I always knew I’d write, but after graduating from college and making decisions about my future, my parents convinced me that writing wouldn’t support me. Instead, I trained in restaurant management and opened a French bistro. Still, the itch never went away. Late in the evening, with a few groups of diners still nibbling on tarte au pomme and drinking the last of their wine, I would pass the time watching, listening and playing my version of Clue. My Clue involved inventing backstories and motives and contriving a creative murder weapon for the villains and red herrings who I imagined were dining in my restaurant.

The game got me thinking. In my spare time, by which I mean, while waiting for the kids at the bus stop, I started writing a mystery series for the middle grade reader. It was more of a writing exercise than anything else. Soon enough, I got the idea for an adult series. It wasn’t until the kids had grown and gone that I completed the first draft. Yet, when I stepped back and assessed, I realized that I’d ignored those opening pages—the very thing drummed into my head as the critical element necessary to catch the interest of an agent and then a publisher. And I hadn’t written a decent synopsis either.

The submission requirements for the, then Debut Dagger, included both. If nothing else, revising the opening and my lackluster synopsis would get me that much closer to what I needed to begin the query process. I submitted my excerpt and synopsis in 2021. The judges did not select my work then, nor the second time I entered. In the fall of 2023, my manuscript was in good shape and I began receiving emails in response to query letters sent to literary agents that were encouraging. I wasn’t planning to enter the third time, but something niggled at me, and I gave it one last try.

This time I started from scratch, developing a mission for what I wanted to accomplish with the opening, and trying not to deviate from it. I recalled the advice given at a novel writing seminar from an instructor who suggested we turn to page ten or even twenty to find the better starting point for our novels. I called on trusted writer friends who generously agreed to read and comment on the piece. The advice and support they provided was invaluable. In the end, I was pleased with the results. I submitted the entry and soon, becoming distracted with my daughter’s first child due within the month, forgot all about it.

On April 20th, I received an amazing email telling me that my work was longlisted. I was stunned, but not enough to deter me from doing a happy dance in my kitchen. The competitions coordinator advised us not to rest on our laurels, so I got down to work and began to prepare the next submission. It couldn’t follow the opening, so I chose the chapters that led up to the novel’s last twist. After hitting send, I tried to set expectations. Feeling grateful for what I had already accomplished, I told myself that if I advanced no further; it was okay. That I’d made it to the longlist was an incredible honor, and I had learned so much.

Weeks later, when the email arrived announcing my excerpt’s selection for the shortlist, so did my tears. I didn’t ultimately take home the grand prize, but it hadn’t mattered, the recognition was pure gold. In the weeks that followed, I sent query letters with confidence, and the response was nothing short of remarkable. I signed with the literary agent who had been my first choice. My debut novel, tentatively titled Long Way Home, will be in bookstores in September 2025. I’m still pinching myself.

To anyone considering submitting their work, I can’t encourage you enough to enter the Emerging Author Dagger.