Artax, no!! Or, in the swampy middle

Jim Butcher, a guy who knows how to write a book or two, named for us that place we all get stuck: The Great Swampy Middle.

That's where I am right now, in the middle. Of many things, one of which involves waiting, which is no fun, and one of which involves working--finishing the sequel to Lost In Thought. Coming back to it after so long, and being in approximately the dastardly middle, makes it so hard not to get Lost in the Swamp, to let myself get sucked into distractions, and side projects, and anything but writing the words. Throw in the holidays and the OTHER stuff (read: that other book I've been talking about) and I'm looking for my Atreyu to pull me out of the mud.

Anyone have any tips for keeping on task? Especially when you're in the middle space where it's so easy to lose your way?

Right now I'm thinking I need to re-immerse myself in the story, and going back to the beginning of what I've already written for some (much needed) editing might do it.

*Artax is the horse. The Neverending Story is where he succumbs to the Swamps of Sadness.

The Golden Ticket, Part 6... after the ABNA finals

This is the hard post. Why? Because while it’s got a little bit of luck, it’s not all sunshine and roses. It’s reality. It’s work.

Here is the truth: traditional publishing is still a hard business. Even for an ABNA finalist.

 

So you’re home from Seattle with some great memories, new friends, and a pretty trophy but no contract. I put my trophy on my desk and look at it when I need a reminder that, you know, people other than my family and friends thought my work was pretty good. The key word is work, because that’s what I was back to doing.

 

If you want to be published by one of the big or even mid houses, the usual way to go about it is by finding agent representation. There are a few ways to do that: get a referral, go to conferences to meet them, and, the most common, hone your query and research who to send it to. Or, you can do what I did.

 
While the contest progressed, I’d been working on my agent research and query-honing, but before I really had to test it, I lucked into one. My husband was out having dinner and drinks with an old friend of his, and after several beers started to tell him about the contest and my book. The friend responded with, “I think my aunt does something with books.” Turns out that thing his aunt does with books is represent their authors. And after she read and liked my work, and I talked to and liked her, now she represents me. The moral of the story is never underestimate the power of connections, spousal enthusiasm, and drunken conversations.

And now, here are the stats:

Months of editing and revisions: 4.5
Words thoroughly chopped from my contest MS: over 30,000
Editor submissions round one: 13 subs, 8 requests for the MS, 8 declines

That hurts, right? In many ways, it’s actually quite good. 8 requests for the MS was incredible. Further, the rejections were at a minimum polite but the majority were incredibly complimentary. Still rejections though. Coincidentally, one editor we queried had already read the MS during the contest, so she didn’t need to request it from our sub. I suppose I could call my request count 8.5 if I wanted to.

 

We’re in the midst of our second round of submissions right now, so I’m going to keep the numbers under wraps while they’re still in progress. I will say that response to our initial submission continues to be excellent. And all that time I spent honing my agent query did not go to waste, because with just a few tweaks, and a single sentence about having been an ABNA finalist, that’s what’s getting our strong editor response.

 

There it is, the State of the Union. Lost in Thought’s been or being read by many editors, but none have offered to buy it yet. And you know what? Maybe none of them will. It’s entirely possible. It’s a tough reality that you can actually go all the way to the top three and still not make it. You might not. I might not. But in the meantime, I’m keeping my fingers crossed and my head in the work!

Up next: While you wait. Follow this story with the golden ticket tag.

The Golden Ticket, Part 3... journey to the ABNA finals and beyond

Advancing in the contest is exciting in general, but especially at the quarterfinal round. For one, you’re going to get a PW review of your whole manuscript, and that is a fantastic opportunity. BUT, for some people, even more exciting is the publishing of the excerpts, download- and comment-able by anyone! Including your friends and family, complete strangers, and your fellow competitors. This round gives you something to obsess over on a daily basis. What’s your ranking? Have you gotten any reviews? What do they say?!

Here’s where I address strategy. And I am completely pantsing my way through this blog, much like my writing, so I’ll start by addressing a strategy that maybe would have fit better in the first post. I told you to submit to the contest, even if your manuscript wasn’t entirely where you might have wanted it to be, and I meant it. But if you can, spend a little extra time honing your excerpt. Your first 3-5,000 are what get you through to the quarterfinals and reviewed by the public and your peers. Those first few pages are critical, and not just in the contest. Agents and editors, if you seek them, judge your work on even less. Your first page. If you’re lucky, your first five. Make them count.

So now you’re in the quarterfinals, and your excerpt is all pretty and ready to download… what do you do? Well, if you’re like me, you cry a little, do a happy dance in your bedroom, and go out to dinner with your husband to celebrate. That’s it. Why wasn’t I shouting it to the world?

Because the quarterfinals is not the time for that.

Be excited about your accomplishment, but not too excited. Not yet. There are more rounds to come, and possibly more exciting news. I recommend you wait and see what happens. If the quarterfinals is as far as you go, your network will still be able to download your excerpt and share in what you accomplished. Ditto the semi-finals. The FINALS is when you NEED them to rally. Their excitement—and their votes—could earn you a publishing contract.

Don’t stir up the crowd until it’s time for the show.

But what about reviews? And my lonely excerpt? And getting feedback on my work? I know we all want them, and obsess over them or the lack thereof, but the reviews on your excerpt do not impact your success in the contest. At the time of the finals last year, I think my excerpt had one or two reviews and Rich's had none. All the reviews do is make you feel good (or possibly bad) or, if you’re very lucky, give you some thoughtful criticism. If you rally your friends and family to give you reviews, it may make you feel good, but it’s not going to get you into the semis or beyond, and it may lose you their attention when you really need it.

If you want to get involved in the circle of reviews between contestants, that’s up to you. I didn’t. I have pretty strong feelings on publicly reviewing fellow authors (which boil down to one word: don’t). But if you want to, there’s nothing stopping you. Again though, it doesn’t impact your success in the contest. Only do it if you feel comfortable and really want to.

Now, if you listen to one thing I write in this entire blog, make it this: Please, please, for the love of Oreos, words, and all that is great in the world, PLEASE resist the temptation to comment on your reviews. Ever. No matter how off-base or great they are. Read them, digest them, bask in them, laugh at them, shrug them off... do all of those things, but please don’t comment on them. You don’t need to thank your reviewers and you never, ever need to argue with them.

If you want to have any kind of dialogue with your readers, that’s what your facebook or your blog is for. :)

Up next: Sitting on your hands. Follow this story with the golden ticket tag.

When can I buy it? And other hard-to-answer questions...

When you tell people you've written a book, the most common response is something like, "Oh, how nice for you," with or without a discreet (or not) eye roll. But for the rare few who are actually interested, the inevitable response is, "When can I buy it?!"

Sometimes that's harder than the eye roll. Because then you have to explain, and the publishing industry makes little sense to the people involved in it, let alone an outsider.

The real answer is: Possibly never. Maybe even probably never. After that it's: well, if my agent and I are lucky enough to sell it, you can buy it approximately two years from now. And it will undoubtedly have a different title and not be exactly the same story I just described to you, so you'll have to remember my name.

And that's when you lose them completely.

This is a waiting game. You query and you wait. Your agent queries and you wait. And wait and wait and wait.

You have to hope readers are still waiting when it's done.