Getting Your Writing Published PART THREE – Starting Over.

In the past weeks we've been looking at ways of getting started on the road to gaining a publishing contract as a writer. It's a big step and thinking about it can take place a long time before you actually even need to submit. So, as you start your first novel, you might be be nervous of its future, almost as pregnant parents are constantly nervous about their growing baby. 

You may already have faced rejection. You probably felt dreadful. Even the most successful writers have experienced what you’re feeling. You need stamina and confidence to move on to any further actions, so first of all, let this feeling pass – don’t do anything until it does. Put that manuscript away until you had a little breather.

Rejection is subjective. Editors know what they like and often go with their gut feelings. They may not have rejected your piece because it’s poor, but simply because it’s not for them. Agents will send a manuscript out between six and ten times before suggesting substantial revision. The alternative to substantial revision is to start again. At that moment – the moments after rejection of something you loved writing and had confidence in – you may feel that the best thing to do is either:

a) send it out directly, to someone who will like it

b) work on it, and send it out again.

c) give up; not worth the candle, this writing! 

But there are two other routes you should consider and in this blogpost I'm going to talk about d)

This alternative route is radical. Even so, I'm always surprised that writers almost never consider this at first. Given time…given the sixth, seventh, tenth rejection…they may get round to thinking about it, but I am recommending that this 'other way' is a far better, more productive and eventually, more successful route than a), b) and most definitely c)! So instead of getting the manuscript back out after you've had that 'little breather', here is my advice...wait for it…

d) Write something new. Yes, radical, eh? Stop using up all your creative energy on the novel, short story or script that's not been proclaimed as the Next Big Thing by those you've sent it to and begin again. But, begin different. Begin with all the experience of the previously completed piece of work. After all, at this stage in your writing life, you are definitely able to create new, prototype work. You've already done it! Take on board all you’ve learned from this experience and write something new.

Remember my story in Part One of the agent who said they'd 'look at something else'? I'd sent them the thing I thought was my Next Big Thing. At the time, I believed it would be my defining novel. I'd had it in my head for years, and had worked on it for almost a decade. It had to be great, right? But after the agent's letter, I went back to my computer and found a paragraph I'd written a little while before. Just a few lines, describing a man on a moor, searching for a shallow grave. The atmosphere was dark, the mood grim. Who was this man? I had no idea. 

If you have read my first Shaman's Mystery, you'll know that
scene. It opens the book, In the Moors. 

I read through the paragraph, and then went for a walk so that I'd find that important 'lightbulb moment' which would answer the question; who is that man?

I think you have already experienced lightbulb moments in writing – something opens inside your mind and suddenly you have the glimmer of a writing idea. It can happen especially  when doing writing exercises, but also when reading, when watching a film or TV programme or hearing the news, or even lying in bed. It can happen when talking to friends or colleagues, or when you open your writer's miscellany of ideas. It can happen when you newly confront a view or interior (a common holiday experience), but it may equally happen as you look upon an image or hear a piece of music. It commonly happens to me when I'm walking alone.

For some writers, it happens in the middle of the night. Here’s Ali Smith having a 'moment':

It was the middle of the night and something too bright woke me. I opened my eyes, because what was it, an angel? A bad or good fairy? Some kind of magic being from the sort of story we never believed in even when we were kids and were meant to? Whatever it was had clearly been there shaking the covers for some time.

What? I said.

I shielded my eyes. I saw it wasn’t a magic anything. It was

just a bare light bulb. 

Hi, it said.

(Yes, brightly)

Oh, right, I said. The light bulb moment

Its element glowed.

Good for you, I said. Enjoy your moment. I’m off back to sleep.

No. Wait, the light bulb said.

And Ali Smith's lightbulb was quite right to insist; this is why I constantly recommend using a notebook and keeping it close by. This is why you never ignore those small, possibly silly ideas, but rather store them until they seem workable. Never tell your lightbulb to enjoy its moment while you go back off to sleep. Don’t let that happen. Check all those little notes and jottings, all the clippings you’ve kept hold of, and retrieve the deep memories for things you once thought you might one day do something with.

…I opened a book on the desk.

When I did, and flicked through it, it was a like a party had broken out there on my desk, a really lively one full of people I knew and interesting people I’d not yet met and writers I’d already read and writers I hadn’t yet, brand new writers, seasoned and experienced writers, and they were all talking and arguing and agreeing and disagreeing and the glasses were clinking and the music was happening by itself behind it all.

I shut the book.

I sat in the light.

I listened. Silence.

Right, I said. Ready.

(SOURCE; Novel Writing: A Writers’ and Artists’ Companion, R Gudeskera & A L Kennedy. Bloomsbury 2015 pg x - xii from the Forward by Ali Smith.)

Two lightbulb moments are better than one. Two ideas coming together feel like science; like atoms co-bonding. I already had one moment; a man, in the dark, alone on a moor, searching for a shallow grave. Now I needed another, and one that might slot with the first so that I could develop both successfully. You may have previously heard me talk about the way Sabbie Dare entered my life, sometime after I'd begun to learn about shamanic practice. I knew a few people hoping to start a therapy practice up, and I couldn't help thinking…

Shamanism is at the heart of
my murder mysteries

They are going to get a good deal of very unusual characters coming into that therapy room…' Sabbie Dare was born, with her last name answering that worry; she dared to invite in the lost, the broken, even those who had done wrong. Once I knew that the man on the moor was her client, I could plot with success.

Those lightbulb moments of inspiration are only the start.  Amalgamating two lightbulb moments can allow you the freedom you'll need to do whatever you want during the process of writing creatively This often means being brave about trusting your ideas and allowing them to develop from very small beginnings.

So leave that previous manuscript alone for now, however wedded you are to it. Instead, Make notes of any moments of inspiration – try dreaming and visualising your inspiration; take a long walk alone, or sit in a quiet room and let your thoughts roam. Also check out this blogpost to help you start collecting lightbulb moments into a miscellany. Spend time fostering old ideas and working up new ideas, and then gaining a foothold in your working ideas.

Start a new notebook (actual or electronic). Include all notes, snatches, planning, character ideas and freewrites that pertain to this new plan of work. Transfer any ideas and thought you’ve gleaned through recent reading.

Speculation is the core of fiction writing. Look around you and fill in the gaps -- you'll find that characters are begging for your attention. Remember, however, that characters are just one element in a story. Put your most intriguing character into a most intriguing situation and you'll have fuel enough for pages. I had to ask;  Why is the man on the moor looking for a shallow grave? Did he dig it in the first place? And how is Sabbie to know that her client is guilty or innocent? Those were still the questions that I had to answer. 

Decide on a title. This will make the new writing real; a provisional, working title. Indulge yourself by spending time on this, as it can inspire in itself. Psychologically, knowing you have a working title can be a great boost. Put the title on the front page of the notebook/file. 

Freewrite the title to see where it takes you. Allow yourself to experiment with all the ideas that end up in your new notebook. Ask ‘what if’ a lot. Try things out. Take risks to see where they take you. 

Don’t expect something fully formed to arrive yet. Most writers only find this happened once they’re well into the writing of a longer piece of work. At the same time, reflect on what you’ve got and analyse where you’re going. 

I'm not asking you to forget the work you've just put away after rejection; I'm asking to move on from it.

After all, you’re a writer. You can do it again.

In the next of this series, we'll look at ways of getting yourself known as a writer – before you finish your novel.