The Wrong Handle by Sheena Wilkinson

 Writing is so weird. 

This time last year I finished a book. Nothing weird about that; I'm a writer. My agent sent it on submission. Nobody bit in the first round – sadly, nothing weird about that either, these days. But this wasn’t the usual ‘it’s too quiet to be commercial and too accessible to be literary’ verdict. Instead there was a suggestion that the book lacked something more fundamental; people didn’t even like the pitch.

I wasn’t thrilled, obviously: in my mind I had written a fine historical novel, women-centred, gritty and heartfelt. Exactly the kind of book I – and, I thought, thousands of women, liked to read. But that didn’t seem to be what editors were picking up on. My agent was keen to pull the book from submission rather than flogging a dead horse. I was working on three something elses – True Friends at Fernside and Miss McVey Takes Charge, which came out in the second half of last year, and an untitled and troublesome dual timeline, so the fiction-writing-and-editing part of my brain was not idle.

Sometime, my agent and I agreed, I would have a good look at the abandoned book and see if I could rejig the pitch to make it more appealing/commercial. I didn’t envisage having to do a major rewrite. 

And then, on retreat in December, I read the book again for the first time in months. Not only did I now agree that there was something fundamental missing; I knew was it was. Not only that, but all the ingredients to make the book hookier, tenser and darker were already there. Always had been. There was even – something new for me – a murder. Or rather, there was a death which I – the writer – hadn’t realised was a murder. As for the murderer? Well, she’d been there all the time too. 

my view on retreat 

I’d love to say that I rewrote the book quickly, that my agent fell upon it with glee, that six editors went into battle for it and that it sold at auction for squillions and became the book that revolutionised my career and my fortunes. I mean, that might happen; if I didn’t believe that such things were possible I wouldn’t still be a novelist. So far, after that wonderful week on retreat when so much revealed itself to me, it’s been a matter of trying to steal an hour here and there in between mentoring, teaching, report-writing and school visits.

the kind of thing that stops me writing all day every day 

But every few days I realise something new about the story – sometimes I even wake up with it in my head, and I feel so glad of the chance to remake it. I’m reminded of Cousin Helen’s advice in What Katy Did. Not everything saintly Cousin Helen says has stood the test of time, but her idea that ‘Everything in the world has two handles… One is a smooth handle. If you take hold of it, the thing comes up lightly and easily, but if you seize the rough handle, it hurts your hand and the thing is hard to lift’ fits in very neatly with my book.

I had got hold of the story by the wrong handle and I couldn’t grasp it easily. Now I have the right handle and it’s only a matter of time. 

There's still hope for those squillions! 

 

Rejection - Not If But When by Joan Lennon

When (not if) rejection comes, we all deal with it in different ways. Personally, I'm of the wallow-in-despair camp. It's not useful, but hey, it's what I do. More useful are the words of Karl Whitney below. (You can find his full piece on the RFL Vox site here.)

Rejection is familiar to every writer. It was already familiar to me when I first sent out my book proposal, as it is to so many other freelance journalists who pitch ideas to editors. Sometimes you can learn something from rejection, sometimes you can’t – often it’s nothing to do with you, or the quality of your writing. It just doesn’t fit a certain editor at a certain publisher on a certain day. Others will be interested, even if it takes some time to find them.

That said, unremitting rejection can be an overwhelmingly bleak experience. How does one cope with that? Perhaps it’s useful to have a variety of projects underway and at different stages. Switching to something else – beginning a new proposal, writing some reviews, penning a light opera – could be a way of putting a rejected idea aside for a while before you go back into battle.

I ask myself what I’ve learned from rejection. It might seem an obvious point, but there’s a need to persist, and by persistence I mean continuing to pursue your own ideas, and, ultimately to value your work highly, regardless of the response. Because, no matter who you are, and how long you’ve been writing, there’ll be other rejections to come. The ideal state would be to pay scant notice to rejection and acceptance alike, to be above all that, to take everything in your stride. But we’re only human.

Don’t over-anticipate rejection, but don’t be too surprised by it either. If it comes – or rather, when it comes, as it undoubtedly will – accept it, shrug, and move on.

Where do you fit? Are you a wallow or a shrug? Or another camp altogether?

Joan Lennon website

Joan Lennon Instagram

Shifting the goalposts - by Lu Hersey

 I read a heartfelt twitter post by Stuart White of #WriteMentor fame recently. It was about having his hopes dashed over his latest submission. 

A ton of writers responded because so many of us can identify with that feeling. Nearly every writer, published or unpublished, knows all about the pain of rejection. My father once told me that I should give up writing and buy a Euro Millions ticket every week instead. I might actually achieve something. (Thanks, Dad...)

But that's not the point, is it? Writing is a different game, one which relies (to some degree at least) on talent. It's not even about the money (or if it is, I recommend you give up right now) - it's about recognition. It's about striving for a goal. Having our voices heard. We think we can up our chances of success if we keep trying, constantly improving, constantly coming up with yet another original idea. 

And we're not entirely wrong, either. The harder you try, the more likely you are to eventually succeed. Some of the replies Stuart got were extraordinary - writers who'd had literally hundreds of rejections over decades - AND STILL KEPT GOING! Awesome writers, who'd developed hides thicker than sequoia bark. Liz Hyder's reply is a good example.. and incidentally, Liz went on to win the Branford Boase award for her stunning debut, Bearmouth - which does help show that talent can (eventually) out. 

However, whatever stage you're at on the writing journey, you'll find your goalposts constantly shift. Very few of us get to the point where we don't have to worry about the next stage. 

Maybe you're still desperately trying to get an agent to take you on, writing book after book and being turned down. It's all very well JK Rowling sending HP out to all those publishers before finally getting in at Bloomsbury - that doesn't amount to a hill of beans to today's writers because it was a very different publishing era. A time before the rise of the internet and Amazon, when writers could send their work to publishers direct, and didn't need an agent to even be considered. When publishers still had a pricing agreement in place with bookshops that guaranteed everyone a fair income. But times have changed, and the majority of publishers will only accept submissions via an agent, so finding one is the first goal. 

But once you have an agent, your goalposts shift. Now you need a publisher. A commissioning editor who loves that submission via your agent so much, they're prepared to take your manuscript to acquisitions. Take a deep breath...

You've got that far? Well done! Next goal? To get through acquisitions, you need the publisher's sales and marketing team to love it as much as the commissioning editor. If they don't think your book is right for the current market, sadly you'll still be rejected. These are difficult times for publishers too, which explains the rise of the celebrity author - publishers need to bring in guaranteed income to keep going, and books written by someone who is already a household name are far more likely to achieve big sales figures. Fortunately you don't have to be a celebrity to get a publishing deal, but it certainly helps...

So you got through acquisitions and your book is going to be published! Hurrah! All goals achieved!!! ...or are they? Is it time to start worrying about your next book? Unless you have a great publishing contract for at least two more books, it can be far more difficult to get the next one published, as (five books later) I've discovered... ☺

OMG! You've reached that point where you have a supportive publisher, and guaranteed contracts in place to publish your next however many books? WELL DONE!! 

But watch out. Even at this point you might be on shaky ground if the last book you wrote didn't achieve the expected sales figures, or a new editor/sales and marketing team come on board. However successful you are, the goalposts will shift - it's the nature of the writing game. Writers who'll never need to worry are very few and far between.

I guess the real question is - do you really want to keep playing? Your answer is bound to be yes - because however bonkers it seems, writing is what writers do. And one thing's for sure - you'll have an amazingly sympathetic and supportive crowd of fellow writers to help you get over your next rejection. Because wherever you're at, we've all been there...

Lu Hersey

Stories That May Never See the Light of Day By Tamsin Cooke

Becoming a writer means learning to deal with disappointment and heartache. Most of us, apart from the very lucky few, have had to deal with rejection right at the beginning of our careers. Trying to find an agent and then a publisher is a hard road full of twists and turns. But when you finally sign those contracts, it’s like rainbow fireworks bursting into the sky. Life is fabulous!!!

But what happens after your contracts with the publishers have run out? Maybe you had a 2 book, 4 book, 6 book deal - and then you write something new.  And you write a story that you absolutely love. Perhaps your agent loves it too and you work on it together, making it even better. Then the time comes for it to find a home with a publisher … but no publishing house wants it.

This happened to me recently and I was utterly heartbroken. I wrote a book for young teenagers and I was desperate to see it on a shelf in a library. (And yes, I had pictured it in my mind!) I wanted my characters to be let loose into the world and for readers to enjoy their adventures. But alas, none of this was meant to be.  

Since then, I have spoken to numerous authors and have realized that this happens far more often than people think. Authors who are incredibly successful have written books that may never see the light of day. Their agents loved them, but for whatever reasons, they were rejected. There is some solace in knowing that I’m not alone. 

My story did receive some wonderful feedback from editors and got very close to finding a home. This made it a little easier to deal with. Plus I paid great attention to why it was rejected and took their observations and advice on board. And as I write another story, I keep their feedback in the back of my mind. Because most authors don’t give up. We keep going, hoping our next story will be published. We are persistent and courageous! That’s what I tell myself anyway. 

Today I’d like to give a toast to all those books that haven’t quite made it. They might be languishing in a file on a computer, tucked away in a desk drawer or hidden in a box under a bed.  To all those stories, characters, and adventures - you aren’t forgotten. Your creators still believe in you! And who knows - maybe one day you will be self-published, or an editor might ring out of the blue, wanting to see you again ...

Tamsin Cooke

Author of The Scarlet Files Series and Stunt Double Series

Website: tamsincooke.co.uk
Twitter: @TamsinCooke1 

The many levels of rejection - by Lu Hersey

Most of us have to deal with rejection at some point in our writing lives. Hopefully this post will help you a little feel better about it.

Stage 1: You're starting out on your writing journey and you've just subbed your first manuscript to a few favourite agents. You've spent months, maybe years getting your draft ready and you feel very excited as you press 'send' and the sub flies out.

It's tough out there and getting an agent is hard - sadly, your favourite agents might reject you. If this is the case, you won't be the first writer it happens to, and you certainly won't be the last. The best thing to do is to start collecting your rejections like war medals, and possibly print them out ready to start wallpapering the bathroom. This process may take time. I'd also suggest not sending out your sub to too many agents at once as you may want to take any feedback on board before sending it out to your list of second favourite agents...

Stage 2: Perhaps you've struck lucky - an agent has asked to see the full manuscript! This is a very good sign, even if the same agent later rejects the full manuscript further down the line. It means you can write and somebody has acknowledged that. Read your rejection very carefully to see if you've been given any useful information, then add it to your bathroom wallpaper reject pile.

Hopefully you've now reached stage 3 - you have an agent, they like your corrections, and your manuscript is going out to publishers! Enjoy this time and don't get over excited or wish time would speed up. Sorry, but there might be further disappointment ahead. Publishers, like agents, have particular tastes. Added to that there are market trends, and a group of people called 'sales and marketing' who are paid by publishers to know about these trends and reject manuscripts, even if commissioning editors love them.

Stage 4: You've just hit the jackpot and a publisher is going to publish your book! This is definitely a time to celebrate and put the wallpapering on hold. It might be a year or more before the book comes out, so enjoy this time and come up with several more ideas for the next novel - because sadly, your days of having manuscripts rejected might not be over. If you have a two book deal, be happy in the knowledge that you will get another book published, sooner or later. Hopefully. I've known a few writers whose publishers have broken the contract - but it's rare, so don't worry about that for the time being...

Stage 5: However, if your deal is for one book only, here's a piece of sound advice -  KEEP  IN TOUCH WITH THE PUBLISHER! Make sure they like your next book idea before you write the whole thing. (I learnt this the hard way.) You may need to be very resilient. I've written 3 books since Deep Water, and so far have only a tenuous agreement (no contract signed yet) for the second one. As yet, I have no publishing offer on the third - but it's early days. And on the plus side, the rejections are getting much nicer. They love my writing, but... kind of thing.

I'm currently tweaking the fourth book, having no idea if it's any good or not, or if it is any good, whether it will ever tick the right boxes for any publisher or their sales and marketing team. At this point I have to say a massive thank you to my agent for believing in me and my writing, and still sending my books out there...

Anyway, after the latest publisher rejection, I was feeling really sorry for myself. In fact I was finding it hard not to cry. It was election day, which didn't help and I was in town to do some Christmas shopping, which didn't help either. I stomped along thinking writing is the only thing I'm good at, but if no one likes what I write, what is the point of me? That kind of thing. It was also pouring with rain and bitterly cold.

I passed a homeless man, sitting in a shop doorway, clutching a wet sleeping bag to try to keep himself warm. He was crying. I hate to see people cry, so I turned back. 'Nobody cares. Nobody f**king cares,' he said. 'I wish I was dead.' I couldn't think of anything to say to make him feel better, so just stayed to listen to him for a while. He talked about the election, and how he couldn't even vote because he hadn't got an address. We both agreed that Boris would win and his situation as a single homeless man was only going to get worse. 'It's like what Greta Thunberg said, all the promises are just window dressing - no one actually does ANYTHING!' he said.

Turned out he was an avid fan of Greta and worried about the future for the two children he had somewhere, which in his state, with no money, no place to live and a string of previous convictions, he would probably never see again. He started crying again and I felt like crying too.  'Man - look at the state of me!' he said. 'I've hardly any teeth left and nowhere even lets you in to go to the toilet. It's worse than being an animal. People like animals.'

I asked him about hostels and he told me he'd only have to do another two years (he's in his early thirties and has been homeless for two years already) before they found him a flat - 'so long as Boris doesn't make changes to the system when he gets in'. It was the best he could hope for, and he was clinging to that hope. In the end we just hugged and I said I hoped he'd get a place sooner than that. 'Thanks for listening,' he said. 'Have a good Christmas!'

I was choked. He'd taught me something very important. There are many levels of rejection and I'm incredibly lucky. I'm nowhere near the bottom of the reject pile.

If you're upset about this year's rejections, just write something else next year. It's what we writers do. And maybe send fewer Christmas cards and donate the money to a homeless charity, if you can.


Lu Hersey
luhersey.com
@LuWrites

It's Not You, It's Meh - Kelly McCaughrain

Things I know but don’t really believe:

• Harry Potter is 39 years old.
• Brexit.
• It’s not butter.
• Even published writers get rejections.

I know this last one is true because I’ve got them myself. But apparently I don’t believe it because when I saw this thread from Claire Hennessy on Twitter a couple of weeks ago, I was like, no way! 

 

 

The thread contains a slew of not just published but established, respected writers, some of whom I’m in awe of, admitting that they get rejected all the time. They even write whole novels and then give up on them because no one wants them.

 

But why should we be surprised by this? Professionals in any area have off-days. People get passed over for promotions, interview for jobs they don’t get, politicians get voted out (thank God), directors make box-office flops, football teams lose, Olympic athletes fall on their asses and we all have a favourite band who made that one album we really hate... 

Actual album.

No one’s surprised by this, because it’s all quite public. But writers tend to brush their rejections under the rug and hope no one noticed, so all you see is their hysterical tweeting about their latest launch and everyone’s stunned to learn that a publisher might have turned down something they wrote.

I think even among writers there’s an idea that once you’ve made it, it’s plain sailing. Unpublished writers seem to imagine that once you’ve published something (even if it’s only one novel), your road is somehow easier. The eye of the needle will be a little wider and you’ll get away with things like bad first drafts, ridiculously long/short novels, unfashionable topics, wading into the OwnVoices furore, etc.

And to an extent, they’re right. Because if you have an agent and a contract with a publisher, then at the very least you can guarantee that someone will at least read what you send them, which not all writers can claim. And maybe if you’re absolutely massive then you will get away with more, but for your average midlist/newbie author, I think you’re pretty much in the same boat as everyone else. And maybe even at a disadvantage because the unknown writer always has the potential to be the Next Big Thing, while your track record is in black and white and probably not that exciting.

Publishers have lots of books to choose from and having a contract doesn’t mean they’re itching to publish your next tome. They want book 2 to be better than book 1 and they’ll wait 20 years for you to produce something they love if they have to (I have actually heard of this happening).

As always, I think our reticence comes down to the fact that any kind of artistic career isn’t a job, it’s an identity. It’s part of who you are. And so failure of any kind feels very personal and exposing. It’s understandable that we’d try to hide it, but we’re not doing ourselves any favours. 

Wouldn’t we all be a bit less depressed and anxious if failure was just an everyday thing that all writers, even really really good ones, admit to going through all the time? If, when the No arrives, we felt we were in company with Patrick Ness and Juno Dawson and Sarah Crossan and all the giants, instead of feeling like we’re being shut out of the club because we’re not good enough?

Ironically, it’s probably easier to talk about your rejections if you’re Sarah Crossan because you’ve also got a string of brilliant novels and awards to point to. If you’re midlist or just starting out it’s very difficult.

Believe me, I know. I’m the sort of person who never admits to trying anything until I know I’m brilliant at it. I don’t air my linen in public, I’m secretive to the point of being recruited by MI5, I never ask for help and I consider crying at funerals a sign of weakness. But Claire Hennessy’s thread was followed by a slew of writers (including me) saying, ‘Thank God, it’s not just me!’ and ‘I needed to hear this today’ etc. We need to support each other, and that means being honest when things go pear shaped. 

Ah, Liam. Is there anything you can't meme?

Personally, I’ve written and submitted two and a half novels since Flying Tips was published, all of which received a resounding ‘Meh.’ They were, to be fair, extremely Meh.

The interesting thing is, it’s not actually the end of the world. You just keep going. You just keep writing and learning not to panic and hoping that an idea that consumes you comes along tomorrow. 

I’m always writing, but I’m happy to wait for that all-consuming idea before I publish anything again, and if I write something crap in the meantime, I am downright grateful for the editor who tells me ‘Meh,’ rather than let me put it out there. There are enough books in the world without me projectile vomiting stuff I don’t care about onto the heap. Actually I wish the financial situation of writers allowed us to write like this because frankly:

• the quality of stuff in bookshops would be a lot better
• our books would get a bigger slice of the marketing/financial pie
• non-readers might not be put off reading by the crap books we/publishers feel obliged to push onto the market in order to pay the rent.

But that’s another issue.

*(IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: To be fair, Hennessy also points out that if you got a good look at an editor’s inbox you’d be amazed how much good work gets turned down. This can be for so many reasons that have nothing to do with the quality of the writing, so take heart. I’m really not saying your book was rejected because it was Meh. Just that mine was.)

But it would be a lot easier to keep going and not panic if you felt that these fallow periods and rejections were just part of the job and not a sign of the complete and singular lack of talent you’ve always suspected in yourself, (despite that one time you got lucky and wrote a book people loved, which was a complete fluke obvs).

Let’s not do that to ourselves anymore. Rejection, like wine, is best enjoyed with friends.  

(With thanks for the inspirational tweeting, Claire Hennessy!)

 

Kelly McCaughrain is the author of the YA novel Flying Tips for Flightless Birds. 

She blogs about Writing, Gardening and VW Campervanning at weewideworld.blogspot.co.uk 

@KMcCaughrain

The Gift of Endurance. Yeah, right – by Rowena House

Re-reading Story by screenwriting guru Robert McKee the other day, I came across this quote in a section headed The Gift of Endurance: ‘Long before you finish [writing], the love of self will rot and die, the love of ideas sicken and perish ...  Of all the reasons for wanting to write, the only one that nurtures us through time is love of the work itself.’

Cheerful, huh? Especially on a short winter’s day, with weeks of getting up in the dark still to go.

I mean, let’s face it, who does love the work all the time? All too often the actual process of writing is frustrating, demoralising and painful. Who hasn’t ever asked: is my story any good? Will anyone buy it? Can I really do all this over again?

It sometimes feels as if self-doubt is an interminable negative feedback loop, constantly undermining our confidence in our ability to do the very thing we love.

And there it is again. That word. Love.

Personally, I suspect it’s part of the problem. Saying ‘I love writing’ implies it is necessarily a deeply rewarding emotional experience. When it’s not, a lot of us seem to blame ourselves: maybe we don’t love our characters enough or our plots; maybe the people who believe in us are just plain crazy.

But what is left if we don’t buy into the notion that we have to love what we do in order to keep doing it? Well, here are a couple of things that cheer me up no end.

According to research by psychologist Anders Ericsson, elite musicians, athletes and chess players weren’t born with unique gifts. They are instead highly motivated individuals who have to complete at least 10,000 hours of deliberate practice over a period of more than ten years in order to achieve their exceptional abilities.

To quote Christian Jarret’s handy 30-Second Psychology, for this type of practice to work, ‘You don’t just repeat what you know but instead constantly seek to stretch yourself. This inevitably involves forensic self-criticism, repeated failure and a dogged ability to keep dusting yourself down and trying again.’

Sound familiar?

Then how about this, also from Jarret: ‘Anxious individuals are more prone to attribute negative events to flaws in their nature, rather than circumstances.’ That’s from the section about Fundamental Attribution Error.

So, with all due respect to Mr McKee (who I admire a lot), forget about endurance being a gift. It’s bloody hard graft. And that’s the point. Lucky you if you do love the work, but that’s not the only way. For me, for example, ‘the work’ is too abstract a concept to keep me going year after year. I have to care passionately about this story, these characters, their troubled dreams.

Keeping this passion alive is like tending a fire: I have to sit down beside my story and look into its depths. If it’s dying, I feed it more research, more imagination, more hard work. Sometimes it consumes reams of notes about the main character’s motivation, or a single sheet with a clearer articulation of the theme. At other times it needs more knowledge gaps. Tighter scenes with more dramatic turning points.

Or more cake for the writer. Chocolate. Wine. Another long walk with my darling dog...

But yes, sometimes I have to close down the chimney flue and walk away, trusting that the embers won’t die completely.

I have boundless admiration for people who keep writing regardless. Did you see that tweet about this year’s winner of the children’s & YA category of the Costa Book Prize? Apparently Brian Conaghan received 217 rejections. Two hundred and seventeen! Unbelievable. I’d have walked away long ago, no question about it.

So all power to him – and everyone else who keeps on keeping on.

May your fire never go out.

 

Rowena House

Twitter: @HouseRowena

Marching On Without My Shimmy

ABBA-wise, this is my new year. That is, it’s the second anniversary of my monthly blog posts, and March has come to feel a bit stock-takingy and back-lookingy.

This time two years ago, for my very first post, I was new-fangled with having left the day job, with a work-in-progress (Still Falling) set for publication the following year. It was scary getting used to a portfolio of small income streams after nineteen years of a ‘real’ job, but I was up for the challenge.

March 2015. The mood was even more buoyant: I’d just had two book launches for Still Falling, and was busy and upbeat. I was solvent, enjoying tutoring at Arvon, and looking forward to being a Royal Literary Fund Fellow, a role I felt confident and enthusiastic about. And most importantly, I had a contract for another novel, Name Upon Name.

A year on?

I’m still solvent, thanks largely to that Royal Literary Fund Fellowship, which, as I expected, I really enjoy. Name Upon Name came out in August and has just gone into a third printing. Both it and Still Falling received excellent reviews, and I can look back on 2015 as a busy, fulfilling year.

I still love tutoring at Arvon, and I’m still busy with workshops, running a young writers’ network, and lots of school and library visits. I’m typing this in a gorgeous hotel in Dun Laoghaire, where I've just done a YA Masterclass event with fellow writers and all-round-superstars Deirdre Sullivan, Sarah Crossan and Dave Rudden. It was the kind of event that reminds you why you love writing and talking about writing. I’ve just returned from visiting all the libraries in County Wexford. Last week I visited five Waterford schools who’ve read Name Upon Name as part of a One Book, One Community project. Next month I’m off to Clare to judge a county-wide writing competition based on Name Upon Name. Of course I’m proud and thrilled to have my novel chosen for these ventures.

I mentor several young writers, who are delightful, appreciative and improving all the time, and I get great satisfaction from that, not least because of how much I benefited from that kind of support when I was starting out.

I’ve written six short stories, which are all out  in the world taking their chances in competitions. As I blogged here three months ago, I loved reconnecting with this genre. And out of the stories came an idea for an adult historical novel I really want to write.

I should be happy. So why, in this stock-take, am I feeling mainly discontented and pessimistic? (And, to be honest, rather shocked at having admitted that. Online. In public. I feel like Scarlett O'Hara when she says that Captain Butler 'looks as if he knows what I look like without my shimmy.')

It’s because, for the first time in a few years, I don’t have a book deal. I know I’m writing better than I used to, but as we all know, that’s no guarantee of success. I have a YA novel on submission; I’m excited about the adult project, but can I sustain the energy to keep it going with no guarantee that it will ever get out into the world?

Can I live on hope alone?

This week there’s been a rejection of one sort or another every single day. As I tell people on author visits, that’s part of the writing life. Which doesn’t make it easier to take. Being a writer means I have an overactive imagination and am given to doom-suspecting and worst-case-scenarios. 

I asked some writer pals what they felt about all of this, and am grateful for the honesty and wisdom of two lovely Emmas.

Emma Pass

‘One thing I've learned about the writing life is that it's a total rollercoaster,’ Emma Pass says. ‘I used to think that once I'd got that first novel published, life would be plain sailing, but it hasn't been! Two years ago, I had my debut novel, ACID, under my belt and my second novel, The Fearless, was about to come out. Things were going great! Fast forward to a year ago, and I'd left my agent (although we're still on good terms!) and was struggling to find the confidence to finish my WIP. Twelve months later, I have a wonderful new agent (Ella Kahn at DKW Literary), and The Fearless has just won the 2016 Concorde Book Award. The ups and downs are never easy to deal with, but accepting that they're going to happen does help a bit – and also helps you prepare for the next swoop of the roller coaster, whichever direction it might take you!’

YA thriller writer Emma Haughton (Now You See Me and Better Left Buried) agrees that the writing life is full of ups and downs:  ‘The toughest part of being an author is the part you least anticipate pre-publication – that, essentially, publishing is a lottery. Great stories languish through lack of attention, while other books are thrust into the spotlight for the flimsiest of reasons. Dealing with that, not succumbing to rage or misery, requires a great deal of fortitude. Being a writer is not for the faint hearted.’

I don’t want to be faint-hearted. My childhood reading, if nothing else, prepared me for better things. The heroines of my favourite books would have poured scorn on such feebleness. Noel Streatfeild’s characters would all ‘have made noises as if they were being sick.’ The Chalet School would have reminded me that it didn't educate its girls to be spineless jellyfish. 

Laura Ingalls Wilder’s redoubtable Ma would have said, ‘For shame, Sheena!’ 'This earthly life is a battle,' she once reminded Laura. ‘The sooner you make up your mind to that, the better off you are, and more thankful for your pleasures.'

One of those pleasures is definitely the support of other writers who understand these ups and downs. And the other main one?

Easy. The writing. Telling the stories. Getting to know the characters. Building the worlds. Even if it is, at the moment, fuelled by nothing more than hope and self-belief. After all, that’s all I started with. That wonderful sense of having a secret with yourself, and the secret is your story. 

And maybe, like Gatsby, I can learn to ‘run faster, stretch [my] arms out further… Until one fine morning…’

And, to go back to Scarlett O'Hara, 'Tomorrow is another day.' 

Let’s see where we are next March.