Writing Tip - Be Prepared

Okay, so you've written your first book. You've sent it out to agents or publishers. Now it's just a waiting game. You can put your feet up, relax and wait for the phone calls. Right?

Wrong.

What you do now is make a start on book two. Without delay. You do that for two reasons.
Reason number one is that your first book will probably bomb. Sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear, but that's the harsh reality. Most first attempts at novel writing do not get picked up, no matter what stories you've read in the press. The chances are that you're not an exception, and so you need to move on. Writing gets better with practice, so treat that first book as part of the learning curve and write an even better second novel. That's the kind of persistence and determination you'll need in this business.

Reason number two: I could be wrong. Maybe you are the one in a million whose first book does get picked up. Or (more likely) you've written several books already, without success, but this is finally your time. This is when you finally get that magic phone call that I talked about in an earlier blog post - the one in which an editor says, 'We'd like to publish your book.'

But then you come down from the ceiling. You compose yourself. You try to listen to what else the editor has to say. Do you know what's coming next? I'll tell you. It's a question. Along the lines of: 'How far have you got with your next book?'

Next book?

See, publishers aren't interested in one-night stands. They prefer long-term relationships. They're quite traditional in that way. They expect to be wooed with the promise of further fruits of your labour.

The one thing you absolutely must not do at this point is say something like, 'Actually, I thought I would just write the one book.' Or, 'I don't have any plans for future books at this stage.' That's the kiss of death - the lack of commitment that will ensure the engagement ring gets thrown back in your face.

If you're planning to be published, then you have to plan to be published again and again and again. Which is what I imagine most authors want anyway, so it shouldn't be too much of a hardship.

So be ready for that question. When it comes, be positive. Reassure your potential partner that you are not trifling with affections.

And then go ahead and enjoy a long and happy life together.

What Writers Need

Okay, so you’ve cleared your desk. You’ve set up a regular time slot in which to write. You’ve got lots of ideas buzzing around in your head. You’ve got a computer, or pen and paper. You’re good to go, right?

Maybe not. There’s something else that many of us need.

It’s the support of our loved ones.

No problem, you say. Our partners love us. They will understand. We have this burning desire to write, and loving us as they do, our partners will understand. It’s a given.

That may be a natural assumption. Why wouldn’t our partners offer their support?

Well, think about what the writing life entails. And I’m not just talking about the odd hundred words here and there. I’m talking about serious, day-after-day writing. The kind that’s needed to churn out a novel.

What you will be saying to your partner is that you want some time away from him or her. Away from the kids too. Regular, substantial time. Every night, probably. Time that you used to spend together. What you might have once called quality time.

And it’s also possible that your partner may have to start doing some of the jobs that you used to do. Like washing the dishes, or putting the kids to bed, or doing the ironing, or getting the school lunches ready. All those fun things.

Oh, and something else you will need to explain is that this is purely a labour of love. There is no financial reward here – at least not yet. It’s not going to help pay the mortgage or the bills.

Writing requires commitment and it requires sacrifices. And not all the sacrifices are yours.

Put like that, you can see (I hope) that it can be a pretty big ask.

Not all partners understand, or want to understand. Here’s Pari Noskin Taichert, over at Murderati this week:
‘From my husband’s perspective, my taking the time and space to write has been selfish, self-focused and a waste of time and resources.’

Wow. But she’s not unique. The compulsion to write is often not readily appreciated by those who have not experienced it. They just don’t get it.

I’m fortunate. Immensely fortunate. My wife has always understood. In fact, she has always encouraged me to follow this calling, even when there was no hint of future success. If she had complained – in fact, if I had detected even the slightest unhappiness in her – I don’t think I could have continued. I don’t think I would have become a published writer. My marriage, my family, is too important to me.

As writers, I think we need to remember that, although it’s generally regarded as a solitary business, we don’t do it alone.

Here’s to our loved ones. They make us what we are.

Interview at MNW

There's an interview with me at the Macmillan New Writer's blog today. Hop on over there and take a look.

The Phone Call

There are many great moments in the life of a published author: seeing the book jacket for the first time; holding the first printed edition in your hands; seeing it on the shelves of bookshops. But one of the first and most memorable moments has to be the phone call. You know the one I mean. The one in which you hear those immortal words, ‘We would like to publish your book.’

In the case of Pariah, I had almost written Macmillan off as a potential publisher. I did not send it via an agent, but directly to them under their Macmillan New Writing scheme. The guidelines on their website say something along the lines of ‘If you do not hear from us within 12 weeks, then you should assume that your submission has been rejected.’ Six months later, I had still not heard anything. It seemed time to move on.

Then I got an email from Will Atkins, Editorial Director at Pan Macmillan. He made some very positive noises about Pariah and said he wanted to arrange a time to call me on the telephone. So we picked a mutually agreeable time on the following day. I’m glad we didn’t make it any longer than that because sleep suddenly became an unattainable luxury.

When the call came, pretty much dead on time, Will made lots more positive noises, but was still hedging his bets. He liked the book, but the decision wasn’t his to make alone. Others would need to be consulted, and that process would probably take about a week or so. I started to wonder what was the longest anyone has survived without sleep.

In fact, the next call came only a couple of days later. Everyone at Pan Mac had moved much faster than expected, and they all loved Pariah. Which meant – yes, you guessed it – I finally got to hear those words: ‘We would love to publish your book.’

I think my cries of joy could be heard in the next county as I raced up and down the stairs of our house, much to the surprise of the engineer who was fixing our boiler at the time. He remarked later that he had never met such a grateful recipient of his services.

Sometimes the cost of a phone bill can seem well worth it.

A Good Place to Start...

... is at the beginning. If you’re stuck for something to write about, why not just try throwing down a random sentence as the first line of your story? It’s a technique that’s often used in writing competitions as a way of kick-starting ideas. Don’t think about it too much. Just write something down. Anything.

Here’s an example, off the top of my head:
            She heard something move in her closet.
Just seven words, but already all sorts of questions arise. Who is this unnamed woman or girl? What’s in her closet? Has she heard this noise before? Does the noise make her scared, excited, relieved? You could take this initial sentence in countless different directions, and every one of them is as valid as any other.

Do you like to write crime fiction? If so, could the noise in the closet be a murderer? A victim? A policeman? Or something even more unexpected...?

Crime not your thing? Okay, perhaps this is a horror story or a ghost story, and that thing in the closet is, well, I don’t want to imagine what could be lurking there.

How about something a little less stressful? This is a story for children, perhaps, and they are playing hide and seek. Or it’s a romantic comedy, and the boyfriend has somehow managed to get locked in the closet.

Can’t even dream up that first sentence? Then you’re thinking too hard about it. Look around you for ideas. The first thing I see as I look away from my computer monitor is my radio tuner. So how about:
            David had never heard this station on his radio before.
What’s going on here? Perhaps aliens trying to communicate? Or what if David is the only person who is capable of hearing this station. Why would that be?

What else can I see? Lots of books (of course). So then:
            Where the hell is that book?
What book? Why is it so important? Who is looking for it? Again, a million questions and also a certain amount of dramatic tension that draws you in as a reader and makes you want to continue with the story.

You get the idea? Give it a go. If your first sentence doesn’t work, try another one. Sometimes the crazier the sentence is, the better.
            The lepidopterist had only ever been to one meeting of the Peanut Butter Society.
I don’t know where that came from; I just allowed my brain to be a little more free than usual. I know I could make a story out of it, though. Could you?

Nobody Knows Anything

I’m a great admirer of the screenwriter William Goldman. He wrote both the novel and the screenplay for one of my favourite thrillers – Marathon Man. He also penned the scripts for a whole host of really big movies, including All the President’s Men, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and A Bridge Too Far. I love his writing style, and from the non-fiction books he wrote (Adventures in the Screen Trade and What Lie Did I Tell) I learned a lot not just about the movie business, but also about the crafting of story.

Goldman will be remembered for many achievements, but one of the things he became known for was for his use of the phrase ‘Nobody knows anything.’ What he meant by this was that movie executives never have a clue in advance as to how well a movie will do at the box office. One of the examples offered by Goldman is Raiders of the Lost Ark. A big, big hit. Yet it was turned down by every single studio in town, until Paramount said yes. Two further examples: Universal passed on Star Wars; Columbia passed on ET. They passed, argues Goldman, because Nobody Knows Anything.

At the risk of being a little bit contentious here, I think that Goldman’s saying also extends to the publishing world. Consider the example of J K Rowling, author of the Harry Potter books. Turned down by all the major publishing houses until a small outfit called Bloomsbury took her on with an advance of £1500.

Here’s another example. This author’s first novel was again turned down by every major publisher, until a minor player called Wynwood Press agreed to publish. Wynwood printed only 5,000 hardback copies, and even they didn’t sell. Wynwood later went out of business.

That book was called A Time to Kill. Its author was John Grisham.

In case any publishers out there are feeling singled out, I should redress the balance by saying that Nobody Knows Anything applies to literary agents too. I should also make it clear at this point that I am not trying to be insulting when I say this. I am merely highlighting the fact that agents, like publishers, are not clairvoyant. What needs to be borne in mind about agents is that they take on what they believe they can sell, and that ought to be what they are passionate about.  There is therefore a huge element of subjectivity involved. What one agent believes to be brilliant may be dismissed as unremarkable by another.

In the days when I was submitting to agents, I received lots of rejection slips (don’t we all?). I hasten to add that these were for my earlier, unpublished novels, and not for Pariah. Here is one of the comments I received from a well-known agent:

            ‘You need to remember to show, not tell.’
and here is another, from a different well-known agent:
            ‘You certainly know how to show rather than tell.’

These comments were referring to exactly the same extract from exactly the same book. You see what I mean about subjectivity?

The point I am making here is that just because your book is being turned down, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s no good. Agents and publishers reject submissions for all sorts of reasons, often not related to the quality of your work. It may because an agency is so overloaded that it cannot at present take on any more authors. It could be because a publisher already has an author with novels that are similar in some ways to yours, and doesn’t want the two to compete with each other. That said, if enough people consistently give you exactly the same criticism about your work, then you should listen and do something about it.

But the essential thing to take from this is not to get too downhearted by rejection. One day you may have the satisfaction of proving them all wrong. Keep reminding yourself of those three words: Nobody knows anything.

A Writer's Joy

A couple of weeks ago I blogged about the unease of being a writer. About now knowing whether the current book is doing well enough or the next book will be good enough to be published. It’s all true, and I’m sure every author goes through it.

But...

There’s another side to the coin.

Ann Weisgarber, a fellow Macmillan author, got me thinking about this when she pointed out, calmly and concisely, that I have a book on the shelves, an additional German deal, a growing collection of rave reviews, and I’m with an excellent publisher.

That’s all it took. That brief external viewpoint was what I needed to give me a good kick up the pants and to let me know just how damned fortunate I am.

I’m an author. An honest-to-goodness official author. It’s something I’ve wanted for years, and I should celebrate it much more than I do. I’m usually very reticent about blowing my own trumpet, but perhaps it’s time I got over that and started playing it loud enough to bring down the walls of Jericho.

It’s a huge achievement. Others recognize that even when I don’t. I tell them I’ve got a PhD and they’re mildly interested. I tell them I have a novel published, and that’s it – that’s the new topic of the conversation for the day. They are thrilled for me, and excited that they personally know an author.

A few days ago my youngest daughter took a copy of Pariah into her school, on the request of her teacher. It’s certainly not suitable reading material for her age group, so I wondered what was going on. When she came home, she told me it was so the teacher could hold it up in front of the class and talk about it as an example of achievement. It brought tears to my eyes.

And then there’s this story concerning a YouGov poll about the occupations that people would most like to have. What do you think came top? Sports personality, perhaps? Jet pilot? Astronaut? No, none of the above, glamorous though they might seem.

An author. That’s what topped the list. That’s what people dream of becoming.

I have fulfilled that dream. If I another have success with another book, I am and always will be a published author.

And I’m enormously grateful for that.