A Book for Sale: Chapter Two

This week has been about re-reading my manuscript for Something Else.  Not for fun, but to remind myself of story themes and character developments I’ll need to highlight in my book pitch.

I had to get the manuscript printed first.  That cost a small fortune, but it’s been far more helpful than reading on a screen, so I recommend it.  I also couldn’t quite believe the weight of all those words.  The crazy “OMG I’ve written a whole novel!” feeling felt real, in a way it hasn’t done before.

(When I went to collect the manuscript from the printing place, the man in charge asked if I’d “written this book”.  I said yes, thinking he might say he’d read and enjoyed some of it!  Alas, he just wanted to confirm the name on his order slip).

I delayed reading the book for a few days after I’d collected it.

Partly, I was scared to read it.  When I sent the previous draft off for reader feedback, I thought the book was more or less ready.  Then I got the feedback, and I realised how much work there still was to do.  I re-read my book (on a screen) with readers’ comments in mind, and I felt embarrassed about having sent it out.

(There was so much waffling!  I also had an annoying habit of not indicating which character was speaking at certain points in conversations.  Even I got confused, and I wrote the bloody thing).

Book feedback is a strange, vaguely terrifying beast.

Asking for it makes you feel vulnerable.  Maybe it should, because the book you’re sending out matters.  But it takes time and experience to learn that your book doesn’t matter to people reading it, at least not in the way it matters to you.  How could it?

Feedback should be inconsistent, as in some people like it, others don’t, and they all comment on different bits.  That’s how you know you’ve written something at least passable.  Yet when it comes to editing, you must look for little consistencies.  A scene that felt confusing, dialogue that doesn’t quite work.  You also have to remember that people are being around 30% nicer than they actually feel.  It takes a hard-hearted person to say, baldly, “I hated your book”.

Anyway.  I’d rolled up my sleeves and done the edits I needed to do, and so far (I’m about half-way through my manuscript-read) I think I’ve written an OK book.

I think that sometimes, at least.

It takes a lot of guts and gumption to write a book, have others read it, filter their wildly varying comments into edits you think need doing, re-writing bits, dumping other bits, then believing you’re finally finished.  At every point, you’ve got to rely on your own judgment and intuition, and that’s scary…

…because what if you’re wrong?

For now, I’m making minor edits and scribbling in the margins, reminding myself of plot points and character befores-and-afters.

I’m making good progress, but I was deluded to think I’d finish this particular task in a week.  It’ll probably take another one before I’ve finished reading and scribbling, and then it’ll be on to compiling it all into an Actual Pitch.

(Eeek, etc).

Something else keeps niggling at me.  By sharing my uncertainty and vulnerability, am I putting people off wanting to work with me?

It’s not fashionable to say you’re not sure.  That, actually, you don’t know “the ONE essential secret” to bestselling success!  Or that you’re feeling your way through in the dark.  But then, I’m not and I don’t.  I’m also pretty sure that most of us are feeling our way through in the dark, so it’s OK to be honest and admit that.

What I do well is hold others’ hands as they do it.  I shine a torch and guide them through.

Their final destination is up to them, just as mine is up to me.  I’m confident that if I do the work I’ll end up somewhere special.  I think that’s what happens most of the time.

So… onwards.