After three failed novel attempts (the first, a fantasy novel so bad my grandmother’s hanging onto it for blackmail purposes; the second, a YA novel that attracted a very excited offer from a scam agent who, it became apparent, had not read the book; the third, a coming-of-age novel that garnered interest and encouragement from legitimate agents, but no offers), I’d finally done it! I had a New York agent; we’ll call her Agent A. (I’ll leave it to you what the "A" might stand for.) Certified with the AAR, Agent A was eager to wine and dine editors who would be fighting over my novel, which had been carefully crafted to meet all the needs of today’s publishing market. Young sassy detective, romantic subplot, what more could you ask for? I’d completely faked out the publishing world. I was brilliant!

Except that I wasn’t. Though the novel got lots of favorable comments about the writing, by February 2003, ten publishers had rejected it. We were running out of options, and I decided the only thing to do was to throw myself into a new project.

Three characters sneaked up on me, jumped me in a dark alley, and wouldn’t let me up until I’d told their story. Whoa! I was surprised how easily the words flowed. I sped through the first fifty pages, quickly realizing that in order to explore the girls’ lives in an authentic way, I would have to turn off all the censors.

A little nervous, I showed the first fifty pages of The Bitch Posse to Agent A. Within a few days she emailed me back, telling me the novel was just too dark and that she couldn’t stand to read it, couldn’t see any way to market it, and couldn’t imagine anyone would ever want to read it. She suggested I stop writing it and try another mystery instead.

I was stunned. Abandon Rennie, Amy, and Cherry, just when they were in the middle of so much trouble? I couldn’t bear to think of it. Yet what was the point of writing something no one would want to read?

I discussed this dilemma with my husband (Phil O’Connor), who is also a novelist, teacher of writers, and my first and most trusted reader. "This is the best thing you’ve ever done," he said. "You have to finish it."

That was all I needed. I smashed those censors with a baseball bat and hurled the broken pieces out the window. Cranking up the Pixies’ Doolittle (which I played at least a hundred times during the writing of this novel), I threw myself into the story, letting the girls of the Bitch Posse drag me anywhere they wanted to go. And they pulled me into some very dark corners.

I was convinced no one would ever publish it because of what Agent A had said, so I let anything and everything go. I transcribed the girls’ story with unflinching honesty, closely examining moments I’d never before been so brave as to give more than a passing, embarrassed glance. It was tremendously liberating.

The first draft of The Bitch Posse poured out of me in six short weeks. When Phil read the whole thing, he looked up at me and said: "Congratulations!" He’s rare with compliments like that, so I knew he meant it. I dissolved my agreement with Agent A and spent the next few months polishing the novel. Near the end of summer, I submitted it to agents, and within two weeks had several offers of representation. I signed with Mary Evans, who is one of the world’s most brilliant and sensitive souls. After some editorial back-and-forth with Mary, she sent the book out for auction. The book sold in four days, with four publishers making offers.

Think I ought to send Agent A a signed copy of The Bitch Posse, along with this Backstory?

Read an excerpt at Martha O'Connor's website.

Comments

[markfarleyauthor]

"Dolittle Rocks..."

[Katharine Weber]

I do think you ought to do just that. The worst thing about the story (which does have a good ending, of course) is her willngness to be so negative with a new writer, and her own client at that. Good for you for havng such a sturdy ego and for believing in the work, instead of accepting the advice to write for the market. (And good for your husband for encouraging you.)

I know an agent socially who probably has no clue that she said something so casually dismissive to me some twelve years ago. I told her I was working on a novel and had a piece of it ready as a stand-alone story. She said, "Oh, most journalists think they can write fiction but very few really can." Se did not offer to see the work, needless to say. I was really hurt by her comment, and worried that it was a hex, like something the bad fairy would say at the christening. A month later, my first fiction -- the story I had been trying to tell her about --was accepted for publication by The New Yorker.

[Cindy]

I do think you should send an autograph copy to "Agent A!" Along with all the letters from people who loved it. She obviously has no idea what people WANT to read. I sometimes thing that publishers are so afraid to offend anyone that many of the books published today would be so much better if publishers would just stop trying to censor the story the writers want to write.

I just finished reading the book over the weekend and I was totally blown away! I'm giving it to my next door neighbor to read and to one of the ladies here at work who is a big reader. I'll try to email you later with more. Suffice it to say "GREAT JOB!"

[Allison Brennan]

I loved this backstory because I think we all have had characters that wouldn't let go. I might dig around for some that I put aside but still nag me from time to time.

Your husband sounds like a keeper.

I, personally, wouldn't send the book to the agent. You're above that. It's a small world. She'll hear about it.

[Hannah]

I'm so glad you carried on with the story. Honestly I think I've read this book about 30 times. I always cry when the baby was... Y'know.
I originally bought the book as a joke present for my mother under the title of "The Bitch Goddess Notebook" as I though the title suited my mother perfectly. But the story inside, oh ho ho, my mother will never get to read this book.
All my friends have borrowed it, and it's looking rather battered now, but it's probably my favorite book.
I have no idea what I would have done all summer holiday without this wonderful book. I can only hope to be as half as an amazing writer as you.