Page 49 of Unearthed Dreams
At my shaky nod, she slipped out into the alley, leaving me to wonder what the hell I was going to do about this girl who’d somehow made me believe in impossible dreams.
Chapter Seventeen
CHARLIE
The familiar scentof books and peonies wrapped around me as I slipped inside Books and Crannies, leaving the sign to remain on CLOSED. The store felt different in the shadows—more intimate, like it was keeping my secrets.
I sank into the pink velvet loveseat beneath the window, my manuscript clutched to my chest. My heart was still racing from... everything. The way Kai had opened up to me. The raw vulnerability in his eyes when he’d admitted wanting a future. How close we’d come to...
My face heated at the memory of his thumb brushing my lip.
But it wasn’t just the physical stuff that had my pulse thundering. It was the way he’d seen through my writing to the heart of what I was trying to say. The way he’d filled the margins with thoughtful notes and genuine questions about the world I’d built.
I spread the pages across the antique coffee table, tracing his messy handwriting. His words were sometimes sharp andangular, like he’d pressed the pen hard into the paper during intense scenes. Other times, the letters flowed softly, almost tender, especially in the margins of the quieter moments between my characters.
“Show, don’t tell here,” he’d written next to a scene where my wyrm rider first touches her mount’s scales. “Make us feel the texture, the heat. You’re good at sensory details—use them.”
He’d noticed that I liked weaving in sensory elements?
After a few hours of studying his notes, my eyes began to blur. I’d need to let these suggestions marinate before diving into another round of edits. But maybe I could do some research, figure out my next steps...
I pulled out my laptop and settled deeper into the loveseat. The quiet of the empty store wrapped around me like a blanket as I typed “how to publish a novel” into the search bar.
My fingers hesitated over the keys. What was I really doing here? Was I actually brave enough to pursue this dream? To put my work out into the world?
Kai’s voice echoed in my head.Your imagination, the way your mind works... it’s beautiful.
The way he’d said it—like it was simple fact, not empty praise—made something settle in my chest. A certainty I hadn’t felt before.
I squared my shoulders and began typing with renewed purpose. If Kai could trust me with his past, I could trust myself with my future.
And maybe, just maybe, we could figure out our happy endings together.
I clicked through several writing blogs, making notes in myphone. The publishing process seemed both simpler and more complicated than I’d imagined.
First step: finish the manuscript. Well, I had that part done. Sort of. With Kai’s notes, I knew I had another round of revisions ahead of me.
Step two: write a query letter. I opened a new tab, diving into examples. My stomach churned as I read through successful queries. How was I supposed to condense my entire 439-page novel into three paragraphs that would make someone want to read more?
Dear Agent,
I deleted the words as soon as I typed them. Not ready for that yet.
Instead, I took to Reddit, and dove into r/PubTips and r/writingtips. The supportive posts gave me hope, but the statistics... God. Less than one percent of queried manuscripts landed an agent… and only a fraction of those ever made it to a publisher.
A post from a debut fantasy author made me pause.
“The only manuscripts that definitely won’t get published are the ones that never get submitted.”
The comment section was filled with other writers sharing their success stories, how many queries it took before finding their agent, how many revisions before their book sold. Some had queried multiple books before finding success. Others had hit with their first try. All of them had one thing in common—they’d kept going.
I thought about Kai’s notes again. About how he’d seen something worthwhile in my story. How he’d read ittwice.
Opening another tab, I started researching comparabletitles. That seemed important—understanding where my book would sit on shelves. Fourth Wing was obviously killing it right now, but mine was different. More political intrigue, less steam. Though after last night with Kai, maybe I could write those scenes better now...
I created a new folder on my laptop: PUBLISHING JOURNEY.
I made documents for Query Letter—blank for now but ready and waiting, Comp Titles, Agent Research, and Synopsis—that would be fun, condensing 439 pages into one-to-two.
