Bowling Across America

“If that guy can get a book published, anyone can.” So spoke a friend recently, in reference to someone else’s tortured prose. Realizing his phrasing may have caused offense, he quickly clarified that he’d enjoyed the advance copy of Bowling Across America he’d read, and his point was that this other book didn’t compare. Well….

The story this book captures took place in late 2002 and early 2003. Getting it published is what happened between then and now and, my friend’s observation aside, it took a fair amount of work and rejection to get to where we are now, just a month from BAA’s arrival at a bookstore near you.

It began in 2003 with an agent who came across the story as my trip was still in progress and thought the book had a good chance of “finding a home” (in the parlance of the industry) with a reputable publisher who would pay me to write it, then distribute it to bookstores everywhere, and pay me more if it sold well. Some of the feedback my initial proposal elicited from editors at reputable publishers:

“This is very diverting and the author lards his writing with many sly/funny/naïve/ touches that made me grin. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this book is…an exercise of some artificiality…”

“I loved this. ABSOLUTELY. For real…[but] thanks for allowing me to send you the most casual of rejection letters.”

“….neither the subject nor the writing really knocked me out.”

“I would have trouble figuring out what I could do with it”

“I can’t believe Mike Walsh hasn’t written a book before….but it might be a tad difficult for it to break out.”

“I love this guy! He is hilarious, and clearly a great American…I found it palled as I went on…”

“He’s a lovely writer, but this feels just a tad on the frivolous side for me.”

And my personal favorite:

“I was laughed out of the room by my colleagues [for proposing making a] ridiculously low offer for this book”

Each of these rejections was paired with a sweetly optimistic note from said agent, along the lines of, “being laughed out of the room is actually a good sign.” Or, “It doesn’t technically say, ‘no.’ It sorta says, ‘no,’ but not entirely.” Or, “one of the most positive rejections I’ve gotten in a long time.” I lost count, and have long since taken the printouts off the wall where I’d posted them out of motivation and/or self-pity, but there were over thirty rejections in all. A valiant effort by a great agent who put a lot of faith in an unproven writer, but alas a failing one. Having exhausted his efforts, he moved on to books that actually got deals, and I returned to re-writing the book on my own.

I finished a complete draft about a year after the last rejection note came in, and spent more time re-writing portions of that, all the while holding out hope that the book market would come around.

Enter John Murphy, a publicist at St. Martin’s Press, in early 2006. He liked a proposal I sent him enough to champion it to a few editors at St. Martin’s, one of whom—Tom Mercer—agreed to take it on. Tom suggested a slew of edits and re-writes, all of which improved the book immensely. As Tom’s responsibilities at St. Martin’s shifted, so did the book’s home, to the desk of an editor named Marc Resnick. Another round of much-needed changes at Marc’s suggestion, some further “suggestions” from a proofreader and a lawyer, and here we are.