Not The Darling / Peaks and Troughs / Fail Better

 

I wrote my first book when I was nine. My mum tried to get it published. This is it, I thought. But it was a NO.

I finished my first novel in 1993, aged 25, and – from the first batch of agent queries – I got a full request. I cried to my sister on the phone. I got an R&R. This is it, I thought. But it was ultimately a NO.

I got further full requests for my second novel, around 2005. I got my best ever, most in depth and encouraging feedback (sustaining me ever since) from Felicity Blunt. This is it, I thought. But it was another NO. A very low point.

I was offered in-house critiquing by Curtis Brown, but the editor - for some reason - never produced the report. Another low. I shelved the book after an appraisal I paid for shot too many holes through it.

Let's add a cat - This is Moo, sunning herself 😍

In 2018 I was one of 150 shortlisted from over 1300 for the Penguin WriteNow Scheme. At the workshop, the editor told me I’d likely been discriminated against throughout my quest for publication due to my Asian maiden name. Eye-opener. I was longlisted for the Hachette Future Bookshelf scheme around this time too. This is it, I thought. But was it fuck.

Let's have another cat - this is Loops 😻

In 2019 I won Arts Council mentoring for, I think, my fifth novel, which I fought to keep when COVID hit. This was a big deal; highly competitive, I was one of only three writers chosen. This is it, I thought. Think again.

Positive agent feedback on first novel

In 2021 the same (fifth) novel was longlisted for the BPA First Novel Award, judged by Hellie Ogden. I was commended for the Laura Kinsella award too. But I knew this wasn't it.

In 2023 Mslexia published my piece on writing with chronic pain, a condition through which I subsequently medically retired from the NHS. In 2024, I succeeded in bagging a selective Curtis Brown Creative Writing Your Novel course with Suzannah Dunn. Its many benefits included agent liaisons. I had my fingers crossed, but ultimately no interest. Was it down to luck, timing, genre?

Since I was young I've collected stones with holes through them. I have loads of them, not just this one, lol. Hagstones. They're supposed to be lucky. 

In between these peaks and troughs, I gave up writing. Restarted. I paused to take up painting. I mourned and resumed writing. I attended conferences, drank myself into many stupors. I entered competitions, for their crumbs of feedback, for slivers of mentoring. I joined Nottingham Writers Studio for community and support. My invaluable betas laughed and cried at my work, sometimes called it stunning. Everything indicated impending success. During covid I indulged in online courses, workshops, events, by the bucket-load. My sister built my website. I built my blog. I shouted about myself from every social media platform and reluctantly got sociable on Facebook again. I religiously wrote a novel in instalments, over two years, online, attracting two stalwart fans and two small publishers. But I knew, by now, it wouldn’t catch.

Poster I saw on the train

To become a published author is all I’ve ever wanted. (You’ve maybe gathered.) But writing is more than just a vocation. Every writer knows this. All partners of writers regrettably, woefully, learn this. It’s like a personality disorder. You’re bleeding your soul on the page, after all. It’s like being possessed, obsessed. And I’ve noticed, in myself, a curious blend of tenacious self-belief juxtaposed with the ragged insecurity of a mayfly. My brain is a fucking battleground. Consequently, I’ve had shit jobs and no career. Who would be a writer? What other job interview takes thirty years to complete? Thing is, we don’t choose writing, do we? It chooses us. (That sounds healthier.)

This was instrumental advice I got decades ago on a form rejection. It made me keep going! Very enlightening, interesting, encouraging.

I’ve had sufficient praise from literary professionals to know I’m a good writer and that I shouldn’t give up, painful as it is to continue whipping my bare arse with nettles. 😁

You may notice my frankness. I’ve wanted to say all this for ages. To offload, to prove I've tried, I suppose. Because I'm sensitive about failure. And I KNOW most writers suffer this way. I feel for us all, and hope to reach some of those writers with this diatribe. Because it's devastating, humiliating, depressing and heart-breaking. It makes me cry my eyes out, sometimes. 

I have to be honest, I've been broken, like slow torture breaks a prisoner (but I can heal). It's wrecked my mental health (but I'm re-rising). It's crushed my brittle layer of self-esteem. (It'll pop back) and consumed me all my life, baffled me, kept me drunk and unfulfilled. (But I've quit drinking so I'm far more resilient 😂) 

Would I have it any other way?

Pass on that one, lol. 

This circuitous journey has stopped me pursuing a normal job. I might even have gotten wealthy. 

This is a tiny fraction (from just one year) of the many submissions I make. Inside and outside these folders are folders within subfolders and on and on forever.

The other night, I couldn't sleep. And all my focus turned on my failure to become a published writer. This happens sometimes, though mostly it's buried too deep. But that night I cried like I'd never cried before, like I'd never stop, as if the decades of trying to succeed suddenly crashed over me, like a motorway pile-up. I was despairing and full of self-pity. Everyone who knows me knows how hard I've tried. 

The next day I got up and I was fine. Picked up the pen. Plugged in the laptop...

More positive feedback on my first novel

So, finally, here’s my question? Do I stop? Throw it all away? Drop-kick that stupid childish dream? The wasted set of skills? Countless unloved stories encompassing my soul? 43,000 odd Word documents buried in 1000’s of folders, four burnt-out laptops, a word processor and my Dad’s old typewriter? A shedload of paper and ink, three printers, how many biros? (if we're being pedantic. Which I am.) Ruined relationships, teetering marriages, discarded friendships? I could go on but I know you’re praying I don’t. So I'll answer my own question. It is what it is.  And I've got another novel to write.

QUERYING MY NOVEL

 

It’s high time I wrote something on this blog. And something cheery might be nice. 

So here’s a pretty picture to get us in the mood. This lake is close to where I go wild swimming :)

Now I’ll try and put a positive spin on the most stressful of writing stages (after writing the thing, that is)

QUERYING THE NOVEL

#amquerying is the current term being banded about on social media, particularly Twitter, (I’m still calling it Twitter) and it’s a term most writers are wearily familiar with.

Initially exciting, rapidly excruciating, it’s the protracted process whereby writers try and bag an agent (the person who they hope will get them published.)

The process is many things:

1. Hard on your mental health (and literally hard - in today's competitive climate.)

2. The odds are against you (chances of actually getting an agent sit somewhere between 1 in 3,000 to 1 in 6,000) (It's like playing hook a duck, without a hook, or a duck.)

3. The process is painfully slow 

4. Which makes it a confidence killer, a feeder of self-doubt. Negativity breeds in the silence

5. Positive spin! YOU CAN SOMETIMES BEAT THE ODDS, YEY!

Let’s have a picture of a cat. My cat, in fact, Moo Moo.

So, I joined the querying ranks this year, submitting my latest novel to literary agents. I tested the water in Spring after beta readers said I was ready to go. But my submissions, throughout March and April, sunk without trace, exposing weaknesses in my 'pitch package' (the goods sent to the agent)

Time for another picture?

Said package includes a pin-sharp cover letter (there are courses on how to write them), a slick synopsis (the nightmare of all nightmares), and the highly polished start of your finished novel. Your one-line pitch, to entice the agent, is arguably the most important factor in getting the agent to read on. It's my belief that, because agents have so little time to read submissions, they're actively looking for reasons to reject you, right from the Dear Kathryn… (so let's hope the agent’s name is Kathryn.)

Anyway, time for another picture to calm us down...

Ultimately, my first query period was a FAIL. I had one or two personal no thanks, but mostly form rejections and ghostings.

I stopped submitting, returning to work on my package again. Got more feedback/help, from wherever I could. Brilliant writer friends. JerichoWriters. Mentoring or offerings from generous authors on Twitter. Competitions. Whatever. I revised my package over six months. Took a one-day CBC course on pitching, wrote hundreds of elevator pitches till one rang true. I revamped my cover letter and synopsis, again. Revised the first hundred pages of the novel, again, sharpening the prose, ramping up the intrigue, conflict, upping the stakes, clarifying motivation, embellishing characters. The bally lot. I need a lie-down just remembering. Let’s have another picture.

I swapped chapters round, replaced the prologue, whipped it out, put another back in. Rewrote chapter one, chapter two, for the eleventh time. By the way, writing a novel is not for the faint-hearted, or the impatient. Or for anyone with another life. I've discovered, over many years, it’s a venture most suited to people beset with unnaturally obsessive tendencies, for those with meticulous attentions-to-detail and high boredom thresholds. I’d lean dangerously further to propose that writing novels is for the deranged, but that’s just my opinion.

Anyway. I finally felt the novel and pitch package might be fit to try again. During this process, my new hobby of wild swimming really helped. As we moved into autumn, the pain of cold water forged a nice parallel with querying agents. 

I started the process again. Submitting my newly titled novel to another batch of agents at the end of September. I was hoping to snag interest between the Frankfurt Book Fair and Christmas, the last window of opportunity in 2023. But maybe it's too late. Everything is slower than ever. Like  r  e  a  l  l  y   s  l  o  w. I've heard that no time is a bad querying time if your work is good enough, but the slow response rates make you think you're deluded. You go from imagining yourself at your book launch to imagining yourself dead in a river. Oh, just me?

 

HOWEVER, positive spin alert.... 

I got a full manuscript request!

😁

Which I know to be a major feat, so I was massively excited. I then lucked out with another full request. To capitalise on this, as I've been advised, I contacted a few agents who'd previously praised my writing, and gained another full request. 

So, in October I had three agents considering my full manuscript. This is now back down to one. I have queries still out there, one with my dream agent. Did I mention the word excruciating? Thought so. And now I don't want to talk about this any more, so here's another picture. That's me with the dark circles round my eyes. 

Now, I'll be shutting down my PC and heading for the summerhouse to paint. I need time away from the laptop, from my phone and emails. It's time to get covered in oils. 

I need the smell of turps, the bumps of paint on my palette. With the log-burner crackling, cats scratching the rug and the winter sunlight priming the canvas, I'll be dipping my brush. And forgetting about words. Pictures emerge more quickly in oil paint. My husband comes in and looks at whatever is on the easel and says he loves it. Just like that. 

Watch this space.  

     

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Writer Reporting From The COVID Trenches...

 

I haven’t posted for a while. COVID and lockdown coincided with landslide changes for me. Work, health - physical and mental -, and small creative successes.

I’m hoping the writing stepping-stones will lead to solid success (if publishers don’t shun me over this NOTTS UNESCO article, lol).

My WEM mentoring with Niki Valentine is proving invaluable, and I’ve had hugely generous feedback from the talented author that is Rebecca Netley too.

During this shitty pandemic, like many of us, I’ve immersed myself online, nerdily attending writing festivals, courses, webinars. Familiarising myself with today’s publishing industry. Engaging with talented bookish people and making brilliant friends. Being forced, by Covid, into this virtual world has been tiring but worthwhile, for me.

Connecting with my chosen industry has been like understanding nature, you must be on the ground, moving between the trees, imbibing the atmosphere, drinking in the scents and sounds. It’s the only way to get to grips with it (and hopefully find a way in). Admittedly hard to do when you’re juggling two disciplines/jobs. I feel deeply for all creative people still striving to do this. It's a fucker, it really is. 

Personally, I’m relieved to report I’ll be leaving the day job this year, through medical retirement.

And will focus 100% on getting my fiction published. But with hopefulness and positivity comes the threat of maybe appearing over-confident, which I'm not, so I’m trying to strike a balance online. But my novel in progress is improving. I’ve had glowing feedback from professional sources, for which I’m eternally grateful. My wilting self-belief has been nourished and restored, and I’ll be giving this all I’ve got.

Thanks for reading. I don’t want to bang on or bore you, so I’m going to leave it there.

Looking forward to us all emerging from the covid fug, like the weary fighters we all are. 😊

 

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As a bird soars in flight, so a writer should write

Writers must write.

Busily tip-tapping away all the time, right?

Wrong.

We want to write. We have much to say; our heads as stuffed as homemade scarecrows, bulging with ideas, yet we often don't write, won't write, can't even force ourselves to write. 

You may have heard writers moan about preferring to clean the toilet than to put words to paper.

It's true, but how can this be? It seems insane, considering we chose this delightful diversion...

Or did we?? 

Did it choose us? Like an emperor selects a gladiator to die horribly for his warped entertainment.

Also, consider this. Writing is often a writer’s job. And how many people bounce gleefully into work?

My mother is a dress-designer-maker. And, for as long as I can remember, she hated sewing. Or, not so much hated it as, didn’t want to do it. I recall her often saying: 

“I’ve got to get the bloody machine out again.”

Which is funny, now I think about it. And, interesting, when comparing it to writers. Or comparing it to anyone, for that matter; anyone who's avoiding doing what they're supposed to be doing.

Is it not simply in our nature, then, to want to laze around instead of working? To cradle a hot mug whilst staring out the window? To lie on the sofa and do bugger all for as long as possible. 

It’s not just us writers not working. It’s everyone. It’s more prevalent amongst writers because we have to motivate ourselves. We have no nagging boss chucking staplers at our heads. Unless we have a deadline, of course. 

And I think I know why all this is. Our human genes were forged during times when we only expended energy catching or collecting food. The rest of the time was passed, like other animals, lolling about in languorous satiation or asleep, conserving energy for the next big kill... 

But I digress…

What's the real conclusion of this time-wasting post?

I have a bloody novel to finish, that’s what. I’ve been struggling to get my arse in gear, for months, to just pick up the pen.

It’s that small issue of getting the bloody machine out.

So, I’ve decided to join NaNoWriMo, for the first time ever.

To enforce a deadline upon myself.

To draft my novel by the end of November. A novel in a month, no less.

And might I suggest – if you're a writer suffering from getting-the-bloody-machine-out syndrome – that you join National Novel Writing Month too, so you can finally get your head out of that sparkling toilet...


And write. 

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The Mystery of Creativity Solved :)

                                         Being Creative (Women)

A piece on the Mystery of Creativity, by Debbie Taylor, in Mslexia’s 2018 diary, struck several chords with me; enough to make me wonder if I could finally join the (official creative person) club. I’ve always felt unable to call myself creative or writer or artist because I haven’t made it (professionally) yet.

But Debbie’s article reviews fascinating research into the creative personality; research aimed at ascertaining where creativity comes from because, traditionally, we believed it was beyond conscious control. Like Muse visiting writers in the night...

I’ve borrowed a handful of pertinent points for this blog-post.

Researchers found that writers’ creativity was more of an attitude than an attribute. Rather an approach to work than their gene allocation.

A longitudinal study in 1957, by psychologist Ravenna Helson, following creative women until old age and examining commonalties, found subjects were, markedly more tomboyish as children… and somewhat less sociable [than their matched peers.] They were unconventional, introspective and anxious.

Incidentally - as a child - I played bow and arrow with my brother, built dens in high trees, and battled to pretend deaths with sticks for knives. When not making mud-pies, I sat on the swing at the end of our garden, dreaming alone. Always thinking, often worrying, my mother called me Lizzy Dripping. As soon as I could change my appearance, I did it differently to others.

The study found creative women liked to mull things over and come to their own conclusions, often differing from those around them – producing sometimes rather prickly social personae.

(I can be prickly as a hedge pig.)

Later in life, the most creatively-productive subjects were far more persistent, ambitious, independent, confident, and socially skilled, and had been so from early childhood.

(It’s not all about me, then.)

Debbie’s article states successful creatives refused to close their options. As children, they were independent rebels; as adults… resisted the domestic pigeonhole, struggling to combine creative work with family responsibilities.

The downside? Creative fulfilment was accompanied by anxiety, stress and guilt.

(Tell me about it.)

Debbie asks if a certain amount of stress is necessary to produce the creative personality. She cites from Mark Runco and Steven Pritzker’s Encyclopedia of Creativity, wherein 28% of exceptionally creative people…had lost a parent as a child, compared with just 8% of ‘ordinary’ people.’

I lost my dad when I was six. How can such tragedy forge creativity?                 

The suggestion is that misfortunes of this magnitude jolt a child [from] its normal patterns of thought and behaviour and force it to consider alternatives. Thereby developing the characteristic openness of the creative personality.

Elaborating on this, I’ve read that creativity and diverse thinking are associated with wider neural connections, meaning a person with such interlaced networks will naturally generate more unique ideas, (above brains with lesser links.)  

Debbie’s article continues: those who weather the storm go on to become fulfilled, albeit troubled, creative individuals.    

Psychologists have developed a three-pronged theory of creativity: First - A-class skill and knowledge in the field of creative endeavour. Applied to writing this means honing your craft until it’s second nature, reading widely, researching your subject. The second prong is ‘cognitive style’… how one approaches a particular activity. Creative ‘cognitive styles’ are enquiring and flexible; imbued with the independence of mind found in all the surveys of creative people. The third prong (my personal favourite) is motivation: the determination and passion, often bordering on obsession, of the true artist.

(Crazed obsession, I can relate to.)


Hans Eysenck emphasized the vital importance of knowledge, skill and persistence. And ‘ego strength’ which is all that stands between the artist and the mental health system.

(Hmmm.)

Debbie’s captivating piece – penned for Mslexia writers – delved much deeper in than this, I’ve borrowed relevant snippets. Interesting, no?

So, now, Dear Creative, wipe up your tears, take your snazzy label and go produce the goods.

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Writing East Midland's Writers’ Conference Nottingham 2018 :)

Yesterday was Writing East Midland's 5th Writers' Conference, held in the Newton and Arkwright building of Nottingham Trent University.

I've been to four of these events now and there's always something novel to learn, someone new to meet and fresh inspiration to be found. The shiny new venue made a difference too, and very pleasant it was.

This year, however, my writing buddy Cat Roberts-Young was unable to make it through the waves of snow. Perhaps the WEM team might be persuaded to push the event closer to summer next year :) 

But it was still good.
Writer, Richard House (Bruiser / Uninvited / The Kills) replaced snowed-in keynote speaker, Pat Barker, with a talk on his latest works MURMUR and CITIZEN. 

Richard's modus operandi is to engage with the world by "looking into something that I don't really get"...  in order to better understand / explore topics. He utilises written words, film and imagery.  

Quick, always embarrassing, selfie before the lecture theatre fills :)

The first session I attended was called Demystifying the Publishing Process, by The Society of Authors. 

Martin Reed from the Society of Authors talks to local author and SoA member Jonathan Emmett and the publisher Crystal Mahey-Morgan of the storytelling lifestyle brand OWN IT! about the modern publishing process and landscape, and about the relationships between the author, their books, and their ‘brand’.   

This was an interesting talk with lots of insights into publishing. I'll summarise (my) points of interest. Nowadays there are more (readily accessible) avenues open to writers, (think digital, self-publishing, small publishers, etc.) but consequently, more competition.

The market is therefore saturated. It's easy to get into print but harder to make a living, especially in children's writing, apparently. The quality of writing also suffers, nowadays, with high levels of self-publishing. Crystal (rightly) pointed out: "Just because you're able, doesn't mean you should." Everyone is keen to maintain quality in literature.

Indie publishers are on the rise. Crystal is a thinking-out-the-box publisher who seeks diversification (in its fullest sense.) It seems Indie publishers have acquired a (good) reputation for being flexible, risk-taking, more likely and able to promote their authors than bigger publishers.

"Don't assume that bigger is better" says architect-turned-prolific-children's writer Jonathan Emmett.    

Trying to look enquiring selfie :)

The panel also discussed how important it's become for writers to create solid digital platforms. The Industry demands we do but, whilst big publishers often shirk publicising duties, Indies are more supportive and likely to promote their authors.

A good piece of advice was therefore: writers need a sympathetic publisher to help promote their work. So do your homework, if you're on the look-out, and find the right one!

Speaking of diversification, and using different mediums to express yourself, something - I think Crystal said - helped me limp closer to modernity: Writers must view their books as the stories they simply are, and any method we employ to share them widely will serve us well. (i.e. think film, imagery and skype, alongside traditional/digital book forms). Be inventive, be innovative.

The second talk I heard was on Novellas, from author Nicola Monaghan: finding a fit in the shifting landscape of publishing.

Apparently, novellas are making a comeback because digitisation (e-formats, Kindle singles, etc.) removes production and pricing issues associated with paper books. I also think appetites for shorter reads, in these hectic times, gives aggrieved novellas a leg-up:)

 

In her session, Nicola set us an exercise (to the sound of writers falling off their chairs in shock.) We devised, and interrogated, a new character, before writing a short scene about them. This threw up some useful background ideas, interesting settings, and helped some of us with our works-in-progress too, lol. :)

Lunch :)

Pudding :)

The third slot was a Synopsis Surgery, where WEM's Alex Davis replaced A.M. Heath Literary Agent Oliver Munson. This talk covered the thing all sane writers despise. The surprising thing I learned here is that agents don't always bother reading the detested documents we've killed ourselves over. The reason for this, though irritating, is somewhat logical. They consider sample chapters more important, so will read these plus the query letter first. If they like what they read they'll turn to the nuts and bolts of the story.

Oliver Munson likens synopsis-writing to the first gym trip after Christmas, which sounds about right to me.

We also heard that, despite the torture of creating them, synopses can help writers reach the core of their books. Distilling the story crystallises ideas; and the hateful result can then be used for pitching and selling work. Yippee.

Summary: Synopses show the shape of the novel - like the Taj Mahal viewed from a distance.

The final slot was Literary Question Time. The panel consisted of Award Winning, Young Adult Fiction author Kim Slater,  crime writer Stephen Booth, WEM co-coordinator and Big White Shed publisher Anne Holloway, WEM's Alex Davis, the highly regarded literary agent Kate Barker and WEM's Henderson Mullin (as chair).   

This was an enjoyable session, so I failed to make any notes! But I did ask a question I've been harbouring for a while. Writers are constantly advised, when seeking a Literary Agent, to find one that is right for them. But how in hell do we novices know who is right for us?

It would appear the answer is pretty much what I expected. Go on gut instinct, to an extent. You need to like the person, (for it could be a long relationship.) Personally, I'd want my agent to be warm and human and supportive; to know their job whilst having my best interests at heart. Does such a person exist, lol?

There is only so far you can research this sort of thing. Personability might be (partially) gleaned from a first meet; but I suppose the chunky remainder will be down to luck... 

The lovely Kirsty Fox of NWS manning the stall all by her lonesome

Performance poet, Georgina Wilding, reciting a brilliantly inventive poem about writers rising up and taking full control of their careers. 

Finally, gorgeous, British-Caribbean poet, keynote speaker Malika Booker inspired us with her, sometimes difficult, writing journey. She focussed on how vital peer support is, as you develop your craft. She spoke of community, and how many millions of courses she attended whilst gaining confidence to rise to the top of her game. 

A swift, toilet-cubicle selfie. Well, it was a plainer background. Don't judge me ;)

I'm mainly writing this for the snow-scathed absentees. A fair few writers, speakers and panellists were gutted to miss this year's conference due to weather conditions. :(

Thanks to the friendly people I met yesterday. Cali Bird for supportive chatter, the lovely Eve Makis for sharing a panicked, lost, ten minutes whilst trying to find the venue, first thing in the morning :)

Now. Shit, I suppose I better start writing again...