Remember that manuscript I wrote for over a decade? That "masterpiece"? Well, it never got off the ground.
But don't feel too bad. I still call it a "masterpiece" because I learned so much through the process.
Shortly after it was reviewed by my writer friend, CH, I fixed what I thought I needed to and sent it to Writer's Edge Manuscript Service. Basically, this company reads three sample chapters from aspiring authors (along with some basic author info), and they decide if the manuscript has "publishing potential" or not. If it does, they send a "back-of-the-book" blurb in a newsletter to seventy-five Christian publishers (and that's not including all the agents that receive the letter too). If any publishers are interested in pursuing the book, they may contact the author directly.
I'm excited to say that a major, traditional publisher in the Christian realm contact me to see my first three chapters and a one-page synopsis. I was THRILLED! I thought that this was my break!
I sent it to the editor and waited. .... And waited. .... And waited. I forget the exact amount of time, but it was several months. I was worried that they'd lost my submission! Turns out it was just a busy season in publishing, so the editor wasn't able to read my work immediately. And when I received the editor's response, I found it to be a very polite and vague rejection letter.
At first, I was very disappointed.
Had I done something wrong? Maybe I shouldn't have emailed to ask if she got the submission...
Did I write the proposal wrong? What if my synopsis went on and on and on and bored her to death?
My most recurring thought? CAN I HAVE A DO-OVER??? I'll fix everything and send it again!! Just tell me what I did wrong, and I promise I'll fix it!
But that's not how publishers work. You get one shot in a situation like that. But truth be told, I learned SO MUCH from that encounter. I realized that the book was hopelessly flawed--not that it's a bad story; it's just not the type of story that publishers will want to sell.
And you know... after much deliberation. I was fine with that.
So I started over. After another year or so of contemplating, sifting through the characters and plot lines "marinating" in my mind, a new idea for a manuscript surfaced--one that I feel is publishable. Marketable.
So in August 2011, I began writing. I also read a bunch of writing books. Stein on Writing by Sol Stein, A Novel Idea, Writing the Christian Romance by Gail Gaymer Martin, and The Writer's Compass by Nancy Ellen Dodd, to name a few.
I took a little time off of writing to devote myself to school (I was still in college), and then hit the keyboard hard when summer rolled around. I typed the final word in my manuscript in August 2012.
Then came the editing process (By the way... is that process ever really over?).
I sent it to Writer's Edge and also to Christian Manuscript Submissions, a similar company, and began the waiting game. Meanwhile, I've been working on ideas for the rest of the series!!
Now, I'm working on query letters to agents. And I'm excited to see where this story will take me! If you so desire, please pray with me about this endeavor.
If you are just joining my blog, please check out my first post, "Always".
Monday, January 28, 2013
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Part III - My Masterpiece
"Who do you plan to write for?"
I stared blankly at the table.
"Like, what audience?" CH cocked her head to one side. "Adults? Children?"
This was a question I wasn't quite prepared to answer. I honestly wasn't sure. When I wrote my manuscript, I hadn't written for an audience. I had written for me.
"Adults." I sounded more confident than I felt. The girl in my book was a teenager--so if I went with the general rule that the protagonist is the same age as the reader, than my book would have been written for youth--but the book took place during the Civil War, so this set her at a time when people became adults much younger than they do today. So maybe she was an adult... I was confused.
CH and I met a few weeks after exchanging books. We were sitting across each other at a little table for two at the Java Hut, a cute cafe in town. It wasn't going quite as I had planned.
I loved her book, to put it simply. It was a true-to-life tale about a teenage girl heading off to college much like the one we both went to. It was current. It was witty. It was fun... the type of book I would have devoured when I was a teenager.
Who am I kidding? I'd still read a book like hers.
Long story short, when I wrote out my critique, I gave what I thought were raving reviews. Maybe there were a few areas I thought could have been fleshed out a bit, but it really had solid bones. I guess when I accepted mine, I thought I'd see equally praising compliments--reviews worthy of a spot on the back of a book.
Okay. To be fair, CH did have a lot of positive things to say. And the comments that weren't filled with roses and fairies--well, those were positive too. Not that I realized that at the moment. In the midst of my first, real book critique--the first moment my "child" had ever gone out into the world to be analyzed by an unbiased reader--well, I wasn't prepared for what I'd get. I wasn't prepared for constructive criticism, nor the important questions a writer should ask herself.
With this sort of thinking, it shouldn't be a surprise that I was upset by the simple question of, "Who do you plan to write for?" I left a little deflated.
However, that feeling didn't last for long. I will forever be grateful to CH for asking me quality questions that day, because they are the reason I began to treat my writing as a craft to be honed and shaped.
I realized that, first of all, you must have thick skin if you want to write. Just like any artist, creating something means taking a piece of your soul and holding it out to the world for examination. And for me--now--it is not so much about wanting to be validated. Now, it is about sharing.
I also discovered that this story I had written was not set in concrete. It's not like a sidewalk that shows the deep impressions of paw prints from some unleashed dog, years and years later. The plot can be changed. The characters can deepen. Point of view can be shifted. Structure and form can transform.
My words can be ALIVE!
A new adventure and purpose was set before me. I felt wings for the first time.
I stared blankly at the table.
"Like, what audience?" CH cocked her head to one side. "Adults? Children?"
This was a question I wasn't quite prepared to answer. I honestly wasn't sure. When I wrote my manuscript, I hadn't written for an audience. I had written for me.
"Adults." I sounded more confident than I felt. The girl in my book was a teenager--so if I went with the general rule that the protagonist is the same age as the reader, than my book would have been written for youth--but the book took place during the Civil War, so this set her at a time when people became adults much younger than they do today. So maybe she was an adult... I was confused.
CH and I met a few weeks after exchanging books. We were sitting across each other at a little table for two at the Java Hut, a cute cafe in town. It wasn't going quite as I had planned.
I loved her book, to put it simply. It was a true-to-life tale about a teenage girl heading off to college much like the one we both went to. It was current. It was witty. It was fun... the type of book I would have devoured when I was a teenager.
Who am I kidding? I'd still read a book like hers.
Long story short, when I wrote out my critique, I gave what I thought were raving reviews. Maybe there were a few areas I thought could have been fleshed out a bit, but it really had solid bones. I guess when I accepted mine, I thought I'd see equally praising compliments--reviews worthy of a spot on the back of a book.
Okay. To be fair, CH did have a lot of positive things to say. And the comments that weren't filled with roses and fairies--well, those were positive too. Not that I realized that at the moment. In the midst of my first, real book critique--the first moment my "child" had ever gone out into the world to be analyzed by an unbiased reader--well, I wasn't prepared for what I'd get. I wasn't prepared for constructive criticism, nor the important questions a writer should ask herself.
With this sort of thinking, it shouldn't be a surprise that I was upset by the simple question of, "Who do you plan to write for?" I left a little deflated.
However, that feeling didn't last for long. I will forever be grateful to CH for asking me quality questions that day, because they are the reason I began to treat my writing as a craft to be honed and shaped.
I realized that, first of all, you must have thick skin if you want to write. Just like any artist, creating something means taking a piece of your soul and holding it out to the world for examination. And for me--now--it is not so much about wanting to be validated. Now, it is about sharing.
I also discovered that this story I had written was not set in concrete. It's not like a sidewalk that shows the deep impressions of paw prints from some unleashed dog, years and years later. The plot can be changed. The characters can deepen. Point of view can be shifted. Structure and form can transform.
My words can be ALIVE!
A new adventure and purpose was set before me. I felt wings for the first time.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Part II - My Masterpiece
Clutching my new-and-improved manuscript (now about 200 pages), I nervously stood in line at the post office. I was sending my story--hot off the press... ehm, home printer--to CH, a college friend. At that same moment, she was sending me her completed manuscript, too, because we had had this brilliant idea of proofing each other's pieces.
I should have been excited and confident. Instead, I was anxious and mousy. I was ready to take my story home and hide it in a drawer.
You see, up to this point, others had heard about my story, but no one had actually READ it--aside from HT, who's been with me since its conception. She was the only other one who knew these people. And yes--to me--they were real people. She knew them inside and out, and I was convinced that no one else could ever know or love them like we did.
Could I risk showing them to others? Was it possible that someone else could enter a world that I had so lovingly and painstakingly created (for almost a decade at this point) and understand it? Embrace it? Think about it long after the book was closed?
The possibility of rejection was almost enough to make me leave the post office with my hugely thick story--which, by the way, I had accidentally printed on card stock paper, so it was twice as thick as it should have been, and I was so distracted by the anticipation that I hadn't even bothered to put it in a binder of any kind. (One slip, and I'd never get those pages back in order!)
But I had no choice. CH had already mailed hers. I couldn't back out now. I couldn't pretend it got lost in the mail. Even if it did, she'd eventually expect a "new" copy. So I stuffed my manuscipt into a manila envelope--carefully, so as not to bend any pages--and handed it over to the postmaster. I felt like a mom on the first day of kindergarten, sending my sweetheart out into the world, hoping she'd make friends and that others would play nice with her.
There was no time to think about that now. My story was on its way, and CH's was waiting for me at home in a neat little binder and on regular, normal printer paper.
There were only a few weeks before we'd see each other at a college reunion and give the manuscripts back.
If you've missed the beginning of my journey to publication, check out the first post "Always".
I should have been excited and confident. Instead, I was anxious and mousy. I was ready to take my story home and hide it in a drawer.
You see, up to this point, others had heard about my story, but no one had actually READ it--aside from HT, who's been with me since its conception. She was the only other one who knew these people. And yes--to me--they were real people. She knew them inside and out, and I was convinced that no one else could ever know or love them like we did.
Could I risk showing them to others? Was it possible that someone else could enter a world that I had so lovingly and painstakingly created (for almost a decade at this point) and understand it? Embrace it? Think about it long after the book was closed?
The possibility of rejection was almost enough to make me leave the post office with my hugely thick story--which, by the way, I had accidentally printed on card stock paper, so it was twice as thick as it should have been, and I was so distracted by the anticipation that I hadn't even bothered to put it in a binder of any kind. (One slip, and I'd never get those pages back in order!)
But I had no choice. CH had already mailed hers. I couldn't back out now. I couldn't pretend it got lost in the mail. Even if it did, she'd eventually expect a "new" copy. So I stuffed my manuscipt into a manila envelope--carefully, so as not to bend any pages--and handed it over to the postmaster. I felt like a mom on the first day of kindergarten, sending my sweetheart out into the world, hoping she'd make friends and that others would play nice with her.
There was no time to think about that now. My story was on its way, and CH's was waiting for me at home in a neat little binder and on regular, normal printer paper.
There were only a few weeks before we'd see each other at a college reunion and give the manuscripts back.
If you've missed the beginning of my journey to publication, check out the first post "Always".
Monday, March 5, 2012
Part I - My Masterpiece
I'd like to quote Jo March in the 1994 movie edition of Little Women.
"Down at the Eagle, they pay $5 for every story they print. Why, I've got ten stories in my head right now!"
That's how my mind looks. A bustling hob-glob of characters milling around. There are pioneer women, medieval royalty, fantasy creatures, Civil War soldiers, farm boys, rail riders, gold prospectors, ranchers, farmers, bankers, teachers.... it's a wonder they don't all know each other and appear in each other's worlds from time to time!
I know each by name and by heart, and I'm excited to one day share them with you.
The first and only characters who have lived their story beginning to end outside my mind are from the Civil War era. Remember my friend HT from the first post? She and I dreamed these guys up when I was eleven. The first draft was 100 pages long exactly!
...Okay, that was with about 16-point font.
But I was SO proud of it. I could just see publishing houses clamoring at my doorstep to get their hands on this masterpiece!
I had a lot to learn about writing a novel...
"Down at the Eagle, they pay $5 for every story they print. Why, I've got ten stories in my head right now!"
That's how my mind looks. A bustling hob-glob of characters milling around. There are pioneer women, medieval royalty, fantasy creatures, Civil War soldiers, farm boys, rail riders, gold prospectors, ranchers, farmers, bankers, teachers.... it's a wonder they don't all know each other and appear in each other's worlds from time to time!
I know each by name and by heart, and I'm excited to one day share them with you.
The first and only characters who have lived their story beginning to end outside my mind are from the Civil War era. Remember my friend HT from the first post? She and I dreamed these guys up when I was eleven. The first draft was 100 pages long exactly!
...Okay, that was with about 16-point font.
But I was SO proud of it. I could just see publishing houses clamoring at my doorstep to get their hands on this masterpiece!
I had a lot to learn about writing a novel...
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Always
For me, this is a leap of faith -- praying that God will help me fly.
For almost as long as I can remember, I have wanted to write. I know that sounds cliche', but I'm really one of those people who grew up knowing that I wanted to be an author. Not a journalist, like so many writers. An author. A full-blown, Christian fiction--historical romance--author.
I've always loved books. Weekly, my mom used to put me in the stroller from ages 3-5 and we would go down a block or three to the public library. I'd have story time there and then we'd leave with a stack of books--the maximum they'd let us take, of course!
My first memory of writing was in second grade, when my beloved teacher (to whom I'll be forever grateful) asked us to write a story. Mine was a three-page manuscript---more pictures than words---about my friend H.T. and me. I tell you what, from the first writing prompt, I was hooked! I totally got into it. There was exposition, rising action, a climax, and a resolution. Though tiny, it was a complete story! I even loved the editing process. I remember conferencing with my teacher and learning new things like using quotation marks and starting new paragraphs for new thoughts.
......... I have changed career directions several times in my life, but I have never forgotten my real love. I want to write Christian fiction full time. I want to touch lives the way God touches mine.
Publishing, for me, is still a dream.... rather, I should say it's a goal that is not yet realized. I'm working the plan, going toward that dream, and I'd like to invite you to join me. Learn as I learn, experience as I experience. I'll keep you posted all the way!
For almost as long as I can remember, I have wanted to write. I know that sounds cliche', but I'm really one of those people who grew up knowing that I wanted to be an author. Not a journalist, like so many writers. An author. A full-blown, Christian fiction--historical romance--author.
I've always loved books. Weekly, my mom used to put me in the stroller from ages 3-5 and we would go down a block or three to the public library. I'd have story time there and then we'd leave with a stack of books--the maximum they'd let us take, of course!
My first memory of writing was in second grade, when my beloved teacher (to whom I'll be forever grateful) asked us to write a story. Mine was a three-page manuscript---more pictures than words---about my friend H.T. and me. I tell you what, from the first writing prompt, I was hooked! I totally got into it. There was exposition, rising action, a climax, and a resolution. Though tiny, it was a complete story! I even loved the editing process. I remember conferencing with my teacher and learning new things like using quotation marks and starting new paragraphs for new thoughts.
......... I have changed career directions several times in my life, but I have never forgotten my real love. I want to write Christian fiction full time. I want to touch lives the way God touches mine.
Publishing, for me, is still a dream.... rather, I should say it's a goal that is not yet realized. I'm working the plan, going toward that dream, and I'd like to invite you to join me. Learn as I learn, experience as I experience. I'll keep you posted all the way!
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