Boadicea and the Patient and Resilient Writer

I boldly followed up with a couple of New York agents this morning. One has had one hundred pages of Summer Must End for over seven months. The other asked for and received the full Strachan's Attic manuscript five months ago.

Now I know this would seem to imply that neither agent is interested, but when it comes to big partials and full requests I've always been treated very politely, so I've come to expect an eventual response. Heck, I recently received a very nicely worded rejection for an initial query with ten pages that I sent  seven months earlier, and it was personal, not the usual auto-response thing. So there are agents out there who do seem to empathize with the lonely writer waiting for human contact.

In the first half of 2012, of 147 queries (involving several partials and fulls, so I know the query letter worked) for 4 different books,  I received 80 rejections, about half of them personally worded. 65 - not unexpectedly - did not respond at all. I stopped querying (to spend time licking my wounds) last July.

These days I'm totally immersed in painting, producing a couple a week, and selling here and there (check out the art blog if you don't believe me). The almost instant gratification experienced with painting has been rejuvenating, but I know it won't continue for much longer. For the first time since last July, I've started to feel a small twitch of anticipation at the prospect of agent research again. It's only a small twitch now, but it will grow more demanding. Call me a masochist, if you like, but you have to be in this game. And I'm not jaded, really I'm not.

So I am once again girding my loins, Boadicea-style, to begin the slow slog of snail-mailing queries to those agents who do not accept email queries. Most British agents fall into this category. It's true. I have no idea why. Perhaps someone can tell me. In any case, I've said before that my writing is more suited to the British agents' taste in books judging by my favorite reading, and I feel that I can no longer "hmphh" at their sweet eccentricity.

Do you, my patient writer friends, have anything to add about this business? We have all been so very, very quiet lately when it comes to blog comments (especially me) but I would like to know how joyous you are about approaching agents. Or do you mutter under your breath (using Anglo-Saxon words that are best left off blog pages) as you compose yet another letter?

May your spring and my autumn bring a new determination in this insane struggle we endure for the sake of our need to write.

Notice the date of this post? I feel love...somewhere out there.

Never give up the fight.

Summer Reflection on the Query Process

I received a rejection for Hafan Deg yesterday, from a New York Agent. Here it is - succinct and concise - "Sorry, tough to sell here, in my view." Well, I think she said it all with that 'here'. Considering the amount of interest I did receive, I think I wasted my time with all those New York queries and should have approached Britain in the first place.

For your interest, I've now received 15 rejections, 13 haven't responded after 90 days, 1 offer of representation, 1 request for the full manuscript received after the offer, and there are still 3 pending, for a total of 33 queries since February 16. I suppose I could email the pending ones and tell them I have an agent now, but that would defeat the purpose of keeping a statistics summary. Of the ones who never got back to me, 2 were the only online form submissions, and 9 accepted one page queries only. They were also my earliest queries, and I improved as the weeks went by, became more confident, less tremulous in my approach. I hope all of this makes you feel a bit better about your own query experiences, if you're there yet.

Thankfully, Strachan's Attic is now safely with my agent, too, and perhaps I'll get a verdict on it before I take my vacation. I am now in a strange no-man's land of wandering my apartment finding odd things to do, little tasks that get put on the back burner during my normal day. It's the summer of course, making my brain slow down, and allowing me to appreciate this short, short time of easy strolls, and outdoor meals. Not that our summer has been so great; it's more reminiscent of an English summer the way things used to be over there, before their weather patterns changed.

Speaking of vacations, I think my cats know I'm leaving soon. They are strangely quiet and contemplative around me. I believe they sense my plans, somehow, even though I've only pulled my rolling bag out once, to clean the wheels. My friend up the street will come in twice a day to tend to them over the two weeks, and to sit with them and have a chat. Not that Jeevesie will come out from under the bed while he's here, although it's possible. It will be an opportunity to teach him that I'm not the only one in the world who cares about him. Perhaps by the time I'm back, Jeeves will be sitting on Larry's lap. I do hope that happens. I have huge guilt about this, you understand. But a cattery would be worse.

Have a quiet, easy weekend. It's that kind of sticky weather here where nothing too physical gets done, and that's fine.

Renewed Writing Vitality - That's What Friends Are For

Well, I've reviewed the agency's contract, and now the hard copy should be winging its way to me for signature. According to Malinda Lo, things are then largely out of my hands, and I should just get on with the next book. Her blog on how she got published is a good one, and, whether you're at that stage, or dreaming about it, you must read it.

I had mentioned to the agent that my other novel, Strachan's Attic, was close to completion, and they now have a synopsis and 30 pages to consider. They pointed out that most publishers prefer writers with more than one book, to prove they aren't that hackneyed "one-book wonder". Naturally, I hope they'll want it, too, but it's a totally different book, quite unlike Hafan Deg, and nothing is guaranteed.

Did my news of this past weekend make you sit up and take notice? I think so, by the number of comments. Are you now more determined than ever to get your own book picked up? You'd better be.

Melissa, of Grosvenor Square, told me that she was spurred on when I mentioned publishers' preferences for more than one book, and now really would be getting down to it. We've been exchanging critiques lately, and I think of her as my writing buddy. Considering that Melissa has already finished three novels (!) and is working on her fourth, she's almost home and dry, in my eyes. Although her prolific output is impressive, her writing is even more phenomenal. Now if she can just snag that agent...

Casey's blog, Literary Rambles has been featuring the querying process lately, and there are some good things there. She also had a good post she picked up from Query Tracker on researching agents that I thought you should look at. Again, although you know these things, it's a clarion call to getting the query process right, and it can't hurt to revisit the topic.

So, are you now looking at your own work with renewed vitality? I want that for you. We know the writing is the most important thing, but getting an agent, possibly publication, would make it all so valid, wouldn't it? All those solitary hours of frowning, weeping, laughing over your words would finally be rewarded publicly. Are you feeling that?

I've calmed down now, and will get back to Chapter 24 of Strachan's Attic today. Poor Strachan and the others were left dangling at a crucial point of the story last week, because I just couldn't get my head around this Agent Found thing.

Thanks to all of you for your good wishes - you commented and emailed - even Etsy artists from my art blog. It was quite overwhelming. But, after all, to quote the song - 'That's What Friends Are For', I guess.

“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing...By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows, anyone's life can stand a little of that."
- Charlotte, 'Charlotte's Web' —E. B. White (1899-1985); author.

Another Full Request - British Agent!

Hafan Deg, the novel that's currently out there, poor orphan, in agent land, is set mainly in Wales and Australia. I would have preferred dealing with a London agent for it, believing they would somehow relate to the work more easily, but most British agents seem to detest email submissions, and I'm darned if I want to be running to the post office on a regular basis, especially as it costs. So I concentrated on New York, with only two queries sent to London.

I am delighted to announce that I had a request for the full manuscript yesterday, from a London agent. It's silly, but this pleases me enormously - not just the full request, which is amazing in itself - but I was born there, and my roots are there, despite years of living as an ex-pat. It's only fitting that my novel, which is probably 25% autobiographical, should go home.

This is the second Full request I've had, and I'll try to remain as practical about it as I can. I've been very cool about this whole submission business, haven't I? You know that from my philosophical blogs. If it happens, it happens. If it's good, it will sell. If it doesn't sell, I'll keep writing regardless. You've seen all that.

Then what the hell was that about yesterday, when I opened this agent's email, figuring it for another rejection? I burst into tears, didn't I? Only for a minute, mind, because I would have made the keyboard wet, but long enough to worry the cats.

My excuse is that I've been a bit emotional lately, what with the World War II events in Strachan's Attic (and the D-Day anniversary marathon TV viewing last weekend), and probably needed that good old-fashioned female response. But deep down I'm wondering if I'm as cool as I thought I was. We writers are only human, after all, agent-fail comments to the contrary.


I've written just one chapter of Strachan's Attic since Friday, or 2,600 words. I'm working in two time frames and locales, modern day Canada and 40's Britain, and the story is a fascinating but complicated ride. In some unconscious way, I think I'm delaying this portion of the book because within the next 5,000 words, I believe, I'll be dealing only with modern day events. I'm seriously going to miss my 40's characters.

Because my basic plot and the last line of the book (I always come up with that first with my novels) is already firm in my mind, it's where the characters will take it that's the unknown factor. This draft was based on a much earlier book but it's changed so much that my original agent wouldn't recognize it. It's the book I should have written the first time around, but didn't, and then I revised it for her, and basically screwed it up even more. I didn't believe in it after the changes, and neither, in the end, did she.

If you lose your passion for the work, you should put it firmly aside and let it ferment a little longer, and then try again. Strachan's story has been fermenting for a long time, and should be ready for decanting this time. I'm loving every minute of this total re-write, although it's taken me far longer that I'd expected, because my characters took over and I surrendered control to them. This time, however, aside from the sheer slog of writing, I am having a huge amount of fun.

 

Inevitable Plot Challenges in the Novel - Just get on with it...

I produced a couple of thousand words of Strachan's Attic yesterday. I've been distracted over the past few weeks, what with the new laptop and all the fast, fast browsing now available to me. There were so many blogs and web pages I'd avoided because they took so long to open. People had told me it could be like this. Instant access!

So I re-did my website, downloaded more music and fiddled around with my Playlists, set up Google Chrome, which is a very convenient little program, and cleverly avoided writing the love scene that was inevitable in Chapter Eight.

Well, I took a deep breath, and just got on with it yesterday. It's all done and consummated now. I'm feeling much better about getting to the next stage of the book, now that particular delicate bit is over. Of course, there'll be more face-offs, but I'll be able to deal with those now that this new aspect of my characters' relationship has been established.

I want to remind you that parts of Strachan's Attic are set in the 1940s. Sex was obviously alive and well, but approached in a more conservative way than it is today, at least in my secondary heroine's world. This was tricky to write about, because the very language of sex was different, as far as I know. I based this conclusion on old film, books, family anecdotes, and instinct, while also acknowledging the censorship of the era.

In writing about World War II, delving into the suffering, awed by the undefeated spirit of that time, I can feel emotionally raw. I went to bed quite exhausted last night, but there was also relief that I'd finally dealt with one of the more demanding episodes of the novel.

This leads me to admit that Hafan Deg is taking a back seat in my daily life. I'm somewhat ashamed that I've barely been following this novel's journey. I've had no further rejections and it did occur to me that it's been some time since I sent off my early queries. They probably need follow-up, but I'm not sure I'll do that. The way I see it, if the agent is interested, she'll get back to me eventually. If she's not, she'll get around to telling me that at some point - or perhaps she'll tell me nothing at all. There is also a distinct possibility that one or two of the queries simply got lost en route, deleted accidentally. I can live with all of this. I'll send out more queries this week, all the same. If the magic number could be as high as 100, I'm way behind.