Tag Archives: Submissions

Literary versus genre

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These two terms and their meanings are something I’ve found myself talking about a fair number of times in interviews, because my writing spans both speculative and literary spaces and has been marketed as both straight SFF and straight literary. Being as I have Opinions, I figured I’d share them with you!

[I shared this post on my Substack a few months ago – to keep up to date with the newest posts, as well as publishing diaries and occasional short fiction, please consider subscribing to my page there]

‘Literary’ is generally used to refer to fiction that prioritises prose style and internal character development over external plot. It also is used (inaccurately) as a marker for books that don’t contain the obvious ‘genre’ ingredients of, say: a detective solving a crime, dragons, a historic setting, romance as the main plot etc.

I say inaccurately, because the writer’s approach to prose, and the contents of the story are clearly two different things. ‘Literary’ is one end of a scale that goes through odd terms like ‘book club’ & ‘accessible’ right the way to ‘commercial’ – which is prose written to focus on the external plot and not the internal.

The contents of the story on the other hand are what determine ‘genre’. Whether that’s mystery or romance, thriller, space opera, family epic or domestic noir – they are all labels that tell you something about the waypoints you’re likely to encounter in the story.

But a book can be both a thriller, and literary. It can be both a historic mystery and commercial. The spectrum of literary-to-commercial exists within each genre. Think Wolf Hall to The Duke And I, or The Fifth Season to The Kaiju Preservation Society. There are some books whose genre is hard to pinpoint – mainly because ‘mid-life crisis’ isn’t an acceptable label apparently so they get lumped into ‘contemporary fiction’ ‘literary fiction’ or ugh ‘women’s fiction’.

We all kinda know this, right? So it annoys me that ‘literary’ is often treated as something separate from (and better than) ‘genre’. When it isn’t (on both counts).

But the truth is that these are all really just marketing terms for booksellers to use to inform & direct readers, which is the main purpose of any genre labels after all. Bookshelves are two dimensional spaces (functionally), and a book has to sit somewhere.

So rather than fight the entire functioning of bookselling, my issue instead is with how the term ‘literary’ is wielded. It comes with a certain stamp of ‘quality’ that generally attracts more trade review inches and award nods. Literary = better, right?

Hmm. But literary also has undertones of older white men writing opaque deconstructions of the agony of being an older white man. It carries associations with ‘The Classics’ and establishment standards of what makes good writing. Which, let’s be honest, is another way of saying literary = western-centric narratives by people who are white, middle/upper class, cis/het/allo, able-bodied and male.

It is a familiar joke among writers that a woman writing about a mid-life crisis is writing ‘women’s fiction’ (ugh) but a man writing about a mid-life crisis is writing ‘literary fiction’. It’s a joke because it’s true. Anyone who doesn’t fit the dominant paradigm sees their stories pigeonholed first by their own identity and only second by the content of the book itself. Which sucks, let’s be honest.

I think perceptions are changing. More non-western voices are appearing on the big literary prize lists, translation prizes are gaining greater profile, and women are consistently more equitably represented on prize lists than they were 20 yrs ago. There’s still progress to be made – we need more global south voices, we need women and other marginalised writers to receive the same respectful language in reviews as men get, but it feels like the default image of a literary author as a narcissistic tweed & cognac toting silver fox is happily on the wane.

Until it’s firmly gone though, establishment preconceptions about what makes a novel literary will continue to act as a form of gatekeeping – sending a message to working class, BIPOC, disabled, queer & women writers that ‘oh honey no, you don’t belong here.’

So when my writing is referred to as literary, a small part of me winces. Because I know some people are put off by the term – it is what ‘that kind of person’ reads (and probably pontificates about). And I’m not gonna lie – the snobbery around the term is alive and kicking in some literary circles, which has been eye opening as I moved from largely SFF events in my first two years as an author to largely literary ones this year.

HOWEVER I think the huge popularity of books that span the literary and genre spaces is helping to erode that elitism bit by bit. Writers like Natasha Pulley, Bridget Collins, Sarah Moss, Martin MacInnes, Sequoia Nagamatsu etc are all challenging the clarity of the dividing lines. I wish some of these authors would embrace their genre audience more, but that’s complicated by SFF conventions not paying authors (and in fact expecting authors to pay to attend, but that’s a whole other post). And also by marketing decisions to set these books in the ‘Fiction’ departments, not the ‘SFF’ ones.

Genre divisions – and reductive marketing labels – aren’t going anywhere. We all know the comfort of picking up a book and knowing exactly what to expect from it – we want the familiarity of a cozy murder mystery or a historic romance sometimes, I definitely do. But I think many of us are also hungry for stories that take us in unexpected directions, that meld genres and challenge our assumptions. That inhabit a familiar world but add a twist of magic.

Likewise many of us love books that are both beautiful to read, and take place in space; or thoughtfully explore grief whilst also solving a murder.

‘Genre-blending’ fiction is on the rise, for good reason, but I think for it to reach its full audience, we need to rid ourselves of the boundary lines between ‘literary’ and ‘genre’. I would pay good money to never again be asked about moving between literary and SFF as if the two were separate islands in a sea of lava!

So in a bid to erase some lines, what’s your fav read that melds genres? Or that leans heavily into literary forms within a genre space? I love Natasha Pulley’s The Kingdoms – a mix of historic suspense and timey wimey alt history. Also can’t go without mentioning the timeless Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. A deeply thoughtful exploration of agency and humanity wrapped up in a terrifying dystopian SF.

The Worst Word In Publishing

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Synopses!

Oh, we hates them, don’t we? They’re undeniably the foulest creation ever, designed to strip all sparkle and joy from your story (and from you).

[This blog was first published on my Substack in November last year. To stay up to date with my latest posts please consider subscribing there, but however you found me, thank you for reading!]

I thought I’d escaped the need for synopses when I signed with my agent but (sobs quietly) turns out there is never an escape. It is doom/synopses all the way down…

…I’ve been writing synopses recently, can you tell?

For those who haven’t encountered this beast, it’s a plot summary of your book that provides all the main events in a pragmatic, spoilery ‘this happens and then this happens…’ breakdown.You need one when you are querying agents (usually around 300-500 words) and sometimes you need one when your agent is submitting your book to editors & foreign rights folks (usually longer, anything up to ~1,500 words).

They are entirely functional things – serving to prove to agents that your plot works, and to give editors and other publishing staff a quick summary of your book so they can talk about it (because lmty foreign rights sub-agents, marketing/publicity staff, they may well not have time to read your book along with the dozens of others they’re representing).

You’d think that being so dry and straightforward they’d be at least easy to write, if not exactly fun. And I’ll admit the longer ones I’ve been writing this week are definitely less challenging to put together than the 300 word ones I used to create when I was querying. But it’s surprisingly hard to pare down your 100,000 word intricately woven plot to its bones whilst still have it both make coherent sense, AND more importantly, sound enticing.

This happened and then this happened is not an inherently juicy way to narrate a story, turns out.

So! Aside from bemoaning their horribleness, what advice do I have for anyone else having to face this particular hurdle? I’m going to recommend two very different approaches – try them (or don’t, if you have any sense!) and let me know how you get on.

Writing up:

This is the method I’ve always used to produce my 300 word query synopses. I think it lends itself well to producing shorter synopses and has the added advantage of producing a short pitch as well, which is super handy for querying writers to have.

Step 1. Write down any words that come to your mind when you think of your book. Could be the themes, the tropes, the main character, the setting, emotions, objects, big events. Anything at all, just a bunch of single words that capture something of your book.

Step 2. Circle around ten of the most important ones in terms of the plot, character & setting of your book.

Step 3. Using those ten(ish) words, write a short paragraph (ideally 3 sentences but don’t kill yourself in the attempt) that tells us:

a)      something enticing about the main character (yes, really do try to stick to one here, even if you’ve multiple Points of View. Sorry) – not just ‘a woman’ but ‘the world’s first female astronaut’. Not just ‘a teenage boy’ but ‘a boy who’s afraid of cats’. Idk, just some small detail that is both relevant to the challenges they’re about to face, but also makes them instantly more than a cardboard cut out.

b)     Perhaps something about the world, particularly if it’s historic fiction or SFF.

c)      What your main character’s aim is in the story – what’s the thing they need to achieve. A successful moonlanding, saving the local cat sanctuary from redevelopment by evil corporations…

d)     What challenges they’ll face – the mysogyny of the crew, engine failures; his own fear and the apathy of locals.

e)     What’s at stake – what is their motivation for battling to overcome these challenges? Fame, getting to not die on a rock in space? Getting to fulfil his gran’s wish or win the attention of the boy/girl/nonbinary of his dreams?

These few sentences will give you a rough draft of a short pitch for your book. It summarises the point of your book, basically, the reason why someone might want to read it. A character we want to get to know and a problem we are intrigued by. Not all books fit neatly into this kind of plot equation but most will, even if it’s kinda painful to be so reductive.

The good news is now you’ve done the hardest bit. You’ve plucked out the beating heart of your book, now you get to give it back a few major arteries, maybe a rib or two.

Step 4. Look at your book and make a note of the major turning points in your plot that demarcate the really significant moments. Note down how your most important secondary characters (or other Point of View characters) shape these major plot points, or have their own significant events that tie into the main plot. Don’t get too sidetracked by subplots, or by sequences of events that can be summarised as ‘tensions escalate’ or ‘a series of mishaps’ or whatever.

Step 5. Now flesh out your 3 sentence pitch, by adding in your plot points from Step 4. AND THE CLIMAX EVENT. Include spoilers. Editors/agents need to know that you’ve stuck the landing, so to speak. So give them the specifics, not just ‘X must solve the mystery before disaster strikes’. That sort of hooky line is for the pitch, not the synopsis.

Ta da! You have yourself a synopsis.

Step 6. Edit it for clarity. Keep sentences on the short side and light on descriptive flourishes. This isn’t the place to demonstrate your lyricism. Clear, concise and well structured are better than super voicey.

exhausted face

Chapter by chapter:

This is the method I’ve been using this time around – to create synopses on the longer side (1.2 & 1.5k words). It’s useful in that there’s a lot less thinking involved lol, and less agonising over what plot points to include. But it does go long, so it’s probably not ideal for those in the querying trenches needing pithier synopses.

Step 1. Go through your book and for every chapter, note down the main events (both external and internal/emotional)

Step 2. Circle the events that are most important. There may be a fair few that aren’t vital in explaining the plot progression – that’s okay, small plot details and quieter chapters are not illegal.

Step 3. Write up a point by point summary of your circled point events. Keep your paragraphs short – one per couple of chapters might work well. Make sure you’re tying the various plot threads together. As this version is longer, more of your subplots and secondary characters are likely to make it onto the page, so make sure you’re threading them in well, rather than just mentioning them once and then forgetting them. (if you only need to mention them once, perhaps avoid doing so at all). Again include spoilers for the ending. Unlike with the shorter synopsis, you’ll have space here to include the resolution after the climax too.

Step 4. Umm, yeah this method is a lot simpler. Ta da! You have yourself a long synopsis.

Hope that helps! Happy writing & may all your synopses be magically written by elves while you are sleeping.

Next time on the blog I’ll be talking about the messy, kinda gatekeepery divide between ‘literary’ and ‘genre’ because as a writer who crosses that divide, hoo boy do I have Opinions!

Comparanoia

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Comparanoia (n) – the haunting ache of comparing your writing journey to others and being consumed by paranoia that you are a) missing out/falling behind, b) an untalented hack, or c) the victim of a conspiracy bent on supressing your genius.

[This post was published on my Substack page a couple of months ago, subscribe there to see things sooner! If you are subscribed in both places a) thank you! and b) my apologies for the replication.]

I was introduced to the word ‘comparanoia’ by a friend who’d picked it up somewhere else, so I don’t know who to thank for this worthy contribution to the English language, but I owe them at the very least a big slab of cake. Because the writing community needs this word, let’s be honest.

The horrible truth about publishing is that however successful you are, there will always be rejection and failure and people getting some marker of success that you are not currently getting. Signing an agent leads to submission hell, getting a publishing deal leads to ‘rejections’ from bookshops, reviewers, awards judges, movie scouts, etc.

Even the Margaret Atwoods of the world don’t make every award shortlist their books are submitted to, and I’m pretty sure she’s not getting the seven figure, twelve book deals that Leigh Bardugo signed. But Leigh Bardugo has won very few prizes considering the sales figures, the Netflix deal etc. While I doubt neither Leigh nor Margaret are too worried about their career trajectories, I’ll bet even they occasionally watch an award ceremony or an adapted movie, or just have a really crappy buffle-headed writing day and feel the faintest echo of the comparanoia that us mortals are so familiar with.

I’ve been wrestling with this green eyed beastie a bit recently so figured I’d talk to you about it & in telling you how normal and pointless it is, remind myself!

It is an entirely unavoidable aspect of publishing partly because as I say above, there’s an endless supply of metrics of ‘success’ so we will always be lower down on some ladders than others. Which is kind of true of life in general, of course, but I think writers are particularly susceptible to it for three reasons:

1.      We care very, very deeply about our books. We want them to do as well for themselves as possible, but the publishing experience is crowded with things that knock our belief in our books or ourselves so we search for markers of success to latch onto. To say – it’s okay, my book has achieved X therefore it’s not crap. Or the other side of that coin – if only my book achieves Y then I can relax.

We also know our career stability, our ability to keep publishing books, depends on the success of the current one. I read (and now can’t find) that something like 2/3rd of writers only ever publish 1-3 books, only 10% of writers publish 6 or more. Longevity is rare in publishing and our future contracts hinge on sales figures &/or awards nominations, so sadly hitting some markers of success does kinda matter for more than just our fragile egos!

2.      Every book is different. That sounds obvious doesn’t it, but it matters. Every book is a unique product, with a unique readership and therefore unique marketing needs and markers of success. Even two superficially very similar books – two spy thrillers say – will differ slightly in how they can be best marketed and how they’re likely to be received based on a multitude of factors like the track record of the author, the publisher’s reach, the prose style … the gender of the author, their ‘fame’, their racial identity, their position on their publisher’s list etc.

I’m not saying it’s always fair btw – publishing is not a meritocracy and marketing decisions centre what’s best for the publisher, which won’t always overlap with what would be optimal for the book/you. That can suck, but there’s not a lot we as authors can do to change it. Just make sure you are going into contracts fully informed, so that the publisher’s intentions for your book don’t hit you out of left field.

But because each book is a unique product with a unique publishing trajectory, everyone can look at anyone else’s experience and see something that they themselves are not getting. Even someone in the middle of a big splashy debut bestseller high might hear about the close involvement, transparency and friendship an author gets with a small indie press and feel a wee pang.

3.      Publishing can be slooooooooww. Writing itself is a solitary occupation (aka too much time in our own heads!) but add to that the waiting for news whilst watching others celebrating their successes on social media = perfect recipe for doubts to creep in. Is my book even getting read by editors/agents, is everyone getting signed faster than me, what if my sales figures are too low (what were they even forecast to be), what if arc readers hate it, what if my book doesn’t become The Book Of The Fair at London/Frankfurt – is my life over? Lol.

calming sunset, because we’re totally calm about all this actually

The comparanoia has been hitting me hard recently because I am waiting on edits for my next-next book (We Are All Ghosts In The Forest) (see reason 3 above) and have been at the ‘ugh I hate it’ stage of edits with another book (All The Birds Will Be Hostile) (see reason 1 above) and in this fairly rubbish phase, I’ve watched with joy and excitement as amazing things have happened for talented friends (reason 2! The hat-trick!).

We contain multitudes, right? So while most of my multitudes lovelovelove seeing good things happen for friends, there has been a softly weeping wallflower at the edge of the crowd wallowing in comparanoia, convinced that I’m not good enough and will never make it (whatever either of those things mean).

I think it’s important to not inflict your comparanoia on the friends who need to be able to celebrate their wins, and it’s seldom useful to vent your bitterness in public either. What’s that going to do other than make you look small? BUT I also think it’s healthy to talk about how comparanoia can undermine your self-belief and eat away at your creative energy.

Publishing is long and weird and uncertain, it is entirely natural to look at your peers for evidence of how your experience compares. And vital to maintain perspective on the messiness & unreliability of those comparisons!

It’s also important to be our own best advocates, though. Which will sometimes mean asking for more than we are being handed, whether that’s frequency of comms from your agent, or a push to get your book into supermarkets.

But we need to be realistic here – there is no point signing with a small press expecting big5 marketing spend, or signing with a big5 with a pensive literary novel and assuming you’ll get identical marketing to your list sibling writing Booktok-friendly on-trend commercial fic. (You wouldn’t want identical marketing btw. Booktok is not where your readership is). We need to be able to parse the comparanoia from the fair treatment and investment suited to our book that we are entitled to expect, and then go have a conversation with our agent or editor about our concerns OR give ourselves a hug, a cathartic whine at a friend and some extra chocolate.

So a reminder (to myself), comparanoia is natural but it is also comparing apples to … not oranges, they’re too similar … langoustines. It’s okay to feel all the feels, but don’t lose perspective or let the green eyed softly weeping demon on your shoulder sap you of your creative joy. Your books will find their way, and so will you.

And another one

Adventures in Substack

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Hi folks. Thank you so much for reading my (irregular) blogs on this page, it’s been a joy. I have been toying with ideas about how to connect better with readers though, and have decided to give Substack a go. It feels like a more natural home for the blog, giving me the freedom to add more content whilst also reaching a wider audience.

Join my Substack here

I will be blogging more regularly there – posting fortnightly blogs on writing craft, the publishing industry & inspiration, as well as occasionally sharing short speculative fiction.

Partly to allow me to share slightly more sensitive work, and partly in an attempt to be able to afford chocolate, I have a paid subscriber tier in addition to the above, where I will be providing sneak peeks of unpublished work, and a diary of my books’ journeys through writing to publication & beyond – shedding light on some of the lesser talked about aspects of the publication process.

My paid subscribers will also be able to join me twice yearly for online writing workshops, although I plan (health depending, you know how it is) to run online Q&A sessions open to all at regular intervals as well.

It’s a new venture for me and a little bit daunting, if I’m entirely honest, but I really hope you’ll come join me over there & help me build a wee community of good people.

Thank you,

Lorraine

Join my Substack here

black vanilla orchid

The Road To Publication

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Recent online conversations about debut expectations versus the long haul of being an author made me realise that I never wrote my version of this blog. People normally write them on signing with their agent, or when their debut releases, don’t they? Well, how about on publishing their third book & announcing their fourth? Perfect time, right?

Two disadvantages of waiting till now is a) that it’s a looooooong post, and b) I can’t be sure of exact numbers. I’m as accurate as possible, because I know how good it is to see the data rather than just the ‘keep going, you haven’t failed until you stop trying’ sentiment (which I have OPINIONS on btw).

Okay, so a For The Record disclaimer: As you may know I turned to writing when I became too ill to carry on in my job as a research scientist, therefore I have no formal learning or qualifications in creative writing. I ­have done a couple of short, online courses with Jericho Writers and Writing The Other & as many workshops as I could logistically & financially access. ALL my submissions were via the slushpile (and all in the UK fwiw). I started out with no contacts in publishing or writing, and even less understanding of how it all worked, but in my first few years I attended the York Festival of Writing three times. I also managed to access agent 1:1s on two other occasions. Thassit. That’s the extent of my shortcuts and privilege, because yes those things do affect your route to publication and it’s naïve to pretend they don’t.

TL:DR cumulative stats: 13 queries (agents only) over 2 books to 1st agent offer. 81 queries (agents & small presses) over 4 books to 1st book published. 136 queries (agents & small presses) over 5 books to 2nd agent offer.

Full deets, cos it’s a lot more complicated than that sounds … are you sitting comfortably?

photo of a ruined roman amphitheatre in Turkiye

2014            Wrote a fantasy epic, first in a trilogy.

2015                     Because I was a fool and knew nothing, I queried the godawful thing to a handful (~12 agents, to whom – sorry!). I got two personalised rejections, a bunch of forms and perhaps one ghosting. Meanwhile, I wrote the 2nd in the trilogy and simultaneously realised that Book1 was not remotely publishable. I decided to treat Book2 as a test run for applying the skills I’d learned whilst mangling Book1.

2016                     Started writing a whole new book (Book3). A contemporary Scottish witchy fabulist thing that felt like my first ‘real’ book. In that I kinda knew what I was doing this time and the end result was fully my own thing rather than a derivative mess!

2017                     Subbed Book3 to one agent – a very new agent at an established agency who’d been recommended to me at York. She offered, I accepted, it went through minor revisions and went out on sub to around 10 editors. It got some lovely feedback, but no takers. Four months into this, my agent left publishing. Reading between the lines, I think she was not supported at her agency, and so I really felt for her. It was a huge blow though, lmty. I had no idea at that point how common it is for writers to lose agents for any of several reasons so this felt like a moment of utter failure even though it was nothing directly to do with me, or my book.

Whilst on sub, I’d been writing Book4, and my agent had raved about its premise. Book3 was dead – no agent would be interested in a book that had already gone out on sub. So I pulled my big girl pants up, and got Book4 ready for querying…

2018                     I sent Book4 to about 45 agents and 15 small presses over the course of around 18 months. Of those, I had a roughly 50% full request rate from agents, and 30% from small presses. Good huh? Of those full requests, only 1 agent ghosted me (times have changed I believe ☹), most got back within 2 months. The small presses were generally much slower (and much ruder, in a couple of instances!). From all these fulls, I ended up with two offers of publication from small presses. I went with the one whose brand seemed a better fit for the book. They were small, but reputable, award-winning, and strongly recommended by one of those full-requesting agents. That agent believed in them so much he even stepped in to help me negotiate a couple of contract terms. Fab. Yay. I was gonna be a published author! I didn’t mind going small press rather than agent by that point as I just wanted to make that first step on the journey, and I liked the feel of the small press scene.

Yeah, no. After agreeing contract terms, the publishers pulled out.

2019                     By this time I had Book5 finished and waiting,and had started on another one. But I lost heart with the nascent one and very nearly didn’t bother submitting Book5. Book4 had come so close both with agents and then with the publishing deal. After losing my agent, this had felt so hopeful and for it to come to nothing … I just didn’t really see the point in trying again. My skin was not thick enough and my belief in my writing was crushed. The mental cost of the cumulative rejections and knock backs was having an impact on my physical health, and I needed to step away. I decided I would write for private fulfilment not for publication, and started writing a new, deeply personal book, never intending to share it.

BUT Book5 was just sitting there. I figured I’d lose nothing by trying one last time, but this time I was going to be canny. I queried a handful of agents and small presses (excluding the one above!) to test the water.

Of those 6 agents, I got 1 full and 1 R&R; of 4 small presses, I also got 1 full which lead to an R&R.

The R&R from the publisher was a biggie. And to be honest I wasn’t sure I could pull it off, as it meant a complete re-write. But I figured it would be a good test of my skill, if nothing else, and I was kinda curious about whether the editor’s instincts were right.

They were. The edited book was much better. I went back to that publisher with it, but they’d stopped acquiring books. Ugh. Well, I had a stronger manuscript and had promised myself I’d give this book its best shot before calling it a day. So I pulled together a list of indie presses. You’d think I’d have been put off them by now, but all of my communications with agents had taught me that my form of literary-ish genre-blending work can be a difficult sell to agents looking for neatly packageable stories. Plus I still believed (believe) that a lot of the most innovative, diverse storytelling is happening with small presses, so I wanted to trust that there were good, reliable people out there. Somewhere.

2020                     GLOBAL PANINI! In between homeschooling v.1 & general panini chaos, I sent Book5 back out to a small batch of small presses (~8). And got, relatively quickly, 2 fulls and an offer.

That offer was with Luna Press, a very small Scottish indie press with an incredibly global list of authors. After speaking to Francesca I knew immediately that this was a press I wanted to work with. The book was This Is Our Undoing.

I also wrote the first chaotic halves of two books (umm… 7&8). Thank you, pandemic stress cognition decline.

2021                     GLOBAL PANINI! This Is Our Undoing came out with Luna Press. I showed Francesca that near-miss Book4, braced for rejection yet again, but she loved it. I signed a contract for The Way The Light Bends and the bruises left by my prior experience began to fade. With my confidence in myself, my writing, and the publishing industry at least a little rejuvenated, I started thinking about querying that deeply personal Book6. It was a terrifying thought, if I’m honest, and took a while to build up to. In between homeschooling v.2, the debut rollercoaster, dredging up querying courage, and other general mayhem, I finished Book7.

Then I started querying Book6.

This time I sent out larger batches than before. Rough counts were, in two batches, 40 agents and 15 small presses. Of those, I had received ~ 8 fulls when I received an offer of publication from a lovely medium-sized indie press with a very literary, friendly, thoughtful vibe. On chasing outstanding queries I had a couple of lovely chats with agents and another publisher, and an offer of representation from an agent who seemed to genuinely get my writing, my health limitations, and who was demonstrably supporting marginalised authors in his work.

I signed with Robbie Guillory at Underline Literary Agency in late 2021, and signed with Fairlight Books for Mother Sea shortly after. My sad, angry, deeply heartfelt story that I wrote thinking its only readers would be my mum and sister, was going to be published.

2022                     GLOBAL PANINI + BOOK AWARDS. Amazingly, given the small reach associated with a small publisher, Undoing was finalist and winner of several awards. I also won an award for my short fiction. The Way The Light Bends published, Mother Sea was in the works & I had survived an entire year as a published author without coming apart at the seams. Oh yes! Onward! Riding this wave of not being entirely broken, I finished Book8 (Book7 is shelved). And applied for a Creative Scotland grant to fund a return to that nascent book that I abandoned in 2019 mid-despair.

I also wrote a novella.

Book8 went on sub in the Autumn. On the same day that I underwent long-awaited surgery for my endometriosis that ended up being way more complicated than anticipated and from which I am still recovering 7 months on. Note of advice, major health upheavals and being on sub are not a combination conducive to creativity or mental fortitude. Avoid at all costs.

2023                     My 6th written book – 3rd published book – is coming out in less than 3 weeks.

I signed with my beloved Luna Press for my novella, coming out next year.

I was awarded the Creative Scotland grant and have just finished the 1st draft of nascent/abandoned book. So in 10 years that’s: 1 novella & 9 novels – 2 binned, 2 shelved, 3 published, 1 drafted and 1 on sub…

Despite the real-life hellishness going on, there is more good news coming. I’m steadily building my reach and publisher-appeal and this feels whilst not remotely guaranteed, at least a sustainable and hopeful trajectory. I’m not sure what the next few years will hold, but from being on the very brink of giving up 4 years ago, it’s surreal to sit here with a stack of my own books beside me, knowing I will be publishing more. That’s a startling, wonderful thing. The road does not get smoother, but it does perhaps get less steep.

…Lol, I did warn you it was long!! I do want to note that the rates of query full requests, and of ghosting both initials and fulls have changed drastically over the years, so please bear that in mind. Publishing is understaffed and creaking, and that hits writers in the trenches hard. Whoever you are, and however many manuscripts you have yeeted into the querying void, I am cheering you on. It takes a horrible combination of vulnerability and steeliness to weather this game – you’re all epic.

photo of standing columns of a grecian ruin on Cyprus, mountains in the background, the statue of some dude looking resigned and weary.

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Submission, Silence & Survival

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So I’m ‘on submission’ at the moment. The joy! In case that phrase is unfamiliar (and perhaps faintly nsfw-sounding), it is when an agent has sent their client’s book out to editors and they are waiting to hear back. It is, traditionally, a time of silence and secrecy. We aren’t supposed to talk about being ‘on sub’ too much, and we aren’t supposed to talk about (or to) the editors we’re waiting on. This is so we avoid sounding defeatist & potentially undermining our book’s chances, and also so we aren’t breaching confidentiality. Which is all very logical and businesslike.

BUT. It also means that being on sub is a cold and lonely place.

Publishing is renowned for moving glacially 95% of the time and at the speed of light the other 5%, but over the last couple of years a combination of pandemic, staffing instability and workload increases have seen the submission process move from glacial to tectonic. Some books still sell super fast, and that is awesome. Most are selling much more slowly, which means us authors (and agents) are lingering in the submission abyssal plain for months, in some cases years.

Which is not exactly oodles of fun, let’s be honest. So I figured it might be useful to those of you approaching this stage to have someone talk about the process and how to survive it. I’m also currently far enough in to Have Opinions, but still near enough to the start that I’m a) mostly sane, and b) more or less optimistic.

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So…

The Process. This will vary between genres, agents and the particulars of your relationship with your agent. But in general, once your book is ready your agent will pull together a list of editors at different publishing houses/imprints who are a good fit for your book. Hopefully your agent will pre-pitch the book to a good few of these editors, testing the water and seeding interest informally so that when your submission lands, it catches their eye. Once pitch is perfect & the emails are gone, the waiting begins. *doom laden drumbeat* Your agent will likely nudge editors at intervals – some do this more often than others. In the current climate I think the pre-pitching and the nudging skills are probably becoming more and more significant in getting timely reads, but *shrug* who knows? Your agent will likely also have a second batch of editors in mind if the first batch do not work out.

The Responses. These can take multiple forms. Ideally, obviously, you’ll get an almost immediate pre-empt or bunch of offers that trigger an auction, drama, excitement and cake. More likely, you will get some of these: 1. The rejection – which usually contains a little bit of feedback about reasons, but these are as subjective as any feedback so be prepared for contradictory comments and the ensuing frustration. 2. The initial maybe – this is where that individual editor liked it but needs to take it to others in their team, or to a full acquisition meeting with marketing & publicity before offering. 3. The offer – hurrah. Which your agent will then use to chase other editors & hopefully cue multiple offers, excitement and cake.

The Survival Toolkit. Okay so how do we endure the waiting without spiralling into a catatonic loop of refreshing your inbox, self-doubt, and really really not getting any actual writing done godammit? Here are some things to try out…

black and white photo of a globe thistle head from above, pale against a shadowy ground, the outer whorl of spikes forming a circle
  • Structure your communications. Some people like to set a day of the week for their agent to email them an update, so they can forget about their inbox for the rest of the time. Some of us (hi) would rather just get those random emails at any time. Some people need a monthly live chat with their agent to ask all the questions & get some perspective. Some are happy with emails. Talk it through with your agent if you want to try structuring communications in a way that fits your brain. They won’t know what suits you unless you tell them, and they will want you to stay sane, so do tell them if something they are doing isn’t working.
  • Give your agent information. Spoke to an editor at a convention last year? Got shortlisted for an award? Been awarded a residency? Tell your agent, it can be useful both when drafting the pitch letter and in making those ‘nudge’ emails a little more eye-catching.
  • Form a secret cabal. Honestly, this is probably THE MOST IMPORTANT SURVIVAL TIP. Find a writer friend or two who is also on sub or there abouts and designate them your safe wailing space. Keep it private, you’re a professional. But have those wails, you’re also human. These people will stop you chewing your own arm off, or at least be someone to compare chewed stumps with. Okay that metaphor got icky, sorry.
  • Ask questions. Whether this is of your agent, your secret cabal or other writers. This is a big unfamiliar territory of horrible unknowns – it’s absolutely okay to want information, and honestly, that’s what your agent is there for (aside from, you know, actual agenting stuff). You’re also allowed to have opinions – if you want to try X editor over Y, or not sub to a particular place For Reasons, talk it through.
  • Try to be realistic. I know it’s tempting to think you’re the exception, because someone gets to be the exception so why not you? But the chances are you aren’t going to hear anything for weeks, more likely months right now. This is a long haul at the moment, so structure your expectations appropriately. Force yourself to focus on something else, whether that’s drafting or editing another book, short stories, blogs (lol, it me), or learning to skydive. When (yes, when – we have faith) you get an offer, you might get developmental edits thrown at you fast, so it would be useful to be progressing other projects before then. But that said…
  • Be kind to yourself. The constant background hum of being on sub is taxing on the brain and body, especially if like me your body is rather fried to start with. So while it’s important to keep moving writing-wise (and physically, get up and stretch. Have a boogie) (who says boogie anymore, Raine, ffs. I am An Old), it’s also important to be flexible and realistic about your targets so you don’t stress yourself out unnecessarily.
  • Try not to stalk the editors on Twitter. But also, stalk them on Twitter. Keep an eye out for their MSWL posts, new job announcements etc, & let your agent know if it seems like it might be relevant to your sub (Twitter is a mess & your agent is busy, they might not see it). But don’t expect eds to tweet about this amazing sub they’re reading & omg it’s just like yours, they don’t do that. Which is probably best for all of us really.
  • Drink tea.
  • Eat chocolate.
  • Scream at the sea occasionally.

A final note of honesty. Some books (a lot more than we like to admit) ‘die on sub’. They do not sell. And this categorically sucks. But it is not the end of you the writer, it’s not even necessarily the end of that book – it might sell to a small press, or work as a follow-up book in a multi-book deal. The fear of dying on sub is real though, and the powerlessness is worse. But the only thing you can do to improve your chances is keep writing. Keep writing. You’ve got this.

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The Dreaded Cover Letter

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Covid has found the household and I can see my productivity slipping away, so to make myself feel like I’ve achieved something, I’m posting this! That counts as work, right?

Anyway … I’ve been looking at a fair amount of submission packages over the last few months, and have noticed some common patterns. So, on the offchance that you’re struggling with yours and are looking for a few pointers, here they are. (Please note, the internet is full of people offering advice on cover letters and synopses, and none of us are omniscient. But most of us have some useful tips & hopefully I do too). I’ll cover synopses if I’m ever feeling brave but today is all about The Cover Letter. Oh we agonise over this, don’t we? And the moment we press send, we spot a spelling mistake anyway. Sigh. But here goes…

The first thing to remember is that this is, effectively, a job application.

I know the relationship goes the other way in the end, but at the point of submission you are trying to persuade the agent/editor that they want to work with you. So it’s a job application. Treat it like one. By that I mean:

  • Be professional in all correspondence. But most of all…
  • BE CLEAR.

This is the fundamental point, I think. Just as you would with a CV or application form, you want to make the relevant information absolutely easy to spot. You want it right there, all in one neat package for the agent/editor to locate and understand quickly. They don’t have a lot of time, and you are up against people whose letters are clear, so don’t bury the key information in random places or beneath non-essential details.

So what is this key information and where is it meant to be?

As with all things, annoyingly, there is a degree of variance here – US cover letters often lead with the pitch, for example, and some agents/editors will ask for a different format or content to the standard. But I’m going to go with what appears to be the industry standard in the UK, interspersed with calming pictures.

So herewith lies my model cover letter structure:

  • Dear [Get their name right, goddammit. Double check. Triple check.]
  • Opening Paragraph. 2-3 short sentences containing:
    1. If you’re submitting to a specific call (e.g. BIPOC writers or a Twitter pitch event request) then open with that. Otherwise…
    2. Title and word count (standard phrase is ‘complete at n words’.
    3. Genre. Don’t get bogged down with ‘but my books straddles 27 genres’. Pick one, add a second term if you have to, e.g. ‘Thriller with speculative elements’, ‘Literary mystery’, ‘Romantic space-opera’. They need to know where your book will sit in a bookshop, they also need to know you understand your book enough to know where it will sit in a bookshop.
    4. Why you’re submitting to that person in particular. Don’t wax lyrical about 14 of the authors on their list, or cite an interview they did 15 years ago. Do say that you saw their recent MSWL (manuscript wish list) and think your book might interest them because of X, or that your book shares themes of Y with their author Englebert Humperdink. If you’ve met them, this is where to remind them of that.
    5. If this particular book has been listed for any awards, mention that here.
Photo of two mute swans on silvery water. There are lots of small ripples and a broken reflection of each swan. It's all pale and calming.
Have some swans. Take a deep breath.
  • Background Paragraph. 3 sentences containing:
    1. Your personal connection to this story – whether a life experience, professional expertise, cultural identity, spotted a news article that prompted it. What was it that made you write it; and if it’s potentially sensitive, what makes you the right person to write it.
    2. Comparative titles. Yes, we all hate them. No, your book isn’t unique and incomparable. Yes, it’s important. Again, this is about showing the agent that you understand who your readers are, and that you have some awareness of the market you want them to launch your book into. Markets change, so keep the comps <5yrs old and try to strike a balance between utterly niche and the obvious big names. JKR is not a good comp, and neither is Aristotle, probably.
  • It’s worth noting here that your comps don’t have to be perfect plot/setting matches. Yes, a little similarity is good – comping your space opera to a romcom in Dagenham is probably stretching it. But think about the themes of your story, the tone of it. It’s okay to compare, say, a historical story with a contemporary one if the feel of the story is similar.
  • Also worth noting, you aren’t being egotistical & claiming you’re as good as Margaret Atwood (although naturally you are), you’re saying ‘my book may appeal to readers of…’ and that’s okay.
photo of my thumb & finger holding an eroded scallop shell up to a pale winter sun. The light through the shell is kind of a mosaic, it's weird and pretty.
You’re getting there. Here’s some sunshine through a gnarly shell.
  • The Pitch. 3 sentences. Oh isn’t it hell? Some pointers:
    1. First off, some people swop this with the Background Paragraph. That’s fine. I think it flows better this way around but it’s not a life or death decision. Do what feels right.
    2. This (otherwise known as your elevator pitch) is essentially a back-cover blurb. The pithy, dramatic hook that presents: 1. the main character(s), 2. the thing they need to achieve, 3. why they need to achieve it, and 4. why that’s so bloody hard. (Note the ending isn’t included here). Read lots of back covers to get a feel for them.
    3. It’s nice, but not essential to have a ‘tag line’ – one short sentence/line that tells us the unique concept of your book. Again, check out a few books – the tag line is often on the front cover, or at the top of the back cover blurb. Mine for This Is Our Undoing is ‘Could you condemn one child to save another?’ Some people don’t like questions but hey, I couldn’t resist – it summarises an absolute moral dilemma in the book that’s both a little unusual and dramatic.
    4. It’s ridiculously hard to summarise your intricate 90,000 words into 3 sentences isn’t it? So don’t. Think about the heart of your book, the feel of it (I’m fond of that image), and write down 10 words that come to mind. Then pick the most emotive of those, grab your four facts from point 2. above and see what you can come up with. Remember to use a few deliberate specifics to show us what’s unique about this story. ‘A woman’ is less engaging than ‘A Victorian adventurer’ for example. ‘To prevent disaster’ is less interesting than ‘To save the world’s last stiltwalkers’.
Photo of a sleeping penguin lying on it's belly facing the camera. Against a backdrop of distant sea.
The penguin says you’re doing great. Nearly there.
  • Your writing credentials. 2-4 sentences. Yes really, we don’t need to know much here. This is where a lot of early-career writers get nervous, but don’t. It’s the least important paragraph to be honest. If you have credentials then that’s fabulous and eye-catching, but if you don’t, then remember that everyone loves to discover a hidden talent, so trust your story to stand up without props. Some things you might include are:
    1. Previous novel/novella publications. Say what they are, who published them and when. If you self-published, you can mention it, but some folk say they’re only interested if it comes with a measure of success – lots of reader reviews, an Amazon bestseller flag, a trade review etc.
    2. Short fiction. Say where they were published. You don’t need to put story titles or dates, and if you’ve got quite a few, just pick the biggest publications (e.g. the ones that pay pro- or semi-pro rates, or the ones with the largest social media accounts).
    3. Prizes & prize listings, scholarships, awards, creative writing courses. Say what the prize/course/award was, and it’s probably good to say which year, although if you’ve quite a few, don’t bother. Again if you’ve a few, pick the most prestigious & recent.
    4. Any other important information. You might want to mention your profession, your location or identity. You don’t need to tell us about your cats, your non-writing hobbies, or that you love reading. You can tell us about the cats if you really want to, I guess. Regarding disclosing marginalised identities – the jury is out on whether to do that or not and honestly, I think it’s entirely up to you. If it’s relevant to the story then you’ll already have mentioned it in the Background Paragraph. If it’s not relevant but you’re submitting in response to a specific call, then you’ll have covered that in the Opening Paragraph. Disclosing it isn’t going to put a good agent off. Anyone it does put off is clearly not someone you want to work with anyway, so perhaps it’s useful as a filter if nothing else. Do what you feel comfortable with.
  • Sign off. ‘Please find attached…’, ‘Thank you for your time…’, whatever your personal approach. And ta da. That’s it. Well done you. Have some chocolate.

That was quite a long blog! If you’ve made it to the end then a) well done, b) hope it was useful and c) I love lists.

To repeat what I said at the start, this is all subjective … to a degree. Make it your own, but the essential point of clarity and succinctness stand regardless of the structure you prefer. Good luck! Let me know what you think. But don’t come at me with your ‘I got 6 offers of representation and my cover letter was an acrostic poem’ – we’re not all called Tarquin. Sit down.  

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Here’s some baby capybaras, you deserve it.

The Art of Waiting

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Being a writer involves a lot of waiting, doesn’t it? I’ve been living on tenterhooks for the past couple of months, and finding it (along with everything else going on) really affecting me. More so than normal, which has annoyed the hell out of me because I guess I’ve previously felt a little smug about how good I am at compartmentalising and getting on with stuff rather than obsessing over inboxes. Oh how the mighty are fallen, or the not-so-mighty-at-all, in my case. So instead of staring at my inbox, doom-scrolling Twitter or whinging to the cats, I figured I’d write a post about things that can make the waiting easier. And I’m going to fill the post with flowers because they’re nice.

First, in case you are new to writing/not a writer, you might be wondering what all this waiting is for. Well, at first it can be small things like waiting for some alone-time to write, or waiting for the cranky old laptop to decide whether to start, or, a little later on, waiting for critique partners to get back to you. Then comes the big one: Waiting for agents/publishers/magazines to respond to submissions, which they might never do, of course, leaving those not-answered emails in a Schrodinger’s state of rejected/not-read-yet for the rest of eternity. That sucks, by the way. I’d rather a rejection, however formulaic, than radio silence. But there we go. This stage – the ‘being on submission’ stage is horrible and happens throughout your publishing career over and over again, so buckle up.

flowerhead of an allium against a backdrop of meadow flowers.
Wild allium in meadow

I’m currently in the ‘on submission’ hellpit for two books with various agents/publishers, (and some short stories actually, but I find them easier to forget about once I’ve sent them off). I’m also, though, in an ‘out for review’ limbo for This Is Our Undoing. This is a whole new world to me. I am waiting for early reviewers, my first ‘professional’ readers, to let me know what they think, potentially for quotes to go on the cover of the book. This is nerve-wracking in a whole new way and to be honest, I wasn’t prepared for it. I was so honoured and delighted and excited that these authors who I hugely admire were willing to read and provide a review for the book that I didn’t really brace myself for how agonising it would be waiting for them. Waiting for these people you admire so much, the first people outside of your publisher to read the actual finished book, knowing that they get asked to read other books by (better) bigger names and how can you possibly compare to that? Fun, huh? Anyway, that’s where I am. Please send hugs. And then read this collection of things that have helped me cope in the past…

a yellow banded skipper butterfly sitting on a corn marigold flowerhead.
Yellow banded skipper on a corn marigold
Mystery pink species from a montane meadow, Bulgaria

1.Be honest with yourself about your wider situation. For me, I know that other factors are at play at the moment – my health is not great, I’ve just done another term of homeschooling and am suffering some serious pandemic fatigue. My resilience is lower than normal, and my ability to concentrate on tasks is rubbish as well, making it harder for me to dive into other things. How is your mental health at the moment? If it’s a wee bit wobbly, you’ll be finding the uncertainty of waiting harder. Accept that, cut yourself some slack. Give yourself treats.

2. Work on something else. I’ll repeat that, cos it’s really important. WORK ON SOMETHING ELSE. Not only does it provide a distraction, it also spreads the load of your hope and expectations. If your submitted project doesn’t go anywhere, then all is not lost – you have this shiny new thing you’re developing & perhaps that is The One which will succeed. It doesn’t have to be a whole book, it can be flash fiction, short stories, research for an idea, revisiting an old idea. It could even be writing a blog post 😉

3. Get physically away from your inbox. That thing clings doesn’t it? It’s right there on the computer screen, it’s on your phone, it’s like a little devil on your shoulder whispering ‘Check me! Check me!’ Turn your notifications off so you aren’t getting buzzed & fleetingly excited for every Kinde Daily Deal email or whatever. Go do some gardening or walk the dog & don’t turn mobile data on. Take some photos instead & then when you come back & your inbox still hates you, you can post a nice photo instead of endless crying emojis.

4. Remember the person you are waiting on is only human.

They really are. Even the agents. And they’ve endured the last year too, and are suffering for it too. I’m struggling to read more esoteric books & am re-reading a lot instead, so others are likely struggling to keep up with reading too. Be kind even in your own head, it makes a difference.

5. Drink Tea.

Close up & backlit photo of a wild blue delphinium flower.
Wild delphiniums, Crete.

6. If it’s a circumstance where it’s okay to prompt, be realistic about when you can do so, and stick to that. Again, the other person is only human, and if you pester them, they’ll respond the same way you would if someone was pestering you. You don’t want that. The situation will determine a lot of this – if it’s a service you’ve paid for, you are allowed to expect timely delivery; if it’s an unsolicited submission, the agent/publisher website will often tell you what timescales to expect & whether it’s okay to prompt. If, as in my current case, it’s an entirely voluntary, generous favour, you need to make sure you remember that.

7. Work on something else. Hell, submit something else. If you’re obsessing about B, then you’re not obsessing so much about A, are you? Ha.

black and white photograph of stems of a bellflower.
Peach-leaved bellflower, the Pyrenees.

8. This is veering into The Art of Handling Rejection which would be a whole other post … but remember it’s a numbers game sometimes. If you’ve sent out six submissions, you frankly won’t hear back from all of them & some will take several months to respond (if it’s publishers, they can take up to a year for heaven’s sake). That leaves what? one or two? which you might realistically hear from soon. If you send out twenty submissions (could be different short stories or the same novel), then your chances of hearing something from someone has just gone up. (Obviously though, each submission has to be taken seriously – so don’t spam, it’s not that kind of numbers game).

9. I feel like I ought to round the list off at 9. Buy yourself a new notebook. Don’t check your phone until you’ve written something in it.

So there you have it. Waiting sucks, it makes you powerless, and when you have invested so much of yourself into your writing it is hard to step back from it enough to be patient with a world that isn’t all *grabby hands*. But you’ll get through it. They’ll respond, or they won’t, but either way you’ll keep writing because that’s what we do. Good luck, and know that you’re not alone. Now go make a cup of tea and write something pretty. 

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Cornflower