Third Novel Published, and Starting on the Fifth. The Fourth is Resting Quietly.

"Summer Must End" -- the paperback -- is published. (EBook was launched three days ago.) As it's via a European print company, I see my purchase price from them in Euros, which makes me feel quite grand and Monte-Carlo-ish. But, wherever you are, it will make no difference to delivery times or pricing -- from Toronto to Tenerife -- it's as if the printer is just around the corner, as if we live in one unified and all-embracing world. That's got to be good, if not a touch over-optimistic. It was only put to bed last night, so I don't know when the retailer information will be forthcoming, but you know I'll pass that on to you as soon as I can.

If you will go to my website, you will see the wonderful animation A.C.Merkel did for my book cover promotion. It's so pretty, I'm thinking of adding music to it...perhaps Clair de Lune.  A.C. is so creative, a writer himself, along with having the graphics talent. I am trying to think up other ways I can incorporate his art, but perhaps he'll just have to wait for my next book (early next  year). 

Unfortunately I can't seem to download it here, but my updated website is worth looking at anyway. Every single link I could  think of is there, but without over-cluttering (I hope), or confusing the poor viewer. I'm sure you've experienced that same overkill when you've opened a site that's so over the top, you get a kind of brain freeze. And click out of it. If it lets you...

I joined up with IAN --Independent Author Network-- and they made a very presentable job of my author listing, showing all of my novels. Very impressed. Might get some sales from this one, or at least some reviews. 

Speaking of which, as I cannot know who buys my books (unless they tell me), I cannot wag my digital finger at them and ask why they haven't reviewed it (whichever book). So I politely, but urgently, ask you now...if you should read something of mine, please leave a little feedback at that sales site. It's not just that we writers are insecure, and in need of the affirmation, but many marketing companies won't even consider your work unless you have reviews. Just saying.

I've started seriously working on the new book. I know it's serious because I can spend twelve hours working on it, not wanting to go to bed, That's intense. It's entitled "Winnowing" - a reference to the old farming method of separating the grain from the chaff, by tossing it up and allowing air to pass through it, 

Winnowing: to remove (as chaff) by a current of air; to get rid of something undesirable or unwanted; (winnow) out certain inaccuracies, (winnowing) what is true and significant; to free of unwanted or inferior elements.

 Miriam-Webster

"To get rid of something undesirable or unwanted..." Hmm, sounds like someone in this book is going to be meeting his/her maker a little sooner than expected. 

The story is tentatively set in London and the West Country (in a tiny cottage). Everything is tentative at this stage. Until I have my closing line, it will remain uncertain. 

I had mentioned getting Hafan Deg on the road. I am still working on this. The MS is finished, but I am so exhausted from all the edits and formatting for Summer Must End, that I really need to take a break. I do intend to publish it next year, after I've recuperated.

Your comments seemed to stop around the time I left Canada. They have only just kicked in again. I recall that I almost stopped blogging entirely for the longest time because I was overwhelmed by the changes in my life. So I'm thinking it's probably all my fault if you had nothing much to comment on. I'm sorry. I so look forward to hearing from you. We've been hanging around together for twelve years! 

Until next time.

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.

 

First Novels in First Person? And Martha Moody

I've decided to leave Strachan's Attic in first person for the time being. As the 1940s secondary character is in third, it seems to alleviate confusion.

I went on the hunt for some good first novels in first person. One of my all-time favorites is "Best Friends" by Martha Moody. (Of course, you'll think of many others.) Incidentally, this was a first novel at over 125,000 words! I was so impressed with this (I didn't know the 90k-first-novel rule when I originally read it) that I emailed her to ask how difficult it was for her to find that first agent. I doubted I'd hear back, as I was sure Ms. Moody had better things to do with her time, including, probably, work on her fourth novel, but I had to ask the question. Well, writers are, on the whole, very generous people, who are comfortable enough to share; Ms Moody got back to me almost immediately, with her right shoulder recovering from surgery, writing with her left hand. That's dedication to the craft! Here's what she said (I corrected her poor lefthand typoes):

Wrote about 30 agents, 9 query letters. No one wanted to look at it. Eventually the wife of my poetry professor in college recommended me to an agent, who read the whole thing and took it. Use any connections. Be persistent. Length for me wasn’t a problem. I tried to make MS irresistable, otherwise it would be resisted and I got lucky.

So, to sum up, if you're a special talent, like Martha, and if the Gods are in a really good mood, you could bend the rules.

And, of course, if Hafan Deg were to sell first, Strachan will be a second novel. Problem solved.

As I've been posting at this blog, I've been moving through a sort of writing class. Not 101, because I was always pretty confident about the basic writing, but there have been so many other things that I've learned. Perhaps I could have Googled my questions and more or less satisfied myself, but getting feedback here for some of my frustrations has been invaluable. I felt, from the beginning, that this blog would be hugely helpful, and it has been, for me - and perhaps for you. The major thing was completing the work. Without your eyes out there, watching, checking that I'm on target, perhaps I wouldn't have finished Hafan Deg by now, nor would I have restarted Strachan's Attic. You are my conscience, my own little cheerleading squad, and I appreciate all of you.

I goofed off this weekend, in case you noticed the Stagnant Word Count. I returned to Real Life, with people who spoke almost entirely in the First Person, who used lots of adverbs, adjectives, and with dialogue that waffled on, with great swadges of back story tossed in - all quite unnecessary to the forward movement of the action. I absolutely loved it. Real life, hmm? I'll have to do it more often.

Since I last posted, I've received two more rejections, one of which was instant - barely time for someone to read the subject line. So here's how it stands in the Submission Stats Diary today: Submissions Pending 12, Rejections 5. Will take advice from you on this, meeting you all in the middle, and submit one query for every rejection, so that the Pendings will remain at twelve.

I found the following sweet farewell at Query Tracker yesterday. It's uplifting to see something like this, and I wanted to share it:

I’ve signed with an agent, and just wanted to say goodbye and share a few thoughts. Many of you have been on QueryTracker as long as I have. So here are my stats: 1 year, 34 queries (2 editors, 32 agents), 5 no responses, 21 rejections, 3 partials, and 5 fulls, to get 1 offer of representation. And the craziest thing is that this agent originally rejected this ms almost a year ago saying she loved it, but didn’t have time for a brand new author. So, timing, luck, and perseverance win again! Good luck to all of you. Never, never give up the dream!

Pernickety, Humorless, and Stony-faced

For those of you who were thinking of entering the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award 2009, just a reminder that today is the day. You have from now until next Monday 9th to submit. The link is under Contests in the left side bar.


During the cutting of Hafan Deg, I really felt like I was spring-cleaning. You know how it feels when you clean out cupboards - you don't much like doing it but it's satisfying when you've finished? - well, that was the feeling. It didn't involve the daemon's hot-breath flow writing; it was impersonal, cold-blooded analysis. The bit of the brain that was responsible for the bulk of the work seemed to take a little nap, just checking in now and then. It sort of stirred for a moment, took a look, said, "Guess that's all right," and went back to sleep while I worked on the next chunk.

I wore a different hat - a pragmatic, hawk-eyed editor's hat - during the demolition stage. Oh, I'm sorry - I keep using negative words to describe this last couple of weeks' work. I can't help it. It still hurts, even as I grudgingly admit that it was necessary for a first novel. As the editor, and not the writer, I was less fun. Even my cats noticed. I was all pernickety, humorless, stony-faced and frowning as I worked. When I'm writing, I often chuckle out loud, because I'm normally a light-hearted old broad. Ask anyone. I don't like that other me much. This week I have to don my Marketing Maven outfit because I'm starting the Query Process. She smiles a lot, that one, not necessarily involving the eyes. I don't care for her much, either.

After all this work, it especially hurts when you pick up a book by some famous writer who's been around for years, who turns out literary tomes that you could use as a door stop - not that I would, of course - well...perhaps once. He is established, revered, and now gets to write whatever he wants, waffling on - yes, waffling! - throwing in adverbs and adjectives and dialogue as if paper grew on trees. And the jacket blurb marvels at the brilliance of his prose, with never a word about being over-written or a trifle long.

So, of late, full of sour grapes, I've become acutely aware of this inequity. I am awed by the thickness of the particular book I'm reading - over 600 pages, filled with many, many words. What freedom! What licence!

Oh, to be wordily-established...

Final Deconstruction of Hafan Deg

Well, I guess I've completed my down-sizing. Hafan Deg is sitting at around 95,000 words, which is the best I can do. I figure somewhere between 90,000 to 100,000 words is the accepted norm for first books, so I'm happy to leave it as it is. Once I have interest in the work, I'm sure an agent won't reject my submission for the sake of a few extra pages.

I'm going to spend the weekend finishing my research on agents. There are so many truly delightful ones out there, and I'll approach them in order of my enthusiasm for them. The British agent search is more difficult. For some odd reason, few of them accept email submissions. 95% of U.S. agents do, celebrating the era we live in. That's not to say I won't submit hard copy, but it's an unwieldy, inefficient way to do it, I think. I wonder how many of you have decided email is the only way to go. We are all so thoroughly spoiled now. I'm not even sure what the cost of a postage stamp is these days.


It's possible that my little readership includes some Jane Austen fans. For you, or someone you know, there is a British competition for an Austen-inspired, 2,000-2,500 word short story . I enjoy her books, but never had the inclination to try to write in that style or particular romantic genre. (I'm a died-in-the-wool Thomas Hardy nut. Sorry to mention the wool - Far From The Madding Crowd, remember?)

For those of you who'd love to show how familiar you are with her writing, give it a shot. You have until the end of March, tons of time to whip something together. It doesn't have to be a period piece, but it should reflect the Austen theme, from a character, situation, location, even a sentence, derived from her work. There is a nice little prize - One Thousand Pounds Sterling, although I think you Austen lovers would do it just for the love of it. You can find all the details at Chawton House Library Competition.

Hafan Deg - The House

Having photographs on this blog is a first, but I came across these as I was sorting through my writing files. I thought you'd find them interesting.

This is the house in Wales that inspired Hafan Deg. It's the large one, close to the water. You can see why it captured my imagination. Add to this the fact that the place was becoming a ruin, not visible in these pictures, and you might understand how I reacted to it as I did.





I have always been obsessed by houses. Naturally, some of them were my own; there is nothing I love more than buying an old place and re-doing it with whatever limited funds I have. I've owned a few houses, over the years, but once they were redecorated, improved, I moved on.

However, I love all old houses, particularly if they appear unloved. Going for a drive in the country, seeing so many derelict places, I long to just wave some magic wand and make them all whole again, with people living in them. In fact, if you've ever looked at my website, I've painted this kind of house more than once.

My first novel involved an empty house, eerier than Hafan Deg in my current book. But that house had a ghost. I don't believe in ghosts, but I love to write about them. How silly is that?

I think that I'm saying that I believe in the energy of a house, something that perhaps scientists can, or have, explained at one time or another. When I walk through a place - again, when it's empty - I feel the breath of it, somehow. For a woman who is extremely pragmatic, and not into fantasy at all in my non-writing life, this is very odd. Of course, I imagine that we all get that feeling in ancient churches, and it can be overwhelming in some of the grand heritage houses run by the National Trust in England, but, in those places, we already know their history, as the plaques and booklets are right there as we walk around, revealing their sagas.

But it's strange that a very ordinary, sometimes extraordinary, old family home, in its abandonment, can carry that same sense of story, hint at the previous lives spent there.

I'm not complaining about my eccentricity. If it's a psychological problem, it's a gentle one, unlikely to cause harm to me or anyone else, and definitely helpful to the old houses I sometimes buy.

Perhaps there are others who feel this way - practical, scientifically-minded, non-fantasy kinds of people who also get that gut reaction to a place.

I said I don't believe in ghosts, but I know I couldn't spend a night alone in, say, Hampton Court, or the Tower of London. What's that about? Is this a case of 'I-don't believe-in-ghosts-but-I-wouldn't-want-to-meet-one'?

Whatever it is, it makes for a good read, and certainly makes me write. I wonder what you think about it.