Maybe I'm Paranoid:

A History Of My Literary Abandonment Issues

I sold my first novel, a Regency Romance called “The Fictitious Marquis” to Avon Books in 1994 without an agent. An editor plucked me out of the slush pile. She bought my next Regency Romance, “Thieves at Heart.” She bought my contemporary romance, “Annie’s Wild Ride.” And then she left the publishing house.

By then, I’d gotten an agent. The agent and I sold my next contemporary romance, “When a Man Loves a Woman,” to the editor at her new house, as part of a two book deal. And then she left before it was published. The subsequent editor passed on the second book.

And I was back at Square One.

I sold the first in what was supposed to be a series of figure skating mysteries to Berkley Prime Crime. I had an offer on the table. And my agent quit the business.

I got a new agent. I wrote five figure skating murder mysteries. I wrote three bestselling soap-opera tie-ins. My agent quit the business.

I got a new agent. I sold my first historical fiction novel, “The Nesting Dolls.” The editor who bought it left the house.

We moved “The Nesting Dolls” to her new house, as part of a two book deal. The editor passed on the second book.

My agent left her agency.

Which is where I am today. No publisher, no agent. Back at Square One, once again.

So, you tell me. Am I paranoid… or are they really out to get me?