Periodically one's writing is a source of despair. Viewed rationally this despair is no more real than one's feelings of delight in one's work. The work is as it is, nothing has changed (apart from a little light proof reading) but one's whole attitude to it is changed.
Last week, the publishing marketing guy took on the task of giving me a one-line pitch for The Malice of Fairies. We exchanged a couple of emails, and then he was delayed by his other work...so I felt low again. I think it's really hard to do a one-line pitch for the book. I've had this discussion with T and I know the theory behind the one line pitch, but getting the feel of TMoF into a sentence is crazy. The marketing man agrees with his ex-wife that TMoF is a title that will not work... A lot of people like it - they say it's intriguing, they sense an opposition between Malice and Fairies... they say they'd pick it up... I'd be sorry to lose the title, the suggested alternatives "The Stolen Child" "The Road through the Woods" "Hashtag Lost Girl" don't really do it for me...I'm usually good at titles...
Another point is that the number of agents who have turned me down in the UK is still only about 20 (including the madwoman mentioned in the previous post, who seemed to think it was horror). I haven't submitted it anywhere recently, I am waiting for the guru to pronounce. Yet somehow I feel as if I have no where left to turn. But there are about 79 agents who might be interested. And things can happen, but over all, since the edit in the spring I have felt increasingly unwilling to write, unwilling to engage, unwilling to believe that anything will happen. Apparently visualising (ie daydreaming) about your future success is not as helpful to creating actual success as having sensible expectations based on previous experiences. A lot of my previous experiences are so long ago I cannot quite tell what I should expect on the basis of them. I got sacked from several jobs - but I can't see how that fits with the future success of this or any other novel.
So, at present, I am seriously considering giving up writing. Been there, done it, failed. I have devoted the best part of 7.5 years to this - to say nothing of all the abortive novels and ideas pursued since my late teens. I have nothing to show for it financially. People admire my tenacity - but I am increasingly wondering if I am barking up the wrong tree. The emotions I feel are similar to those I felt when I abandoned the idea of becoming a priest. An intense disbelief that something I had pursued so ardently and with considerable work and energy and felt was the right thing to pursue, turned out to have no future. Something that meant everything for me had to be abandoned, at that time, when I prayed about what I should do next, I heard the word Writing. It took a while to get up to speed, but finally I did, and now it doesn't seem to be the answer either. T has been very staunch and saying "the darkest hour is before the dawn" etc., but I really feel this must be one of the longest hours before dawn ever...I am glad I don't do Tarot cards any more - I suspect I would endlessly be getting that card, I think it's the 3 of Swords, which means "the false down, disappointment, despair". That seems to sum it up when I feel at my worst just now.
So the plan is this: inundate agents with the book, then give up and self-publish. The only question I have is whether to go to the Festival of Writing and see if I can hook an agent there. It's £400, which would make TMoF the costliest book ever. Will I ever get back all that money?
Last week, the publishing marketing guy took on the task of giving me a one-line pitch for The Malice of Fairies. We exchanged a couple of emails, and then he was delayed by his other work...so I felt low again. I think it's really hard to do a one-line pitch for the book. I've had this discussion with T and I know the theory behind the one line pitch, but getting the feel of TMoF into a sentence is crazy. The marketing man agrees with his ex-wife that TMoF is a title that will not work... A lot of people like it - they say it's intriguing, they sense an opposition between Malice and Fairies... they say they'd pick it up... I'd be sorry to lose the title, the suggested alternatives "The Stolen Child" "The Road through the Woods" "Hashtag Lost Girl" don't really do it for me...I'm usually good at titles...
Another point is that the number of agents who have turned me down in the UK is still only about 20 (including the madwoman mentioned in the previous post, who seemed to think it was horror). I haven't submitted it anywhere recently, I am waiting for the guru to pronounce. Yet somehow I feel as if I have no where left to turn. But there are about 79 agents who might be interested. And things can happen, but over all, since the edit in the spring I have felt increasingly unwilling to write, unwilling to engage, unwilling to believe that anything will happen. Apparently visualising (ie daydreaming) about your future success is not as helpful to creating actual success as having sensible expectations based on previous experiences. A lot of my previous experiences are so long ago I cannot quite tell what I should expect on the basis of them. I got sacked from several jobs - but I can't see how that fits with the future success of this or any other novel.
So, at present, I am seriously considering giving up writing. Been there, done it, failed. I have devoted the best part of 7.5 years to this - to say nothing of all the abortive novels and ideas pursued since my late teens. I have nothing to show for it financially. People admire my tenacity - but I am increasingly wondering if I am barking up the wrong tree. The emotions I feel are similar to those I felt when I abandoned the idea of becoming a priest. An intense disbelief that something I had pursued so ardently and with considerable work and energy and felt was the right thing to pursue, turned out to have no future. Something that meant everything for me had to be abandoned, at that time, when I prayed about what I should do next, I heard the word Writing. It took a while to get up to speed, but finally I did, and now it doesn't seem to be the answer either. T has been very staunch and saying "the darkest hour is before the dawn" etc., but I really feel this must be one of the longest hours before dawn ever...I am glad I don't do Tarot cards any more - I suspect I would endlessly be getting that card, I think it's the 3 of Swords, which means "the false down, disappointment, despair". That seems to sum it up when I feel at my worst just now.So the plan is this: inundate agents with the book, then give up and self-publish. The only question I have is whether to go to the Festival of Writing and see if I can hook an agent there. It's £400, which would make TMoF the costliest book ever. Will I ever get back all that money?
