A writer's greatest asset? A thick skin

One thing writers get used to quickly is rejection. With the exception of the extremely lucky or the extremely well-connected, any writer’s path is strewn with rejection letters: from agents, from publishers, from magazines…  We’ve all had them, ranging from a ‘we haven’t even read this’ form dismissal to a detailed critique of everything that is wrong with what you’ve written. We console ourselves that it happens to the best of them: JK Rowling was told she’d never make a living from writing. Lord of the Flies was rejected 100 times. I know personally of one (now pretty well-established) novelist whose first book was rejected by one agency, then accepted a month later by another, by the same woman, who had moved agencies in the interim. If that doesn’t prove how arbitrary success can be, what does? But one thing that many aspiring writers don’t realise is, this doesn’t stop when you get published. In fact, if anything, these days it just gets worse.

Anyone who produces any sort of art for public consumption has to accept that they will come under scrutiny, and that not everyone will like what they do. I write for a theatre review website, and while I – and my fellow reviewers – always try to be fair, there are a decent number of scathing opinions on the site, because we all feel it’s our duty as reviewers to speak up at what we see as poor acting, sloppy writing or ill-conceived or badly executed productions. We're there for the viewers, not the makers, and besides, it’s constructive, isn't it? Yet it never feels like that when you’re on the receiving end of it.

As someone who has been writing – and having things published – on and off for the best part of 20 years, I’ve certainly had my fair share of criticism. My first novel was about a sexually transgressive affair: dark, yes, but not – I thought – without humour. Still didn’t stop one reviewer commenting that they wondered how I’d managed to write it without causing myself lasting psychological damage, or someone on Amazon dismissing it as ‘tediously trying to shock’. (Not to mention the agent who said “I really like it – can you make it 50,000 words longer?” Um, no.)

And of course now, with the internet, everyone is a critic: and not everyone takes it well. Plenty of book bloggers report tales of furious authors taking public umbrage at bad reviews (many won’t even review self-published books, arguing that this kind of behaviour is more prevalent amongst non-professional authors). Read any article on any reasonably popular website and the comments section will make you cringe: there’s a reason they say 'never read the bottom half of the internet'. The freedom of online posting also means that people can type things they wouldn’t dream of saying in person and, I hate to say it, but if you’re a woman it’s likely to be worse, because not only are you stupid/wrong/a bad writer, you’re probably fat and ugly as well. (Only last week, I had someone post a comment on an article I wrote for a sci-fi website saying they wanted to ‘smash my ovaries’, which seems a bit of an over-reaction to me questioning the validity of Hollywood making any more Iron Man movies.)

So what to do about it? The answer, as ever, is pretty much nothing. Listen to the constructive feedback: use it where you can, have the courage to ignore it if it really goes against what you believe. For everything else: unless it’s actually threatening (in which case, it’s illegal – tell the police), take it as a good sign. No writer’s appeal is universal: for everyone who loves Ian McEwan, or Stephenie Meyer, or whoever else you care to name, there will be plenty of people who can’t stand their work. Did I mention Lord of the Flies got rejected 100 times?

Lick it and stick it

I hadn’t a clue what to write about when I switched on the laptop to compose my post, so I gazed toward the calendar for inspiration. None was forthcoming. However, it did occur to me that we're almost half way through the year and so far I haven’t revised my New Year resolutions to see if I have fulfilled them. To be honest, I can’t even remember what I’d pledged in the first place, but I think it had something to do with finishing the current novel, which I’ve done, and to write more short stories which I’ve not done. The fact that it’s April 30th is also a timely reminder to buy stamps before the post office closes today. The stamps I buy today will be licked and affixed to the rejection envelopes which will accompany the recently completed ms.

It saddens me that most agents still ask for postal submissions. And quite a few still demand the little brown envelope in which they will place their rejection. In the age of new technology, I often wonder why agents still insist on having the mss posted. ‘Save the trees,’ I hear you shout. I must admit that I prefer to read from paper than I do a computer screen. And that is my one reason for the strong dislike of the e-reader. But I imagine that it’s easier to store fifteen manuscripts in a device than it is to stuff paper into a briefcase, the latter conjuring up images of a post-holiday suitcase crammed full of bargain buys. On the other hand, it’s probably easier to make notes on paper. So I see the argument both ways.

Many writers are put off by the inconvenience that postal submissions often entail. I can say assuredly that I’m certainly not. If that’s the way my preferred agent wants to receive them, then that’s the rules I will follow.

I will bid my manuscripts farewell this afternoon as they are shepherded off in the Royal Mail van. I hope the stamps on the enclosed brown envelopes are steamed off by the agents’ assistants as soon as they arrive, and that they put them to good use on this year’s Christmas cards. I don’t want any rejections, thanks.

It’s April 30 – remind me of your 2012 writing resolutions. Have you followed them through? Are you even half way there? Or what do you think of postal submissions? But be quick because I have to get to the post office before the end of today because stamps are going up as I mentioned…quite a lot!

The making of it

I’ve just heard that my novel, The Making of Her, will be published this Friday. Even as I write this, it’s at the printers being turned into A Real Book. I’ve never had a baby, but I guess this is the nearest I’ll come to it. So please bear with me, because I’m going to blog about its story. Not its plot, but the story of how it came into being.

I began The Making of Her waaaay back in August 2006, on a How To Write A Novel course at University College, Falmouth, run by the redoubtable Jane Pollard. I came clutching the beginning of a novel, but my bright-eyed optimism was soon dashed. Jane told us to discard any novel we’d begun and start again from scratch. In new-age circles, Letting Go is said to be a good thing, because it creates a vacuum into which something new can be born - and this proved to be the case: that night at the kitchen table an idea came to me. I sat and scribbled, and by next day the basic plot was there. I drew on my own experience as a television director, many years in therapy and my position in society as a middle aged (aka invisible) woman.


Little did I know that this was only the beginning of what would turn out to be a six-year project, with much heartbreak - and a few highs. The first draft took about a year, although I stopped for four months in the middle: I lost faith after an incisive critique on the first three chapters. Like most beginning novelists, I was very resistant to changing my ‘baby’, partly because my skin was still too thin. Over the years, the skin thickened and the resistance was gradually dismantled. And I was lucky to be a member of three different writing groups, as well as WriteWords, a brilliant online writing community, and received invaluable critique from them. I began subbing to agents in 2008.


At that point the novel had an unfortunate title – The Change – and involved rather too many menopausal references. It was also unrelentingly downbeat. Six form rejections came back. I entered some competitions – no luck. I sent the first three chapters and synopsis to the Hilary Johnson editorial service: they were encouraging and I realise, looking back, that there are a few events in writer’s lives which act as markers or milestones – where someone ‘gets’ what you’re doing and says ‘keep going’. This, together with being shortlisted in a Cornerstones competition, renewed my faith and energy to continue. One agent asked for the full – and rejected.


But some progress was being made. I rewrote passages. I edited and revised. I changed the title to The Making of Her. I worked on making it more upbeat and changed one of the main narratives to first person. I subbed to another handful of agents. The rejections continued to come in, but now some of them were personal, and encouraging. One agent rejected, but asked to see the next one. A couple more asked for the full. There were moments of hope, but many more moments of despair and dejection. One agent ‘loved’ the first 50 pages and asked for the full, then hung onto it for many months before sending a pretty brutal rejection.


At this point I was ready to throw in the towel. As a final shot, I decided to submit directly to a publisher. My friend Derek had told me about Linen Press Books, a women’s press based in Edinburgh, so I sent off my synopsis and first chapters. To my utter amazement, since I was feeling battered and bowed, they asked for the full and, within a week or so, had read it. They asked me to make some revisions and after seeing the preliminary changes, offered me a contract.


This was in January 2011. The year that followed felt like a miracle. I had a fabulous editor who worked with me over many months like a mentor, meticulously going through the novel chapter by chapter. I rewrote the beginning (again), added a couple of sub-plots and rewrote a middle section. I could see the novel improving with each change. And because Linen Press is a small publishing house, I was fully involved at every stage, including the cover design.


So here it is. Or will be, on Friday. Now I’m immersed in marketing and asking for reviews, which feels rather like subbing to agents – lots of rejection/ignoring but a few ‘yesses’ or ‘maybes’. It’s been a long and often painful process to today, so what I’m long-windedly wanting to say is: It is possible. You can do it. Keep going. Have faith. The Making of Her will be available from www.linenpressbooks.co.uk from 27th April.

Merry Christmas, Mr Agent

Dear Mr Agent

I’ve wanted to write to you since receiving my Dear John letter and finally I’ve got the time to pick up my pen and tell you how I feel. Some time ago I sent you my book and you wrote back and said you didn’t like it. Well, you said it was a fantastic story worthy of being told, held your attention, blah blah blah, the characters were believable, but you just didn’t love it enough to take it further. So, I’m writing back to tell you I LOVE the book and so do all my friends. In fact, a publisher loves it so much, he’s gonna print it and make me rich. As filthy rich as JK Rowling and Dan Brown combined. He said I’m gonna make millions from this book and he’s gonna turn it into a big Hollywood Blockbuster.

So have yourself a merry Christmas. When you’re chomping on your mince pie, and sipping on the brandy on December 25th, you can think back and wonder how it could have been. You could be rich now. You could be pulling out your wallet, flashing the cash, ordering a Ferrari and holidaying with Richard Branson. You could have bought a nice bottle of Bollinger and some fancy nibbles with your cut of my earnings. I bet you’re sitting there right now, watching the Queen’s speech with your paper crown on your head, thinking: ‘Crikey, if only I’d signed Mrs Writer.’ Well, this is your annus horribilis and you deserve every minute of it. I hope you choke on a brussel sprout.

I should also point out that, if I am invited to the Booker awards this year, I may just ask you to come as my partner, because quite frankly, I really want to see your expression as you sit in your seat while I collect my award. I may even thank you for not signing me, as I’ll get to keep the extra 12 per cent. With that, I’ll buy myself an Aston Martin. You’re not allowed in it.

All that’s left for me to say is Merry Christmas and a happy new year. I’m off to stuff my vegetarian roast and put on my expensive crown, not the ones you buy in supermarkets. I buy the really expensive ones which have gifts such as Mont Blanc pens and Breitling watches inside. And I’m actually pulling one of the crackers as I write this. I’m putting on my watch, and putting the finishing touches to my submission with my Mont Blanc. Are you jealous? I bet you are!

Yours sincerely

A Writer

Revenge of the Rejected

Mea Culpa. It was my turn to post on Strictly today and I've somehow managed to miss this fact. However, my colleagues have suggested posting this video on the subject of rejection - which is actually very funny and a little bit empowering.



Oh, and on this subject, it reminded me of someone I 'know' online who has been writing novels for years and who has womanfully continued to write in the face of rejections for all five of them, determined to keep learning her craft and tenacious enough to keep going no matter what. This week, and for her sixth novel, she's got an agent. And I, for one, am thrilled and inspired and actually in awe of her. So I guess the message for the weekend is -

Don't Give Up. It Can Happen. It Has.
Have a good one.

The Young And The Restless

Today I’m turning to a topic we’re all sadly familiar with – rejection. Who enjoys rejection? Not me, nor any writer. It’s something we’ve all had to face at one time or another. To be honest, it doesn’t bother me in the least as it’s all part of the learning process. Crikey, even Cheryl Cole had to deal with it recently, but instead of taking her dismissal from the US X-Factor like a grown up, she threw her toys out of the pram. As writers, I like to think we have more dignity than spoiled slebs.

Let me take you back many years to my first ever submission when I was a naïve young writer, thinking every agent would just fall in love with my submissions. I remember scurrying to the post office, after having opened the envelope four times to check I’d spelled my name correctly. I recall making a mental note to myself – Monday, June 25 – this would be the day Big Agent is overwhelmed by my wonderful three chapters, so much so, that he calls this date ‘the first day of the rest of my life.’ Ok, so it’s Friday, June 22, I mutter to myself. Big Agent won’t be in the office tomorrow to read it, so it’ll be Monday at the earliest before he feasts his eyes upon my masterpiece. Maybe Tuesday if Royal Mail has a backlog. Luckily I’d taken that fortnight off work, as it was compulsory Wimbledon viewing. I made sure I had my mobile switched on from early dawn, just in case Big Agent arrived early at work – perhaps he’d gone to a clairvoyant over the weekend, and therefore knew there was a fabulously talented author just….sitting….waiting. Good, the phone had plenty of charge and reception. Reception, most importantly. If he couldn’t hear me, he may well hang up and end my dream. But no phone call came that day.

So…Tuesday….I’d arranged to visit a friend in a slightly more rural area. Panic set in just in case the reception was poor and Big Agent couldn’t get hold of me. He’d bin mine and move on to Joe Bloggs’ manuscript ‘Henry Porter and The Magnificent Flying Owl’. Thankfully o2 was the most reliable provider in the area and I took comfort in that. I decided not to leave my mobile phone in my handbag in case it slid down the infamous black hole in the lining. I would hear the ringtone, but my mobile would be playing a vicious game of hide and seek. What if he didn’t leave a message and the number was withheld. So I balanced my phone on top of my bag. No phone call on the Tuesday. Maybe he’d gone to the gym and had a minor accident on the treadmill? Perhaps he was in the Seychelles for a two week holiday. Mmmm.
Maybe tomorrow. Again I rose at the crack of dawn, perched my phone within reach and prayed to the gods of submission. Nothing. Thursday….nothing….Friday….nothing.

I consoled myself with the belief that Big Agent had it on his desk and was so engrossed in it he hadn’t moved for days. Could he have been so excited about the storyline he had a heart attack at his desk? Maybe he was booking a flight to meet me but was so incensed by the baggage charges he cancelled. I checked the flight schedule for London Heathrow to George Best Belfast City Airport on the Monday, making sure there was availability. Maybe he’d prefer to fly from London Gatwick. Again, flight schedule checked. Availability - yes.

No phone call ever came. Instead about five weeks later I got a rejection. Thanks but no thanks. Oh well. And it was a standard signed letter. I folded it and put it inside the Writers’ and Artists’ Yearbook. Onwards and upwards, I said to myself.

Dear Agent,

Dear Agent,

You have a tough job, I know.  I’ve read all the stuff about how you’re inundated with unsolicited manuscripts (try saying THAT after a snifter of Baileys), about how you’re fighting hard for your current list of published authors and about how the economic climate is making it so difficult right now for anybody trying to get a foot on the first rung of their writing career.

And I’ve watched enough episodes of ‘The Apprentice’ to appreciate that any kind of business deal, even in the publishing world (maybe especially in the publishing world, where trust plays such a key role) is only as good as the financial return it can realistically make.

So it’s a gamble.  Particularly with a newbie – I mean debut author.  

This new writer whose work you’re reading right now could so very easily turn out to be the lemon of the century.  They could be a one trick pony, a one-hit wonder, even a plagiarist of the highest order who’s got you hooked, lined and sunk already with their clever use of language and their ingenious plot-lines.

Of course you could Google them.  And their Facebook profile alone could ease your worried brow or else send you screaming for the hills.  And if they have a Blog, so much easier.  Unless their blog is a ‘name and shame’ shrine to all the rejection letters they receive from Agents, of course (you know *who* I mean).  Which is just mental. (IMHO obvs.  You might enjoy reading it.)

This work you’re currently holding could be the endeavours of a writer who’s given up opportunities to accomplish success in all fields other than the one true vocation they dream of. The humour which shines brightly through the words you’re reading here, could be all the confidence that is left of this writer – rejections having taken their toll and reduced them to a small quivering mass of nerves. They might have endless ideas overflowing in their ‘to be written’ document file and they might have the bright, exciting beginnings of new books already started, which they’ve already quietly dismissed as a reject themselves – a death before life. A waste of time which they convince themselves they’d probably spend more wisely keeping a house clean and greedy mouths stuffed.

You know how much power you have, dear Agent?  Do you know how monumental the tiniest glimmer of hope that you give to a writer can be?  It’s the difference between light and dark to us – the flick of a switch.  It’s easy to give up and not believe in ourselves when we haven’t achieved what we’ve known we always wanted to from aged 6. But it’s the hardest thing in the world to keep treading the same path wearing different heels and lipstick in the hope that one day we’ll turn a head.

Just saying.

Yours hopefully,

I said No To J.K.

The McDade Literary Agency Ltd
Anytown

January 1995

Dear Joanne Rowling

Thank you for your recent submission entitled 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'. I'm sorry to say that after careful consideration of your manuscript I do not feel that I am the right person for this book. I admire your storyline and characters, but I'm afraid it does not grab me in the way it should.

I am sorry to disappoint and I hope that other agents and publishers feel differently. I wish you well in your future endeavours.

Sincerely
Gillian McDade


The lesson is that even though I (assuming the role of a literary agent) did not find the first few pages of the now legendary J.K Rowling's manuscript engaging enough (*ducks for cover from Harry Potter fans*), there are others who will. And aren't we glad Christoper Little did? Otherwise we would never have known the phenomenon that is Harry Potter.

We'll go back a few years...Joanne walks into the library in Edinburgh in 1995 and looks up a list of agents. She finds me. Fast forward a few days and the brown envelope goes into the postbox. That's after Joanne has opened the envelope again to make sure she has included the stamped addressed envelope and that she has spelt her own name right.

Picture this: I open Joanne's manuscript, I read the first page, my attention wanes, I sip at a can of Coke, nibble a few crisps, I look out the window and glimpse a man taking his dog for a walk, I glance at Joanne's synopsis. I wonder what the weather will be like. I go with my gut instinct – that she hasn't a hope in hell of this getting published. I don't even stop to consider this. Harry Potter really isn't my thing. Sorry, Jo.

So after Joanne receives her carefully worded rejection letter from me which I've forgotten to sign, she goes back to the library. She leafs through all the agents in the UK and Ireland and she likes the name 'Little.' Sounds like a character that would feature in a children's book. She sends it off to Mr Little and he loves it.

As her literary agent, Christopher Little receives between 10 and 15 per cent of J.K's earnings and a similar percentage of overseas earnings and film rights. J.K is believed to have earned a minimum of £150 million from Harry Potter – so my message is – don't give up, even when you get a pile of ten rejections in one day.

Have no fear. Believe in your work and your ability because that shows through when you submit it. It's also compulsory to enter The World Of Rejection Letters. Any respectable author has holidayed there for a period of time. They're part and parcel of the process and nothing to be ashamed of. You can file those letters away, frame them and make paper aeroplanes out of them, or do as I do and use them as bookmarks for your Writers' And Artists' Yearbook. If you hit the wall, walk around it. Please remember that someone out there will always say no. I said no to J.K.

Not-so-Secret Agent

It dawned on me today that I have been living a lie. For the past crikey-knows however many years, I have been living in that State called Denial (just down the road from Disbelief) because, yes folks… for all my bemoaning and wailing at getting hearty sniffs of but never actually securing one…I ONCE HAD AN AGENT.
Oh yes.
Now, whether she could legitimately be called a ‘Literary Agent’ in today’s current climate remains debateable.
So, the technical bit…
I was probably something like nineteen. And in those days (“waaaaay back when”) this was very close to twelve – in terms of mentality; emotionally and physically – I mean, I was still a virgin! Back when Virgins were fashionable and not just fodder for the Un-dead of this/that World or the next.
Also, I’d written six books by this time. (More technical stuff: they were all diaries. But they’re still books, right?) I’d had one short story published in the local newspaper, and a rejection from the BBC for a Fawlty Towers episode my best friend and I wrote. Oh, and a quite curt letter from Michael Grade telling me that if I really thought I could do a better job than Terry Wogan on his eponymous chat show, then I’d have to start at the bottom like everybody else at the Beeb had and not just leap into his comfy chair because I’d run out of career options after leaving school.
My mother was a post lady.
And this IS relevant. Because one of the ladies on her ‘round’ was a b***-selling author. Who, although only lived round the corner to us (remember this WAS the early 80’s and “round the corner” was still a Big Deal – tantamount to, say, a weekend in Prague and all the preparations that might justifiably go into planning something major like this) I’d never met, never heard of and in fact placed this on something of a pedestal.
B***-selling author, Eileen Pickering - nope I'd never heard of her either - In my village! Down the road! On my mum’s post-round!
Who knew?!
Well, mother did, obviously.
And she said she’d help me on my rocky road to publication and literary success! (Well, okay then, she said she’d read my bumbling efforts at short-story writing and my rhyming poetry about dying Fawns and unrequited love and let me know what she thought and send some off to some publishing places she knew…so, Agent? Hmmm…not sure.)
I paid for the photocopying, the stamps and the envelopes and in return she let me have my very first rejection letters. Via my mother.
So doubly humiliating then.
Even worse was the fact that my writing generally featured angsty teen first-love, testosterone-fuelled car mechanics and rom-comedies of errors involving randy driving instructors and pouty Advertising executives (of which I knew absolutely nothing…really).
And her genre? Westerns (she wrote under the pseudonym of Mark Falcon). So her forte in brooding, bristling cowhands and winsome corseted wenches in Shoot’em’up and Spitt’em out City probably didn’t resonate too well with my juvenile literary endeavours.
I do remember one of her comments saying something along the lines of: “not certain there is a specific market for this kind of style” and so heralded the very first heartslump in my chosen field.
And now Heartslump seems like quite a fitting name for a ghost-town in an obscure Western town.

Ah well, it’s back to that lil'ole state of Denial I think – and don’t spare the horses!

***book/best – details far too sketchy to be deemed concrete fact.

*Subbing* seems to be the hardest word

Forget cardiovascular workouts, forget frenzied, passionate all-night lovemaking sessions… al...though…no… no… c’mon, focus now…and forget the sheer icy panic you get when you think you mightn’t have locked the front door before your 2-hour trip… or turned the gas off (seriously? WHO forgets to turn the Gas off?) Nope - if there’s anything guaranteed to quicken my pulse, send my heart-rate into overdrive and my blood pressure soaring, it’s sending out a submission.
And I’m not alone *gulp* am I?

 Over the years, I've probably lost about fourteen pounds (that’s a stone, right?) just sitting at the keyboard with my finger poised over the left-clicker – THAT’s how trembly my right hand gets. I've never needed one of those mad machines that shakes my cellulite into surrender, like a crazy blender with no lid… oh no, all I have to do is prepare my nice polite enquiry email, make sure I’ve got a new document with three chapters in it, polish my synopsis until I can see my (sweaty) face in it, swallow back whatever meal that threatens to re-appear and hover over ‘send’.

I’ve even been known to do it with my eyes shut; it gets that bad. As if shutting my eyes somehow makes the whole process that much easier, less stressful, more dream-like. Like it maybe didn’t happen because I wasn’t looking? Isn’t that a bit like calories not counting if you eat something when nobody’s watching? Love that idea. Eating alone is my diet of choice. But I digress.
Subbing.
I used to take Subbing to the max. “Extreme Subbing” if you like. Back in the days when paper, ink, envelopes (including self-addressed) and stamps were de rigueur. And Post Offices. My God, Post Offices. I’m still very surprised that the lady behind the counter who worked the 2 o’clock shift didn’t ever ask me if I’d thought about therapy, the number of times I got her to weigh the envelope with contents, then take out the self-addressed envelope and letter and weigh it all again so I’d know how much the return postage would be. Because sometimes I might have used ‘heavier’ ink than the last time. I mean, wouldn’t it stand to reason that the lower an ink cartridge gets, the fainter the print, and the lighter the whole caboodle? And I didn’t want those nice people at the Marsh Literary Agency* thinking I was a total prole for not understanding something as straightforward as the Royal Mail standard postage weights and measures guidelines. Well, did I? Such ineptitude would surely send my manuscript back to the bottom of the slush pile - for only submissions by writers with a basic grasp of Post Office Protocol would be worthy of reading.
At least that was my worry. Well, one of them.

Along with all the others. Did I put the right letter in the right envelope? did I put the right SAE in the right envelope? did I stick stamps on every-bloody-thing? And of course, did the nice Post Office lady really understand what it is I was asking her to do in the first place anyway?
I’m surprised I slept at all.

But at least in those ‘paper-days’ I’d have been able (if I’d been so inclined and that convinced that something in an envelope was awry) to stake out the box into which the envelope had been posted, lie in wait for the post van to collect the contents and then wrestle my envelope from his sack so that I could rip everything open only to discover that nothing WAS actually wrong in the first place and actually I DO need to seek psychiatric assistance of some kind.
After my second book did the (boomerang) rounds and I worked out I was probably spending more in posting my submissions than I was getting paid for in the part-time job which fuelled my habit, I decided to just sub to Agents whose email details appeared in the Writers and Artists Yearbook.  And there're a fair few of them.  But it doesn't make the 'sending' any less traumatic.  In fact there's not even the consolation of being able to lie in wait for the Royal Mail van after you've hit 'send' - and the blind panic I felt once when I realised I'd sent an enquiry to two different Agencies but addressed to the same person, was something I do not wish repeating in a hurry.

And, so having committed this idiotically heart-stopping misdemeanour, would YOU:
a) send another e-mail saying 'oops, sorry about that - I'm a fool who doesn't deserve representation.  I insist you send this message and any attachments directly to your recycle bin', or
b) pretend you didn't notice and hope they don't either, or
c) convince yourself that they'll think you're just a typical creative-type who, although obviously a skilled story-teller, has a head too full of creative ideas to master the banalities of basic emailing.
Yup, me too.  I'm a c) person every time.

*Just one of a number of very lovely Literary Agencies Out There.

What Not To Do!

(Due to slight Dalek-like sound quality from the pink haired writer, aka D.O.D, please find below a copy her letter. I should add that no real writers were harmed in the creation of this video!!)

Dear Mr Agent,

I'm writing in response to your very rude return of my letter.

I know you agents are very busy but I have to confess that I expected more than my letter returned with a line through it. How rude!

But be assured, you're not the only one I'm writing to. Oh No Siree!!

Another rude agent wrote and told me I didn't understand what Point Of View is. I shall be writing to her and telling her I do indeed remember the Terry Wogan programme on the BBC.

Then there's the guy who got one of his interns to write me a hand-written message. What was it..? Oh, I remember now. He told me I had a problem with character arcs. I fully intend telling HIM that I am a writer not a carpenter. I do not have time to build rescue boats for my characters. It was that same guy who told me to show not tell. Everyone knows you TELL a story. What a total crock of crap!

On that note Mr Agent, I'm signing off now. Forever yours,

DISGUSTED FROM DONCASTER

Gone Fishing

So...is it okay to admit I’m taking a break on here? I don’t mean a Kit Kat munch or the Magazine bearing the name, I mean a break from writing. Just a small one, tiny really, just long enough to fill my lungs with some inspiring breath and my brain with some emotional stamina.


There, I’ve said it on Strictly Writing. That’s the equivalent of standing up in an AA meeting room, and announcing yourself as a fellow drinker. There’s no going back once something has been admitted out loud for fellow peers to hear. For I am a ‘write-aholic’ and sometimes, even I have to admit that it doesn’t always make me feel good...In fact, sometimes it’s responsible for me feeling bloody awful. Sometimes, like an hour ago as I debated hurling my manuscript out the window, it even makes me look like Mr Bean. And gurning doesn't suit me.

I didn’t plan on outing this particular feeling today but as I typed, these words appeared before me of their own accord. I was wary of them seeming negative but as I thought about it, I know most of you go through similar temporary gloom and felt you wouldn’t mind my honesty. My pared back frankness can now reveal:

I’m tired. Much as I love the craft and feel privileged to be able to write when I want, I’m finding the constant rejection and therefore constant reinvention of my work exhausting. I’m feeling frustrated at my failure to produce something commercial. I realise that I’ve become so hung up on trying to figure out what other people want from me, that I can’t even remember what it is I want myself. And I need to re-claim that.

During this writing process, I've learned many skills but the ability to know when to step back is vital. Knowing when to leave the words alone is ironically one of the most important things to me. Strangely, it enables me to carry on.

So, although today, devoid of any inspiration, I’m admitting defeat - as Arnie says - I’ll be back. A few days off, thinking time, is what my brain needs. I've decided between now and next Monday, I’m not going to write a word. I’m going to watch crappy television and read some of the books on my ‘To Read’ pile. I’m going to try meditation, or my version of it, that involves closing my eyes, forming my thumbs and forefingers into a circle reciting ‘Om, Om’ whilst eating chocolate. When my eyes are closed, I’ll imagine somewhere exotic and restful and fill myself with new and shiny thoughts. And in amongst them will lie a gem of an idea, which will excite me and make me want to write again. Time to stop wallowing in last manuscript gore and move on.

So I'm stepping away from words, just until Monday. On Monday, I will get over myself, embrace the craft I adore once more and move on.

Forget Halloween - Writing is Far Scarier.

Why?


1) That first time you show your work to someone, breath held, eyes shut, heart knocking on your chest. Will they laugh? Smirk? Struggle to soften the blow that your work is rubbish? Be it a relative, friend, writing group or online acquaintance it takes guts to put your work out there. So, whatever the outcome, Congratulations! You’ve done the equivalent of opening your eyes in the dark.

2) That first time – lots of firsts here – you submit your story, be it one thousand or one hundred thousand words long. Why is this scary? Because the result more often than not will be a large brown envelope landing in your hall, bearing those brutal words Not for us. Yet you’ve confronted your fear, you’ve stepped well and truly into the aspiring writer’s Haunted House. One way out is the door of publication and to find this exit you must confront all manner of spooks – the dreaded synopsis, the hellish cover letter, the eternal rewrite, the shattered confidence… It takes a brave – some might say foolish person – to take this path.

3) Next you must hold your nerve and ride the two-faced ghost-train of success. You get an agent, get a contract and your day of publication arrives, yippee! But then, hello scary sales figures and alarming Amazon rankings and a devilish deadline for Book Two. And ultimately you must grapple that ghoulish question – will my contract be renewed?

4) It’s scary how writing stirs her cauldron and casts her spell on your once steady emotions. Now you feel intense envy at fellow authors who write more eloquently, get four book deals or meet Will Smith (you know who you are!) Tears are shed over rejection, high cackles let rip over positive–sounding emails or the production of an occasional bit of superb prose. Up and down, we are at the mercy of this literary mistress. Our happiness is no longer under our own control

5) The night-time terrors. Mine? They revolve around the thought that on my deathbed, I shall still be a struggling writer and a wail will escape my lips as I tot up all the hours I have pursued my self-indulgent dream, and realize that they would have been better spent achieving other things. Like getting fit. Like cooking my family nothing but home-made meals. I could have learnt to wind-surf or kept a tidier house. I could have done volumes of charity work or brought in more income. In other words… I have wasted my valuable time on this earth.


So why do we write? Is it a choice? Can we ever cast aside the demons of this pursuit? I have tried but its seductive song always lures me back, with the promise of great rewards…

Halloween isn’t scary, with its witches and zombies and ghosts. No, far scarier is being lucky enough to discover your calling, but not knowing if you will ever truly do it proud.

Misconceptions about Writers

1) Writers are extraordinary. I don’t think so - most of the writers I know have ordinary jobs, have a mortgage and/or kids and spouse. I read Heat, I watch lots of telly and I do the school run. I like Pizza, I don’t hoover behind the sofa and I worry about the Credit Crunch. I’m just like anyone else. In fact if I ever get published, that will have to be my hook!

2) Everyone has a book in them and therefore the potential to be a writer. Erm, correct! I’d agree that everyone does. But if this book is to be publishable, is to be page-turnable, then no, not everyone has the where-with-all to produce such a tale. We each have our own unique story, some narrative that defines our lives, and this autobiographical prose is often what a virgin writer puts on paper. But whether this should be made public in all its self-indulgent glory is quite another matter. Mine was written 4 years ago, a novel set in Paris, in the Eighties - Cue Monet, Metro stations and Merlot. Cue unimaginative characters based on people I once knew, speaking with Carry-on style French accents.


3) Writers earn a lot of money. Not unless their name is JK Rowling or Dan Brown. That is, writers who just happen to catch the public’s imagination on a grand scale. For the rest of us the financial prospects are a little more sobering. Advances are relatively small, as are royalties once the bookseller, wholesaler and publisher have taken their cut… In other words, if you’re lucky, you might earn enough to pay for a newish car, but forget those dreams of world cruises, shopping at Tiffany’s or giving up the day job.

4) Writers are sexy, interesting people. Don’t make me laugh! We all have writer’s arse and moan constantly about rejection. And we’ve got spots from too many keyboard chocolate fests and a red nose from too much comforting booze. What's more, we're self-obsessed and fixated with checking the post and emails.

5) Writers are born. No. I’d disagree with this. Yet I believe readers are and that often a childhood love of books, an adult writer will spawn.

6) Writers are the best observers of human nature. I think not - they are simply the ones to note it down. Point in fact is the builder presently working on my house - salt of the earth who took just a few days to suss me out: how to make me smile with his banter, how to explain things to someone who is as practical as a piece of fluff; how to ask for a cup of tea whilst making me feel it was no bother; how to get me to allay my irrational fears about fittings and dust. Anyone who works with the public has to understand and manipulate the diversity of human nature to get their job done. Writers are no more gifted at understanding what makes people tick, they are simply the ones to present those observations as the written word.

Come on folks, I'm sure you can think of some more!

The Strictly Writers' Top...Websites

Here are our top websites and blogs - we'd love to hear what yours are in the comments below!

Gillian: One of my favourite writing-related websites is The New York Times Books. In the absence of enjoying a copy of the paper in my hands, the next best I suppose is the comprehensive website featuring reviews and features plucked from the supplements. With info on all the latest books as well as archival articles, conversations and interviews, New York Times brings you the latest in the world of literature. My natural interest lies in American literature, so once the books have crossed the ocean to the UK, I'm already in the know! You can check out all the movers and shakers via the hardcover and paperback charts too. And of course, you can download the podcasts - simply go to the website.


Susie: I've been a member of WriteWords online writing community for a couple of years. The members take writing seriously - there are loads of published writers on the site who are extremely generous with their advice and experience - and there's a very supportive and encouraging atmosphere there. It's a place where you can ask (or tell) anything, both writing-related or generally. As well as forums for every kind of writing - from Chicklit to Flash Fiction, Non-Fiction to Poetry - there are also specialist forums for discussions on Getting Published, Technique etc. You can also post your work for critique - and the quality of critique is high. Why not try it - you can have a free month's trial: thereafter it's just £35 for a year's membership. All the Strictly crowd are members (if that's a recommendation!) and we'd love to welcome you onboard.

Geri: I have many reasons for nominating Womag's website as my favourite writing website. Through it I've made contact with writers whose bylines have become very familiar to me over the years, and who I hope I can now count among my many online friends. Without her research and her generosity in sharing it I wouldn't have entered and twice won Write-Invite, which led to an interview on Express FM. Nor would I have submitted a story to Bridge Publishing - a story which will appear in their Ghost Anthology in October. There are many websites to do with writing but generally the focus is on writing novels or literary short stories. Womag understands that if you're a writer aiming at the women's short story market then unless you understand that market before you submit your story then you won't get very far at all. And she is fabulous at providing and collating all the information you could possibly need in an easily accessible format. Womag gets my vote for best website every time!


Caroline G: Help! I need a publisher! (and maybe an agent…?) is the very funny and informative blog of Nicola Morgan, award-winning author and self-styled ‘crabbit old bat’. She has no truck with time wasters or anyone who thinks writing is easy. But her advice on the business and craft of writing is always spot-on and encouraging, albeit never sugar-coated.

Rod: contemporarywriters is the perfect haunt if you want to pass yourself off as well-read. It has biographies, bibliographies and photos of our most loved living writers. Well, the famous ones anyway. You won't find me or you there. The best bit is the "critical perspective", which puts the writer in context. Endless browsing fun is to be had by clicking on the strangely captivating photos that drift eternally across the top of the screen. They also list their agents, so it's a good place to go if you are tailoring submissions letters and want to claim a striking correspondence between your work and one of the gods.


Caroline R: Red Room is a great social media site for writers at any stage of their career. The design is classy, the content excellent, and you don't have to be published to create a page there. It's a brilliant way for authors to consolidate all their online stuff (links to interviews, reviews, blog posts, podcasts etc), for serious but not-yet-published writers to build up a web presence, and for keen readers to get in touch with their favourite authors.

Sam: I can highly recommend Nik’s Blog. Nik is a diverse writer of adult and children’s fiction and of poetry. He runs workshops and was recently instrumental in putting together the book 20 Photos & 20 Stories, to raise money for the Alzheimer’s society. I admire his initiative. I admire his innovation. I enjoy the interviews and reports on the literary events he’s attending. What’s more I enjoy following the life of someone who genuinely strives to make a living from the writing. It’s like popping in to catch up with a friend over a virtual coffee - a cosy safe haven within what can be a brutal world of publishing!

Fionnuala: I was recently recommended HollyLisle.com by a fellow writer friend and have been a daily visitor since! Holly Lisle, author of thirty two books including some writing clinic e-books offers a wonderfully informative website, being incredibly generous with her experience and insight into the writing world. The sight offers a wealth of information for writers of all levels from beginners to published successes.
At beginner level there are many FAQs, for example ‘What is a chapter and how do you know when you’ve finished one?’ For the more experienced writers, workshops are available on subjects such as ‘Creating Conflict’ or ‘Honing Your Craft’. These are presented in easy format – just read it through and sometimes perform a few simple exercises.
As I’m currently allowing my novel to breathe for a couple of weeks before revising it, her ‘One Pass Revision’ and ‘Revising Vincalis’ workshops are my chosen reads for today.
Have a peek. There is something there for everyone who already writes or wants to start.

Susannah: This Itch of Writing is the blog of literary historical novelist and writing teacher Emma Darwin. It’s witty, erudite, forthright and gives a deliciously varied insight into the life and mind of a working writer. I love this blog because it never feels dashed off. There is something in every post to mull on. Her posts are incredibly varied and always informative – particularly for the novice, as she is generous with information, not only on the nuts and bolts of getting published, but with those elements of craft that can have us feeling like headless chickens. She will bother to analyse a single sentence of HG Wells in minute detail to debate whether/why each word is necessary (in this post, Learning to Fly ) or discuss how empathy works (between reader and character) in Where The Wild Things Are.
Interestingly the tone of the blog is consistent with Darwin’s voice as a novelist. There isn’t a false chattiness or dumbing down when she moves online. But best of all, what shines through is that she is clearly constantly learning and developing. Here is a teacher who willingly shares what she knows then romps ahead so there is always more to be had. And that, for me, is what gives her blog the edge.


Rebecca: The Rejection Collection bills itself as “the writer’s and artist’s online source for misery, commiseration and inspiration”. Ever felt like drowning in a sea of self-despair after receiving a particularly vicious rejection letter? Get yourself over to Rejection Collection and be safe in the knowledge that you are not alone. Here, would-be writers (mostly from the U.S., but with a small British contingent too) post up letters they have received from agents, editors and the like, and share their thoughts – from sorrow to outrage. It hasn’t been updated for a while, but there’s a healthy backlog to plough through… perfect for those times when you feel as if you are the only writer in the world ever to have had a door slam in your face.

Helen: My two favourite websites aptly sum up my life: WriteWords and Mumsnet. The former is great for anything from a moan about 'the state of the publishing industry', to a heated discussion on the merits of literary fiction. The later is where I find information on everything from the charity status of private schools to the relative pleasures of “bumsex”. What's not to like?

Give us a Flash!

When I think back over the last four years, which is how long I’ve been writing seriously, certain episodes flash into my mind - certain events in my personal literary world which have significantly shaped my journey to publication. As most of you know, a journey which I have not yet completed.

The first is the day I sat down at the computer and started to write. My youngest had started school several months earlier, and after years of toddlers group and afternoons in the park - all of which I wouldn’t change for the world – part of my brain suddenly twitched. I needed to write. And write I did. Polished a bit, puffed out my chest and then I remember, like it was yesterday, interrupting my husband on the toilet (he’s going to kill me for writing this.) I knocked and ignoring his indignation, prised open the door a couple of inches and slipped through a sheet of A4.
“Read this,” I said, nervously. “Do you think it is any good?”
Silence. Prompting from me. More indignation then: “It’s good. I like your turn of phrase.”
Phew! He hadn’t laughed. I went back to the computer.

The second episode, nine months later (they say every novel is a baby) involved the bathroom again (bit of a theme here, I’m afraid.) Me lying starkers under the water, husband sat on the loo (lid down this time, you’ll be relieved to hear), him holding a rejection letter that had just come through the post. Very short, two lines long but those magic words… “You write well.” I was officially a writer now!

The third fortunately didn’t involve nudity and was about one year later when an agent requested the full of my second novel. Deep joy! I embarked upon an email frenzy telling anyone who will listen that my moment had come! I look back on that episode with nostalgic sympathy. ‘Bless,’ I think, ‘she did well but should have known better.’ I’m not quite so green now.

Episode four was a rejection of the full of my third novel. It was no holds barred - the worst I’d ever had. There was much wobbling of my bottom lip and many tears. Thank God for Cadbury’s and White Zinfandel. But I came back - discarded that work and moved onto the next. They say that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. The trick is also not to get bitter.

Episode five is when my dad read my current book, the first time I've shown him such a large chunk of my work. He said he was proud and just for one nanosecond, it didn't matter quite so much whether I ever got published or not.

The last one brings me up-to-date and is more a visual image in my mind of this vibrant green blog - my hard-working colleagues, you lovely readers, it’s a rewarding achievement that every day, grows in front of my eyes.

So, if - or rather when - I die, the frames of film-reel that roll before my eyes will doubtless include the above. What about you? Care to share the ups and downs of your literary life? The ones that have considerably influenced your writing career? Go on, I dare you! Give us a flash!

Guest Blog by Emma Barnes - Why It's Good To Be Rejected

We reject a lot of manuscripts. We’re bound to: we’re a small publisher with an open submissions policy, and we publish far fewer books each year than are submitted. I want to share with you why we make offers on the ones we do, why we reject the others, and why you should be glad to be rejected, some of the time.

First up: even if your book is brilliant, it may not fit with a publisher’s objectives. If you have written a novel which is destined in the future to win the Booker, chances are that we at Snowbooks will reject you. We have an editorial policy driven primarily by our own entirely subjective tastes, combined with a forecast of what we think we can sell. Since we have collectively loathed most winners of the Booker for the last decade it’s unlikely that an excellent example of modern fiction will find a home on our list – regardless of whether other people would appreciate it or how many prizes it has a chance of winning. And if you’ve written something which is breathtaking in its mould-breaking originality, we’re unlikely to go for it, despite its genius. We are interested in books which we can sell – and, without huge budgets to break a new genre into the market, this often means books which are easily defined.

As an author of fiction, you're presenting something which is very much part of your soul to corporations who are, by definition, soulless. That's not to say that people in publishing aren't nice. I'm nice. But I'm running a business whose first priority is to keep trading: we owe it to our present and future authors and to ourselves. We're no use to anyone if we go bust. The need for commerciality, which all publishers share to one degree or another, doesn't often sit happily with an author's need for artistic expression.

The books that we do make offers on tend to be brilliantly written, but they also have to tick boxes. Genre, for instance: the areas where we've historically had success are natural areas of focus for us, but our focus does evolve and authors aren't necessarily to know this. Length: we're not likely to publish anything under 70,000 words or over 180,000. Attitude of the author is also a consideration: we've turned down books in the past which fit our editorial plans perfectly but the author seemed to be the sort of person we'd rather not work with.

If we were to sign up a book which we knew to be outstanding, but it was outside of our sphere of ability or interest, we wouldn’t be doing you a favour. If we don’t have the right contacts at retailers, publications, websites and distributors, or the right touch for cover design, or editorial competence, we’re not going to be able to do your book justice. If your book is within our sphere but we don’t fall in love with it – a state which is highly subjective, impossible to explain and difficult to predict – we’re not going to have the passion to evangelise about it to the degree necessary in an industry where over 100,000 books are created every year.

Many authors think of getting a publishing contract as being the end goal, but soon discover that publishing is just a business. Not all is rosy the other side of the publishing deal and though those rejection slips may sting, sometimes they avoid a lot more disappointment.

In 2003 Emma Barnes, along with Rob Jones, founded Snowbooks. Since then they’ve won the Small Publisher of the Year Nibbie, the Innovation Nibbie and the Trade Publisher of the Year IPA award. They’ve sold nearly a million pounds worth of books, and at a party to celebrate successful business women, Emma met the Queen, at which point all her principles went out the window and she curtseyed.

Stages of Rejection

As I once again approach submission time, I am bracing myself for failure. Not in a woe-is-me, lack of confidence way, rather from a position of realism based on past experience. I thought I’d pull out all the rejection letters I’ve saved from the last four years and take a browse – but I couldn’t. Some are still too painful. So why keep them all, like some tatty love-letters from a failed relationship? I’m not sure. In a way it’s because they validate the time I’ve spent writing novels. They are tangible proof that I have tried, I have worked hard – that I have put myself ‘out there’.

Surely I should have developed a rhino’s skin after all this time? Surely the rejection still doesn’t hurt? For the most part, I can logically deal with disappointment - tell myself that a standard rejection isn’t necessarily a condemnation of my work. And I appreciate the odd personal comment, I grasp at the occasional letter which is worded with encouragement. But now and again I get caught out. And the obsessive, emotional process is usually as follows and I wonder if it’s the same for you?

1) Paranoia – why has the agent not replied yet? My submission must have got lost in the post. Perhaps in my covering letter I didn’t grovel enough – or maybe I sounded arrogant. The agent must be on holiday or she’s ill or at some book fair abroad. Perhaps it was a mistake calling the hero and heroine Gordon and Mandy because if she’s Conservative it won’t make it off her slushpile.

2) Assumption – it’s definitely been rejected. I’ve googled the agent’s name and when she takes someone on she always rings them after two days. I’ve already been waiting two weeks. It’s a done deal. Onto the next sub.

3) Tears – the letter slipped through the post box today. Despite number 2) it is still a shock. Tears and chocolate. More tears, more chocolate. My little boy asks why my eyes are runny. My claws-of-steel cat turns away in disgust.

4) Self-pity – I’m never going to make it as a writer. What’s the point of trying any more? All the hard work I’ve put in has been for nothing. More chocolate. More writerly sighs. Woe is me.

5) Anger – What does she mean, my characters seem flat? That my plot’s going nowhere? My husband disagrees, as does Auntie Nell. Who does she think she is? What does she know?

6) Defiance – I’ll show her and write something even better then I’ll post a copy to her when I get a deal. She’ll be cursing the day she let me go. Ha! And double Ha!

7) Acceptance and Resolve – she was right, I can see that now, the characters are flat and the plot is going nowhere. It’s time to tuck this book firmly under my bed. It’s time to move on and work on my writing skills. It’s time to improve.

8) Gratitude – she did me a favour, if it wasn’t for that rejection letter I’d still be working on that project. My new one is genuinely so much better. I’ll sub it to her when the time comes.

9) Amnesia – I can’t wait to send her my new project. This submission process is so exciting! Printing out my chapters, rushing to the post box every morning… Perhaps this book will be the one!