I heard back from my agent. She's sent Place of Dreams off to several editors over the past couple of months, and she included the names of a few of the publishers. I loved Googling them and imagining by manuscript waiting to be read by one of their best.
This aspect of the business is new to me. I dispensed with the services of my last agent because I received no feedback from him at all...and he refused to give me a list of people he'd approached. So hearing back from my agent, my new friend, who addresses me as "Dear, Dear Fran", is remarkable.
You're all sitting there thinking, "Well, what did she think an agent would do?" I'm saying I just don't know. These mysterious people are capable of all kinds of behaviors, according to everything I've heard. Some regularly speak to you (well, I'm a bit geographically awkward for regular chats), and others apparently check in by email every couple of weeks. And some never contact you and become cross if you take the initiative and timidly ask what the heck is going on.
I believe my agent is just about right. I don't need constant reassurance, just a note now and then to say that my book is out there on the digital road.
I've completed the chapter synopsis for my new book, in rough form, naturally, because this is the very early stage of setting up the structure. I think I have my ending, which is vital to me, and I've finished the draft of the first chapter. Still not quite sure about the title. Have one, but I'm tinkering with it.
Writing in my head a lot, during the day, and just before falling asleep. It's becoming so real, plot-wise, that I'm barely making notes, unless it's a particularly clever bit of dialogue. This is the slow time now, trying to get really caught up in the thing. I'm getting closer and closer every day to taking off with it, feeling the rush of words that can't be ignored.
All this painting lately, and I've really missed my writing...
Showing posts with label agent appreciation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label agent appreciation. Show all posts
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Surviving the Move
It's been over three months since my last post. Some of you have stopped looking for me, I know. Well, everyone, having recovered from the stress of my move, I am as back to normal as I can ever be. (I wasn't that normal to start with.)
From where I'm sitting now, I can hear a bunch of rainbow parakeets chattering and screeching in the trees in the courtyard here. Members of the parrot family, they are the noisiest birds in the world, but I love every minute of it. They sound so happy to be alive! I don't know if it's their exclusive food, but they hang out in bottle brush trees (so called because their red blossoms look like bottle brushes), and they sip on the nectar all day long. Having two of these trees directly outside means I hear all the action.
So I know where I am; it's audible. Then there is that unique smell - of eucalyptus, jacaranda, and other flora that gently surrounds you the minute you land here. It's as different to Brighton (in both England and Canada) as tea is to coffee, or whiskey is to vodka, but I'm always grateful I've had the opportunity to appreciate all these places, along with the others. I'm a wanderer. Like the song. But time to stay put now, not just for my sake, but my dear cats.
I finished Summer Must End back in August as I predicted. I have yet to pull together a one-page synopsis and shorter jacket blurb for it, but there's plenty of time to do that. With the two other manuscripts patiently waiting their turn, I doubt much will happen for quite a while. Does that matter to me? Not at all. I am already well into my fourth novel and I'm guessing that there will be more before Summer comes under the microscope. You have to have huge patience in this writing game. But you guys already know that.
The great news is - dare I tell you? You might recall that I dropped an agency last year, and perhaps you thought I didn't take the process seriously enough - I have a new agent. She is absolutely lovely. The ideal for me always (a bit of a fantasy, I thought) was having an agent who was very friendly, uncomplicated, excellent at her craft, and available. And then there she was, like an old friend in the way she responded to Hafan Deg (although I'm persuaded that title should change to something more recognizable). It's quite a shock to deal with someone who communicates so easily. I send an email, and she replies immediately, always sounding enthusiastic. Oh, my... (Pinching myself again.)
So there it is.
The move to the Antipodes is over; my cats survived it with only a little resentment; I'm working on my new novel; I'm agented for the first. Oh, and another bonus: the local library is directly across the street. What more could a girl want? Seriously.
Love being back here. More about the new book next time.
From where I'm sitting now, I can hear a bunch of rainbow parakeets chattering and screeching in the trees in the courtyard here. Members of the parrot family, they are the noisiest birds in the world, but I love every minute of it. They sound so happy to be alive! I don't know if it's their exclusive food, but they hang out in bottle brush trees (so called because their red blossoms look like bottle brushes), and they sip on the nectar all day long. Having two of these trees directly outside means I hear all the action.
So I know where I am; it's audible. Then there is that unique smell - of eucalyptus, jacaranda, and other flora that gently surrounds you the minute you land here. It's as different to Brighton (in both England and Canada) as tea is to coffee, or whiskey is to vodka, but I'm always grateful I've had the opportunity to appreciate all these places, along with the others. I'm a wanderer. Like the song. But time to stay put now, not just for my sake, but my dear cats.
I finished Summer Must End back in August as I predicted. I have yet to pull together a one-page synopsis and shorter jacket blurb for it, but there's plenty of time to do that. With the two other manuscripts patiently waiting their turn, I doubt much will happen for quite a while. Does that matter to me? Not at all. I am already well into my fourth novel and I'm guessing that there will be more before Summer comes under the microscope. You have to have huge patience in this writing game. But you guys already know that.
The great news is - dare I tell you? You might recall that I dropped an agency last year, and perhaps you thought I didn't take the process seriously enough - I have a new agent. She is absolutely lovely. The ideal for me always (a bit of a fantasy, I thought) was having an agent who was very friendly, uncomplicated, excellent at her craft, and available. And then there she was, like an old friend in the way she responded to Hafan Deg (although I'm persuaded that title should change to something more recognizable). It's quite a shock to deal with someone who communicates so easily. I send an email, and she replies immediately, always sounding enthusiastic. Oh, my... (Pinching myself again.)
Jeeves longing to get out there...
Baby contemplatng the garden...
So there it is.
The move to the Antipodes is over; my cats survived it with only a little resentment; I'm working on my new novel; I'm agented for the first. Oh, and another bonus: the local library is directly across the street. What more could a girl want? Seriously.
Love being back here. More about the new book next time.
Friday, May 15, 2009
More Queries, Another Partial, a Loaf of Bread, a Glass of Wine and No Thou
It's been a dizzy week for me. I've been so energized, writing Strachan's Attic in the morning, revising, editing in the afternoon, and itching for the night to be over with so I can get back to it. I haven't had such an easy time of it in ages. Every morning, it's as if I have an exciting appointment, and I've been getting up earlier and earlier (5:30 is becoming the norm). That's the kind of morning I like. I've complete another 7500 words - a chapter a day - and I'm almost at the half-way point, I think. The heroine, Strachan, leaves Canada for England in the next half, and I'm looking forward to that, as I get to go with her, after all. (I can show her a few of my favorite street markets and pubs.)
After that friendly rejection for Hafan Deg on Tuesday, I received a request for another partial from a Toronto agent. This is the first agency I've queried here, as they're a much rarer species than in the States, but they responded within one week of getting it, so perhaps they're also not as inundated.
My current stats: 17 pending, 2 partials, 8 rejections - total 27. I'll do a couple more today, to keep my hand in.
One of the agents I approached this week had this little closing piece in their submission guidelines (which were also perfectly detailed, bless 'em):
Isn't that charming? Instead of feeling like a kid who's submitting homework really late, to someone who's just finished reading everybody else's homework and is a trifle bored with the subject, I felt wanted, appreciated, and - just a bit...loved - there, I said it. This doesn't mean she won't reject me in due course, but I'll bet, if she does, she'll do such a lovely job of it that I won't mind a bit.
It's my birthday today and the weather is glorious. I've received flowers and chocolates (in lieu of family, because they're all so far away) and hope to get a decent lunch today with a friend from Toronto. If we don't make it, what the heck - I'll just go buy my own barrel of wine, and grab some good bread and cheese. I'm getting a bit past the "thou" these days. I don't think I could handle the excitement. I really must do something about this Brighton living.
After that friendly rejection for Hafan Deg on Tuesday, I received a request for another partial from a Toronto agent. This is the first agency I've queried here, as they're a much rarer species than in the States, but they responded within one week of getting it, so perhaps they're also not as inundated.
My current stats: 17 pending, 2 partials, 8 rejections - total 27. I'll do a couple more today, to keep my hand in.
One of the agents I approached this week had this little closing piece in their submission guidelines (which were also perfectly detailed, bless 'em):
"All are welcome to submit. We admire each and every one of you for granting us the privilege of reading your work."
Isn't that charming? Instead of feeling like a kid who's submitting homework really late, to someone who's just finished reading everybody else's homework and is a trifle bored with the subject, I felt wanted, appreciated, and - just a bit...loved - there, I said it. This doesn't mean she won't reject me in due course, but I'll bet, if she does, she'll do such a lovely job of it that I won't mind a bit.
It's my birthday today and the weather is glorious. I've received flowers and chocolates (in lieu of family, because they're all so far away) and hope to get a decent lunch today with a friend from Toronto. If we don't make it, what the heck - I'll just go buy my own barrel of wine, and grab some good bread and cheese. I'm getting a bit past the "thou" these days. I don't think I could handle the excitement. I really must do something about this Brighton living.
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