how i got my book deal: on writing 6.75 books over 2.5 years

from 2 books dead on sub to a whirlwind six-figure auction deal for book #6

I am still reeling (pun unintended) from the happenings of the past month.

My agent sent out my sixth book, a literary horror where a Michelin-starred chef indebted to a wealthy New York family spirals into madness as he grows increasingly obsessed with the merman he is supposed to serve them, out on sub on March 31, 2026. We received our first call request on April 14, 2026—exactly two weeks after. Four calls with US imprints later, we had three offers and went into auction. A separate four-way auction in the UK followed in short order.

By May 8, 2026, I had decided on which offer to accept on both sides of the Atlantic and it was official…

Whitefish comes out in 2027 with Flatiron Books in the US and Hodder & Stoughton in the UK!! 🐟

I am extremely grateful to have landed what many in the industry might consider a “unicorn” deal. Interest came extremely fast and from many different corners of the publishing industry (independent to big 5 publishing houses, literary to commercial imprints, senior to junior editors). But the truth is, nothing about this victory feels fast.

The truth is, Whitefish is my Book #6. Over the 2.5 years since I started writing again (“again” meaning for the first time since high school, when younger me from 10 years ago realized writing wasn’t going to pay the bills) to receiving my debut book deal, I have written 6.75 books—not counting discarded projects.

Of the 6.75 books:

• Book #1 (Romantasy): Died in the querying trenches

• Book #2 (Romantic Fantasy): Landed me 46 (!) full requests, 6 (!) agent offers (including the one from my dream and current agent), died on sub

Disclaimer: I did receive a offer for Book #2 for Canadian rights from a Big 5 and contingent UK interest (…too risky to publish without corresponding US interest). I ultimately decided to turn down the Canadian offer in pursuit of debuting in the US, where I live.

• Book #3 (Horror Fantasy): Died on sub despite being indisputably my most popular book amongst friends and beta readers

• Book #4 (Romantic Fantasy): Skipped over for sub, too “literary” and “experimental” for the market—think The Spear Cuts Through Water x Piranesi

• Book #5 (“Cozy” Fantasy): Skipped over for sub, Book #6 was just better (“better” meaning higher concept, more commercial, easier to sell)

• Book #6 (Literary Horror): Whitefish! Sold at auction…

• Book #7 (Historical Romantic Fantasy): Still drafting. 90,000 of 120,000 words written

I thought a lot about every book that came before Whitefish during these last few weeks, in particular the two that died on sub. Indeed, it was impossible not to. Editors kept bringing them up.

I jumped on calls with 9 different editors across 8 imprints, and almost every one of them asked whether Whitefish was my “debut.” Debut here meaning “the first book you’ve written.” When I answered no, they collectively expressed sentiments of Oh good, that makes much more sense—suggesting Whitefish was too good to be a debut.

Reflecting on these conversations, I asked myself whether they were right. Had I earned the right to get a dream offer on Whitefish by working hard and becoming a better writer through the drafting and editing processes for the 5 books that came before it?

To a certain extent, this is fair and accurate. Whitefish is certainly stronger in craft than Book #1, which died in the querying trenches. It is also certainly more grounded than all of my fantasy writing and explores more contemporary and resonant themes (class rage, capitalism, immigrant ambition).

But none of this is the reason I believe it sold while my other two didn’t (yet).

One editor asked me: “You have so many projects. You also write fantasy, right? Why choose to debut with horror?”

The answer is simple, and almost capitalistic: Whitefish is what the market wants at this particular juncture of time. It is high concept, commercial, and easy to pitch. I can give you a dozen media comps for it, each of them popular and household names (The White Lotus, Parasite, The Shape of Water, The Menu, The Bear, Succession, Saltburn…)

Editors were already asking for it in their rejections of Book #3—which hurt very badly at the time.

Comparatively, my fantasy and genre-blend projects before Whitefish are significantly less “pitchable.”

Do you shelve it as fantasy? But it has romance. Is it romantasy then? But it doesn’t have a happily ever after. And so on.

Getting a book deal is about more than craft or the quality of the writing. It is also about premise, luck, and landing in the right inbox at the right time—a lot of which is completely out of your control.

Maybe that isn’t fair. But publishing is a business at the end of the day. As someone who works in business and wrote the vast majority of these books during business school, I understand this better than anyone else.

I am still unsure whether my more experimental projects will go anywhere. I sure hope so! But nevertheless, I am grateful for them and how they challenged me. Whitefish wouldn’t exist without the lessons they and cram-writing so many words across so many disparate genres taught me.

There is nothing to do except keep writing. The dream is not only to be an author but to simply write.

More about Whitefish then…

It was Tuesday (April 14). Book #6 had officially been on sub for two weeks. Mentally, I had already written it off. This was my third time at the rodeo, there was no reason to believe this time would be any different than the two others.

I threw myself into drafting Book #7 as a distraction, certain that the best outcome was another quick death. Both Book #2 and Book #3 took less than 3 months to die. At least I had the great privilege of having an agent who was incredible at getting quick responses. Whatever. If it dies, I would sub another. I was used to this.

Then…

Cue me waking up at 5am to an unexpected Instagram notification. An editor we had subbed to in the UK followed me overnight. Thirty minutes later, my agent emailed. I thought, is the UK agent reaching out for a call or with an offer? Instead, it was a call request from one of my dream US imprints.

On Thursday (April 16), another call request came in. On Friday (April 17), a third.

My agent set an official deadline based on this interest in the US for one and half weeks later. A fourth call request came in—along with two offers in the UK (including from the editor who had followed me on Instagram).

The days leading up to the US deadline were some of the most anxiety-inducing I’ve ever experienced. My agent kept telling me the offers would not come in until literally minutes before the deadline (noon), but I was unwell. To me, no offers in my inbox meant delayed rejections. No one was going to offer. We shouldn’t have set a deadline.

Spoiler alert: my agent was right. I worried and spiraled and didn’t sleep for no good reason.

On April 29, 12:00 EST, almost exactly a month after Whitefish was sent out on sub and not a day or hour before, we received three offers in the US. Before the week was over, we closed with Flatiron Books—who also happened to be the first call request, first call…serendipity.

Before I could even process the news, my agent updated all the UK editors who still had the submission and set a deadline for them as well. When publishing moves, it moves fast.

On May 8, a week after we decided on an US offer, we were looking at another four in the UK. Unlike in the US, we played catch-up in the UK, doing 1/2 of the calls after the offers themselves came in. In the end, I went with Hodder & Stoughton, who also happened to be Whitefish’s most enthusiastic reader since the beginning of sub, and my first good news. (Again, serendipity.)

After 2.5 years of not knowing whether my words would ever make it into the hands of readers, I had a book deal.

During said months and years, I read countless posts like this one, trawled through r/PubTips, the Facebook OnSubmission group, and two handfuls of Discord channels. The goal was always to feel some inkling of hope about my own prospects. So, let me leave you with some hopeful words to end:

I sold the book. Everything is worth it. Keep writing.

(If you’d like to support me, you can add Whitefish on Goodreads here!)