Monday, May 17, 2010

Milk Fever

This is one of the reasons why I will miss my job: beautiful authors. I arrived at work this morning with wet feet and cold coffee. But I was soon warmed up by the little package that was on my desk from the gorgeous Lisa Reece-Lane, thanking me for the work I've done on her book. So sweet and so special.

Lisa's book comes out 1 June. It's a stunning debut from an incredibly talented author. 'Milk Fever is an uncommon romance. It is a novel of love, yearning, the fragility of modern family and forgiveness. And of how, despite our desire to remain separate, we are all incredibly precious, connected and, ultimately, necessary to each other.'

I came across Lisa's manuscript in the dreaded slush pile. Getting through the slush pile is not the most pleasant of jobs. So I was so pleasantly surprised when Lisa's email came through. A simple, understated request to submit her novel to Murdoch Books. I straightened up. Milk Fever. What a great title. I read the opening line and I knew it was going to be good. I finished the first chapter and walked over to my boss, in a daze: 'I just started reading something in the unsolicited pile. And it's good.' I took the manuscript home and could not put it down. I took it to the hairdresser, I took it to the cafe, and read it on every mode of public transport I took that weekend.

I was hooked, totally in love and utterly mad with Milk Fever. We had to publish it. We would have been crazy not to. Thankfully my boss and the publishing team agreed. And now here we are, almost exactly one year from submission and we're eagerly awaiting the release of this poignant and beautifully written book.

If I were you I'd be watching those shelves and snapping up a copy. In the meantime you can get a fix here and read a sample chapter here.
It's okay, you can thank me later.



  1. Cactus, let me share a little secret with you. A lot of writers are very scared of the people who work in publishing houses. We hear rumours of scathing rejection letters, rarely-opened rooms full of decaying manuscripts and grumpy editors.

    You, however, are a ray of sunshine. I'm betting that even with wet feet and cold coffee you could warm anyone's heart.

    Thanks for finding me in the pile. Thanks for hauling me out. Thanks for putting such an incredible amount of effort into getting Milk Fever onto the book shelves.

    Keep shining your light, beautiful, and remember if you are ever in Melbourne, come and have a cup of coffee with me - I promise it won't be cold.


  2. Oh, sweet Lisa :) I'm glad to break the stereotype for you.

    Your manuscript was gold plated, and let me assure you, working on Milk Fever was a pleasure, I barely thought of it as work.

    And I will definitely take you up on that coffee when I'm next in Melbourne, which is hopefully in the very near future.