We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Melissa Bond. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Melissa below.
Alright, Melissa thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Can you talk to us about how you’ve thought about whether to sign with an agent or manager?
It was summer 2021 when I signed with Jen Nadol, a wonderful agent in upstate New York. In the six months prior to getting Jen’s phone call, I’d sent out hundreds of queries. I’d received responses ranging from “send me the manuscript” to “who are you again and why should I care?” Sending those queries and waiting on the other side of the computer for responses was like speed dating all day everyday. I got a few numbers, I got a few looks up and down, but it was constant uncertainty. When Jen wrote that she was interested, I was cautious. I sent her the full manuscript for my book Blood Orange Night and she called within a few days. The book blew her away, she said and offered me representation on the spot. And once I talked with her, I realized I’d found my dream agent. She was generous, persistent, professional and most importantly, she adored the book. My speed dating of agents was finally over.
Melissa, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
My mother likes to joke that I started writing the minute I could hold a pen. When I was in middle school, I’d pull back the sheet on my mattress and take notes for poems I wanted to write in the morning. All creatives have their favorite means of expression and mine is deceptively simple–I love to sit down alone with a journal and a pen and transform the world around me into something beautiful. For years I wrote poems, reading them in coffee houses, bars, literary events and street corners. I eventually got a job as an editor with a long form magazine and felt like I’d found my home. I wanted to be the next Malcom Gladwell, author of Blink. I’d read a piece he’d written for the New Yorker on the explosive growth of technology in Huggies diapers (yes, I know), and realized that in the hands of a master, any topic holds fascination.
And then the recession of 2008 happened. Just before that I had a baby born with Down syndrome. Shortly thereafter I got pregnant again and the magazine folded. I had an infant with a disability, I was pregnant and I was out of a job. I began writing about parenting and the amazement of having a child with a mind so different from my own. But then I suffered a personal tragedy. I stopped sleeping. Back to back pregnancies, coupled with the grief of losing my job kept me up until the night turned to day turned to night. I experienced months of sleeping one to two hours a night. I was prescribed sleeping pills (Ambien and then Ativan), with increasing dosages. Within months I was desperately dependent and within a year, barely able to function. My first book comes out of this time. I never anticipated that tragedy and crawling my way through years of insomnia and illness would be the cocoon to my writing life, but it transformed the way I approach my writing. I’m now bolder, more passionate and more alive than I’d ever imagined possible.
Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?
Throughout my years of insomnia and then dependency upon Ativan, I felt barely able to make it through the days. Despite having been a rock climber and marathoner, professional and world traveler, I’d been reduced to a woman barely able to push a double stroller a few blocks. I grew stick then, ghostly, unable to write in a straight line.
Once I discovered the medicine itself was causing my decline, I spent two years slowly tapering the Ativan to ensure I wouldn’t send my brain into shock that could cause a fatal seizure. The days were, at times, almost unbearable. Pouring a glass a milk was a success. Lifting my children into my arms was a success.
It’s exactly a decade since I completed my withdrawal and every day feels like spring. The Buddha said that life consists of much suffering. And I believe that it’s rare anyone escapes without having an experience where they’re brought to their knees – be it from grief, loss, illness or some other tragedy. What I’ve found is that humans often transform through tragedy. They build spiritual muscle. They become kinder and wiser. I’ll never wish the kind of withdrawal I experienced on anyone, but it’s shown me that even when I have been taken to my knees I will always, always get back up.
Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?
As a teenager, I cultivated a belief that to be true to my art, I could never sell it. I was anti-capitalist and sure that selling art was the equivalent of soul death. This was a very clever way for me to stay small and not put my work into the world at all. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was deeply unsure of whether I was good enough. So, I wrote and read my work but only tried to publish in small spurts and with every rejection I nourished the story that was a cover for my insecurity. It took years, but I now realize that there is a difference between the act of selling one’s work and the desire to share it with the world. Sharing is an act of love; selling is a transaction that can be part of that love. Like the most magnificent baker in Italy, everyone who creates something out of love should shout it to the world. I share my work, like a baker shares the croissants they’ve spent decades perfecting — here, taste this, it’s absolutely glorious.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.melissaabond.com
- Instagram: @melissabauthor
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/melissa-bond-b049345/
- Twitter: @MBondAuthor
Image Credits
Cat Palmer