April Fool
John Rickards has quite the best 'gotcha' moment I've seen today and I'm not even going to try and beat that. No, this is more of a reflection on thoughts had whilst walking the dogs and sparked off by an earlier moan.
I've been unenthusiastic about things writerly for a while now and it's taken a little soul-searching to try and tease out why. Basically it comes down to a lack of success, but the reasons for that lack are not what you might think.
A little history. I have to date written six novels and a travel book. The first novel, Running Away, I threw at the publishing/agenting business with all the enthusiasm and naivete of youth. I almost made it, too, but ran up against the crushing blow of the vanity agent.
The second novel was a millennial thing, based around the second coming of Christ and basically working out all my religious upbringing angst. It didn't light any publishing fires and is now slightly dated by it being five years on since the turn of the century. I've got a re-write planned based around the joke that the Christ character is always late for meetings, parties and so on, so why not his second coming? But it's not as funny as it was meant to be, so will probably never see the light of day.
The third novel was me trying to be gritty and realistic, in a magical realism kind of way. I batted it back and forth, rewriting and reshaping it. I even bunged it off to a few agents to see if any would bite, but no joy. The whole thing was based around conspiracy theories and it ended with a big fight scene in Roslin Chapel (I lived about four hundred yards away at the time). Dan Brown has a lot to answer for.
And so to novels four, five and six, all written since moving to Wales in January 2000. There is The Ballad of Sir Benfro, currently two parts of a four part fantasy epic of dragons and magic and sheep. And there is Abundance, an SF novel based on a short story I wrote for Mr Stuart some years ago. None of these books has been seen by anyone other than myself or Stuart.
Somewhere along the line, I forgot to keep submitting stuff. I have nothing out there being looked at or considered (or rejected).
And that, I think, is the nub of the problem. I love writing. I love to create strange worlds, invent realistic characters and set them off to see what happens. I even love doing what I'm doing with Sir Benfro Book Two at the moment, which is struggling with a major rewrite to try and force some order on my chaotic writing process. I love living in my own head.
It's the real world I can't cope with, so I've been avoiding it. For about five years.
And that's where the enthusiasm leak has sprung. I've slowly come to the conclusion that I'm going about things completely the wrong way. I should concentrate on one novel and sell, sell, sell until some mad fool takes me on. That's the only way I'll get vindication (I used to want loads of cash, but I'll settle for a little recognition now).
So who's the April Fool? The blogger who thinks Rickards has a problem with his drug intake, or the sad bugger who's so scared of rejection he can't even submit anymore?
I never said it would be cheery ;}#
I've been unenthusiastic about things writerly for a while now and it's taken a little soul-searching to try and tease out why. Basically it comes down to a lack of success, but the reasons for that lack are not what you might think.
A little history. I have to date written six novels and a travel book. The first novel, Running Away, I threw at the publishing/agenting business with all the enthusiasm and naivete of youth. I almost made it, too, but ran up against the crushing blow of the vanity agent.
The second novel was a millennial thing, based around the second coming of Christ and basically working out all my religious upbringing angst. It didn't light any publishing fires and is now slightly dated by it being five years on since the turn of the century. I've got a re-write planned based around the joke that the Christ character is always late for meetings, parties and so on, so why not his second coming? But it's not as funny as it was meant to be, so will probably never see the light of day.
The third novel was me trying to be gritty and realistic, in a magical realism kind of way. I batted it back and forth, rewriting and reshaping it. I even bunged it off to a few agents to see if any would bite, but no joy. The whole thing was based around conspiracy theories and it ended with a big fight scene in Roslin Chapel (I lived about four hundred yards away at the time). Dan Brown has a lot to answer for.
And so to novels four, five and six, all written since moving to Wales in January 2000. There is The Ballad of Sir Benfro, currently two parts of a four part fantasy epic of dragons and magic and sheep. And there is Abundance, an SF novel based on a short story I wrote for Mr Stuart some years ago. None of these books has been seen by anyone other than myself or Stuart.
Somewhere along the line, I forgot to keep submitting stuff. I have nothing out there being looked at or considered (or rejected).
And that, I think, is the nub of the problem. I love writing. I love to create strange worlds, invent realistic characters and set them off to see what happens. I even love doing what I'm doing with Sir Benfro Book Two at the moment, which is struggling with a major rewrite to try and force some order on my chaotic writing process. I love living in my own head.
It's the real world I can't cope with, so I've been avoiding it. For about five years.
And that's where the enthusiasm leak has sprung. I've slowly come to the conclusion that I'm going about things completely the wrong way. I should concentrate on one novel and sell, sell, sell until some mad fool takes me on. That's the only way I'll get vindication (I used to want loads of cash, but I'll settle for a little recognition now).
So who's the April Fool? The blogger who thinks Rickards has a problem with his drug intake, or the sad bugger who's so scared of rejection he can't even submit anymore?
I never said it would be cheery ;}#
Comments
Might you not be better off writing four new, different books and trying to sell them, rather than continuing on with your series? After all, if you sell something else, you can always come back to Dragons and Magic and (shudder) Sheep once you've made your name.
And I still maintain that 'Head' (this is the gritty realistic one James mentions for those not in the know) was a great book.
As to Head - I too like it (well I would), but no-one in the publishing industry seemed to agree with us. Now Dan Brown's done the whole things with Roslin Chapel, I don't suppose anyone would look at it. Mind you, I haven't read the DaVinci Code, I'm just told it all ends up in Roslin, so maybe I'm worrying myself about nothing.
And if anyone else wants to see how I do gritty and realistic, Head is avaiable here or at least a free sample chapter is. If you want to read the whole thing you'll have to buy it ;}#