Chapter 6: The meek may inherit the earth but they won’t get published.

Usually at this point, I rush headlong into my next book. This time however, I decided to finally address the elephant in the room: Self-promotion. I searched online for guidance. Everywhere I looked, the ‘Authors Platform’ came up and most publishers were asking things like: ‘Where can we find you in cyber-space?’ This was an aspect of the submission process I’d always avoided or derided. (Jane Austen hadn’t needed a Facebook account, had she?). I’d also contemplated becoming an enigmatic recluse. No one knows what she looks like, but she writes these amazing stories about dysfunctional families and I’m running out to buy ten copies right now, was a sentence that floated through my mind often. I’d wake up in the middle of the night thinking, No, no, no, I’m not doing it, you can’t make me go into cyberspace…and so on.

Someone said I needed to be on Facebook so I opened an account and had fun for a while but couldn’t really see how arguing about coriander was going to help me get published. I had no book to promote, no successes to brag about – what was the point?

One day, I listened to a podcast with the bestseller author Lee Child on the BBC World Book Show. He talked about how ‘luck’ played a big part in getting published. Sure, you have to write a good book, but there are so many manuscripts out there waiting to be read. Who knows how the person who picks up yours from the slush pile will be feeling that day? What if the editor in question stands up to get a cup of coffee and accidentally knocks the whole pile over and your manuscript slides under a cupboard, never to be read. (Lee Child didn’t use this analogy – this is just where my head went while he was talking.) The point is, I clung onto this theory for a while, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. And still, no one came knocking.

While avoiding working on self-promotion one day, I googled the question: Can’t I just write a book?

Lordy!

There are a lot of frustrated, unpublished writers out there. I scrolled through and came across a course being run by Australian Writers’ Centre called ‘Build Your Author Platform’. I love the AWC – they have valuable courses and their whole vibe is very positive, inclusive and supportive. I signed up for the course and am currently in the second module, trying not to swear at Wordpress too often. In the first module, the CEO, Valerie Khoo talks with Australian publishers about what they are looking for in authors. (Not what they are looking for in books, and herein lies the important detail.) Each and every publisher said, in his or her own way, that they were looking for authors who were prepared to do some of the heavy lifting in selling their book. Publishers make money from selling books, not from mentoring authors.

Right, I thought. Come on Kate, pull up your socks. And that’s what this website and blog is all about: Social media networking and blatant, vainglorious self-promotion.

Thanks for reading, and if you’d like to leave a comment, I’d love to hear from you.

Chapter 5: Money well spent

Around about my sixth edit, I was browsing the internet looking to see if there were any new publishers accepting unsolicited manuscripts, when my google search hit on Virginia Lloyd’s website. Here was an editor in New York, offering a free, 15-minute phone call to aspiring authors, as an introduction. She was also offering ‘Agent Readiness’ for manuscript submissions, based on the first 50 pages and a synopsis for a sum of money to be paid over the internet. I read everything on her website, including the testimonials and tried to work out if it was some clever identity theft scam. I studied her photo for signs of criminality and deception. I pretty much stalked her for an entire week. After my investigation hit a bone fide brick wall, I decided to email and set up the phone call – I mean, what could she steal from me over the phone?

Due to the time difference, she was to ring me at 9am in the morning. I wasn’t sure if we were going to do facetime, but I put some foundation and lippy on and brushed my hair. I was nervous. It was like going on a blind date and I somehow felt like I had to impress her, (so that she would agree to take my money). As it turned out, Virginia wasn’t a scammer, or if she was, she was a very well read one who knew a lot about the publishing industry in Australia, where she was born. We talked about favourite authors – I trotted out Ann Patchett, Anne Tyler, Kate Atkinson, Wally Lamb and Ann Marie Macdonald. She seemed to relax, and I realised ‘the introduction chat’ was partly to reassure Virginia I wasn’t a Nazi sympathizer writing a book about the positive benefits of white supremacy in colonial Australia. Once that was established, we agreed I would email over the first 50 pages of my manuscript for her appraisal.

I waited in a state of mild agitation. I prayed Virginia wouldn’t send back an appraisal full of generic advice on how to be a better writer. Time dragged. Her reply was overdue. I started to worry about her being a scammer again and sent off a polite email, enquiring about the delay. She sent one back apologising, saying she was very busy. My scammer theory simmered on the back burner.

Then the email finally arrived. I will never forget the feeling of elation I got when I started reading Virginia’s assessment. Finally! Some specific, actionable advice – some very blunt and confronting advice too. It was thrilling, like I was finally being taken seriously and not pandered to. Virginia questioned and notated nearly every sentence of my first fifty pages, asked pointed questions and made me think about what I was trying to achieve. I got to work.

Over the next few months we went back and forth. I paid for more editing advice from Virginia, and every time felt it was worth every cent, even factoring in the US exchange rate. I can honestly say, having her support has improved my writing far more than any creative writing course I ever did. She’s an editor, she used to work at a large publishing house, and she’s written two novels; she knows what she’s talking about.

So, anyway – before this becomes one long, gushing testimonial for Virginia Lloyd, I’ll stop. This is where I am now: I’ve done a final draft for ‘Velcro’, I’ve done the synopsis, I’ve written the pitch – I’ve sent it off to publishers and literary agents who are accepting unsolicited submissions. No word as yet.

Chapter 4: Edit, edit, edit, until your eyes bleed.

I killed my first book by over-editing. I learned, on just about every website on creative writing, to edit, edit, edit, but don’t overcook it. This seemingly obvious bit of advice was a hard lesson for me. How would I know when to turn the heat off? If I kept having ideas about how to make the story better, shouldn’t I act on them? Shouldn’t I take the advice of friend readers about plot holes, lagging bits, irrelevant scenes? Apparently not. I thank my wonderful sister-in-law for pointing this out to me with my first book, so gently and with such empathy. She’d been on the editing road with me, endured so many drafts, been so supportive and I think she wanted the manuscript to live as badly as I did. But it didn’t. It’s dead. The characters are still alive – they are being cared for in a secure location. I check in on them every now and then.

For my second attempt, I wanted to write a love story that explored themes of control, in particular elder abuse. By this point I’d done a couple of creative writing courses and read voraciously any and every article on the internet about ‘How to write a good story’. I read the line ‘Show, don’t tell’ about 15,345,677 times, changed my phrasing from passive to active and searched high and low for ‘My Voice’. I tried to plot more, rather than fly by the seat of my pants. I made up an Excel spreadsheet with a narrative arc, all the characters and timelines and interactions and felt like a real author. I kept a notebook and filled it with edits and reminders. Finally, after editing, editing, editing, I felt my manuscript was ready to send off to all the publishers accepting unsolicited manuscripts. I went through each one, fulfilling their requirements, sticking to the submission guidelines like super glue. I started another spreadsheet just for the submissions, so I could track when they were sent, who got back to me, which ones rejected. (Spoiler alert: All of them.)

I wasn’t surprised. I know publishers receive millions of manuscripts that they have to wade through…well I don’t really, but on their websites, they all say they do, and given the long wait time for a reply, I can only believe them. I dutifully entered the date I received the rejection email into my spreadsheet. Not all of them responded, but after a year, I figured it was safe to put the word ‘Rejected’ in the cell. There were definitely low times, like when I wasn’t short listed for the Hachette Manuscript Development Program. I’d been so sure my manuscript was a winner, but no, they’d been swamped with uber-amazing entries that year, apparently. I sulked for a while and resentfully read through the names of those who’d been shortlisted. With a lot of practice, I got better at not letting rejection emails ruin my day, (except for the one from Text Publishing for my fourth book. I’d had a dream that they’d rung me up, so you know, my hopes were unusually high. It had been a very detailed dream; I remember the feel of the phone on the side of my head, my armpits sweating, the terror I might not be good enough to write another book. So, that’s one worry to cross off the list).

After the rejection column on my spreadsheet was full for my second book, I decided to engage an editor to do a structural edit and manuscript assessment. I tried not to tinker with the manuscript while I was waiting to hear back, and the second I saw the editor’s email come in, I let out a whoop of joy and dropped everything else. The editor gave some interesting feedback. I read and reread her appraisal and tried to work out exactly what she was saying. It was all quite general writing advice that could be applied to any story, nothing specific telling me: this is what is wrong with your story, Kate, and this is how you can make it a best seller. So annoying. Still, I ploughed on and took her advice on board, and did another edit, then I sent the MS to my sister-in-law for her to read with her book club. The feedback was incredible, and by incredible, I mean, I couldn’t believe how deeply they got into the story and how many things they had to say about even minor scenes. I felt humbled they’d taken their task as reviewers so seriously. I’d wanted specifics! There was so much constructive criticism it looked like a building site. I could barely wait to get back to work. I read the feedback through three times then sat down at my laptop to take notes about more edits. Then something weird happened. I got really, really depressed and couldn’t open the Word file. Not again. I still haven’t opened it. I love that story, and sometimes I wonder how the characters are going, I think of them standing at a bus stop, waiting for a bus that is running really, really late. It’s raining.

My third book was inspired by an event in my son’s life. A custody battle between him and his ex-girlfriend over a dog. It was crazy. He had to go to court because his ex-girlfriend accused him of domestic violence as a way to get the dog back. We (my husband and I and my son) spent all day at the local courthouse, waiting to be heard. His ex-girlfriend sat with her father ten or so metres away. She wouldn’t look at us. Her father came up after about five hours of waiting, scratched the top of his head and said, ‘Yeah, so, ahh, sorry about this.’ We had no words. The magistrate left it until the last case of the day and was clearly ticked off. She said to my son’s ex-girlfriend’s duty lawyer, ‘This is a property issue, not a domestic violence issue’ and so the duty lawyer explained that her client was suffering ‘emotional abuse’ by not being able to have the dog half of the time. Jeebus. I understand she wanted to keep seeing the dog, but I mean, seriously, ‘Domestic Violence’? Talk about burning the bridge. The magistrate sent us all home with a warning that costs would be incurred if the issue came before her again. It didn’t.

Anyway, this event got me thinking about custody battles and what if my son and his ex-girlfriend were fighting over a child, not a dog. I’ve never sent that one off to publishers. It needs work and when I was meant to be editing it without overcooking it, I had the urge to write a new story, a story written in the first person about two sisters growing up in suburban Brisbane in the seventies with a narcissistic mother.

Very different and divisive feedback about this one. Some were disturbed by events in the story, perhaps wondering if they were fact, rather than fiction. The editor (same one) said she was ‘surprised’ by the story and felt it was a lot darker than the other book – very different. She sounded disappointed, as was I when part of her assessment consisted of word for word generic writing advice that she’d given me for my other manuscript (the one that was so different to this one.) She had some good points though and I took them on board, injected some light, made the arcs tighter, sorted the resolution out so it was more satisfying, less depressing. It was the first time I’d received less than positive feedback and it made me stronger, more able to defend my writing choices. I fiddled with the story a bit more, wrote the dreaded synopsis, then sent it off. A few months later, I filled in the spreadsheet with the rejections, as they came in.

I had the title for my fifth book before I even started on the character profiles. ‘Velcro’. I fretted it might become a copyright issue long before I wrote the first chapter. Ugh, who am I kidding – I dreamed it would become a copyright issue. Unsurprisingly, ‘Velcro’ is a story about attachments, the unhealthy kind. There’s some abuse in there, but it’s a redemptive tale, with strong female characters. Again, the story came easily, then the editing process began. I was more disciplined this time, very conscious of making every sentence move the story along.

Chapter 3: Why not Self-Publish?

I have written five works of fiction. As mentioned once or twice, I am yearning to get my books in print, and over the years the temptation to pay a copy editor then self-publish has been great. It has never been easier to self-publish and depending on how much money you want to spend, there are myriad levels of support during the and after the process. You don’t even have to spend a lot of money. You can get copies of your book in print through Amazon very inexpensively, and if you are a graphic designer, you can design your own cover. That said, I am so glad I never self-published my first book. If I had yielded to this temptation, I would be squirming with embarrassment at this very moment. I still love my first story, but I understand now, why no publisher wanted to snap it up and once it’s out there, you can’t pull it back.

 Over time, however, as I watched other friend and acquaintance writers self-publish successfully, I did wonder if I was just using that as an excuse because I was scared of putting my book out there. There was a certain amount of pressure, or expectation and I started thinking more seriously about it. Then an editor I engaged for my fourth book said to me: ‘Why are you in such a hurry to self-publish? Why not use this waiting period to hone your craft?’ Firstly, I was thrilled to the core that she’d described the deafening silence from publishers as ‘my waiting period’ and secondly, I felt relief that the pressure was off. Back off everyone – I’m honing.

Who knows what the future holds? Maybe I will self-publish one day, I really can’t bear to think my books will never be read by anyone other than friends, family and a few editors, but for now I want to exhaust all other options.

Chapter 2: Do I have to be published to call myself a writer?

I googled this question, as I assume thousands before me have, given the number of hits on the topic. In fact, there are so many I can’t bring myself to add to them – google it if you’re interested.

Short answer is, ‘No’ but of course, there wouldn’t be so much conjecture on the topic if it was as clear cut as that. (And if every aspiring writer wasn’t so wracked with insecurity.)

Getting published is everything, even if the thought of actually hearing from a publisher makes your bowels loosen.

I’ll say it again: Getting published is everything. At least it is for this wannabe author. I didn’t start out thinking this, but I know exactly when it became a big deal.

About half-way through writing my first book, I was talking to a friend at a party about my aspirations. She’s a ballet dancer. She’s only ever known me as a graphic artist, so when I told her about this book, she was interested to know why I’d switched to writing. I waffled on for a while about how I just love it, and how the characters are like real people to me; I went off on tangents about the plot, cut short about twenty sentences relating to subplots, apologised for sounding so vague, then skulled my glass of wine.

I know now, seven years on, that every writer needs to have their elevator pitch ready, both for their book and themselves, but back then, it surprised me how little I could articulate either. We talked more generally about how crazy difficult it is to get published, the infinitesimal chance of being plucked off the slush pile, how I was just one in a million, and after a while my friend said: ‘Well, you know, I guess it doesn’t matter if you don’t get published – so long as you’re doing something you love.’

No! No, no, no, NO. That wasn’t how I felt at all. It was like a slap in the face! I think I actually gasped. Was I giving the impression that getting published didn’t matter? She’d obviously hit a nerve and it gave me a jolt. I asked her if she would be satisfied with dancing ballet in her living room, with no audience, and she seemed to understand what I meant. (Mind you, she’s an incredibly accomplished ballet dancer who has worked with companies all over the world, so it was a bit like comparing apples and oranges, but still.)

I understood then, I couldn’t expect other people to think of me as a serious writer who wants to get published if I didn’t think of myself that way. I am a writer. I write. Every day!

Chapter 1: How it all started

In 2013, my sister Lindy wrote me an email asking if I would like to co-write a story with her. We’d had a bit of a falling out, as sisters do from time to time, and I assumed this was her way of reconnecting. I loved the idea, so agreed. Lindy started it off and sent the first chapter that opened with a woman finding out she’s pregnant to her husband’s best friend. Juicy as. I sent back the second chapter overnight and checked my email every ten minutes the next day to see if she’d sent back the third chapter.

Nothing.

By the end of the day, still nothing. After dinner I sent her a text with a question mark and, ‘How long?’

‘What?’ she sent back.

‘Before you finish?’

‘Finish what?’

Jeebus. ‘The third chapter, of course! What else?’

‘Oh, that.’

She hadn’t written one single word. She’d been busy. She’d try and get to it soonish.

I waited impatiently for another week then broke. I rang my sister and asked her if I could write the third chapter.

‘Sure! Knock yourself out.’

Then I wrote chapter four and five and six. And so on.

(My sister has a slightly different memory of how events unfolded. After reading my recollection, she said: ‘Well actually, your controlling and demanding attitude was really off-putting. The fact that I couldn’t keep up with you was not due to lack of interest - it was largely because you just took over. Controlling as ever.’)

Aghhhh. Sisters huh? Brutal.

Anyway Lin, if you’re reading this, thank you for lighting the spark underneath me and your unwavering candour.