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| Dinner will probably be late, too |
You pushed through the tedium and the temptation. You ignored the umpteen bright/shiny new story ideas. The doubts that your story isn’t worthy. Despite how REALLY over your story you were, you finished it—beginning, middle, and conclusion.
Time to start pursuing world-wide acclaim, right?
No. It’s not done. Trust me. I type from pained experience.
With a finished book in hand, I joined Query Tracker, began sending out query letters, and even signed up for reasonably-priced writing conventions. With no delusions, I fully anticipated a slog to get over but I knew, KNEW, publication was fated for my little book.
Okay, maybe a few delusions…
Sure I got rejection letters/emails. And I got a lot more "no response" responses. But, in time, I alos got sit-downs with agents and even a small publishing house owner. It seemed all-too easy. Which it was.
After meeting in person, the first agent to request a full submission signed me. He said there was a pacing problem with my story but he loved it and felt confident that we could work out the pacing issue. After all, First Agent began as an editor for some heavy-hitting writers and shepherded at least one celeb to publication.
Hey, a win in one!
We firmed up plans for a phone call to go over his notes. When we did speak, First Agent said he was still thinking about my book but having second thoughts about his notes. He asked for another month to talk with his connections in crime/thriller publishing houses.
Then nothing. No calls. No emails. No replies. After another four months, I sent a formal letter to the office severing our “relationship.”
A year-or-so later, I landed a sit down with Dream Agent. THE AGENT in the thriller/crime game, (who isn’t Donald Maass). Dream Agent also had a reputation for supernaturally developing talent.
“You fuck the rhythm out of your writing…”
Yeah, Dream Agent also ultimately passed on my book. However, there were parting gifts. In a generous phone conversation, Dream Agent stated that the problem with my book was not pacing issues. The problem was a genre-confusion issue.
The story should be YA instead of crime, Dream Agent said. But amid naming agents better suited to pitch a gritty YA book, Dream Agent made an offhand remark that initially flew right over my head.
“As it is, I don’t know who I would even pitch this to.”
The YA angle was a non-starter for me. I’m too fond of drugs, profanity, and shooting fothermuckers in the face (in my stories). Yet, I did begin to reconsider my book and how much I relied on cute gimmicks versus telling a real story about real hoods like the ones I grew up around.
It took a bit longer to get my nerve back to try pitching again. I undertook one last writing conference. Participants were encouraged to send our query and first ten pages to the panel of agents and publishers in advance of the conference. As a result I landed back-to-back interested parties and already had a request for my full MS before the conference.
“It’s a fun story. It’ll find a home but it won’t be with me.”
The small, critically-loved publishing house owner (who requested the full MS) was encouraging but honest.
Yay—wait, what?
At the same conference I met the last agent I would query. Far-more efficient than all the previous folks put together, Last Agent gave me a dose of cold/hard business as he handed back my leave-behind letter and first chapter.
“Your crime story is set in 1985. In Houston, Texas. I don’t know how to sell that to a publishing house buyer who wasn’t even born in 1985 and has never been out of the five boroughs.”
I stopped querying entirely after that. Didn’t write anything for a while, either. I pursued another degree and made a career change.
Then, during the COVID lockdown, I reread my little book. As if flipping a switch, I figured out the problem with my book and it wasn’t pacing or genre. The book wasn’t ready. It needed another pass with a (more) mature eye. Or, in my case, eyes.
In pursuing publication too soon, I wasted opportunities.
The flip-side
I previously repeated the old axiom, “until it’s done, tell no one.” The rationale being that if you “talk all your game,” you’ll have nothing left on game day (writing).
However, your story isn’t done until you polish it and that begins with abrasion, not praise. You don’t need approval. You need polishing and that takes criticism. That takes writers.
“It’s a nice story, really…”
So, why a crit group and not people you know? See, your family/bestie/co-worker who reads a lot… Well, they like you, (hopefully). They—in the absolutely best circumstances—don’t want to hurt your feelings.
In the less-than-best circumstances, they really don’t care. Mostly they want to get back to weather/news/sports and when you’re coming to dinner, again.
Most importantly, they will not, cannot, help you with your plot holes, logic fails, and poorly developed characters.
You need complete unprofessionals—you need fellow scribblers.
I’ve written about crit groups before. They have a lot of downsides however, they are an imperative step in the process to most new writers. At the most basic level, they serve two purposes.
But, why?
First they temper your little writer ego. No matter what you think, you’re not [insert writer hero name here]. You’re not even ghost writer number three for a nationally renowned thriller “writer”—but I digress. The point is if you don’t get over your delicate emotions, you won’t achieve your goals.
Which leads us to the second thing the crit group does—they ask rude questions. The rudest of which is “But why?”
It’s not just plugging plot holes. So much of what strains credulity is rooted in ego. Reading your story for a group, getting their mark-ups, and, most importantly, the BW questions, will help you show your ego to the back seat. They will humble you to better work.
In truth, you’re not killing your darlings, you’re dumping them like a skin that no longer fits your story.
The whiz-bang shoot-out in a public park with a killer-cop that I envisioned? Not the story. My showcase-introduction for my genius-level thief. Really more of an idiot-level logic fail. And NOT the story. For that matter, neither was the “horrendous history of abuse” part. I dropped all that like so many bad habits.
And, no, those changes were not simply based on someone else’ opinion. In truth, I rejected 90% of the suggestions received. But the ones that resonated, the suggestions that revealed my blindspots, those made me think.
Even when I initially disagreed with them.
This was not an instantaneous process. Hoever, in making the small changes my crit group identified, I began to question the big ones I defended like a guard dog. The ones I swore were the story, or nothing. Yeah, I came to see a lots of “nothing.”
Sculpting is chipping away everything that isn’t the sculpture.
In cutting away the first-draft crap, I found the story. Found my protagonist, too. The real deal, not simply tropes hammered together to make him “cool.” Turns out, the candy coating gets in the way of your story, the real story.
Most importantly, I learned to let go of the ideas that I started with in pursuit of something better.
Keep writing. Do not quit.
The photo at the top is by Image by Erik Karits from Pixabay and is used by permission.
