Me Write Good
I wrote this on the 26th of November, but was apparently too addled to correctly publish it online. So, conveniently, I have some good news to balance the post I just wrote. (And the dieting – except for the uncontrollable rage – is going surprisingly well, thank you.)
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Last night, around midnight, I finished my National Novel Writing Month book (adding a completely useless conversation to fill in the last five hundred words. As you do).
This is the first time I’ve written a fifty-thousand word manuscript since 2005. (2005 was about the time when I noticed I was losing my mind, and that’s not very confidence-inducing.)
Finishing something (even a hideously flawed first draft) this big is VERY confidence-inducing. It also means that I have a better feel for what 50,000 words looks like when I rewrite the second and third books in my young adult trilogy (I’m still waiting for the publisher to reply on the first one – they’ve now made a new Australian record for Slowest Response Ever, further supporting my, “They’ll probably say yes” theory and sending me deeper into hope-induced madness). Incidentally, that first young adult book is also a NaNo book, which grew to over double its original size during the editing process.
I might not be very good at walking or talking but I am truly extraordinary at producing novels fast. During the process of writing, I noticed that I often wrote at a rate of two THOUSAND words an hour. That even boggles my mind. I really wish I could apply that kind of skill level to something a little more practical, but at least I can do something not everyone in the world can do.
Now seems as good a time as any to say that my friend’s sick baby is home and appears to be completely unharmed. Today I’ll also begin a new attempt at losing some of the fifteen kilos I’ve gained this year, utilising the post-NaNo high.
Some of you already know that I didn’t plan to do NaNo this year (mainly because the logical book to work on is book 2 of the young adult trilogy, which has large good chunks which I’ll cut and paste into the new version). So here is how it happened:
On Thursday 12th November I woke up from a dream which I thought had some moderately interesting elements – an empath community that had a large underground sanctuary made of stone, and that could track each other by thought. I also had two scenes in my head – one involving kidnapping, in which my hero rescued a child but wasn’t able to save his mother; and one in which the baddie shot at the hero and killed her closest ally. From that, I started writing. I have a bad habit of letting my characters sit around and chat, so I worked on making sure every chapter had some direct physical conflict (eg baddie fights hero, baddie fights hero in different location, hero is chased by police, heroes run away from fire set by baddie). One of the interesting side effects is that I did a little editing of another novel of mine at the same time, and REALLY noticed how much I need more action (something publishers have been telling me for years). Hopefully this is a handy epiphany that I can apply to all my work. And when I go back and edit the NaNo novel, I can cut the talky bits and expand the action.
One of the fabulous things about NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month – which is actually international) is the truly apalling writing that spews forth unchecked. At one point I noticed that (of about 13 named characters including four cats) I had a Ginny, a Jenny, and a Johnny (Jenny and Johnny are students in the same class, and Ginny is a teacher). Hm.
Total body count: 8 (at the moment)
Personal favourite moment: In the climax, as the baddie is enacting a plan to turn the world into mindless automatons, a two-month old kitten saves the world by biting the Prime Minister at just the right time. (The kitten’s name is Fluffy.)
Worst plot point: a baby is left on the communal doorstep at one point, and performs no useful function whatsoever. (Because hey, it’s a baby.) I gotta either work on that or delete it.
I also wrote this beautiful sentence (and many others like it):
In her place, I didn’t think I’d still be thanking the person who had unsuccessfully tried to protect me from someone who wouldn’t have attacked them if I wasn’t there.
Madness, thy name is NaNo
NaNo (short for National Novel Writing Month – actually international, but the rest is pretty self-explanatory) is on.
I joined yesterday. Have written 8000 words. Need 1000 more before I leave for work in 55 minutes.
Right now my hero is getting shot at by police (not her fault, D’Arvit!)
WILL SHE SURVIVE?
Kinda hope so, or this novel will be real short. . .
Three Reasons
I just received an email letting me know I’ve sold another story – “Cinders”. Those on the “Felicitations” list (who get a free flash story each month) read it last November. If you want to be on the list (or want to read the tale again), email fellissimo[at]hotmail[dot]com. It’ll eventually be podcast at http://SFZine.org.
There are three reasons publishers take a long time to respond to book submissions (and yes, I admit #2 is paranoid):
1. They’re overworked (always true, but sometimes it’s MORE true).
2. They feel physically ill when they look at a re-submitted book (such as the one I’m currently waiting to hear back on – I know that’s MY reaction when someone I’ve read asks me to read the new, better version).
3. It’s perilously close to a “yes” answer – which means quite a large number of people need to read it (and they have to read the whole thing, too).
The moral of the story is: if your book sucks, you’ll get a reply in 1-3 months.
If your book doesn’t suck, it’ll take forever – and the answer will almost definitely still be no.
Hmm. . . that was kind of depressing. I’d better put in another cute picture of my cat.
What Writers Should Expect
Yesterday I received word back from one of the publishers I’ve been waiting on (no not the main one; not yet – they’ve now had the full manuscript five and a half months).
I’m well aware that any publisher who I don’t have a personal connection to is going to send me a form rejection, no matter how close they come to accepting my book. This rejection was unusual because they replied by email (presumably because I’d gently nudged them about their lateness and my self-promotion via email).
It was also unusual because they didn’t bother actually sending it in the body of the email. The body of the email was completely blank. The rejection letter was an attachment – called “Rejection letter – kids”. It made me laugh out loud to be so streamlined. The letter itself was eerily familiar.
Here is what it said (with their picture and name and details at top and bottom):
Dear Ms. Bloomfield,
RE: [name of my book]
Thank you for sending your proposal to [publisher name] for our consideration.
Our editors have now considered the material and unfortunately we don’t feel that it is suitable for our publishing program. It is with regret that we decline your offer of publication.
We wish you every success in placing this manuscript with another publisher.
Yours sincerely
For the Children’s Submissions Editor
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And that’s that. I have one last chance to get a publication contract this year, and I sometimes just wish they’d hurry up and reject the darn thing.
Two more good chances for early next year, though. . .
My honest advice to anyone who’s been writing less than five years full-time remains a single word: Don’t.
If that just makes you go straight to your computer and write, then you might have the necessary mentality to keep going until you get somewhere. But probably not.
Writing Daze
Today is Friday, roughly halfway through school holidays. While I usually have at least an hour or so of work even in holiday weeks, this week I’ve had nothing. Nada. No-one.
This is sort of good, because it means there’s a lot less in my life to cause daily panic. On the other hand, an entire week of sitting looking at my carpet isn’t good for me either.
So I decided to double my writing quote this week – bringing it to forty hours. It’s been dreamy. On Monday I spent eight hours working on ONE CHAPTER. Is there anything more wonderful?
I’ve been craving some novel-editing work for a while, but knew I didn’t have the headspace for it. As a general rule, the longer I take to edit a small amount of work, the better my writing is going.
I’m running low on steam today, but right now I’m in my 36th hour, so the fact that I have any steam at all is remarkable. Today I’ll finish the chapter I’m on and do one more, then stop – probably until next Wednesday. That way, I’ll have built up plenty of enthusiasm just in time for the climax and end of the book. I have a bit of work on Monday and Tuesday, so I’ll work on short stories those days.
Today I also launched “Daylight” – my twitter tale mocking “Twilight” (and all emos*). I bet it’s more popular than “Worse Things Happen at Sea”, because it’s pure, unadulterated humour.
Altogether, a good week. And I’ve saved up a week’s worth of writing quota for when my husband and I visit China next year.
*An emo is basically a person who is proud of being depressed. It’s a recently-developed and HIGHLY unpopular subgroup.
Timing
I still haven’t heard back from either of the publishers who are late replying to my full manuscripts. But I came up with a cunning plan. The main one has book 1 of my young adult trilogy, and gave me an excellent critique of my children’s trilogy book 1 (“The Monster Apprentice”) earlier this year.
This week is school holidays, and suddenly there’s all this space in my head (that doesn’t sound QUITE right. . . ) so I’ve been launching a second major attack on “The Monster Apprentice”.
I realised that (a) it’s really quite good since my first post-critique attack some months ago (b) I should hit the publisher while they’re indecisive (rather than, say, immediately AFTER they reject one of my books).
So I emailed them today to offer them another look at “The Monster Apprentice” – and they said, “Yes, please.”
This is basically the interview stage – only the top 5% or so of unsolicited manuscripts are read in full. (The fact that I’ve been read in full almost twenty times is evidence of. . . something.)
So now I’m all nervous. But it’s fun, motivational nerves. And I’m proud of my cunning timing.
PS A friend pointed out to me on Monday that, while extolling the value of drugs, I failed to mention that the drugs I’m on are MEDICINAL. Zoloft, to be specific.
Kids, don’t do drugs. At least, not the BAD kind.
Publishers
Okay, still haven’t heard back from any of the three publishers that have full manuscripts of mine right now. Two of them are now on “any day now” status.
I know I mentioned at least one by name in previous posts. That wasn’t a “name and shame” thing, it was simply information for other writers about what the query process always involves (waiting, then more waiting). My two favourite publishers are Allen & Unwin and Harper Collins, because both have given me free editorial advice (which is VERY rare, mainly because quite a few egomaniac authors insist on flaming anyone that dares say their book isn’t perfect).
Now obviously two of my current potential publishers are deeply late. Yes it makes me angry and freaks me out (did I mention I’m mentally ill?), but the rational bits of me understand that the reason they’re late is because they’re seriously considering my work – which is very brave of them, since (a) most of the world has no clue who I am, (b) I’ve approached them more or less off the street (via a competition in Harper Collins’ case), and (c) the likelihood is that even if they say yes to me they’ll end up making a loss overall (not because my books are bad, but because that’s a statistical fact).
I sent a gentle reminder email to one a couple of weeks ago, and not only did they reply that day, they replied (and were therefore still clearly at work) at 9pm at night.
Publishers – every single one I’ve ever dealt with – deserve all the pity and all the praise they get (and none of the spite, hate mail, or suspicion).
They are always late – always (unless your book is a terribly easy “no” decision) – because they are massively overworked, and because they care about doing a difficult job right.
What Will Change
. . . when I’m published. (Nope, haven’t heard from Harper Collins yet.)
Novel publication definitely counts as a major life change.
If you imagine working full-time for a charity that has absolutely no-one willing to accept their soup/clothes/etc, then that gives you some idea of what it’s like to be a beginning writer. (Particularly if you were hired with the clause that you would PROBABLY, EVENTUALLY be paid half minimum wage on a semi-regular basis.)
Like all life changes, there will be new stresses – what if no-one buys the book? What if everyone who does hates it? What if THIS book is great but all the others are rubbish? How can I concentrate now everything’s changed?
I LOVE new stresses. The joy of moving furniture. . . into a NEW HOUSE. The insomnia of learning to sleep. . . WITH SOMEONE BESIDE ME. The pressure of writing. . . WITH AN AUDIENCE.
But you can certainly expect some whining. It’ll just be HAPPY whining.
Over a period of several months, I will grow to accept a new meaning, purpose, and sense of self-esteem in life. I’m aware dignity and self-esteem are meant to be intrinsic, but the fact is that when our work is valued, our psyche responds (and vice versa). So I predict a general improvement in emotional well-being, and probably an increase in self-control (eg eating habits) as a result.
My marriage has been a process of shifting my focus from some hazy (but bright) future into a clear (and shining) present. I suspect publication will be like that too.
Best of all, since I’ll actually be paid for my work (a little), I will personally downgrade my mental illness to “eccentricity”. Because everyone’s a LITTLE mental, and it’s just a matter of how bad it is. Once you get paid for your weirdness (or, in my case, the inability to do work other than writing), the bug becomes a feature.
So I’ll be differently nervous, generally happier, and sane.
I guess that IS a bit different.
Smart Arse
I sent the fart book away on Sunday, after getting a final check by my partner (who chuckled several times, and laughed outright at least twice).
The good thing about writing a 7000-word book is that you just send the whole thing (rather than the first three chapters). So that cuts the response time in half. I’ll probably hear back in about March next year.
Yesterday’s school was great. It was the last school I had lined up (it’s possible others are just slow on the uptake, but it’s probably my last school), and definitely the best for me. I think about 15 people have already joined me on twitter since then, and I bet there’ll be more later. I’m perilously close to having 200 followers.
The fart book send-off absolutely lifted my mood, as did that final school (it is absolutely devastating to work hard for no result whatsoever).
And I’m delighted to have ideas percolating for the next twittertale. When I mentioned the basic plot in a class yesterday, they practically cheered. I hesitate to write something that isn’t 100% original in concept, but I think it’ll be hugely entertaining.
A Time to Fart
I know, I know – I promised I wouldn’t touch my fart book for two months.
It’s been one month today, and I plan to attack it wildly this weekend, then get my partner to critique it (I saved him for last – he’s never read it), and probably send it off on Monday.
My excuses are:
1) Half my publishable books are under construction at the moment, and “Farting my ABCs” only needs a quick polish and it can be out in the slushpile where they all belong.
2) A month is SORT OF like two months. . . right?
3) With all the promotional stuff I’m doing, the goal is to get publishers to approach me, saying, “I’ve seen you in the papers and heard about you on the radio. Somebody said you had written a book?” Since Penguin is Australia’s slowest reader, it seems a head start would be handy, so instead of responding, “Yes. Here you go.” I can respond, “Yes. It’s been on your slush pile for six months now, so has probably already passed a few links up the chain. Enjoy!”
Tenuous, I know. Yesterday’s school visit was the most likely to yield twitter-shaped fruit. It didn’t. I still have other avenues and other schools, and the magic of time (I’m running a competition for that school, which will probably get me a few followers eventually), but it was a day of hard work for absolutely no pay of any kind.
Another one.
So today, I’m going to channel my false hopes in a newer, shinier direction.
Felicity Banks 