Fran’s School of Hard Knocks

Reading reviews

As a younger, greenstick author, I got caught up in reading reviews of my book all the time.  Authorship is nerve-racking, as we launch our work in the public sphere and hope it floats.  As part of that process, we wait and watch, notice what happens, and naturally hope that our work fares well.  But now, I see, I was also waiting for the punishing crit, which has – thankfully – not materialised.  If it had, it would have demolished me inside, left me a crumbling, doubting wreck.  So why did I go looking?  Are authors naturally masochistic?

I think we scout around reviews and such, in part because we crave reassurance that the story we have told, carved from the huge granite block of our experiences, views and fantasies is the right one, that it hits a right spot, conveys at least something of what we want it to.  (In that way, we don’t need crits, because we are only too aware of the faults in our work, the paths we might have trod, the words we didn’t say….)

In the internet age, it is seen as part of our on-line engagement, to look at reviews, comment, thank, and generally spread the word.  But, suspecting that a habit of scanning the on-line horizon for signs of trouble is rarely a way to read anything good, and that doing so can become an endless preoccupation, I rarely read reviews now, and seldom comment directly.  Faced with real, hard, time-to-grow-up challenges lately, I haven’t time to think, either, about what people might write or say about what I have said and written, though I try to write honestly, and to comment sincerely.

I recognise that a less than flattering review is part of the legitimacy we seek for our work, our authorship.  In some way, seeing the whole range of views given, is a compliment of sorts, anchoring our determination firmly in the public sphere and strengthening our resolve to accept whatever comes along.  If we doubt this, we might wonder, are we frightened to let our work speak for itself?

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Getting help to get started

Before even thinking about sending off submissions of your work, consider investing in a good, professional edit.  If you are not sure where to start, take a look in the Yearbook, which lists many professionals who will be happy to review your work, for a fee.  Here is a useful article from Sarah Ream, Commissioning Editor at ‘The Pigeonhole’.

Research on-line, or, if you already belong in any kind of writers’ group, ask around to find editors in your geographical area and politely sound them out about their costs.  What kinds of services are they offering?  Might they help you strengthen your manuscript?  An editor is paid to edit confidently but sympathetically – charging by volume, not by the hour – and honestly enough to give useful feedback with which you can strengthen your work.  You are not paying them to tell you how marvelous your work is, but to offer an objective, helpful critique, with ideas about what to clear away, and what you can afford to keep, strengthen and develop.

Once we have taken on board what feels right and / or endured several, or several dozen nerve-racking re-writes, we may finally decide that our work is good enough for us to seek representation.  But, before you think about submissions, I strongly recommend becoming involved with on-line writers, for the exposure and experiences this offers.

Are we are certain that our work is ready to meet the marketplace?  Might it be worthwhile to seek out some kind of public endorsement from readers and other writers who can sympathize with our agonizing search for plot structure, finding the exact word and the late night drive for perfection?  The advice and feedback we receive from colleagues who may become friends and who are all facing similar hurdles, helps to ensure that our work is submission-ready, slick and confident enough to excite the interest of the professionals.  Just maybe, as a reward for all our hard work, an agent will notice what we have to offer and help to present our work to publishers in the best light.

I do believe in trying for an agent rather than going directly to publishers: most of the larger publishing houses don’t accept submissions from the general public, instead preferring to call on the services of agents, some of whom they employ rather like talent scouts.  They trust the judgement of fellow professionals in the industry and are happier to consider their representations seriously than to look at an anything from the top of the “slush pile”, that stack of unsolicited submissions which clutters up the desk or fills the in-box.  Besides, smaller publishers are not always easy to locate, nor is it straightforward to assess what each publishing house might be looking for next season.  An agent is best placed to have that kind of insider knowledge.  But first, we must be a hundred percent certain that we have done our best to polish our material, otherwise we will find it harder to present ourselves confidently to the market.  For this, on-line participation is immensely useful and should never be overlooked as a source of inspiration, support, friendship and learning.

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How to Get Published

That, as anyone who is trying to get published will tell you, is the sixty thousand dollar question, or maybe sixty million dollars, adjusted for inflation.

But as anyone who is published will tell you, getting published is really only the beginning. The more – some would say, the most – important question is, Do you have the stamina and the flexibility to be a focussed dreamer, a sociable writer, a faithful promoter, an intimate blogger, a modest self-publicist and a forthright diplomat? If not, I suspect this game is not for you. The rules keep changing, and if you are anything like me, you will be the last person in the room to discover that they have changed, or to work out how the changes affect your professional position. The chances are, every change will impact your life in some way, and, because no-one in this hectic business will have a great deal of time to explain any of this to you, there are huge advantages to being psychic, as well.

Nevertheless, if you are able to gaze upon that prospect with equanimity, this series of articles attempts to articulate a little about what I think I have learned about how the writing and publishing process works: to consider what agents, publishers, and the reading public are looking for and, most importantly, how to manage expectations.

I can only write from my own experience, and there is a great deal I have yet to learn. There is also a great deal that I will never learn, because there is so much to know and memory is finite. (At the last count, my account and password list was nearing fifty and I haven’t the space for many more). And, as I say, the rules keep changing.

Thanks for reading!

To be continued.

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Okay, so who here enjoys making mistakes?  Anyone?  I expect to be greeted with a deafening silence on that one.  Stupid question?  Not really.

The ways in which we can be taken for a ride, hoodwinked and generally made a fool of seem to grow exponentially as the years pass, though I don’t think it has anything to do with growing older, necessarily.  Anyone who works alone or for themselves is constantly at risk of being pressured, emotionally pulled or socially expected to expend their energy or part with their hard-earned cash in the hope of gaining more.  Yes, we need to invest in our futures, but how much, and with whom?  And how can we justify spending our time and money on a dream, a grand idea that may procure nothing more than a few half-hearted endorsements, or a clearer idea of the mistakes we made that we will not make again…?

We try a dozen things, and nothing happens.  We try a hundred, two hundred, and somewhere, somehow, the bud that is our hopes begins to unfurl.  We keep trying, and then, one day and totally out of the blue, we may receive some un-qualifiedly brilliant news that is like a bright light, buoying up our hopes. It is that light we are looking for.  And, I don’t see any other way to get to it except by making mistakes.  Lots and lots and lots….. we cast our hopes high and some land on good soil.  The rest, well, they may show us other paths, which we can choose to follow, or leave for later.  Other patches of ground we till with our hopes may grow into thickets of thorns that we know to avoid.  That in itself is a good thing.

But – we should be pleased with ourselves for even having the courage to try and maybe get it wrong; even to enjoy making mistakes.  To make mistakes is natural, normal and very necessary, (though it’s good to have a fall-back position so that we don’t end up feeling as if we lost the best years, or our families saw only our back views for too long).

As my friend might say, it’s all about balance. Which is tricky at the best of times.

Thanks for reading!

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