Making it Bigger and Better

"Don't be in too much of a rush to send your work out there. Make sure it's ready first." Like every debut novelist, I've heard that advice many times.

Well, I've been writing Gorgito's Ice-Rink for seven years now. That's hardly a rush, is it? I completed the first draft last autumn and finished redrafting/editing in January. Surely that was enough; it had to be ready, didn't it?

So I started sending it out to agents. I've had a handful of rejections accompanied by polite, encouraging notes - one of which was even hand-written - and a few submissions that were met with total silence.

 

I'll take that as a 'no', shall I?

 

In June, I attended the Winchester Writers' Conference, which gave me the opportunity for six one-to-one meetings with agents and authors. These were all pleasant experiences (despite some of the horror stories I'd heard from previous attendees) with some very useful feedback, which can be summed up in the words of one agent: my novel is competent but not outstanding! And to be noticed in today's crowded marketplace, outstanding is the new OK.

 

As some of you may have noticed from the barrage of postings last week, I've just returned from the Swanwick Writers' Summer School. It was another great week, my seventh and their 65th. One of the sessions was Edit Your Manuscript by Literary Agent Meg Davis. She talked about the first draft and the second draft. Right, I thought, now we'll hear about the submissions process. But not at all. Meg went on the talk about drafts three and four - by which time the work should be in a good enough shape to go to beta-readers or agents - and then further drafts after that.

 

Meg gave us questions to ask ourselves: how can I make this bigger and better? does every scene drive the plot forward? is every character needed? does the plot work?

 

So, the conclusion from all this advice and my reflection on it: I'm going back to the drawing board (or should that be the keyboard) to get rewriting. It's got to be bigger and better before it can be outstanding!

 

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In last Thursday's posting, I mentioned starting a piece of prose based on sailing vessels, locations and senses. It grew from a memory of visiting the lovely little island of Kea, just off the Greek coast near Athens. Here' s the piece in its finished form:

 

 

Leaving Kea

 

Everything is grey as we leave the harbour, seen on our way by two taxi drivers, one taverna owner who couldn't sleep - and a lame cat. The cemetery chapel on the hillside is drained of life and the flowers are monochrome. Even on the top deck, we are enveloped in diesel fumes and we lean out over the rails, longing to smell the sea.

 

It's the clouds we notice first, just a tinge of pink. Then, on the horizon, a golden slit appears; the clouds turn deep rose against a slowly blueing sky.

 

The slit becomes a crescent, then a globe, that stings our eyes until we blink away the tears. The light embraces the island, flooding it with colour. The flowers in the graveyard turn orange, mauve and scarlet; the chapel sparkles snow-like against the sun.

 

And on the breeze, we catch a hint of thyme.  



Swanwick65: The Third Degree

There's been a lot of questions, not to say interrogations, one way and another today - more of which later.

 

But first, let's pop back into Day 2 for a moment, to acknowledge what is rapidly becoming yet another Swanwick tradition: Buskers' Night. Too late to make it into yesterday's instalment, the third annual BN was only for night owls, starting as it did after 11pm and not finishing until half past midnight. (OK, I know that's an early night for some hardened Swanwickers, but if you're a lark pretending to be an owl, it's really late!).

The audience was treated to a great mix of music, from Connie Francis to The Stranglers, by way of a lament by the wife of a trumpet-playing folk singer and a beautiful guitar duet from a 1950s French film. But for me, the star turns of the show were John and Zana, Swanwick's answer to The Proclaimers, with the appropriately-named '500 Words', followed by John's solo performance of 'Patricia the Stripper'. Many thanks to Mark and the Gang for putting it all together.

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This afternoon  saw the first ever Swanwick Tweet-Up, followed by Twitter101 which, as I predicted yesterday, attracted a large crowd. There were quite a few novices, who took the opportunity to grill the more experienced Tweeps on everything from how to sign up; what exactly is a hash tag; and how to block an unwanted follower. The session became quite interactive, with occasional side-meetings to deal with immediate issues (usually with phones) and although it's probably fair to say that not everyone's questions were answered, there are now more Swanwickers on Twitter than there were at the start of the week. Whether they all know why - or what to do next, is another question.

 

And if anyone hears a rumour that I've been blocked from Twitter for spamming, it's just the accidental consequence of a demonstration that went slightly astray.

 

***

 

Another full house today heard Meg Davis give an agent's view of 'Editing Your Manuscript'.  I'm sure I wasn't the only person in the room to realise that maybe I'm not quite as far down the road as I thought I was - but certainly left with lots of hints on the next step in the journey. Meg also showed that she has a great (if slightly child-centred) taste in movies.

 

***

 

Tonight's speaker was a Swanwick regular, Michael O'Byrne, a former Chief Constable whose anecdotes on 'thirty odd years of policing' had us roaring with laughter, while the crime writers among us heard some home truths. We learnt that writers deal with bodies very badly in general; policemen do not throw up at the sight of a dead body, whatever its state; and that the best way to recreate the smell of a corpse (should one wish to do so in the interest of research and authenticity) involves fish, plastic bags and sunshine. Frankly, I'm glad I'm not a crime writer.