About

Kelly Elizabeth Huston writes women-centric, genre-straddling fiction that always includes laughs and a love story. But sometimes there's heartbreak, a smidge of mystery, moments of suspense, and maybe a dead body... or two. Maybe. Above all, she hopes her protagonists are better for it in the end, and she entertains her readers along the way.
 
She currently lives in Georgia with her husband and two nearly-grown sons, who are, hands down, the best cheer squad a writer could wish for. After spending a few years in the traditional publishing space, Kelly leaped to the indie side without looking back and is eager to dole out her book babies and get them read. She hopes you'll join her in the adventure.

Want more? Continue for a note from Kelly Elizabeth.

I didn't begin writing until late in 2018 when I came down with a pesky chronic illness that kept me pretty immobile most of the day. Spoiler alert: I'm well now, but it was months of yuck. I tried to take up knitting, but I had no skills. Couldn't NOT drop a stitch to save my life and since keeping my heart slow and steady was my doctor’s exact instruction, the knitting needles and skeins of yarn went into a box where they live to this day.

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I decided to try writing. I’d often been told I wrote well. Papers got good grades in school. My emails were entertaining. How hard could it be? Ha! That said, I’ve studied the craft and learned a lot since those first words hit the page. It wasn’t long before I began to fantasize about actually publishing. Again, how hard could it be? Oh boy. I spent a year in what traditional publishing calls the query trenches, where writers pursue representation (an agent) to gain access to publishing houses—most notably the BIG FIVE. It’s a horrible place where most writer-dreams die, unfortunately. Had I known the chances of succeeding at leaping through this fiery hoop, I’d likely never would have tried. Ignorance is bliss. I was lucky. Ninety-eight “no”s came at me with stinging regularity until someone finally said, yes, then another and another.

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I made my pick (the last moment I had any real control in my traditional publishing journey) and my very reputable agent from a strong, well-regarded, Manhattan agency and I were off to the "submission" races, the next fiery hoop. Skip ahead two manuscripts over two years, a few very close calls, and even more rejection, the agent and I amicably split.

 

Worst. Break-up. Ever.

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By then, I had learned even more and met many writers finding success in different ways. First and foremost, I learned I had more learning to do. My decision to pursue self-publishing didn’t come lightly. I knew the uphill battle, the learning curve (it’s a lot), the cost (editors are expensive, but also incredibly important), the stigma (side note: self-published ≠ a bad book; traditionally published ≠ a good book, but AI books = BAD FOR EVERYONE**). I jumped in any way and am so happy I did. Turns out, my goal was to get read and see my books on a shelf in public libraries. By that measure, I am a verifiable success. Have I moved the goal post since those early days? You betcha. But every Goodreads and Amazon review, every DM from a happy reader, every autograph, every measly royalty check stokes my fire to continue. Which means without you, dear reader, I probably wouldn’t publish. Write? Yes, I’m a writer now. No getting away from that. It’s a vocation and with me forever. But thanks to you, I get to share my stories in ways I never imagined. I’m not one to applaud ignorance and certainly not my own, but maybe just this once. My advice, if you’re looking for any— if you get a wild hair to do an unimaginable good thing, take the leap.

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**the hill I will die on