writing lessons – rejection

I’ve been waiting all month for an email.

A while back, on the Tales from the Village facebook page I got a comment from an agent, who happens to be a fan of the blog. She said well done on completing Nanowrimo and offered to have a read of the book when it was finished. Well, last month I finished the book and sent it to her with much excitement.

Last night the email arrived. Thanks, but no thanks. I could lie and say it didn’t hurt, but in fact it was blunt, to the point, and felt like a kick in the stomach. I didn’t tell K it had arrived for an hour or so, because I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

Then I went back and read it to him, and mentioned it on Twitter, and showed it to a few writing friends.

‘This is amazing’ they said. ‘You are really lucky’ they said. Apparently my rejection was a good one. And let’s face it, if I’d managed to secure an agent on the back of a snippet of writing on a blog I’d be a miracle. That’s not to say if any agents are reading I’m not interested, I add hastily. Ha. Anyway, last night people were really lovely and encouraging, and rejection is part of being a writer. When I was a little girl I once fell off seven times in one riding lesson, until I realised what I had to do to stay on. And if I can run a marathon, I can blooming well learn how to write.

So I’m holding on to the good bits, and taking on board the other comments, and next week I’m going to start afresh.

not now, darling

There’s an article in the Daily Mail today which is all about mothers using the internet, called Not Now Darling, Mummy’s Tweeting.

The Daily Mail is not my newspaper of choice, I would point out at this point. But never mind. I happen to be friends with Liz Fraser, writer of the piece. We, er, met via Twitter. In the article, she muses on whether we’re spending so much time online that our children see more of the backs of our heads (or the fronts of our laptops) than they do our faces.

Guilty as charged. I spend far too much time online. Time I could use for writing, but instead I’m on twitter or on the blog’s facebook page or catching up with the important job of reading about writing. Just last night I was so busy reading Lottie Loves and new favourite Small and Chic in C-ville that I let the ten year old make toast and chocolate spread for everyone and they had it for dinner whilst watching television and playing on the iPad/iPhone/Nintendo DS/PSP. Yes, they’re all pretty nerdy too. They are also fab at music, art, science, all have advanced reading ages and yes, my just-4 year old can read (there’s a Tiger Mother in me somewhere, but I keep her caged most of the time). Not bad for children being brought up by a mother who spends most of her time with half an eye on the laptop.

I think there is a balance to be found, and I’m still not sure I’ve found it. I know I’m guilty of ‘not now darling’, but at the same time I know that the internet, twitter, Facebook and blogging can be a sanity saver, especially in the lonely early days with little ones. What do you think? Is the Daily Mail right? (now there’s a phrase I never thought I’d write!)

10 things I learned whilst writing a book

1) You have to write. A lot. And then write some more.

2) NaNoWriMo works. If you’re a lunatic, and don’t mind eating or sleeping, that is. But as a crash course in discipline, it is amazing. Even if half of what you write is utter nonsense.

3) You will dream about your characters. You will daydream about your characters. You will find yourself standing in the school playground, wondering how you got there, realising you’ve driven on autopilot. You’ll be rude and grumpy and selfish and pre-occupied. (er, of course, all of these things might just be me. You might be more balanced)

4) Joining twitter helps. People on there are absolutely lovely and encouraging. Particularly really famous people, who write books you adore. They will cheer you on and make you feel like you’re A Proper Writer. This is rather lovely.

5) You will fall madly, wildly, obsessively, passionately in love with your hero. If you’re slightly bonkers, this may even lead to a week of not eating because you have such a whopping crush on him. This will result in a 6lb weight loss. This is A Good Thing. Unless you’re really skinny, in which case you should go and eat some cake. Quickly.

6) You will realise that there is something therapeutic in killing your darlings. You will chop away at pages, characters, adverbs and adjectives, until you realise you’re in danger of ending up with nothing more than a haiku. At this point if I was very clever I’d write a haiku based on my book, but I am astoundingly bad at them, so just pretend that I have.

7) You will discover all new levels of procrastination. I cleaned out all my kitchen cupboards, and tidied all the bookshelves, and reorganised the baking equipment, and even did some ironing. All that so I could stay up until 2am writing like a loon, and stagger around with huge black eyebags. (Two words: Touche Eclat)

8 ) You’ll discover there are more websites about writing than you could ever read, even if you stayed awake all night for the rest of your life. Many of them written by people who are procrastinating about writing the thing they’re meant to be writing. If you see what I mean.

9) You’ll discover that there are some amazingly helpful books about writing which will prod you in the right direction.

10) Lots of proper writers (the ones with books on shelves in bookshops) will tell you that their first book was the fastest they’ve ever written, and that the process becomes more, not less painful. Ouch.

11) Beta readers are the best, because they tell you when things aren’t right, and they tell you when they are. And they fall in love with your hero (and sometimes other characters). And they re-read the revised chapters, and the re-revised ones. And sometimes they even stand against a wall so you can try out snog positions to make sure they work. (A big kiss to all of you xxx)

And yes I know that was eleven, not ten. It’s my blog, I can break the rules if I want to. Ha.

the end (which is only the beginning)

my food of shame

I’m meant to be editing, which is actually far more fun than it sounds. I am going through the manuscript with the delete button on high alert, removing adverbs, killing adjectives, and hacking out great wodges of hideousness. But all work and no play is not A Good Thing.

Incidentally if you’ve seen The Shining you may snigger if I tell you that after one very long day of typing (for me) and child wrangling (for K) he came upstairs to see how I was getting on and I showed him a word document like this:

only with the obvious substitutions. You may not snigger of course, but that’s what passes for humour in our house. We don’t get out much.

Anyway. The point. I’m getting there, slowly.

My foods of shame. This post was inspired by my friend @JonnyDobby who was appalled by my confession that I was enjoying a lovely cup of instant coffee.

I know. Heinous shame. But look, it’s rainforest certified and, um, I reuse the jar. And, er, stuff.

So. Here we are. I lay myself before you, in my Scottish shame.

It’s a Scotch Pie. It’s probably made from ground up testicle and lip and earflaps in gravy. But mmmmmm, it is heavenly.

I know, I know. Heinz Macaroni Cheese. It’s not even real food. But it’s lying in a feeble heap on a Sunday food. And once a year or so, I have to have it.

And milk bottle sweeties. They have milk in the title, so they can’t be all that bad, surely?

But my desert island food – it’s none of the above.

I am obsessed. You know the way other people have favourite coffees, or are wine experts? That’s me, but with apples. Russets with a cup of coffee, really sharp Granny Smiths with a pot of tea. Nothing shaming about that. Except I eat the whole thing, leaving only the stalk. And then I leave the stalks lying around the house in a really irritating manner.

So there you are. Confession time. Anyone want to own up to anything and make me feel better?