A long time ago, I wrote a historical children’s novel. It was set in the 1400s because I’m a medieval history freak. I studied the Middle Ages in college; I’ve even written a nonfiction book on the bubonic plague that you can take a look at here (lots of gross illustrations and descriptions of buboes, if you’re into that!). The novel had a nugget of a good idea in it. But I was told, over and over again, that history was dead. There was no market for it. Kids didn’t read history.
I retired the manuscript, though I didn’t really believe that history was dead. I’d adored The Door in the Wall when I was a kid. I saw The Midwife’s Apprentice win the 
Newbery Medal. I devoured historical novel after historical novel — all of them published. I knew someone besides me had to be reading them.
At some point, I realized that my agent had long been obsessed with the historical events I treat in the story. She read it and loved it, and her enthusiasm was contagious. So I revised it. And I revised it again. And parts of it again. I added new characters, slashed the dreaded infodumps that seem so necessary to historical fiction (because nobody really knows which were the Lancasters and which were the Yorks, right?) and somehow got the background I needed in there anyway. I changed the narrative point of view. I didn’t have any real hope that the novel would ever be published, because, you know, history is dead. So I was on no timetable, and I just let the story do what it wanted to do.
And then, late last year, an editor read the manuscript and sent the most beautiful email I’ve ever gotten. Not only did she love the story, sh
e completely understood everything I was trying to do in it. And she wanted to publish it. Apparently, when I read the offer I made a noise that was so bizarre that it scared my husband half to death. But it was a genuine howl of joy.
There’s a Santayana quote that goes, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” I don’t know if the daily evidence that we’re repeating the worst parts of our history has anything to do with my book’s acceptance. There might be parallels to be 
drawn between Richard III and his rise to power and present-day people and situations — but hey, that’s a discussion for another day. Today, I’ll just revel in the fact that The Butcher’s Daughter has found its perfect home.
And here’s the official announcement in Publisher’s Marketplace:
WOOHOO!!!