I Lo-o-o-ve My Editor

That is, I love her at this moment. An hour from now I may not. But right this minute I love her almost as much—perhaps more than—my own children. Why?

Simple. She pointed out a flaw in a story.

If you haven’t been down this road, you may not immediately grasp how this is a loveable act. Bear with me.

If you follow the blog you know that several months ago I submitted a novel, and have been waiting to hear from the publisher since. The eventual answer was a very nice “No, thank you.” With rejection came insights passed on from acquisitions readers, consisting of several concrete jewels, including this bit: “the opening with descriptions of the landscape didn't grab them at all…”

That’s not earthshaking, is it? Except…the opening wasn’t about the landscape. It was meant to introduce the main character in her current role, illustrating her immediate decision-making process, in which the landscape played a part.

I think I mentioned last post that I’m not terribly analytical when it comes to writing. I can be systematically solution-oriented about every other issue on earth, but I struggle to dissect my own work. My initial response to the above was: “Huh? I can’t change that! That’s where she is; that’s what’s going on!”

So then, of course, I went into my cave, where several unrelated incidents prolonged my stay.

What do you mean, what do I mean, I went into my cave? I have a personal cave, don’t you? Of course you do. Everybody’s got a cave. It’s your haven when life is hard. Your cave is the place—physical or otherwise—where you regroup and mull it over, perhaps while outwardly pursuing mundane affairs, or conversely, neglecting myriad responsibilities while indulging in nonstop Facebook games (er-hmm).

Regardless, I went into my cave. And finally, two weeks later, between rounds of Farkle and voting for my Sorority Life sisters, I had a Eureka Moment.

“Well, duh, Rachel. If the acquisitions readers think they’re reading a landscape description instead of a character description, then you have written the introduction WRONG. You need to rewrite it so that they are drawn into a mercenary captain’s decision as to where her troop should camp, in unfamiliar territory with her possibly vengeful, supposedly immortal husband on their trail.”

Yup, that’s more than landscape description.

So I rewrote the introduction. I don’t know whether I rewrote it enough, but I certainly wrote it with clearer vision and purpose than I possessed the first time—or even through the 5,333rd edit done before the most recent submission.

See, this is why editors are good, people. Even when they tell you things you don't wanna hear. Much as I love my beta readers, they didn’t—maybe couldn’t—express this truth to me. My local writer’s group gave the story first place in their yearly competition. But three sucessive publishers have rejected it. Each gave it apparently serious consideration, which tells me there is something worthwhile in it, if I can just make it shine. Only the last publisher pointed me solidly to the flaws, giving me a better product to market elsewhere.

So, yes. I love my editor. (She is my editor for other works, if she isn’t for the one under discussion.)

You know what? While we’re analyzing, it just hit me that the character’s initial placement in the landscape is also an allegory for her position: caught between two worlds, essentially isolated…

Damn. It’s amazing what a little analysis can yield.

And now, the random question of the day (remember, I don't generate these. I just push a button and answer what comes up.):

When you've got water stuck in your ear, how do you get it out?

Um... tilt your head sideways? Do you even have a day job? No? Not surprised.

A writer's life for me

I am trying so hard to be disciplined and mature. You see, at the moment I have three different novel submissions at three different imprints, in three separate stages of the submissions game. The first is one that I just submitted a week ago. The genre is a slight departure for me, and thus the story went to an imprint I haven't dealt with before. I scrupulously tried to follow all their submission guidelines, and received a nice reply, letting me know the submissions package had been received. With no prior experience of this publisher, though, I have no feel for how long their evaluation process really takes. My best bet in the situation is to put the submission out of my mind and go on with life, forgetting about it as much as possible. "We'll know when we know and not before" is the pertinent attitude.

That's do-able. I've done it before when I had to, about all kinds of things.

The second submission was made oh, I guess a couple of weeks ago. Because it went to a company I have a prior relationship with, because it is the second series installment of a currently contracted novel (with this company) I am fairly confident of acceptance, unless I made some stupid mistake I'm not aware of, unless it somehow doesn't fit the company's needs, unless the first installment doesn't sell worth a tinker's damn...but either way, I'll know nothing for 90-120 days. And I won't query until then, either.

It's time to start working on the third installment of the series, giving myself periodic pep talks, the while.

The third submission was made eight months ago. I have queried on it twice, and am reluctant to do so a third time. The editor has been very good about answering my queries, and is very open about the company's acquisitions process. As far as I can tell , my submission must have done well so far, apparently making it most the way through the reviewing/acquiring process. The work hasn't been rejected yet--but it hasn't been accepted, either.

That's nail-biting time.

Notice that nowhere above did I say that "I" have or haven't been accepted, rejected, or published. I hear about writers who confuse their work with their self worth or identity, and about those who refer to their work as their "baby(ies)". I do my damnedest to avoid both. My babies are all grown, thank you very much, and my self worth and identity rest on other things besides one novel, or even the entire body of my work.

Regardless, I am twitching.

Oh, did I mention that I've entered two titles in the EPIC award competition? You know the one. According to the EPIC website (and a quick cast around the web bears it out) the group sponsors "one of the premier contests in the e-book and e-publishing world". Finalists from this years entries will be announced in the first two weeks of November, less than a month away.

When I was a kid, imagining my future as an author--and more recently, before I left the day job--I pictured long, intense but peaceful days at the keyboard (typewriter, for childhood daydreams. I'm dating myself, here). I conjured blissful images of pouring out story after story, with no blocks, distractions or even bodily needs to interrupt. I did not imagine myself frazzled and fretting, unable to concentrate, skittering wildly back and forth between editing, contest submission preparation (local, not EPIC), checking email, twitter and facebook in rotating succession, and scrubbing the bathroom/washing dishes/hoeing the winter garden patch--because I can do those things in tiny bites, with no ability to settle down and focus whatsoever.

I think I forgot to say that I have ADD, and I quit smoking a few months ago.

If we go a month with no further update to this blog, would someone please send paramedics to my house? They're likely to find me in a slobbering, quivering, drooling, mass, slumped over the keyboard, with a pack of cigarettes stuffed in my mouth, fingers chewed down past the first knuckle and my hair on fire for good measure.

Random question for the day:

(Seriously. This is the one that came up. I had nothing to do with the selection, other than clicking a button.)

You've written a hit musical! How will you avoid having fame go to your head?

Are you nuts? I've been waiting thirty years to let fame go to my head. See above.