Category: Novel News

No News Isn’t Necessarily Good News

Tuesday marks the deadline I set when I last submitted my novel.  So far I have sent it to two literary agencies without reply.  I don’t know if it’s better not to hear, or if it would be better to receive a rejection.  Any which way the news certainly isn’t positive so I am already turning my attention to my next target.

It’s inevitable that I am asking myself a lot of questions, and that some part of is quietly concerned that perhaps my novel isn’t good enough and I am just a ridiculous dreamer.  On a positive note I find myself a lot less anxious than I was a month ago.  I believe I have come to terms with the fact that this process if going to be lengthy.

I am much more anxious for November 1st to come around so I can get started on my next project.  I have a rough idea that I am toying with in my head.  I am eager to get started.  So eager that I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these days my brain explodes.  I am quietly confident that I can produce a novel in 30 days.  The only thing which worries me is that 50,000 words may well be a little on the short side.

The November project is keeping my mind occupied.  I am no longer concerning myself with the future.  About the only thing which has changed is that recently I have started wondering exactly how strong my submissions are.  If my cover letters are too stiff and formal.  If they actually say anything about me at all.  I have reached the conclusion that I would rather fail honestly, therefore I shall try a different approach with my next submission.  Wish me luck.

A Novel Approach

Yesterday by sheer coincidence I discovered www.nanowrimo.org.  NaNoWriMo is an organisation which promotes creative writing and sheer insanity.  One way they do this is by organising National Novel Writing Month in November.  They challenge willing lunatics to try to write a 50,000 word novel in only 30 days.  In 2010 there were 200,000 participants.  Over 30,000 of them wrote a novel in a month.  Sounds like coordinated madness, right?

Two things impressed me about NaNoWriMo.  The first is their all too public honesty.  Trying to write a novel in 30 days is slightly mad.  It is inevitable that you are unlikely to produce a Booker prize-winning novel.  However the one thing which pushes people away from trying their hand at a novel is the idea that writing a novel takes a great deal of time and effort.  Weirdly, it’s not time and effort which is the problem, it’s getting started and finding a rhythm.  I wrote my initial 80,000 word draft in just over 3 months.  The idea of just producing for 30 days and then trying to edit it into a coherent form is a fantastic idea.  The reason being that it forces people to write.  Regardless of form, a large number of people will finish November as a Novelist, and that is something to cherish.

The second is that it is all organised by a tiny but mighty non-profit organisation called the Office of Letters and Light.  These lovely people spend a great deal of time trying to get kids actively interested in creative writing.  They do it by raising money for a program which reaches 2,700 different classrooms.  They also do nice things for libraries.  And well I like libraries.  And perhaps if more kids were interested in using their imaginations, maybe there wouldn’t be so many little shits on earth.

After some thought I have signed up.  The idea of writing a novel in 30 days sounds so absolutely absurd, that the experience will either drive me mad or teach me something new about myself.  Either way I am willing to find out.  Honestly, I can’t wait for November 1st.

Sell Out Or Stay Home

Last night I submitted my novel to the next agent on my list.  This time caring less about protocol and more about leaving my fingerprint on my submission.  I don’t really know why some part of me feels it will make a difference, nonetheless it does.  Somehow I can’t make myself believe that personal marketing has any impression on an agent’s psyche, especially when the bottom line of any business is profit.

I don’t know whether it’s caused by self-doubt but I find myself thinking more and more about why I didn’t try to write a commercial novel.  It is not as if I deliberately tried not to either.  I had an idea which wouldn’t leave me alone.  Eventually I decided to follow this idea to its conclusion.  It wrote itself.  When I try to be objective I find myself searching for excuses to explain why it won’t be published, and at the head of the list is its genre.

Now I find myself wondering if that’s what I should do.  If I want to write so badly why not try my hand at something more populist.  Do I have it in me to write about camp hairdressing vampires, junkie wizards or a detective who is addicted to knitting jumpers for horses?  As this point I don’t know.

Perhaps I wrote something ‘literary’ to give me an excuse to fail.  If I had written something commercial I would only be left with the fact that perhaps my writing is not good enough?

It’s not that I have anything against commercial literature.  It’s merely that I prefer a book to have soul.  Catch 22, Yellow Train, Shantaram, Seeing and Yes Man are very different books but they have an aura about them which can eat through your skull and devour your brain.  Books like these are seldom published these days.  And it saddens me.

For me the honesty of the printed page is the last domain of the thinking man.  Many naysayers claim that we are witnessing the death throes of the book.  They claim that the advancement of technology has rendered the book obsolete.  I would rather say that the stagnation of the publishing industry has been an act of suicide.  The reluctance to take gambles and the obsession with ever-expanding profits mean that fiction no longer has any trailblazers.  The novel has been moving sideways for decades.  Despite this I don’t believe we will ever witness the death of the book, it will merely change shape.

Submissions, Projects & Motivation

It’s been nearly two weeks since I first submitted my novel and I haven’t heard a thing.  By appearances the submission process takes a great deal of time.  Almost always longer.  However I selected my target partly on the basis of their shortened submission process, therefore I suspect that no response in two weeks is in effect a rejection.  Therefore I have identified my next target, a literary agency with probably the best name in literature.  The submission process is slightly different here.  They prefer paper submissions so I will oblige.  Also I must write a ‘short’ bio.  Whatever exactly one of them is.

When I first decided to send off my manuscript I decided to take a mark-ably methodical approach.  First I combed through a list of Literary Agencies and produced a shortlist of nine.  It is my intention to work through them one by one.  As I approach the end of the list I will do the same with publishing houses.  I am prepared and I accept that it will be time-consuming.  However I have plenty of time.

In the meantime(notice how many times we use time?) I am vaguely searching for my next project.  Originally I hoped to find a professional project to devote my attention to.  However no such thing has been forthcoming.  Now I am mulling over the idea of what comes next.  My better half is encouraging me to write on.  I don’t know what I should do.  First of all I don’t know if I should continue.  And second if I do, what should I focus on next.  Something unfinished?  Something new?

I desperately need to make a plan.  Many years ago I was diagnosed a manic-depressive.  I have battled with depression my whole life.  One thing which helps me get through this period is having something to obsess about.  Something to focus on and devote my energies to.  When I am left stewing in my own mind I can often return to a cycle of lethargy and inactivity.  Already I can feel my semi-permanent insomnia creeping up on me.  Whether it be the changing of the seasons or other reasons, deep down I know I need to take action soon.

When I am working on something I feel something akin to electricity running through my veins.  The buzz is narcotic like.  The insomnia remains as I find myself ironing out various plot issues at inappropriate moments.  The lethargy disappears.  In part its the mental challenge of building the tale and trying to tell it in the right way.  In part its the race to the finish line.  When you pass half way in the journey and the end is in sight.  Most of all its the feeling at the end of the journey when you hold the pages in your own hands.

By trying to get my novel published I am not seeking riches, awards or fame.  I am seeking validation.  I have a need to prove to myself that I am good enough.  In order to do that I need to find someone who believes in my story as much as I do.

Wasting Time

With my novel wrapped up, and no work for another week I have found myself with very little to do all week.  I have tried my level best to keep a promise I made sometime ago that once I finished my manuscript I would start to try to focus my efforts on joining the world of grown ups.  Being 30 years old with no retirement plan to speak of is hardly an ideal situation, so it’s with great trepidation that I now have to start thinking about what the bloody hell I am to do with the rest of my life.

The first morning after sending my manuscript was the most difficult.  For just over a year two things have been my companions every day, writing and the pain in my leg.  Actually stopping writing is proving to be quite similar to give up smoking(which I quit about half a year ago).  I found myself sketching out details for another novel before I reminded myself that I cannot do that.  The time and attention required means that it serves as a massive distraction from life.  It’s sad but I have to accept the fact that it is time to live like a grown up.  The same goes for this blog.  I promised to give myself one year.  At the end of November I will close this blog.  Unfortunately life is not a Hollywood movie.

The actual waiting of this process is quite awful.  I currently fill my time by trying to think of things to do which do not require the use of my brain.  The worst thing is that it hasn’t even been a week.  I can’t even bear to think about the future.  The idea of becoming bored, unfulfilled and miserable for the rest of my life terrifies me.  Sadly, I don’t see any other option.  Life,  you stink.