When I first started writing, I honestly had doubts about my chances of publication. Scratch that! The word “doubt” doesn’t even begin to describe the state of my despair. “How many times do I need to revise this friggin’ story before it’s good enough to get an agent and publisher?” (Cue <sobs>, <moans>, and hair tearing.) “I’ll never finish writing this novel!” I’d reached a writer’s “Never” land.
This sense of feeling trapped in a never-gonna-happen emotional state (while still desperately wanting to be published) is a common affliction of writers. Family and friends, or an instructor, have assured us we’re good writers with a story to tell. “OMG! You should write a book about that!” Or we just know in our heart of hearts that this is what we want to do. What we’ve always wanted to do. And yet…we’re painfully aware of the competition and other challenges authors face in the frenetic world of publishing. You may have already received rejections from submissions. Rejection (or even just the fear of rejection) can be paralyzing.
After a while, the fear of failure does a mash up with our growing fatigue. (Writing a novel, memoir or other book-length work is truly exhausting!) We then do one of two things. We either give up and shove the manuscript into a closet—never to be seen again. Or, we submit it, as is—doubts aside (often valid doubts)—to any literary agent or publisher who vaguely expresses interest. One way or the other—we’ve set ourselves up for rejection. We’re in Neverland. Never to be published. Just as we’d feared. Sigh.
Well, I’ve been there. So, I know how this feels. But I have
one advantage. I once had a nun for a boss.
“Huh?” you say.
If you’ve never been hired by a Catholic nun (in my case, to teach second grade in a parochial school), you probably don’t get it. Let me just say this: you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone more dedicated, determined and just plain bone-headed about getting things done. Furthermore, this particular nun expected every one of her lay teachers to be just as persistent in working toward a successful completion of their duties. Failure was not an option.
Sister Mary Louise Innocent (name changed to protect…well, me!) had a favorite saying. “You stick to your plan…until it doesn’t work. Then you need to try something different.” Sister Mary Louise never accepted failure. And, by golly, you’d better not either.
In other words, you shift gears. You get creative. Make a new plan, Stan. Slip out the back, Jack! (Apologies to Paul Simon. Got carried away there.) The point is, if something you’re trying to do hasn’t worked after a few attempts—you must go at it from a new direction. Don’t keep repeating an action that fails to deliver the result you want.
What does this have to do with writing? Possibly your writing?
A lot, as it turns out.
One of the most frequently asked questions I get at writers’ conferences, seminars, and in the classes I teach is: How can I know when I’m done? How many revisions must I do? (The answer: As many as it takes.)
Or, this variation: How long do I need to continue submitting to agents before I should just call it quits? (Answer: Until you find the agent who truly “gets” you and loves your story.)
But the question you should really be asking yourself is: How much does being a writer mean to me?
If writing stories (or one particular story) is as important as anything you’ve ever wanted to do. If seeing your work out in the world, to be enjoyed by others, makes your heart sing—and you’re not seeing the results you want (e.g., a publishing contract)—you must do something different. How different?
That depends. Maybe you haven’t dared breathe a word to the world of your attempts to write a novel. It feels too private. Then, you might need to let a few carefully chosen, trusted readers peruse your manuscript for the suggestions they can offer.
Or, you might need to step away long enough to take a one-day (or five-week?) class on characterization, plotting, or as a refresher about the specific genre you’re aiming for. Join a critique group or writer’s salon. Consult a professional developmental editor. Partner up with another writer and swap manuscripts to catch each other’s weaknesses. By gathering new insight into what you’re trying to accomplish with your writing, you may suddenly discover flaws you didn’t know existed. Once you recognize a problem, you have a good chance of correcting it.
Maybe the story you thought was one thing, actually is another. If what you’re calling a thriller is closer to a suspenseful literary novel—no wonder agents are confused by your submission. Is the concept for the children’s book you planned more suitable for young-adult readers? Then, successfully marketing it will likely require extensive revision. Maybe your romance isn’t very romantic? Or your sci-fi adventure borrows too heavily from other recent novels or movies. Grammar errors or spelling slips that you don’t see may appear as obvious to your critical reader. These are things you need to know, and deal with, if you’re to snag the attention of those in the business who have the power to publish you.
A Macmillan senior editor once shared her insight at a conference. She told me that new writers often seem to think they must sell their first attempt at a novel, before moving on to another story. But if they do write a next story, it is almost always within the same genre, or with the same (or similar) cast of characters. She often encouraged these authors to try a variety of genres and story styles, really mix it up, rather than specializing too soon.
“You just don’t know yet—what you’ll be really good at,” she pointed out. “The only way to find out is by experimenting.”
So, don’t wallow in Neverland. You can and will find a way to get your stories into the hands of readers. But you must be persistent. You may need a new strategy, or just a fresh look at that work-in-progress. Mere talent isn’t enough. In fact, persistence often trumps talent in the publishing world. Those of us who hang in there are the ones who make it.
Do the work. If you need to take a scythe to a manuscript and whack off 30,000 words, do it. If eight revisions aren’t enough, do another five. If getting the book to be the best it can be means reaching out for feedback—either from friends or a professional reader/coach—go for it. Gather information then take the gems that are useful and discard suggestions that don’t sync with your vision of the story. Trust yourself to make the big decisions. Like what you choose to write about and how your writer’s voice will sound to readers. Trust, too, that you’ll get to published. You’re a writer with something important to say!