Posts tagged: novel
Somewhere in your community a place will exist called a ‘Writers Group’ or ‘Script Doctors’ or ‘Syntax Surgey’ or something. They are often for writers, readers and actors to get together with a view to getting their work read, performed or scrutinised or whatever it is they do these days
Following on from my other articles about finding and agent/publisher, (based on my experience by the way, not by any means the voice of reason) this is an other area you could consider. Many agents and publishers will suggest this also. I’m not against criticism or peer-to-peer appraisals-not in theory at any rate. In these groups you will find writers from various sections of the community, with some interesting mentalities. The feedback and guidance you will find can be helpful, intelligent to the staggeringly wide of the mark variety. For most people they are a good excuse for a piss up in the pub afterwards. I’ve been to these groups before. They’re okay but generally only suited for folk who are highly strung, bordering on the insane. Yet they attract the latter by the pasty shop load. While you will come across some genuine moments of inspirational writing, there’s only so many third rate kitchen sink soap operas or (insert here what genre is trendy at the time) you can stand without willing a stroke.
With regards to feedback of your work people will be too overtly optimistic, banal or vague, for fear of causing tension.This is due down to avoiding conflict but also it’s because many writers lack confidence and security in their own work, and don’t feel somehow qualified to comment on the structure, style and general technicalities of someone else’s work. So the less secure writers will sometimes feel that they have to redraft something which ends up being a strange meld of the dominant feedback, which might not be what’s best for the work. Imagine giving Ritalin to JG Ballard or, for that matter, Prozac to Kafka. Obviously this is a bit of a silly analogy. Still writing groups are okay for ideas and meeting people. Ideas are good. There should be similar groups for builders, hairdressers, social workers, call centre workers, prostitutes and carpet fitters.
Right off for a cup of tea. Ooh, Giorgio Moroder’s ‘Rotwang’s Party’ from the widely slated musical version of Metropolis has just come on.
What you’ll find more often than not is that you can’t get a publisher unless you have an agent. I don’t have an agent so I might be screwed. But there are authors who do have an agent and they’re still screwed.
You’ll also discover, if it hasn’t been thumped into you, if you aren’t dissuaded by millions of articles and tips from publishing houses, and other public safety warnings, that publishers rarely have time to read anything, that there are tens of thousands of unpublished manuscripts clogging up their drains (if they haven’t been burned or binned, or vomited on), that even if they do get to your manuscript, if it doesn’t grab them within a couple of sentences, if that, it’ll be skimmed across the room, if it isn’t too much of an effort.
What you’re also dealing with, if the impossible does happen and you get your work read, is someone with an agenda. The agenda usually follows ‘Can we make any money from this?’, ‘Is it original?’, ‘If it isn’t original, is there a trend for this kind of crap?’ Although this seems cynical and harsh you can, to some extent, understand it if you consider how many loonies are out there in the world, sending poor Barbara Cartland-esque novels in to any old publisher, thousands of sub-Terry Pratchett, thousands of gothic horrors about teen vampires, thousands upon thousands of books about aspirational young women who love shagging. There’s no end to it. If you don’t believe me just join a local writers group, open mic poetry night or something and try work out the lame ducks for yourself. It also doesn’t help that many of them won’t have heard of a dictionary or even a word processor, or that they won’t pay the correct postage and wonder why they haven’t heard anything for 15 years.
Some advice you may get in the Writers and Artists Yearbook is to get other people to read your manuscript and get their honest opinions, because somehow it will reflect the real reading experience. While this might sound dandy and reasonable it’s not always a good idea. Only YOU know the work more than anyone. Although it’s good to distance yourself and get some outside ideas, YOU will be able to take on board the constructive stuff. Also other readers may be too close to you. Familiy and friends as readers is not a good idea.
Because;
1.They’ll either love it unreservedly
2.They’ll hate it unreservedly.
3.They won’t be arsed reading it.
4.They’ll love it unreservedly to your face (but hate the book and you in secret)
5. They’ll be indifferent
6.They’ll lose it.
7. If they love it enough they may nick it.
Having said that, my girl, is often brutally direct about what she loves and doesn’t love about my work. Anything I disagree with I will defend but after having a think about it, will often come to the same conclusions. In fact if there’s a mistake in this post, a typo or something she’ll let me know.
You might also be tempted to buy or borrow books which try and teach you how to be a writer. These are often cons. I won’t claim for a minute that my experience and opinion on this will get you published. It probably won’t. Such books, often by bitter, failed writers who teach minor modules at Uni, or run night courses, will have tips, will promise the world, will state the obvious and attempt make money from your lack of confidence, from you not actually getting published. There’s tons of books like this, tons of adverts which ask ‘Why not become a writer?’ as if any jerk could do it. Yep, you can teach certain formulas, techniques, styles and structure but you can’t teach imagination. So yes, be original, but be aware that being original or different or techically fantastic might not actually be marketable. Actually being original is not thinking of writing something that’s never been written about because every conceivable subject has been. It just means to really, really, honestly or dishonestly emphaise that special thing that makes you, you. That’s your voice, your style, your tone, your hang up’s, your quirks…That can be difficult if you’re a carbon copy of everyone else, watch the same things, do the same things, go to the same places on holiday, have the same opinions…again, all very difficult in this post-modern day and age. But you know what I mean. You should still have an outlook based on your own experiences, background and observations. This waffling is important as it will inform your writing and perhaps crucially it could be that 1% that gets your manuscript read, rather than filed under ‘Boring. Cliched. Drivel. This writer is a cunt.’ Think like a publisher. To an extent.
The best thing would be to not bother. Don’t waste your time. Get a real job. Seriously no-one is interested unless it’s gonna make them loads of cash. You will have more chance entering writing competitions (some of which are still entered by established authors) or writing for Porn magazines (The latter which is someting I’ve considered.) Wait a minute, I don’t want to leave you feeling negative and worthless. There are ways to get your work read, like blogs, publishing your work as an ebook and getting out there, writers groups, etc. But they have their own problems. Which I’ll write about later.
Right now I’m fucked off because Virgin Media are hopeless. This blog will have to be copy and pasted at a later date because Virgin Media have no idea how to solve connection problems, let alone know how they are caused. I’ve called them three times, had the indignity of having to get down on my knees to connect, disconnect wires, check modem lighting, plug it back in, book an engineer, cancel an engineer because it seemed to work again and now the engineer has been cancelled, this fucking thing, fucks up again.
By the bridge, where I slapped Marie, is a church. It’s like a church but not a proper one like the church round the corner from our house near the paper shop. Every Sunday you can hear an angry voice shouting at everyone, really shouting. I looked in once to see what was happening and I saw this black man stood at the front shouting things at everyone. The voice is so loud and scary. But for some reason everyone always ends up singing afterwards and they sound happy. One Sunday I saw my friend Marc DeCosta there. He told me that he goes to Sunday school. I don’t know why anyone would want to go to school on Sunday when they don’t have to.
One afternoon when I was coming out from school once there were friendly people giving out posters and badges which said ‘Hi there, be there!’ It sounded like a weekly youth club where there was fun and games and a disco, so I asked my mum if I could go. She wasn’t sure at first but after she said it was okay. It was at that church near the bridge where I slapped Marie.
When I went into the hall I was given a badge which said ‘Hi there, be there,’ on it. Inside there was a stage and some people at the front with guitars and a projection screen with words on it. There were a lot of kids there and the friendly people were sitting at the front wearing bright-coloured t-shirts. ‘Hi there!’ they called out. At first they said how important families were and how they always forgave us no matter what we did. This made me feel good about myself because I often wondered why my family are miserable. Then the friendly people played some songs on their guitars and we joined in with the chorus on the screen, clapping our hands. Everyone seemed to enjoy it, and we sang along. Everyone was smiling. The adults sounded like they were from America. I liked this because sometimes I imagined that Bristol was America. They’d shout ‘Hi there!’ and we’d reply ‘Be there!’ After some more songs and some fizzy drinks they played us a film on the screen, but it wasn’t like a real film but slides but we could hear the sound of the people in the film talking. The film was about a dad and his son. The dad told his son that it was time for bed and he had to go to his room. When the dad went upstairs to check the boy was playing games in his room. His dad told him to turn the light off, but his son said that his dad only told him to go to his room. He didn’t tell him anything about turning the light off. I thought that was funny, and we were laughing. His dad shouted at him and he had to turn the light off, but the boy got angry and said that it wasn’t fair and he wasn’t allowed to do anything. So the boy said he was going to move out and took his tent into the yard. He took some food with him and went outside. When it was dark the boy got scared and put the torch on and took out some food but he needed a can opener. When he went to the kitchen it was locked so he went back in the tent. But it was cold in the tent and he was getting scared and hungry. The boy went to sleep, and moaned about his dad. When he woke up he found that he had an extra blanket on him and a can opener. He thought his dad wasn’t so bad after all. He had only tried to look after him. When he went back inside his dad was cooking breakfast and they said sorry to each other. His dad said it was okay but he had to understand that his dad cared about his welfare. He asked his son if he wanted a ‘cowboy breakfast’. (I wonder what a cowboy breakfast is.) If that was me, my mum and dad would be right cheesed off. When we lived with my dad if I was late home after playing out I’d get a clip round the ear and sent to bed without anything to eat or drink. They never worried about me. I’d run away if I knew they’d worry but they’d only get angry and hit me and send me to bed early while everyone else stayed out. When we lived with my dad I was sent to bed early loads of times. Even straight after school. I didn’t like it when it happened in summer because it was still light outside and my friends would call for me and my mum or dad would shout at them and say ‘He’s not coming out until further notice.’ So I would look out of my bedroom window at the kids playing outside and wish I was playing with them. No-one else ever got sent to bed early or hit. That’s why I wished I had a different dad because when he went out to the pub at night I could get up and have something to eat and watch Hammer House of Horror or The Sweeny or Tales of the Unexpected.
I didn’t go to ‘Hi there, be there!’ again because my mum and grandma didn’t think it was a good idea. I told them that there was nothing wrong, everyone was nice and we all sang songs but my granddad said I should listen to my mum. They don’t tell you anything older people. They’re boring and grumpy. I think it’s because they are jealous.
…my progress of getting, by hook or by crook, this novel into one format or another. It’s been written, re-written, re-worked, lost, torn, burned, redrafted and gone through many facelifts since it’s original short story back in 1994. (I’ve mentioned all of that stuff on here of course, scroll back. It’s illuminating. ) It’ll be published one way or another, even if I place this thing here. So do scroll down and find out more information about the process. I did start this thing last year. (True) Had alopecia for a while. ( Also True) At the moment the book has almost been finished/edited/proofed. Then it’s onto the next thing, which i’m about a third through.
If you have a ‘tumblr’ feel free to follow and I’ll follow back. Unless you’re one of those spammers who look like a a model and bang on about sales figures and things.
So. Yep. Hello.
I’ve been going through the novel again, clarifying parts, adding new scenes and generally checking the spelling and grammar. It would help me greatly if I didn’t keep procrastinating in between. Still, it’s going well, and I’m already keeping my eye out for agents and publishers. I’ll be blogging my thoughts on this process soon. You don’t want to really read about how the walls in the hallway and landing have been scraped and prepared for a new coat of paint, or how I failed to get a better deal on the Virgin Media package we have, because we already get XL phone and M TV package, and it’s pointess because we don’t use the landline that much and the M TV package is basically Freeview and NOT a service Virgin Media should be offering as part of their bundle. No, you won’t benefit from any of this information. Neither do you want to read about my attempts to get some other short stories published or about my sending a CV for a job.
The above picture is of a quirky market in Rotterdam. You should see the inside. (Maybe Jan’s stall is located there?) Now I don’t know about you but I have a Poole’s (of Wigan) pie to be getting on with. Bye.
