Fantasy Thinking
I sent the book out last week, to some new literary agents. And I got a really good response. Many asked to see more, and within days I had an email from someone who said she was reading and enjoying it and would get in touch this week... this is A Big Thing.
I guess I assume everyone knows about literary agents and what they mean, but there's no reason you should. It's often said that it's harder to get a literary agent than it is to get a publisher. They only take people on if they LOVE your work and are very optimistic about the chances of their selling it to a publisher, for enough money to make their 15% cut worthwhile. And they get hundreds of submissions each week, and the last thing they want to do is encourage people. So, the fact that I'm getting such positive responses is, indeed, A Big Thing.
But.
I've had a bit of a year. The last time I sent the book out, it got rejected. They were nice rejections, friendly rejections, encouraging rejections, but rejections nevertheless. And the first one came the day after I found out I was miscarrying. And that has had subtle repercussions that I'm still discovering. One of which is... self confidence. I don't like or believe in myself as much as I did. Not a logically valid conclusion, but true nonetheless. And then there's the optimism.
I used to fantasise about good things happening. My name in glittering lights. My book, in bestseller lists. And when I got two emails, last Friday, saying two agents with great reputations were reading and enjoying my book... I thought, that's nice. But they'll change their minds before they get to the end.
That night, I tried to do what I used to do. I tried to construct a fantasy. What if... I stumbled at the very beginning. What if... they liked it? What if just one of them emailed me to say "Yes, I like it, I want to represent you"?
Nah. Wouldn't happen. Stupid fantasy. Think about something else.
Because optimistic plans don't come to fruition, not any more. You can't count on things, there's no point setting yourself up for a fall.
No. Come on. You can do it. What if... what if she likes it, she wants to be my agent, and I say, "Well, that's brilliant... but I'll just check what these other guys think; give myself maximum choice..." and then I email all the other agents saying "Ooh! Look! So-and-so wants to be my agent! What about you?" and then, oh, I dunno, maybe ten of them email me back and say...
No! Stop it, you ludicrous person! None of this stuff is going to happen! You are an idiot! Desist!
Bit I drank another can of beer, and I kept going. Right up to the point where I was auditioning literary agents within a week, and a weeek after that The Best Agent In The World had secured me the most amazing contract with The Best Publisher In The World and I lived happily ever after.
And it felt good, and some of the optimism came back. Some. Just a little.
Other nice stuff has happened, too. The woman who interviewed me for Albion Magazine has submitted her review of my other book to a magazine dedicated to "overlooked gems" published by small and indie publishers. And my blog has been chosen as a candidate for Blogsday 2007. Oh hang on a minute, apparently that happened last night. Anyone know if I was on it? I don't have speakers on this PC. I'll go listen in a bit. What else? There was something else, I'm sure...
Oh yes. Tomorrow, Manchester University Union (Oxford Rd), 5.30pm to 7pm, me and Jenny Roberts will be doing readings from our books. It's open to the public, I think. Come along. I'm doing the First Ever Reading from my new book. Which might be as public as it ever gets.
I went to Caroline's book launch last night. It was great.
The optimism's seeping back. There is Big Stuff going on in my life at the mo. I'm sworn to secrecy for now, but I'm working from home at the mo, and this morning I played great music Really Really Loud, closed my eyes and swayed to it. And it felt good. Things can feel good. And scary. But good.
Maybe things will be all right after all.
___
I guess I assume everyone knows about literary agents and what they mean, but there's no reason you should. It's often said that it's harder to get a literary agent than it is to get a publisher. They only take people on if they LOVE your work and are very optimistic about the chances of their selling it to a publisher, for enough money to make their 15% cut worthwhile. And they get hundreds of submissions each week, and the last thing they want to do is encourage people. So, the fact that I'm getting such positive responses is, indeed, A Big Thing.
But.
I've had a bit of a year. The last time I sent the book out, it got rejected. They were nice rejections, friendly rejections, encouraging rejections, but rejections nevertheless. And the first one came the day after I found out I was miscarrying. And that has had subtle repercussions that I'm still discovering. One of which is... self confidence. I don't like or believe in myself as much as I did. Not a logically valid conclusion, but true nonetheless. And then there's the optimism.
I used to fantasise about good things happening. My name in glittering lights. My book, in bestseller lists. And when I got two emails, last Friday, saying two agents with great reputations were reading and enjoying my book... I thought, that's nice. But they'll change their minds before they get to the end.
That night, I tried to do what I used to do. I tried to construct a fantasy. What if... I stumbled at the very beginning. What if... they liked it? What if just one of them emailed me to say "Yes, I like it, I want to represent you"?
Nah. Wouldn't happen. Stupid fantasy. Think about something else.
Because optimistic plans don't come to fruition, not any more. You can't count on things, there's no point setting yourself up for a fall.
No. Come on. You can do it. What if... what if she likes it, she wants to be my agent, and I say, "Well, that's brilliant... but I'll just check what these other guys think; give myself maximum choice..." and then I email all the other agents saying "Ooh! Look! So-and-so wants to be my agent! What about you?" and then, oh, I dunno, maybe ten of them email me back and say...
No! Stop it, you ludicrous person! None of this stuff is going to happen! You are an idiot! Desist!
Bit I drank another can of beer, and I kept going. Right up to the point where I was auditioning literary agents within a week, and a weeek after that The Best Agent In The World had secured me the most amazing contract with The Best Publisher In The World and I lived happily ever after.
And it felt good, and some of the optimism came back. Some. Just a little.
Other nice stuff has happened, too. The woman who interviewed me for Albion Magazine has submitted her review of my other book to a magazine dedicated to "overlooked gems" published by small and indie publishers. And my blog has been chosen as a candidate for Blogsday 2007. Oh hang on a minute, apparently that happened last night. Anyone know if I was on it? I don't have speakers on this PC. I'll go listen in a bit. What else? There was something else, I'm sure...
Oh yes. Tomorrow, Manchester University Union (Oxford Rd), 5.30pm to 7pm, me and Jenny Roberts will be doing readings from our books. It's open to the public, I think. Come along. I'm doing the First Ever Reading from my new book. Which might be as public as it ever gets.
I went to Caroline's book launch last night. It was great.
The optimism's seeping back. There is Big Stuff going on in my life at the mo. I'm sworn to secrecy for now, but I'm working from home at the mo, and this morning I played great music Really Really Loud, closed my eyes and swayed to it. And it felt good. Things can feel good. And scary. But good.
Maybe things will be all right after all.
___
Labels: Miscarriage, Writing About Writing
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