Behind the Scenes on Publishing a Book.

Last week, I shared on Instagram some behind-the-scenes of the photography shoot I did with my friend Claire for my book Small Wonders (coming out April 14, 2026!), and was surprised by the number of questions I received not about the shoot but about the actual process of publishing a book. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though — before I started down this path, I stood for a long time at the gate, wondering how to get in. I’ve wanted to be a published author for as long as I can remember, but in late 2023 and early 2024, I spent serious time investigating my options by reading blogs dedicated to the science of it (i.e., instructions on how to write a query letter that would make me stand out, down to the art of the subject line) and asking authors I’d somehow lucked into being connected with (some of whom were published, others of whom were agented, and still others of whom were in the process of querying for agent representation) about their stories, and the through-line was that there is no through-line. (Frustrating!) Some of these authors/blogs suggested attending events (mainly in New York) where you might meet agents — most of these were pay-to-participate. Others suggested a process where you pay to submit your work to an agent for comments, and sometimes, very rarely, this could yield a relationship with the agent. Others went about it the “conventional way”: submitting query letters to different agencies. Ultimately, I decided I’d approach it that final, “conventional” way. So I went to work thinking about the authors whose writing I considered “closest-in” to my own, and then looked at which agencies they worked with, and created a spreadsheet of the ones that I thought might be a good home for my work. My reasoning was: if an agent likes and has represented this genre and this kind of voice, they might also like and want to represent me.

I should take a step back and observe that I was seeking an agent for my longer-form fictional project — a literary romance — at the time. For almost any fiction published through a mainstream publisher, you need an agent, and to get an agent, you must have a complete manuscript, which I more or less I did. The agent will then shop your work around to different publishing houses for you, leveraging his/her connections and whatever other lightning-in-a-bottle that accompanies the process. (There is, of course, the option of self-publishing — i.e., you pay a press to print your work — but the onus of marketing that title and getting it onto shelves falls entirely on you, and there are complex sets of machinery and communication between publishers and retailers that are difficult to replicate or even break into on your own. However, it’s all purpose-driven! For some authors I’ve spoken to, the goal was clear: I want a physical book that I can sell on my site, or give to friends, or have carried in a few local boutiques. I don’t need to be carried by Barnes and Noble, or be on a best-seller list, or even sell many copies! And that vision is beautiful and correct, too.)

In December 2024, while knee-deep in spreadsheets and thick in the process of identifying agencies, the strangest thing happened. I received an out-of-the-blue email from an acquisitions editor from a publisher called Quarto asking: “Have you ever thought about writing a book?” I thought for sure this was a scheme. I remember reading it and re-reading it, then running forensics. I even tracked down a couple of authors who’d had their work published by the imprint to ask after their experiences. Lo and behold, it was legitimate. As it turns out (something I had not known or considered), for non-fiction genres, it’s not uncommon to work directly with the publisher sans agent. And the publisher thought my work here on Magpie would be well-suited for a printed book.

This sequence of events is yet again one of those “hidden in plain sight” storylines. There I was, chipping away with my romance manuscript rolled up in my back pocket, and people were asking for more of what I do here on a daily basis. For, you know, my actual life’s work. The stuff I practice daily. My truest art. How many times do I need the universe to remind me to live where my feet are?

We had a couple of meetings that started out very loose and unfocused (in which I was stammeringly nervous, as I kept thinking: this is too good to be true), but quickly picked up steam. The editor, ever the quick study, was able to roll up the general concept into a tight pitch that she took back to her team. A rich, visual volume of meditations, list poetry, and musings on slowing down and noticing. Things moved very quickly afterward. Scarcely had I come up with the overarching theme and possible sections of the book and they had a contract in my hand. It occurred to me at that exact moment that I wished I did have an agent. What did I know about book deals? Was this fair, was this generous, what should I push on versus not? I did something halfway — I asked my attorney (who has worked with me on various aspects of managing the blog, i.e., writing terms and conditions, forming an LLC), and whom I respect and trust. He connected me with an attorney with subject matter expertise, and, in the spirit of candidly sharing the entire process of writing this book, the conversation that resulted was one of the most demoralizing experiences of my life. That attorney asked me: “Do you really think you have it in you to write a book? A lot of people think they can just because they write a blog or have a brand.” Geez! He was also quick to reference the many best-selling authors he’d worked with. I felt an inch tall. Deflated, I went down to Landon’s office and burst into tears. I suppose in retrospect he was an external vocalization of my inner worries. But the positive: I was forced to face the “you can’t do this” self-talk that was brewing beneath the surface early on, and I decided “yes, I can.” Plus, his rough conversation instilled a helpful flintiness in me: I was going to make this project the best work of my life. No cut corners. No stone unturned. I was going to put every ounce of my creative energy into it, and I was going to release something I was deeply proud of. This sometimes meant going back and forth on font choices and imagery far more than I’m sure the publisher wanted (sorry, Nicole). This other times meant writing and re-writing the same section ten, fifteen, twenty times. This mainly meant working the equivalent of two full-time jobs for the months of March through May 2025 — because the publisher had set an ambitious timeline and wanted a complete first manuscript in hand by June 9th, and it was already the end of February, and I wasn’t going to stop publishing daily on Magpie while doing it.

My process was disciplined. Mornings were for Small Wonders. I had a specific set of rituals for getting into my book-writing headspace: turn off the overhead lights, put on my Jo March playlist in my noise-canceling headphones, read a tiny bit of Edith Hamilton or Mary Oliver or any of the other greats from my “morning poetry” canon, hand-draft for a few minutes, and then clip in. I would close every other browser window and work with one single pane of text open. This was all done with monastic seriousness. I was working hard. I loved it.

There were checkpoints: I had to submit an outline (basically, the table of contents) and then sample materials (the best examples I had of the different types of content in the book, plus an introduction), but it all ran fluidly together in service of writing the whole thing from start to finish. I touched every single entry dozens and dozens of times. I cut the entries up, stitched them back together, deleted them, added them to other parts. Punctuation was my playspace. I spent hours debating commas, semi-colons, line breaks. I found I liked the high stakes of it — wherever the comma last landed it would stay! It gave me a strange, scary thrill I don’t normally have while writing (intentionally) in this soft landing of a blog format.

The hard work was done by June 9, when I submitted my complete first draft. I’d been very careful with timing, and had saved an entire final week to go through the full book from start to finish multiple times, solely with the intent of contemplating the reader experience — what would a new reader feel like reading this from start to finish? What was the flow of the book like? Its rhythm and hand-feel? Each time I re-read the manuscript, I landed in a different place, and some of those places were ugly. I learned from Suleika that this is not uncommon for authors, this vacillation between pride and self-doubt in facing a completed draft. An unnerving whiplash, but knowing that this was a known phenomenon among authors I respected, I took a deep breath and submitted the draft.

I waited, then, for developmental edits from my brilliant editor. Frankly, I welcomed the pause. Take as long as you need, I thought. I’d been burning the candle at both ends and was a little tired of reading my own work besides. When I did receive the edits, the experience was different than I expected — more of a conversation than a redline experience. I’d done a good job of preparing myself, though. Before opening the document, I reminded myself to quiet the ego. To view the book and the writing from the outside. To not take anything personally. And I did this by going for a very long walk outside and remembering my own smallness.

The edits were fantastic; the book is much improved by them. We went through several rounds and we talked a lot about word choice. I learned I have a flair for the dramatic and occasionally inaccessible when a more straight-forward word might suit the prose better. (Eureka! I think this insight has made me a better writer in general.) I stood my ground on a handful of matters (and words — sorry, Natalie), but mainly acquiesced to her well-considered feedback. I remember we went back and forth for a long time on the phrase “everything is a flow” from my piece “Panta Rhei,” which I had re-worked for the book. Everything is a flowing? Everything flows? I recall her saying “a flowin’ feels too Bob Dylan for you” — lol. Suffice to say, we left no stone unturned. We were down in the dirt of the dictionary and the imaginative connective tissue that enables things to grow from it.

After developmental edits, we went to copy-edits, and then on a long detour about the title. We went through dozens of titles and phrasings. I’m so thrilled with where we landed. Small Wonders could well be the by-line for this blog. But by this point, the work was largely done, and it was as though I was waving to a college-bound child. Out the door, on its own, ready to face the world. What a strange feeling. When I received the first advanced copy of the book last week, then, it was a kind of “welcome home” feeling. Here, my words, boomeranged back into my hands. The tactility of it continues to bowl me over. It is, well and truly, as though my entire life’s work has shape-shifted into a beautiful, 6×8 parcel that fits in my hands. Sorcery, but also — hard work. Time and trying. Etc.

So there we have it – the road to Small Wonders. I realize how unsatisfying this story will be to any writer seeking to publish a book, as I am yet another example of the “no-through-line.” In my case, I will be a published author because I’ve been publishing daily for almost a decade here on Magpie; I was found because of this work, and to give credit where it’s due — because of all of you showing up to read it. This book is as much a product of my commitment to daily writing as it is your listening and generous ear. So speaking narrowly from my own experience, if you set out to travel my same path, it’s — once again — a matter of time and trying. The daily practice. As unsatisfying advice as it comes, but that is the bald truth of my experience: all inchwork, no shortcuts, no big breaks — or at least in my experience, and I could be obtuse on this matter. (Though, I would advise you to take good care and be circumspect about any of those Instagram reels that tell you: ‘how to become a published author in five steps,’ ‘the three things to do right now if you want to be published next year,’ etc. If it were that easy…)

I’m an open book — feel free to ask any questions you have below!

Preview of Small Wonders.

A few of you asked for some photos of the interior of the book, and a propos of this post, sharing one of the pages of my book, all about the concept of “time and trying”:

You can pre-order Small Wonders here! Pre-orders are a big deal for authors — they help the retailers estimate how many books to buy. Thank you SO MUCH for all the orders so far — you’ve blown me away, but that’s not unusual with this crowd, who continues to give and give in the comments, in your readership, in your compassion and grace. I love you all!

Post-Scripts.

+Advice for disillusioned authors.

+Things that are just part of the process.

+On shaking hands with the blank page.

+There were a handful of one-off questions about the book. One was why I dedicated it to my Dad with the words: “To Dad — You were right.” The full and artful answer is here, but the tl;dr is that my Dad has always encouraged me to pursue the things that make me lean forward, and specifically the kinds of things that involve creativity, even when the career prospects are murky at best. He is an attorney by trade and I remember this one afternoon when I was in high school, I visited him out in his toolshed while he was woodworking, and he said: “Do something with your life that lets you build.” I think, while he was excellent at his trade, he felt it didn’t give him enough space to create. Perhaps other attorneys do not feel this way about their work, but his perspective and his nudge stuck with me.

+Another question was: how do you safeguard work shared online from others claiming it as their own? I’m so sorry this is happening to you! This has happened to me a few times, and it’s demoralizing. Actually, Magpie readers are often the first to find and let me know about these incidents! (I love this community so much.) Brass tacks: I usually send a note requesting the material is either properly attributed or taken down, depending on the situation. I try to assume the best — maybe they didn’t know the potential harm of re-sharing without context, or didn’t know how to attribute, or found the text somewhere else, unattributed in the first place! On the preventative side, if I publish something on Instagram, I try to make sure my name is clearly printed on it. In general, I try to stay philosophical about this — what can I control here? Certainly not the actions of a stranger. Usually this question brings me right back to my work. Just keep writing and getting better, and let my discipline and creativity speak for themselves. A good analogy for me in these moments: back in my start-up days, I remember a lot of advisors telling founders that it was a waste of time to be in stealth mode, or to force people to sign NDAs to learn about your idea. Honestly, sometimes (not always) it’s even a distraction to worry about trademarks and the like — you could spend that time working on a first version of your product, and it would probably get you closer to your goal. Copycats will copy. The only thing you can do is make the best product you can, and handle it with care.

Shopping Break.

+A great $55 everyday dress. Reminds me a lot of one of my favorite pinstripe dresses from La Ligne.

+Restock of the best bronzer! I use shade 2. This seems to sell out routinely! Haven’t seen such a full color run in awhile. While you’re there, I found this illuminating powder on sale in select colors. Intrigued.

+Love these “rollneck remixes” at J. Crew! So fun and creative. Love this one, and of course the classics.

+My top “regrettably worth it” item, hands down. On sale! Not a day goes by that I don’t think how much I love this. I don’t know why I waited so long despite throngs of people telling me it was as good as I thought it would be. I also absolutely love the dryer and think they’re both independently worth it, per the suggestion/advice of countless other Magpies before me. I use the dryer to rough-dry my hair (takes drying time from like 20 minutes to 5) and I find it useful while styling my bangs right now, because I use it with a small round brush to get the look I want. But then the airwrap is my go-to for finishing my hair. I use to use the wand styler and now I use the round brush attachment for long, straight hair with a tiny bend at the end. These just WORK. I swear by this prep spray beforehand, and this finishing balm at the end (the latter discovered through my hair stylist!)

+Fun alt to a jacket to throw on with leggings this spring. (Also love this entire frosted pink set from Beyond Yoga.)

+Ordered this eye brightening pencil to use in the inner corner of my eye and beneath my brow!

+If you’re a cateye sunglass gal, these are IT.

+Perfect cropped cream sweater for spring. Wear with a skirt like this.

+While you’re at SoldOut, they just released an ice blue tee for spring. I had to order. I think I own ever color tee they make. These are just the best, fanciest, most beautiful tees. They have a tiny bit of structure and shape, are a perfect glossy cotton, just look like a million bucks.

+New arrivals alert at Negative, too — love this gray lounge set! The most elite loungewear.

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