I sacrificed a white bull on the altar, then burned its hide and ate its bones. The blood I used to water the grass. Then I said a prayer to MELPOMINE, the hungriest and cruelest of Muses.
Then I wrote a book and sent that book to an agent and the agent said "yup" and then the agent sent that book to a punch of publishers and most of those publishers said "nope" except two who said "wait, yep," and then those two publishers had a tiny slap-and-tickle until one said "okay, nope" and the last one standing said "HELL YEP" and then they published my book.
But mostly it was the white bull thing, I'm sure of it.