“I know it when I see it”

One of the questions I’ve seen floating around blogs and #askagent sessions is how you know when it’s time to put a manuscript on hold.  The answer, it turns out, is rather like Justice Stewart’s definition of pornography:  you’ll know it when you see it.

After 3 contests, several requests for fulls, and a little bit over a year of querying, with no offers of representation, I’ve decided to put Pomegranate House on hold.  The fact that this doesn’t seem like a tough decision at all is part of what’s convinced me it’s time to do so.

The feedback I’ve gotten has been remarkably uniform, almost always along the lines of “I love your writing, but I’m not connecting with this piece.”  Several agents have mentioned they’d like to see my next novel, once it’s ready.  My takeaway  is that I could keep trying working on this one, keep trying to coax it into something the market finds palatable – or I can work on the next thing.

I’m choosing the next thing.

I’ve got a novel in progress that I’m super excited about.  It’s set in the near future.  Bronwyn, the heroine, used to be the First Lady, but now operates a stop on the Railroad, an underground network that smuggles dissidents and members of the Resistance out of the former U.S.  Then there’s the coming-of-age story I want to write, the one that chronicles three generations – son, mother, and grandmother – as each one leaves home and sets off across the country.   I also have a story tickling the back of my mind about a teenager who goes to visit an uncle on a dig in northern Iraq and gets pulled into the Persian empire.  (That one’s going to take some serious research.)  And if I ever get time, there’s a summer camp novel I’ve been wanting to write…

And who knows.  Maybe, after I’ve written a few more books, I’ll take Stephanie out again and find her a home.

“Plans”

It’s been a hell of a year.   I found two critique partners, both of whom I’m incredibly lucky to have.  I’ve found a writing mentor whose life seems to be on a track strangely similar to my own.  And while I finished the first draft of a new novel, the one I thought was finished for sure is back in revision-land.  Oh, and did I mention that my husband and I moved four times in four months?

I’m finally starting to feel like a working writer rather than a dabbler.  In that vein, here’s what I’d like to get done over the next year:

  • Revise Pomegranate Seeds by Jan 25, in time for PitchWars.  I’m still not convinced that this is possible, but Suzanne has assured me that it is.  Since she had the wisdom to pick my novel out of the slush, I’m going to go ahead and believe her on this one.
  • Apply to Clarion West.  Because Neil Gaiman is teaching this year.  And because, Clarion.  Plus, it will force me to put together a pitch and synopsis for Railroad.
  • Speaking of which, revise Railroad and start submitting it to agents.  I figure it’s got one major revision and one round of line edits before it’s ready.  Realistically, that means it probably won’t go out until fall of next year, or perhaps as a Baker’s Dozen debut.
  • I’d also like to write and submit a few short pieces.  I’m not entirely sure where the time for this is going to come from, but one of the things I really like about short fiction is the ability to try out something different.  Of course, submitting short fiction will mean needing to read short fiction will mean even more short story magazines on my Kindle that I keep meaning to read when I have a few minutes…

And that’s it.  I’m not going to worry about getting an agent, or selling a novel, or getting published.  Instead I’m going to write, and keep writing, and talk to writers, and critique other people’s work, and listen to what other people have to say about my work, and write, and keep writing.

“Brace Yourself”

I’ve been slowly coming to the inevitable conclusion that I’m going to have to revise Pomegranate Seeds (again!) if I want it to sell.

Here are the cold, hard stats:

  • 8 form rejections
  • 1 closed query (no response after a follow up email and 5 months)
  • 1 rejection with feedback that opening was too quiet
  • 2 contests “wins” with ultimate rejections (one cited voice; the other said it was a little “flat”)
  • 1 request for a full with a pass (too many fairy tale retellings on the market)
  • 1 open request for a full
  • 2 open queries
  • 1 pending contest (PitchWars)

Counting the PitchWars agents who haven’t seen this yet, that’s about 20 agents.  Now, we’ve all heard the stories about writers who went through numerous rejections before hearing yes on the 21st, or 51st, or 99th query.  We’ve also heard the stories about writers who self published after being rejected by the publishing world and went on to sell over a million copies on Amazon.

This isn’t that book.

Kids, when I wrote this, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.  I’d written a handful of short stories in college, and a NaNo project the previous year (it’s since been locked in a drawer for its own protection).  Now that I’ve finished a draft of a novel that was plotted and outlined and beat-sheeted (hat tip to Authoress), I understand so much more about how a novel works.  Enough to know that while Pomegranate Seeds isn’t irreparably broken, it could definitely use an overhaul.

All of which is leading me to the point where I need to make a pretty difficult decision.  Do I put Pomegranate Seeds back in the drawer? Or do I take a deep breath, get out my notebook and pen, and begin to quietly murder my darling?

War is Hell

About two or three weeks ago, I came across something called #PitchWars, a multi-part writing contest.  First, you submit your query letter and the first 5 pages of your novel to a “mentor” (generally a newly published or aspiring to be published writer).  Second, the mentors each pick one person and work on polishing that person’s 3 sentence pitch and the first 250 words of their novel.  Finally, toward the end of January, the pitches go live on Brenda Drake’s blog for a bunch of agents to request fight over.

I entered Pomegranate Seeds but wasn’t sure what to expect.  A huge chunk of the mentors were looking for kid lit; the ones that were looking for Adult didn’t seem as interested in women’s fic.  I was cautiously ecstatic when one of the mentors asked me to send her the first fifty pages.  I was floored to see my name on the page announcing the teams.

The mentor who picked me is Suzanne Palmieri, a new writer whose first books will come out next year.  We emailed back and forth a bit, I checked out her blog and twitter feed, she probably checked out mine, and I agreed to work with her.  From what she wrote yesterday,  it sounds like she’s already got some ideas for revisions.

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.  On the one hand, I could really use some good, honest feedback on what does and doesn’t work in the story.  On the other… this is my baby!  The novel I spent six years writing.  The first novel I finished.  And while I want people to like my baby as she is, the writer in me wants this to be the best book possible.

The next few weeks are going to be very, very interesting.

“Tell me on a Sunday”

Another Sunday afternoon alone in the apartment.  I finished up the first draft of a new story, a short about the Wild Hunt, that I’m rather pleased with.  After spending the past five months on the same novel, it’s nice to be able to bang out a whole draft of something in a few hours.  My writing plan for the rest of the year is to focus on getting some good drafts of short fiction done, things I can polish up and start sending out to magazines after the new year.  There’s also a secret plan involving the new novel, but I don’t want to say anything for fear of jinxing it.

I’m also planning on entering a couple of year end pitch contests.  Pitches, by the way, are so not my thing.  I’ve had an inordinate amount of trouble trying to get the description of Pomegranate Seeds into something resembling pitch length.  Either it ends up sounding like a romance, which it is definitely NOT, or my antagonist comes off as a total douchebag (he’s NOT), or it sounds so generic as to be unreadable.

Back when I was still doing choir and theatre, one of my favorite teachers used to tell us that what mattered about an audition was the process, not the result.  My sixteen-year-old self thought that was the kind of bullshit teachers say to make kids feel better.  Now, after two contests, three major revisions of my query letter, and more rejections than I care to think about, I get it.

I’m viewing the pitch contests not as an end, but as a step along the way.  Here’s what I’m hoping to get out of them, in this order.  A good, solid pitch for Pomegranate seeds that I can use when people ask what my novel is about.  A few more writers to follow on Twitter and possibly connect with.  A few agents to query that I might not otherwise have considered.  And, possibly, maybe, if I’m really, really lucky, some interest in my manuscript.