In order to start moving past the distraction of self-doubt, I had to listen to the encouragement from friends and family and get over the idea that I may not live up to my own expectations. I had to face the fear of possibly being very horrible at this new endeavor and just shut up and do it.

Now I had a new problem. Where would I even begin?  This particular story was one that I felt so deeply about and was still evolving and growing each year.

After all the family trees I’ve made, conversations with older relatives, pouring through thousands of pictures…I thought I knew just about everything there was to know about my family history, at least for the last four or five generations. Sure there were the natural genealogy ‘brick walls’ and things that would have to wait for me to have the time to research and truly get all the facts. But nothing was earth shattering. Interesting and lovely and important, but not a threat to everything I already had in my archives—those things were absolutely truth, fact, set in stone. But even stones shift. 

I came to the realization that the only way not to obsess over the story daily (while additionally finding myself talking to complete strangers about it) was to write about the whole ordeal. I just opened a google doc and started typing.

Naturally, I got stuck within the first few months. I had my binder of records, album of photos to reference, digital files, etc. I knew I couldn’t tell the story through anyone’s perspective but my own. As much as I cringed at the thought of writing a “memoir”, that’s the kind of book it would have to be. Why does that word have to sound so snooty and…French? Don’t insist upon yourself, memoir. You’re not that special. Okay, I’ll give you a chance. Don’t embarrass me.

I talked to my dad, my uncles, my aunts, my grandma’s best friend, and started shaping a narrative with glimpses into the past. I wrote about the events that led up to the discovery and the in-the-moment interactions and surprises that I experienced along the way.

But, I’m intensely persistent and like a good challenge so I kept at it. Good or bad, published or sitting as a file on my computer forever, I had to write out what I knew. How I felt and what I learned. More than a journal entry and in spite of any self-loathing and imposter syndrome.

In July of 2019 I sat down with a friend and she recorded my answers while she asked me questions about the story. From there, we developed a rough outline of the pieces. That would help me in 2020 when I finally took it off the back burner and fleshed out the actual plot. I also changed the tense from past to present for most chapters. 

Since it was 2020, naturally time opened up. I was writing almost daily, and took the advice of friends and strangers not to edit during the process, just to write. By the end of the year / early 2021 I had some 70,000 words to work with. 

An amazing thing happened when I finished a complete first draft: The weight that had been on my shoulders for more or less four years had lifted, like a deep breath after holding air in my lungs for a little too long.

What I noticed, whether it was recovering from a bad bout of COVID in early 2020 or the process of writing a memoir (plus being a full-time working mother) I was having a hard time sleeping and was super agitated most of that season. Some of the passages I wrote actually sent me into depression, anxiety, and just feeling sick. Which I’m aware sounds completely over the top. But when I tell you that I have always gotten completely into any story I read, movie I watch, song I listen to (that I relate with) I mean it. I’m there. I’m feeling all the feelings at whatever story is being performed, told, or sung. I guess that’s a good quality for any artist to have but it’s emotionally and mentally exhausting. 

After a few family members and a few other readers scanned through it and gave initial feedback, I made adjustments and prepped it for sending to publishers. One way or another I wanted to get this story out there and out of my head.

In July of ‘22 I created and/or gathered all the pieces submissions required. 

Some publishers/presses just wanted a synopsis, some 1-3 chapters, some the first 5-10 pages. Some wanted the vision for marketing the book, a formal proposal, a table of contents, full manuscript, and/or a brief author bio. Most were free, others were $5 – $30 entry fee.It was a very good exercise for me in knowing my book, being able to give it a hook or a pitch, creating both long and short summaries. It made me familiar with my own work. 

From July-Aug I submitted 27 separate entries. 

One publisher sent me a rejection email and then a week later sent it again. I got the message, sheesh. Another “no” but with the addendum “While your story sounds compelling, I have a similar story, but it isn’t right for us at this time. Best of luck with it.” Gee, thanks? 

I had one that gave me some great feedback and mentioned that they’d “love to see it again” after some more editing based on their feedback. “This is one of those pieces that was hard to deny, but it’s not quite there.”

Total: 12 rejections and 15 crickets

I thought it would make me feel bad, but it didn’t. I would put it out there as many times as I had time to submit queries and then I would be satisfied that I had tried. I would have regretted it had I not. 

Other than taking another look at structure and some ways to make it more marketable, nothing else in my professional background screamed “successful future author”. They want to make money, I just wanted to get the story out there in a creative way—my way. So my approach was to craft this story in the way that was most meaningful to me but still wanting to take constructive criticism and implement it. I did want to make it better.

In December of 2022 I went back to the manuscript and revised again. This time I submitted 11 more because I was sitting on my couch on January 2nd in my comfiest PJs and thought, “why not?” 

After 3 “no”s, and 6 crickets, I got a “your manuscript interests us” from a query I sent one publisher, so I had to send the full document for them to evaluate. Super exciting! 

I never heard back. 

And then all the effort paid off. 

Then, I got an email from an author/publisher in Iowa that was interested in my book. I had to reread it a few times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. Jodie Toohey with Legacy Book Press wanted to publish The Record Keeper! She specializes in publishing personal stories, and, a writer herself, she gives first time authors a chance. I’m so grateful to her for giving me an opportunity like this! 

When that message came through on April 3rd of last year, I remembered something. It was the sixth anniversary of the exact day that I had my realization of the truth with this discovery in a message with my new found cousin, Jen. Not only that, Jodie scheduled the book to be released on Jen’s birthday, the 16th. That’s NEXT WEEK.

Here goes nothin’!