Gregory Feeley, longtime friend and fellow writer, also a historian of the SF and fantasy fields, opened a Facebook group where stories of publishing, mostly from the past could be discussed by those interested or knowledgable. This was my contribution:

When, in1972, I had finished my first novel, The Deep, I hit on a way of interesting publishers in the work, which an unknown author might not easily attract. The book was typed on an old manual typewriter, on yellow copy paper. I would take the typescript and bake it in the oven to brown the edges of the pages, then write a title page in fountain pen, with an invented name and date (1936 was the date, I think) – and then I would take it to editors as the only novel of a distant relative. If accepted, this would I thought gain me the entrée to the field that I needed.

In the end I never executed this absurd plan. The other object I had in mind was to have my book appear as an Ace Science Fiction Special, books I much admired. I was then living in Manhattan, so I got on the subway and took my book up to Ace, somewhere in midtown, and asked at the desk who I could hand over this MS to. Some time passed, but a cheerful fellow appeared, whose name I would learn Pat LoBrutto – and he carried it away with him, after taking down my phone number and address for any reply.Gregory Feeley, longtime friend and fellow writer, also a historian of the SF and fantasy fields, opened a Facebook group where stories of publishing, mostly from the past could be discussed by those interested or knowledgable. This was my contribution:

When, in1972, I had finished my first novel, The Deep, I hit on a way of interesting publishers in the work, which an unknown author might not easily attract. The book was typed on an old manual typewriter, on yellow copy paper. I would take the typescript and bake it in the oven to brown the edges of the pages, then write a title page in fountain pen, with an invented name and date (1936 was the date, I think) – and then I would take it to editors as the only novel of a distant relative. If accepted, this would I thought gain me the entrée to the field that I needed.
In the end I never executed this absurd plan. The other object I had in mind was to have my book appear as an Ace Science Fiction Special, books I much admired. I was then living in Manhattan, so I got on the subway and took my book up to Ace, somewhere in midtown, and asked at the desk who I could hand over this MS to. Some time passed, but a cheerful fellow appeared, whose name I would learn was Pat LoBrutto – and he carried it away with him, after taking down my phone number and address for any reply.

A long time passed – months, in fact – with no reply. I can’t remember the published writer who told me that it was absurd to leave book with a publisher for that long with no response. Go get it back! So I returned to Ace and asked if there was any news on my book (I knew there was none) and Pat LoBrutto appeared with it, and said it was unlikely any editor would get around to it, and did I want to take it back. I did take it back. The two other publishers of SF I knew of were Harpers and Doubleday. They were about equidistant from Ace’s offices. At random I picked Doubleday. Sharon Jarvis bought it.