Dancing Naked in the Cemetery: When Fiction is Perceived as Fact

by Brenda Remmes

I have the unique joy of being able to trace my family heritage back to the early 1700s.  The tomb stones of many of those relatives are placed behind an historical country church established in 1759 less than two miles from where I live today.  Consequently, I’m not just talking about tracing on a genealogical site, I’m talking about walking up to their grave and saying out loud… “See here, right here I stand.  The fruit of your loins 200 years down the road, and counting.” 

Fortunately, I have a family that not only remained local, but also believed in education and schooled their children to write extensively.  It’s in my genes.  As icing on the cake, someone had enough insight to save their letters and pack them in a crate for me to open 150 years later.  Those letters have been great fodder for my imagination. 

Imagination is the key word here.  Predominantly, I write fiction, so I juice things up a bit.  I play around with names and take a bit of one person’s history to combine with another.  I create places of intrigue and there’s nothing more fun than ghosts and spirits and sounds in the night.  To put all of that in a grave yard, well, the combination is irresistible.

Herein lies the problem.  The embellishment of these stories by me and others over the years has become viral, and with the onslaught of tweet and twitter and all these nasty little messenger devices, the church sees more action at night than during the day.  The congregation only meets every other week for one hour.  The cemetery is busy from midnight to dawn.  Our surveillance cameras caught a bevy of not-so-tantalizing beauties dancing in the nude last weekend.  It was hard to identify them because they didn’t have any clothes on but their bare breasted frolic would have been more pleasing had more been hidden.  Just my personal opinion, of course.

Do I care?  I didn’t used to.  Get your jollies by tiptoeing around graves under a full moon or pretending that some ghost appears to reclaim his golden arm at the stroke of midnight.  What I care about is that frivolity is turning more often to vandalism and we pick up beer cans, liquor bottles and broken glass on a regular basis.  Our “no trespassing after dark” signs are ignored and the security camera and lights are destroyed.  Recently, church windows were broken.  Last night I ventured out and confronted six more young people at midnight.  Really, midnight is long past my bedtime.  I don’t like doing this, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to start prosecuting for trespassing in order to close the flood gates.  And yes, we already have a gate that stops no one.

I write this because this senseless destruction has made me rethink my own writing.  What have I written that people actually believe is true? I used to think that was the height of a good writer, to be so convincing that your reader confused fiction with reality.   I’m having second thoughts, especially now that tweeting appears to be able to broadcast tidbits of misinformation to thousands within seconds, without anyone having read the book.

I’m open for suggestions.  

So you found an agent? Yay! Welcome to hell.

So, you’ve found an agent! Good job! Stop reading now, and come back when the euphoria passes.

[Author’s note: As with much of what I have to say about publishing, please bear in mind that at this point my sample size = 1. This means that my experience could ultimately resemble yours, but it could also be wildly different. With any luck, you’re the next Stephanie Meyer.]

Hey, welcome back! Okay, now that you’ve come back to earth, you’ve probably figured out that while finding an agent is quite an accomplishment (not to mention a necessary first step), it isn’t the end of the road; in fact, it’s just the start, and the agony of waiting is about to get much, much  worse. Not only are you contemplating the prospect of getting published, you might even be paid for it!

Remember when you said, “I’m not writing for the money.”? Well, now you are, and unless you are made of sterner (or more ascetic) stuff than I, the dollar signs will start dancing before your eyes very soon. (For awesome blog posts about advances, go here and here.)

The process of finding a publisher can move at the speed of light, or at a glacial pace. The catch is that even when things move at the speed of light, they feel glacial. The time between when your agent sends your book to editors and you finally hear from them is going to be one of the longest you’ve ever experienced. You will come to think of hours as days, and days as months. Your average weekend will last an eon.

Once your agent gets your manuscript, she will send it out to editors. There are different schools of thought on how widely to send a manuscript. If an agent is not entirely sure that the book will sell, she might test the waters by sending it to a few publishers to see what they say. The thinking here is that if everyone comes back with a resounding “Not just no, but Hell No!”, you can revise the book and resubmit elsewhere.

The worst fate that can befall your book at this point is for your agent to submit a book that is not yet ready to lots of publishers; if the book doesn’t sell you you’ll have burned a lot of bridges. Be sure to talk with your agent about the number and kind of presses where she will send your work, and ask her to explain why she is using that strategy. In my case, Josh thought my MS was more or less ready to go, and sent it to about a dozen presses in all.

Once your agent sends out the MS, the best thing you can do (other than go for a long trip away from any sort of communication device, to include carrier pigeons) is try to manage your expectations. While amounts a press will offer vary, they tend to be pretty low (or at least lower then you probably want!) for first time authors.

If my experience is typical (again, keep the sample size in mind), your agent will send your MS to editors who like the kind of fiction you write, and as a result you will receive a lot of positive feedback right off the bat. If an editor loves your book, he will “get additional reads” from other editors and then take it to the editorial/acquisitions board. The editors goal is to build a wave of support behind the book even before the board meets. Cue the dancing dollar signs.

Here is where the trouble starts. Publishers are risk-averse these days, and many of these secondary readers will look for reasons not to publish your book. To make matters worse, the process is incredibly subjective, so virtually any reason to reject a book is good enough. Among the reasons I received were:

• Set too far in the past. Readers want their historical fiction more recent than the 1600s. Yes, tell that to Hilary Mantel.
• The suits up in marketing couldn’t decide if it was a mystery or women’s fiction.
• Too much mystery, not enough midwifery.
• Too much midwifery, not enough mystery.
• Too commercial.
• Not commercial enough.

(Yes, for every editor who thought there was too much [fill in the blank] there was another who thought there was too little. That’s the nature of the beast.)

The point is that the initial interest is not necessarily indicative of a forthcoming offer to buy the book.

But once you receive that offer, the fun begins, because – the waiting isn’t over.

Sam Thomas is the author of The Midwife's Tale coming soon from Minotaur/St.Martin's. You can learn more at his website, like him on Facebook (or in a coffee shop if you run into him there), and follow him on Twitter.

I Think It's Love

By Julie Kibler

Happy Valentine's Day!

Getting the call from an agent offering representation is kind of like signing up with the perfect obstetrician or midwife (or, this is a stretch, but since it's Valentine's Day … perfect partner in this baby making business?!). You have a feeling you could be pregnant, you want to find the best person to help you bring this baby into the world. The one that says, "Yep, you've got a book in there! And I can help."

photo credit: hugrakka's Flickr photo stream by creative commons license

As an unagented writer, I spent hours combing the blogosphere for stories about “The Call.” It was a great way to research the process. But these posts were also like little pep talks. Success stories gave me butterflies in my stomach. Realizing dreams, it seemed, wasn’t impossible.

In 2008, I read author Therese Walsh’s post on the fabulous Writer Unboxed blog: “Home Run! Therese Finds her Perfect Agent!” I knew Teri online and admired her determination, attitude, and transparency. I also liked what I saw on her agent’s website—who Elisabeth Weed had chosen to represent and what kinds of books they were writing. I added Elisabeth to my list, dreaming of when I’d send my first query.

In May 2009, I sent that query to the agent at the top of my list—Elisabeth Weed. I sent two more … just to be on the safe side. I was thrilled the next day to receive my very first partial manuscript request from Elisabeth.

My first rejection also came from Elisabeth Weed—one of the nicest I ever received.

There would be more. I queried several more months, not a huge number of letters, perhaps 25 or 30 in all. I received requests, each followed by another rejection. And I was getting a sense that maybe this manuscript wasn’t “the one.” While I loved the story, while the characters lived on in my mind and heart (still do!), I suspected it was time to move on.

Another story had started tugging at me and just wouldn’t let go. I’d learned a surprising bit of family lore, one line, basically, with no more hints of what happened: As a teen, my grandmother had fallen deeply in love with a young black man, and their families tore them apart.

Of course their families tore them apart. It was the 1920s. It was Kentucky and interracial marriage was illegal there. That was all anyone knew—none of the involved parties were living—so it’s all I’ll ever know.

But I began to imagine what might have been. I chose a time and setting slightly different from when and where my grandmother lived. I researched the area, laws, and anything else I could find on the subject.

In April 2010, I wrote the first 30 thousand words of Calling Me Home during a Backspace writing marathon, added another 45 thousand over several months, and in November, I did my own version of NaNoWriMo—NaNoFiMo: National Novel Finishing Month, to write the final 30 thousand.

After the holidays, I began revising in earnest. I set beta readers upon it, and after feedback from my marvelous critique group, some non-writers, and several more months of fiddling with the thing, I decided it was time to query.

When I sent my first few letters at the end of June, I didn’t query Elisabeth. I wanted to be sure my query letter was effective. I didn’t want to waste an opportunity. Because she was still at the top of my list.

I received a request for a partial immediately, and was thrilled, but by then, the last members of my critique group had read my manuscript. I realized I had more work to do. I was relieved I hadn’t sent more queries into the ether.

When I was ready to query again, this time in mid July, I sent my first letter to Elisabeth. I sent a few more a few hours later, just to be on the safe side. (Is this sounding like the movie Groundhog Day? Keep reading!)

I received a request for a partial from Elisabeth Monday afternoon, which I promptly sent. The next day, I received an email from Elisabeth herself. “I just read the first three chapters of Calling Me Home and think they are terrific! Will you send me the rest? I can't wait to see how this love story unfolds.”

Let me think about that ... OF COURSE I WILL! I sent it off late that night after madly making sure all my i‘s were dotted and t’s were crossed.

The next day, a published friend who had read and loved my manuscript asked if she could recommend it to her agent, who graciously agreed to read it. I believe this was providence.

Because when I let Elisabeth know another agent was reading, she replied that she hadn’t received my full. “Please send so I can read the rest. I'm loving it!”

Needless to say, I was allowing myself to hope at this point. Just a little. But trying to keep my cool. And I was also so very thankful I had a reason to check in with her and find out she hadn’t received my manuscript!

I heard from Elisabeth the next Tuesday by email, asking if we could talk by phone. Was I around the next two days? Of course I was. And was this … The Call? I was dying from anticipation. It felt like it was going to be The Call. But I wasn’t going to count my chickens before they hatched.

The next day, July 29, 2011, Elisabeth set me at ease almost immediately in our call with these words: “In case it’s not clear, I’m calling to offer you representation.”

We spent more than an hour on the phone, discussing my manuscript, how she saw it positioned in the marketplace, how she typically worked with clients, and so on. By the time we finished talking, I’d ticked all the questions off my “things to ask potential agent” list without even having to ask most of them. And though most articles you read say to take some time to think about the offer, I had a gut feeling. I told her, “I’m just going to go ahead and say now that I feel good about this. You’ve been my top pick from the day I sent my first query two years ago, you’ve answered all my questions, and I can’t see any reason not to say yes today.”

I sent the other agent a note letting her know that while I appreciated her offer to read and admired her for doing such a truly fabulous job for my friend, I believed I was making the right decision in accepting Elisabeth’s offer. She was gracious and full of good wishes.

Less than two months later, my manuscript, Calling Me Home, sold not only in the United States at auction to St. Martin’s Press, but in nine foreign territories. We’ve added a few since then, as well as some exciting foreign book club opportunities. Calling Me Home will be published sometime in early 2013 in the U.S.

It seems that gut feeling was right on target. I think it's love!

Welcome to Book Pregnant, a New Writing Blog by Debut Authors

Ring Ring! Published novel calling!
Image via Flickr user plenty.r

The call. You get it from your agent, or maybe you don't get it and there's an email instead, or you call her back, or maybe it's even a text (Are you sitting down?) that tells you this one all-important magical fact: Your book sold. The thing you've been trying to do, maybe for ten years or twenty years or since you were five or since college or since you realized you had something to say -- you did it. It's done.

In that one moment, your world slants, just a little, away from the way it was in the moment just before, and if you're lucky, it never slants back.

In the new slanted world, you're suddenly talking about copy-editing marks, and author questionnaires, and how to promote your novel on Pinterest, and whether or not to do a blog tour, and pre-orders. Meanwhile it's likely all your best writing buds are still talking about queries and excerpts and conferences. Maybe you have some friends that are published writers, but they're not all that interested in your squeals over your first check -- they've had dozens. They're not terribly excited about your first blurb -- they probably gave it to you! So where does the debut author turn to cheer and commiserate over all the new experiences that come along with a first novel?

Our Facebook group wanted to say hi. Hi, Facebook group. 

Book Pregnant was begun when two debut authors (Sophie Perinot and I) met on Twitter via mutual acquaintances, and found out how much we had to talk about. It was almost like, we realized, being a first time mom and having that support group of other pregnant mothers, due in the same month. While we had awesome mentors and charming agents and supportive friends, we really wanted to yammer and babble about this experience to others who were going through the exact same thing. So we invited a few friends, and they invited friends, and before long there were a couple dozen first time authors chattering away in a hidden Facebook group, filling screen after screen with cheers over pictures of first signings, condolences over disappointments or personal troubles, ideas for promotions, networking strategies, philosophical debates, jokes, and confessions. This is more than a professional network and more than a support group, and over the last few months, as we've started to meet up in real life at each other's events, and see each other through the roller coaster experience of bringing a book to market, we've become real friends.

This blog is our public outlet. Here we'll share what we've learned, tell stories from the front lines, pose questions about the developing world of authorship and publishing, and reveal what to expect when you're expecting... a novel.