me
daria snadowsky

Whenever anybody asked me what I was interested in, I never had an honest answer.  It was kinda scary—everyone else seemed to have something they were really passionate about, while all that ever really appealed to me was watching my favorite movies and TV shows, listening to music, and laughing with my girlfriends about racy books. 

In order to compensate for my lack of direction, I threw myself into my grades.  I reasoned that since I had to be in school eight hours a day anyway, I might as well pay attention in class.  Yet I always looked in awe at my fellow classmates who chose to channel their energies to other ambitions, be it art, sports or community service. 

By college, I was still no closer to gravitating toward a genuine interest, but in my spare time I wrote for the school newspaper and interned for various magazines.  It’s not so much that I enjoyed journalism, but as extra-curriculars go, it was convenient time-wise.  Squeezing in an article here and there between studying and writing papers was very doable, and receiving feedback from readers was very gratifying—I loved the feeling of "connecting" with people I’d never met before but who were nonetheless affected by my written words.  And even if I wasn’t fervently interested in anything, at least I could write about interesting people who were doing interesting things.  I thought I may have found my career. 

So fast-forward a few years.  I was suddenly out of work with several months of unemployment checks pending.  Consequently, I had massive quantities of free time for my mind to wander.  Having recently emerged rather scathed from my umpteenth relationship, I inevitably ended up thinking a lot about love—how it can make you feel on top of the world at one moment, and in the depths of despair the next, or how it can feel so right when it’s so wrong, and so wrong when it’s so right.  I was thinking that even though love had been written about millions of times over the centuries, it’s a subject that never gets old because there’s always a new generation of young people experiencing it for the first time.  I was thinking that although school introduced me to some of the most celebrated works of literature, on the whole it was the contemporary slang-filled young adult novels I read as a teenager that truly resonated with me.  Soon, I realized I wanted to connect with readers on a more emotional, visceral level than I ever did as a journalist, and I suspected I might have something to contribute to the world of teen chick lit.  Then one day, after posting a dozen or so more résumés on MONSTER.com, I opened a new Word document and started getting down some dialogue that had been going through my head.

Fast-forward again another year and a half.  I had finished a bona fide first draft.  I had also exhausted my bank account and moved in with my family, so I decided to do the quote/unquote responsible thing and go back to school.  Fifteen months, countless rejections, one agent, countless more rejections, and two major rewrites later, I had an offer . . . and a lousy GPA.  I finally became one of those students who had more "interesting" things to do than homework!  (And I have to say, it felt so sinfully fabulous sitting in class editing a love scene on my laptop when I was supposed to be taking notes on Civil Procedure.)

In sum, Anatomy of a Boyfriend is the product of a long, circuitous personal and professional path marked by numerous mistakes, failures and dead ends (oh, and did I mention countless rejections?).  But I learned a lot along the way.  Not surprisingly, the most rewarding part has been hearing back from readers who have gotten hold of advanced copies of the book and connected to the characters and story.  And at the very least, now when someone asks me what I'm interested in, I have an answer :-)
(written 10/06)

for specific information on where i've worked, etc., see "boring bio" at book.

i'm represented by scott miller of trident media group.

photo credit:  michelle snadowsky