I wrote my first book in 7th grade with a pen and a notebook. Then I typed it up on a typewriter. I don't think my parents even owned a computer then. It was 125 pages long. I slipped the manuscript into an envelope and mailed it off to Scholastic. They were good enough to return it with a letter explaining that they didn't accept unsolicited manuscripts. My parents had to explain what that meant. The idea that I needed a literary agent in order to approach major publishers seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. I could look and see publisher's names on the books I read. Their address was printed inside. But how would I even begin to search out a literary agent? This disappointment seemed like a dead end to my writing and publishing dreams.
The subject of this book is a little embarrassing. Please keep in mind that I was only 13 years old. I will admit that it was a romance and it may or may not have included a couple of long blond-haired rock stars that produced one album and experienced a brief moment of popularity in the early 90s.