the starting line
newsletter. october 2024.
Three weeks have passed since the publication of my debut novel Sargassa. Those three weeks feel like a lifetime.
This is not, to be clear, a bad thing.
It’s actually pretty great.
I have a tendency towards object impermanence, and that includes expectations for the future. It’s difficult for me to imagine or even daydream about what to expect from something I know is coming but I’ve just never done before. Friends have informed me that this is something to be jealous of, as it should theoretically be saving me a world of anxiety. Personally, I’d really appreciate it if someone told that to my neurotic Jewish genes, because I don’t think those got the memo.
The summer before college—the first time around—was an extended exercise in answering the classic, “Are you just so excited?” with a fake, “Yes!” that would do my future BFA Acting degree proud. To be clear, I wasn’t dreading it, either. I just didn’t know what college was like, so I couldn’t summon those strong emotions in either direction. It wasn’t until I was packed up in the car heading to New York in real time that I started to feel that wild swell of emotions because, Oh shit. This is actively happening right now.
Three weeks ago? Similar vibes.
There was definitely more neurosis in the lead-up, as anyone who’s been reading my newsletters knows, because I wasn’t just sitting around waiting to get in the car. There were social media posts to prep, and events to plan, and ARCs to send out to bookstores, and and and—
October 8th, for months, for years, felt like the finish line.
Turns out it was the start.
So here’s what that’s been like.
People like my book!
Who could have possibly foreseen this?
“Breathtaking… Thoroughly compelling… This is a deft, vividly observed novel that is precisely interested in social realism and the relations of power. It uses Rome, and Romanitas, to examine and to critique the nature of systems of oppression […] to very pointed effect.”
“A masterclass in world-building… Burnham's skillful prose depicts visceral character struggles, [and characters] converge in a firework display of friendship, conflict, and queer romance.”
Two things, because I’m figuring this out as I go and maybe you are, too:
1) A book review that receives a star indicates particularly high quality and distinction.
2) Locus Magazine (as far as I know) doesn’t follow the starred review system and the full review isn’t available to non-subscribers, but trust me when I say it’s long, glowing, listed first in the November issue table of contents, and kind of a big fucking deal. Locus is the beating heart of the speculative fiction community, both for professionals and readers alike. This is one of the highest honors of my life.
There’s a part of me that’s 31 and wants to say that I don’t need industry validation. That the incredible reader reception and conversations I’m having in person and online are enough. And they are, they really are. They’re vital, actually, and they’re feeding my soul in ways I never could have expected. But I think there’s always going to be that lost 21 year-old in me, too, that was never the establishment pick—not in high school, not in drama school—that had to break through and create their own path because there was no other choice. So I won’t lie, this healed a very old wound in me.
Because establishment or not, these are also publications that belong to my corner of the world. My kind of weirdos. To be seen and recognized like that, in the end, does matter a hell of a lot. And I think of that one Mary Oliver poem, because that woman was a genius and has ‘that one poem’ for everything.
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.
Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
- Don’t Hesitate, Mary Oliver
In that vein, behold!
Some other moments of joy from the last month, because my heart is still just so warm and full:
I’m getting to talk to readers in person, see real-time reactions to the book on social media, put together some really cute outfits, and chat with some press:
One very silly, time-wasting delight I’ve discovered is Googling my book. Not to read Amazon or Goodreads reviews—those are simply none of my business—but to stumble across libraries and indie bookstores I’ve never heard of before, yet have Sargassa listed on their website with the note On Our Shelves Now.
Scrolling down the web page to town names I don’t know—Kankakee, Fort Collins, Bellingham. There’s something so special to me about that, discovering how far past my reach this story has spread. It’s the same feeling I get whenever someone sends me a picture of Sargassa in the wild: Look, there it is in a Chicago window display! On the shelf at the Seattle Public Library! Being sniffed by a dog on Vancouver Island!
But for all that, here’s what the last month really feels like:
One reader is all in for Theo, another is ready to throw hands to defend Arran.
Someone resonates with Selah’s gradual series of awakenings to her own privilege, and we talk about attollos and cobalt and ChatGPT. We talk about the necessity of looking hard truths in the face in order to practice radical creativity and hope.
It’s been such a long time since drafting that I forget I found the word mima from a source very close to my heart, and that person and I have a beautiful moment as we realize what’s been immortalized forever.
This is how it really settles in, all photos and establishment validation aside: This story doesn’t belong to just me anymore. It’s all of yours now, too.
There’s something that happens in art, where I pour all my Experience and all my Stuff into the work, and then you—the reader, the viewer, the listener—meet it with all of yours. What happens at that meeting point is impossible to predict, that Weird Alchemy, and it’s that which makes all of this so worth it.
So keep bringing me your Stuff, and I promise to keep bringing mine.
Shop talk.
On that note: Sargassa published on a Tuesday. I got the developmental edit letter for [Book 2, Title Redacted] from my editor that Friday. The story carries on. (Although I do very distinctly remember looking at the email and thinking, That’s a Monday problem.)
So through all of this, I’ve also been deep in revisions on Sargassa’s sequel. I can’t say much about that yet, except that there’s something profoundly strange and comforting about coming back to my little writing corner to find it’s just me and the disaster queers again. As much as Griff and Tair and Darius and the rest belong to you all now, too, here at the quiet of my desk is where they return to life in the tazine spices of Luxana and the mess of all their twenty-something glory. I am, per usual, just writing down the incident report.
Appeasing the publishing gods.
This is mortifying to maybe no one but me, but I have a huge favor to ask.
If you’ve finished reading and enjoyed Sargassa—or, you know, once you do—it would be incredibly helpful if you left a review at the Zon and/or Goodreads. This doesn’t have to be long or detailed, and chances are that I won’t actually ever read it, but higher rankings really do help with visibility, which then helps with sales, and so on and so forth.
Thank you so much in advance—and obviously if you want to have an actual conversation about the book or share your thoughts with me directly, my website form is always open. (Or, you know, call me if you have my number.)
And, as always, remember to support your local independent bookstores instead of billionaires.
Crossover extravaganza alert!
I am done with events in Rhode Island for the time being, but y’aaaaaaaaaaaall.
Wednesday, Dec 4. 6 PM. Mark it on your calendar. Because Maiga Doocy and I are coming to Bank Square Books in Mystic, CT in a genre debut double feature!
If you’re anything like me and grew up reading Gail Carson Levine and Patricia Wrede’s whimsical MG fantasies but are now A Queer Adult, Maiga’s spectacular Sorcery and Small Magics is the novel you’ve been waiting for.
Come hang out with us at Bank Square Books’ new location while we chat all things SFF, where our books diverge and find common ground, and the rollercoaster of debut year—with Q&A and book signing to follow. RSVP here!
You’ll be shocked, no doubt, to hear that in the beautiful chaos of debut month, I haven’t had much time for
Filling the creative cup.
The cup was already overflowing with love and good, meaty conversation as it is, but I did manage to find time to finish watching English Teacher and start up the new season of The Great British Bake Off. Or maybe it was less a case of finding time, and more the need to unwind and turn my brain off for a minute. I still contend that GBBO is the closest a show has ever come to being weed.
I’m also making my way through The Serpent Called Mercy by Roanne Lau, which isn’t out until next March (perks of the job) but should absolutely be on your TBR.
As for what I’ve been listening to, the writing playlist is just getting longer the deeper I get into Book 2. To be clear, the songs on here are more vibes-based than anything concretely character- or plot-related. And maybe it’s about time to change the name to Ex Romana since we’re past Sargassa now. How strange is that!!
Today is Samhain, marking the start of the darker half of the year. I was born in deep midwinter, and have always felt the cold turning of the days like a homecoming. So I’m looking forward to cozy days ahead—writing under blankets, laughter by the fireplace, stock simmering away on the stove. Half I’ll keep, half I’ll give away. Winter is a time for holding each other close, for seeing one another through the night and bitter cold. And maybe, just maybe, for making new and fantastic discoveries in the dark.
x Sophie
