Me

If you believe yourself to be an artist who doesn’t have any concerns about translating output into monetary funds to help continue producing art, then this isn’t for you. It is also not for anyone who cannot take constructive criticism. If you think you have a great writer’s aptitude coursing your veins, that you are some genius waiting to be recognised, yet the world’s editors are mad because they keeping rejecting you, then terrific, I’m sure you’ll go ahead and prove everybody wrong and one day be showered in plaudits. Tell yourself that Vincent Van Gogh only ever sold one painting in his life and that you’ll be remembered as an undiscovered master. And for those who are scared about losing touch with your creative side, becoming some capitalistic puppet, then don’t worry, the stuff that follows is just about keeping your feet on the ground and making the most of whatever gift you may have.

Talent will out.

This is the useful gold dust I wish I had stumbled across years ago. It would have enabled me to make more of those elusive opportunities. I’m not complaining about the way things have shaken out, but it really helps to go into this with your eyes open.

So this is the reality.

You have a story to tell. In fact, you’ve been telling them for years – ever since you were a kid. And now you want to publish them. One of the easiest ways is to upload it onto a website. Try this. If you want the reader to have something more solid to hold than what is on a computer screen, or on loose sheaves of paper, then you might want to try Lulu.com – it offers Print On Demand.

If what you crave is the more traditional product – a book produced by a publisher that is neither from a vanity press or one you have published yourself – there are a number of routes in.

The simplest way is to become a celebratory or inordinately successful in some other sphere of human endeavour. Of course, you’ll most likely have a ghost-writer producing it for you. And if you’ll really up your own arse and making loads of money, you won’t even have to take time reading what you’re supposedly saying in print.

The Small or Independent Press generally covers booklet-type magazines run by enthusiasts who tend to give more feedback when they reject your work than mainstream editors. They primarily deal with short stories, but what you are after here – apart from the sheer unadulterated joy of getting work published – are writing credits and the possibility of networking. This is as good as anywhere to start. And buy a copy before you submit.

Another way would be a writing course where, once again, the pay-off is the contacts you meet. Whether they can turn shit into shine is a matter of opinion.

While on the subject of networking, conventions involving your particular gene are easy to find on the web. If you don’t know what words to Google, then you will never make it as a writer. (Believe your work doesn’t fit any gene? Believe everyone in the world will get something from it? Then go into a bookshop and try to work out where they would stock it. Afterwards, you might start thinking about marketing and who you want to pitch your work to.)

You could, of course, always go to your library and get a book out on this subject. Or buy one. I’d recommend On Writing by Stephen King and Write Tight by William Brohaugh to start with. A big, fat dictionary and Roget’s Thesaurus wouldn’t go amiss.

If you can’t be bothered with either of the former just yet, try these ready-to-use handy hints to keep you going: –

Tell the story. If you don’t take anything else from here, remember that. The story is the whole point of doing this.

Carry a notebook and at least one pen. If you have creative blood flowing within you, then ideas will pop into your head at any time. And I absolutely guarantee that if you don’t write them down, then you will forget them.

Learn to write in the dark. (This only applies if you have a partner you care about and don’t wish to wake them by turning on the light whenever that terrific idea comes to you … just before you go to sleep. Oh, and if you don’t keep a notebook by the bed, or you think it’s so fantastic it would be impossible to forget before morning, then see above.)

Don’t break the spell with obvious mistakes. Check facts – even the ones you believe you know. I have framed an editorial correction that suggests the black pieces move first in chess. (Everyone is human – even editors.)

Don’t break the spell with obvious mistakes.

Re-read your work with fresh eyes. Put the work aside for a few days and then you’ll see those typos and other errors more easily.

Don’t jump around with Point Of View. It jars. Generally try to keep with one character per scene and remember that third-person observer is another POV. What a person is thinking, and their expression as seen by another as they do so, are two POVs.

A paragraph that fills a sheet or more of A4 probably needs revision. Several consecutive paragraphs constitute a turn-off. The eye loves a balance of white space and text. Think about how people riffle the pages of a book to gauge its ‘weight’.

Vary sentence length.

Pick up the pace in action scenes with short sentences. Like this.

You may understand a word, being the clever, articulate intellectual that you are, but how many of your readers will? The odd, unusual word, here and there, might by construed by some as being educational. Every other page and it’s a PhD Thesis.

Above all else: TELL THE STORY. If you want to preach, get a soapbox. (Or disguise what you’re doing if you really have to get a message across. But it’s a skill.)

How many times have you judged someone by the way they look? The way you present your manuscript counts. In Britain, editors and agents, get at least thirty new additions to their slush-pile every week from potential authors. Think about that fact for a moment. Thirty books. How long does it take you to read one? This is on top of having to fulfil their obligations with writers they have already committed to. So, as humans (see mistakes, above), they do the natural thing. If a writer cannot be bothered to find out the industry standard for presentation, then why should they waste their time attempting to read it? They reject it, and move on. The odds are in their favour.

A4, double-spaced, one side only, good margins (look at published paperbacks and increase the proportion they have by about a third), numbered, no fancy fonts, as fresh a copy as possible with no coffee-cup stains. Contact details and word-count on the first page helps. And spell-check the bloody thing. That’s the basics, but read their submission guide. If you can’t be bothered to do that then, well, guess what?

A blurb, a synopsis (don’t conceal any surprising endings) and the first three chapters. That should do it. There may be variations, but you can find them out. They too, have websites.

Make sure your writing is as best as your best can be. Good is not good enough. Brilliant will get their attention.

Get a copy of The Writer’s Handbook. It’s updated each year and provides lists of people you will want to contact. The book tends to weed out the bastards and there are plenty of sharks out there, waiting to skim you for all the money they can. Take note: All agents worth a damn DO NOT CHARGE a reading fee. Don’t be tempted just because they show a convincing interest. If you find yourself reaching for your wallet or purse, then email me and I’ll let you have my PayPal contact details for you to also send money to me. I’m not proud – I’ll take free money from stupid people – and I promise you won’t get anything in return. They DO NOT CHARGE. Is that clear?

Some people will read your work from off the screen, but check beforehand that they accept electronic submissions. And don’t automatically expect them to print it off if they do want to see the rest of the novel. Why should they spend their money? Do they owe you something? Include return postage and a short covering letter. And only include information about yourself that will be of help when it comes to publicising your work. The fact that you had a short story in the parish newsletter will not rock their boat. The fact that you used to answer sexual problems in the same and that your protagonist is taking it one step further with home visits, might.

Okay, it’s now in their hands. Or, most likely, in their reader’s hands. Hell, they want a personnel life too, you know. So, why not farm out the work and let someone else cut through the dross? An experienced, and good, editor or agent will read the first few lines, the first few pages, and have made up their mind by then. If you haven’t ensured your work will force someone to turn the pages, why will a prospective customer? Or an editor? I’ll wager that the crap books out there – and they do exist – are not from first-time authors.

Don’t pull stunts like putting a hair halfway through the manuscript to check if they’ve read it all the way to the end. If you’re doing that, then it will be a self-fulfilling prophesy. That hair will still be there when the work is rejected. Why? Because by being so insecure to be doing that in the first place, it indicates that your work is probably so poor they’ll know by the first page they won’t have to waste their time with the rest.

If it’s an agent, they might suggest some changes and, after a re-read, offer to take you on. (If the rejection says ‘close, better luck next time’, do not assume that this means they want to see the thing again, even if you have brilliantly re-written it. They will ask.) You’ll sign a contract. Read it, understand it. If you have to send them money, don’t forget to get in contact with me for my PayPal details, so you can send me 10% of whatever you’re giving them. The manuscript will then head for an editor.

Editors at the bigger publishing houses in Britain will usually take on one or two, maybe three, new authors a year. You may want to re-read that last sentence. Three new books in a year out of thirty a week. That means they reject 99.8% of manuscripts before it gets any further. If they like it, if they think it’s exceptional, and commercial, they will put it forward to an editorial meeting where every other editor will have read it. They will have to agree with the original editor’s assessment of its worth before it goes forward. If it does pass, the manuscript then goes on a managerial meeting where, once again, it will have to be read, liked, and thought wonderful by a majority, if not all, of those present. Sales and marketing will be there. They’ll have their say. Did I mention the publishing industry is a business? If you do get that One-In-A-Thousand shot, the editor will get back to you and make an offer based on how many they think it will sell.

The more astute of you will have noticed that, by now, your work will have had to jump over many fences and pleased various personalities. I know someone who has never seen the film Psycho because they don’t like horror films. They have media editorial clout, and their taste dictates what makes it on air. Imagine such vagaries having the power over whether your work will be accepted.

Oh, and if you’re male, try to write believable women, will you? They make up half the population, yet buy and read more fiction than men. If you don’t want to do it because you’re a misogamist old git, then do it for the money.

With great power comes great responsibility. ‘Nuff said.