Path To Publication

March 3, 2016

Being Honest

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Being Honest

Whether you are drawn to writing fiction, fantasy, chic lit, New Age or memoir, there is really nothing more fundamental than being honest. Not brutal, but honest and clear about your motives, your intentions, what you are trying to say and how you express your voice. It is only through honesty that we can build the conviction that leads to convincing writing. The talents on display for each genre are going to be different, and each of us will find our strengths as we continue to write. But without honesty, any surface appeal will soon wither.

Honestly writing to make a living is a good enough motive, and will help to clarify for you what parts of your material feel commercially attractive. Writing in order to gain understanding or empathy is another worthwhile motive, and one which will come into play a great deal in fields such as memoir and New Age. Purely as an outlet for personal or artistic expression, writing is equally valid, though as a justification for spending regular, committed time on our craft, this reason, the purest of all, is often in danger of being downplayed, particularly by women writers who tend to be dismissive of what they bring to the writing table. It is not that women are less talented than their male counterparts; it is that we appear to take our ambitions less seriously.

 

Albert Anker, 'Junge Frau einen Brief schreibend'1903
Albert Anker, ‘Junge Frau einen Brief schreibend’1903

I hope you read a lot, look, listen and squirrel away details. I hope you go out and have an interesting life, because being active as well as reflective will bequeath you material to use in your writing, and, more importantly, it will give you oxygen to breathe, time to rest and appreciate, time to notice the outside world. Writing cannot grow in isolation. It needs a source, it needs time out, just as we all do. Getting away from the desk gives us pause to reflect, allowing time for new ideas and inspiration to spark up. Energy is what gives writing its focus, and without outside interests, either our energy will be misapplied, or it will sag and wilt from lack of refreshment.

Writers spend a lot of time thinking, dwelling inside their heads or with their thoughts and feelings. If you are anything like me, you will watch people with fascination, just to notice their facial expressions, to try and imagine their motives. You may linger at the beach or be drawn to gaze hypnotically at waves crashing on a beach, or at the sunset, long after other people have packed away their picnic bags and gone home, brushing sand from their feet and already caught up with what happens next. Observation, empathy, intimacy and patience, all these qualities inform our writing and make it authentic. So, take time to do other things, to notice how life moves. That kind of patience is time well spent. If it makes you feel better, you can always call it research!

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March 1, 2016

Creative use of language

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Creative use of Language

Creative writing is as much about playing games as anything else is. We play games with words and meanings. If we are into sci-fi, we may even invent our own languages and personal dictionaries. But we do need to ensure that our readers can understand our writing. For this, a good dictionary is indispensable, even if we excel at language. As I have said, writing is lonely and there are times when we need certainty. Getting help from a like-minded compiler is very, very reassuring. So invest in the biggest single-volume dictionary you can afford – and carry in one hand – or ask one of your friends to buy you one as a birthday present. Shelve it beside your desk. ‘Spell-check’ gets it wrong too, sometimes.

If we want to communicate effectively, it helps if other people know exactly what we mean, so hopefully we steer clear of heavy or obscure language.

Idiom – if you’re not sure what that means, look it up in your dictionary – is an interesting case in point. If I wrote, ‘The lady asked if I was pulling her leg, and that I had better leave her alone or she would sock it to me’, an editor unfamiliar with that idiom might query, ‘Pulling whose leg? Putting the sock on the leg?’ To take other examples: ‘Hang on a sec’ might raise the question, ‘What is a sec, and why is he hanging onto it?’ If you write, ‘Betty’s going to give Bert stick when she catches up with ‘im’ you are likely to find that, for an American translation, someone will have prefaced ‘stick’ with an indefinite article.

Our idioms, with which we feel so entirely comfortable, are so meshed with everyday language, that it can be hard to notice when readers with different social references find them incomprehensible. Idioms are not self-explanatory, so in the long run it might be easier to find some other way to express the same point.

I_Call_It_My_True_Companion,_by_Coles_Phillips

Similarly, humour can be a challenge, as what one nation finds amusing may well be insulting in a different cultural setting. For example, saying, ‘I have my best knickers on, just in case I get run over by a bus’ might be funny in Edinburgh, UK or deepest Dorset, but probably would not work in Bremen, Germany. Beware of putting a ‘family joke’ into a book, unless we can explain the background, seamlessly making that relevant and funny to any reader. We had best assume throughout the creative process, that we would like everyone to understand what we are writing about. An uncompromising message can be very important, but finding ways to stay committed to your creative style and voice in ways that do not alienate or confuse readers, is a large part of what makes writing saleable.

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February 25, 2016

Writerly ambitions

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Before you agree with the voices of reason and common sense and sadly pack away your writerly ambitions, consider why you enjoy writing. How does this particular form of creative expression make you feel? Happy, energised and worthwhile? If so, perhaps we should be taking these feelings seriously and pick up a pen, switch on the computer…start now. Anything will do, you know. Just start with a monologue, a picture of a flower, the exploration of your dream or a letter to God. Start.

If we have something that pesters our dreams or drives us, secretly we will probably know all about it. There will indeed be times when writing is definitely the most worthwhile thing we can do, just now. It certainly feels a million times better than frustration and regret, wondering what we might have achieved if only we had had the courage to take that first step. It is never too late to begin, but there are times when it is simply easier to take the hint: Think how much energy it takes, to keep shoving our passions aside.

"Cornwall Daffodils" by Mark Robinson
“Cornwall Daffodils” by Mark Robinson

We don’t have to write our magnum opus all at once. We can come back to it, take it on little excursions as our next pet project. The best way to give your ideas room to breathe is to start small, and do at least a little writing every day. Decide to write for at least half an hour a day – about anything! – and soon, our doodles stretch themselves into something more substantial. Sketch out a few ideas, start with a few headings….be creative.

Call yourself a writer. Start to see yourself as one, and put that down on your passport application. Insert ‘writer’ as your occupation on the census, or on that application for a loan. Introduce yourself at parties and functions with, “I’m a writer” and you will start to feel a shift that makes it true. No-one is going to laugh in your face or say, “What, you? A writer?? I remember when you were just making it out of college. Your only ambition then was to get laid!” When you utter the words, “I am a writer” people will nod, look interested and ask you what you write about. Then, you can have an interesting conversation and maybe learn something that you will find useful. Saying, “I’m a writer” feels an awful lot better than, “I’m just a housewife” or “I’m unemployed”, don’t you think? (With apologies to all home makers, home economists and people looking for work.)

To be continued.

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February 24, 2016

How to start writing

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A new mini-series in which I explore how we start writing.

We start writing seriously when we finally accept that there is nothing we would rather do, than sit all day and craft a story.  Or explain something that is dear to our hearts.  Or cut a swathe through old literature with a bright new perspective.

Writing – or communicating with others – has to be what motivates us to leave aside the laundry, work late at night, ignore the telephone and neglect to cook complicated meals.  In short, it has to be something of an obsession.  If it is not, we will fail to prioritise it enough, give it our love, our thought, our energy, tears and precious time.

For every writer out there who does write and who is struggling to make it, there will be many dozens who say, “Yes, I would love to write, and I would be good at it, too.  I have a great story to tell….” but who will look askance when it is suggested that they could put pen to paper, or fingers to the keyboard. “Yes, of course I would love to, but once I got started, I would never stop, and I have too much else to do!”  Then, no matter how good our story, no matter how perfect our writing style or how witty our voice, nothing can happen.  We write when we sit down to write, and nothing else will do.  Simple.

Eugène_Grasset-Encre_L_MarquetActually….not so simple.  As soon as we sit down to write, a dozen or twenty other things that we “ought to be doing” will pop into our heads for a look see how we wasted five hours today.  Everyone, is seems, has something better to do than write.  Perhaps it is a very British obsession, this idea that we should be occupied with something ‘more worthwhile’.  Sooner or later, most writers have to consider how they will handle the critic in their heads that suggests they “should” be doing something else more sensible, practical or lucrative.  That voice, which talks such convincing common sense, may come from our family members, from disillusioned parents who only want the best for us; from our spouse who is worried about the monthly payments; from our colleagues who think we should stop taking all this creative stuff so seriously; from other writers who see nothing but difficulty and disillusionment coming our way, and from ourselves, when we are unused to doing something as frivolous as actually writing a book from start to finish.

(To be continued)

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February 22, 2016

To help my daughter

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To help my daughter

By writing with energy and commitment, I hope to demonstrate a good example to my daughter. I know how much she copies me without being aware she is doing so, and my awareness of this process teaches me the importance of being a good example to follow. In this, we both win.

In a world in which women are still under-represented and often undervalued, it becomes a good idea to teach my daughter that she can thrive if she plays to her strengths; and that women can succeed by working doggedly at something which inspires them. They, as much as their male counterparts, have the right to devote time and energy to the things they enjoy.

I need to teach Seline that persistence is rewarded. What will that reward be? Feelings of personal satisfaction? The joy of discovering humour and excitement, of seeing something we have made and realising, ‘I made this, and actually, it’s really good!’ The pleasure of public recognition? A pay cheque? It doesn’t matter what motivates us, as long as we use our energy and awareness productively.

John William Waterhouse, 'The Crystal Ball'
John William Waterhouse, ‘The Crystal Ball’

In writing almost solidly for the last nine years, I have finally – finally! – demonstrated to my doubting Thomas self the value of the power waiting to be unleashed when I work hard for long periods without apparent reward. In fact, I can demonstrate that already, as my daughter’s own work attitude has improved and from my example she is indeed learning the value of persistence.

We invest in the thoughts, hopes, ideas, dreams and plans that we find most energising. We then need the courage to see them as far to completion as we can, while allowing others to help us by offering suggestions, time, space and financial support to continue. I have spent money in the pursuit of my dreams, and often the investment, looked at in the cold light of day, would seem to be beyond sensible. But then, we all invest in our hopes. It is an investment worth making, even if the tangible rewards are hard to quantify.

Thank you for reading.

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February 19, 2016

More reasons to write

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Do we need more reasons to write? Well then, I write as a form of meditation; to become so gathered in thoughts and the plot, that I can forget where I am, who I am, what time or day it is. Time rearranges itself to my activity, which proves utterly absorbing. After tapping away for hours – my handwriting is atrocious, these days – I can look up, blink, and feel refreshed to have been away from the usual tracks I pursue.

It is also good, in the depths of another episode of insomnia, to have something to show for years of broken sleep. Actually, I have my daughter to thank for the realisation that I rarely have insomnia these days: her baby days were so utterly exhausting, that I am quite well schooled to sleep for a minimum of six hours a night. Bliss!

And I have my daughter to thank for something else, too. My life, until she came into being, was littered with half-finished projects. I had lots of good ideas, but never quite the stamina or motivation to finish them, until my friend reminded me that she would pick up that habit, the, ‘oh, I just can’t be bothered’ habit from me, unless she saw me doing things differently. How closely children follow our example in all things!

Paul_Hoecker-Vally-1888

That gave me all the incentive I needed to set a good example, which was unafraid to work hard, to persevere, to take frightening risks perhaps, but to finish. Finishing, as a motivation, has become an end it itself.

It is only by seeing our projects through to the finish that we prove our dreams are worthwhile. By finishing a job – no matter how small – I discover the best way to demonstrate the power of success to my daughter and set a good example.

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February 15, 2016

I write to explain

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I write to explain how I feel about life. I remember being a tongue-tied youngster, but I could write letters. So whenever I was going through a difficult patch, often with my current beau, I would write about that and he would read my letter carefully and with real attention. He, and many others in my family, enthused about my letters, so, in being grateful for that praise, I understood that I can and should write, to honour my small but honest ability.

I often write to ponder and reflect about Life, the Universe and the unfolding of plans, to learn about how the world works, and, most importantly, to develop empathy. I have often been that woman in the room who got the joke last. So writing helps me to take my time, and make sense of the world slowly. Writing is a silent, dignified medium which allows us to air subject matter that makes us cringe….with relative dignity, in peace. We can mourn our losses privately, and some of that feeds to the page.

Marie_Spartali_Stillman_-_Beatrice_(1895)

I write so that I am empowered to accept my life. With all its apparent pitfalls and limitations, it would be so easy to allow a negative mind-set to take over. But, armed with the time I need to devote to writing – thank you, husband! – I see the beauty and satisfaction in a task taken to completion, by progress in small steps. Having had an unusual, some would say un-promising start, it helps me to turn all uncertainty and misery to good account when I realise I can turn all my mistakes into opportunities to write about life’s absurdities.

I don’t write alone, despite it being a solitary occupation. While writing, I can feel thoughts and ideas nudging to gain expression, as my fingers hover over the keys. I can feel the encouragement of a dozen predecessors who wish the best for me, who know what I can achieve when I set my mind to it, and want me to be happy. If I am to express the love I feel for those who have given me so much, it behoves me – as it behoves all of us – to honour our gifts and give them full expression.

Thanks for reading.

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February 11, 2016

The Human Impulse to Write

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It is part of the human impulse to write, and there are as many reasons to write as there are people. I often think of writers as photographers, taking snapshots, painting worlds with their words that other people can then share: We are all archivists of the human condition; recorders of culture, anchors of ideas, of philosophy, of hopes and dreams and what it means to be free and alive – all vitally important motivators, which keep us coming back for more to write and read, and push us forward while renewing our strength for the relentless discipline of writing.

It is part of a writer’s nature to write, so telling them not to do so, is like telling them to take the notes out of a symphony, or remove the colour from the flowers; or like instructing the waterfall to turn around and go back up the hill. A true writer eventually admits no impediment to her writing, making the decision to write relatively easy in the end.

Portrait of Adelaida Simonovich
Portrait of Adelaida Simonovich

The decision made, our writing will often be propelled onto the page, like the water flooding out of the taps when we finally turn them on. There will be no agonising about what to write, or where we start. The initial flood may slow to a trickle, but hopefully by then, we will have crafted something satisfying that gives us a hint of our future direction.

Deciding to write creatively is not a rational decision. It is not something that we sit down to, with a list of ‘pluses and minuses’ tallying them up to work out a total and then deciding whether to go ahead or not. Perhaps, you think, it should be, but then, how many of the biggest decisions in our lives are the result of rational thought? Did we commit to our partners after an assessment of their worldly value? Did we fall in love with our dwellings because they ticked everything on a pre-selected list? Probably not. I can give you a few rational reasons why writing is a waste of time. These days, the success rates for new writers can be compared convincingly to the chances of winning the lottery. Who in their right mind would write anything, faced with odds like these? But like falling in love with our mates or falling into life with our bijou pads, unless we fall head over heels, we stand very little chance of succeeding: our hearts are at the centre of our huge decisions.

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February 9, 2016

Why We Write

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We write for many reasons, and have our own particular motivations for bothering to do so, and for persisting. Our reasons will of course be as individual as we are, but will have been chosen from a common palate of colours and impulses that drive writers forward to create with words.

It may seem strange, that having written three books – and now writing three more – numerous short stories, a radio play, flash fiction, letters and articles, only now am I pondering why we write. I would like to flesh out my curiosity with something tangible, so have written this series of articles exploring what impels us to commit words to the page, considering what motivates us to write journals or blogs, short stories, and so on.

Fragonard The_Reader

Writing within each genre, we will be impelled by different impulses which might prove helpful to explore, if only to reassure us that all writing is a worthwhile, valuable thing to be engaged in. Those of us with artistic leanings seem to be less inclined to take our creativity seriously than, say, an accountant or a physics teacher; and women writers, in particular, may have been brought up to be polite and self-effacing, so that, taking their writing seriously or to the next level is regarded as self-indulgent or un-necessary, further bolstering the old world view that getting carried away would be undignified.

When the other calls upon our time grow insistent, offering practical reasons to persist may helpfully reinforce our determination to scribble or engage with other writers on-line when most sensible people are asleep or out earning the daily crust.

There will be occasions when we cannot recall why we are bothering; and at other times we have no desire whatever to write another word, ever. We may hanker for the day when we might expect to enjoy ‘normal’ lives like other people, untrammelled with the constant discipline of scratching the writing itch. And there are thousands of people who are only too willing to look at all our writing and say, wryly, “What makes you think you should be doing this? Don’t you think it’s time to get a ‘real’ job?” Cynics are mostly fearful for us. Suspecting that their concern is for our best interests, we can listen gently without taking their advice too much to heart. Even so, some practical reasons may help to refute well-meant advice which suggests that we should be getting back to ordinary living and rejoin the rest of the world.

Until next time, thanks for reading.

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February 4, 2016

To Submit a Manuscript

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To Submit a Manuscript

I’ve done a fair bit of submitting in my time, (nothing to do with BDSM, btw) and it occurs to me there are several methods, each of which has its advantages and problems.

Edgar Degas Portrait of Duranty

The first and most obvious way, is by recommendation: “Yes, I spoke to so-and-so and they say just send it in and they’ll be happy to take a peek”. How would you feel about such an opportunity? Ecstatic, uncertain, cynical? Such openings are rare, but valuable, so long as (a) this is not our first ever attempt at sending in a manuscript, and (b) we take the chance to research the agent/publisher’s requirements and (c) we write to the person by name, mention the referral and thank them profusely for their time. Chances are, it will take at least six months before any submission looks the part (though this is not a hard-and-fast rule). In any case, I would always suggest that you leave your best shot – best idea, best fit with publisher/agent – until last, and use some of your less promising shots as warm-ups. I can’t count the number of times I’ve thought a submission was perfect, only to spot a typo in the top line after I’ve pressed ‘send’.

Another way to submit might be called the ‘scattergun’ which, as the name implies, is probably the least reliable method to use. Basically, open the ‘Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook’ at approximately the right page, scroll down and pick one agency that looks likely. The obvious disadvantages are that it is very ‘hit and miss’, and it also reinforces the notion that you are looking for a needle in a haystack, when, in fact, a careful trawl of your best options will show that the number of suitable agencies and publishers you might submit to is actually quite small. I would not recommend this method.

There is also the ‘cluster’ technique, based on a bit more research of the likely candidates. You might start out with a bit of the ol’ scattergun, but you narrow the field on any one day, to about three or four, and send them in a morning or afternoon. Having three or four to do at one time makes it clear that each submission is different, and that each publisher/agent has their own requirements. Clustering also allows you to tailor each approach more carefully, and because you send out three or four at one time, there is a sense of optimism about your chances. Not a bad technique, as long as you keep a note of everyone you submit to, and the outcome.

The last method I mention is probably the most organised. I used to hate being organised, thinking it somehow compromises artistic leanings. But here’s the thing: organisation actually saves time, repetition and tedium, so this is now my favoured method. Using the yearbook, I list every agency/publisher who is (a) accepting submissions, and (b) mentions my specialism in their listing. Then I look through my list, deleting those which, on reflection, are unlikely candidates. For example, your first list might include all agencies that look at film or theatre scripts, but on a second run-through, it becomes clearer that what you really want is an agency that mentions or specialises in radio scripts.

Then I gather contact names, addresses and website details for each entry, as well as preferred requirements for submission (email only, short synopsis, CV, cover letter?) and research every single agency/publisher listed and delete any which seem unlikely. I can keep the list, add to it, and submit when I feel like it. It’s much easier to learn from what we have already done and get a feel for what will work, though at the end of the day there are no hard-and-fast rules.

Thanks for reading.

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