No Rest for the Weary

Have you ever noticed that ‘edit’ is a four letter word?? That may explain why it’s so hard.

I hired a freelance editor recently. She was a kind lady, very knowledgeable and skilled. But. . .

“We’re going to have to cut chapter one,” she said.

“What! The entire chapter?”

“I’m afraid so. And your heroine’s goal is not clearly defined. I want to know what motivates her early on, the first paragraph if possible, and no later than the first or second page.”

Good grief! Still, I trusted her judgment, so after much angst, I cut chapter one and got to work revising chapter two. Six months later, I still have not finished applying all the changes she suggested.

In my defense, I’ve been quite busy finishing not one but two manuscripts. I’ve put together a proposal for a cozy I’d like to pitch to an agent. I’ve snagged two speaking engagements, AND I got my first copy editing job. Sound like I’m procrastinating?

Sigh.

That’s because I am. Editing is so painful sometimes—it involves cutting after all. Like a petulant child, I want to keep my story just as I envisioned it, with all of the details intact, and the storyline unchanged. In fact, when I started making revisions, I copied the entire manuscript into another folder and left the original intact, just in case I didn’t like the way it turned out. Hey, I never said I wasn’t stubborn.

In the long run, I know that the information gained from my experience with a freelance editor will prove invaluable. Now, instead of revising a faulty manuscript, I try and apply the changes early on, editing myself daily and looking for weaknesses in my characters before they become major plot holes. I’ve learned to outline—structuring the twists and turns of my novel long before I type the first word. Lastly, I’ve determined to be flexible, even if it means changing a major part of the story, based on the advice of critique partners. I’ll tell you more about that next week.

In the end, it’s still not easy, but whoever said writing was easy?

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Dealing with Disappointment

A funny thing happened on my way to the market…

Wait, that’s a different story.

It was the mailbox. . .er. . .my inbox. A funny thing happened on my way to my inbox. My manuscript was turned in, and I was waiting to hear from my editor on the rewrites. Instead, I received a message shortly before the conference that said something I never expected to hear.

Barbour is delaying the launch of their new mystery line.

There was more to the message, but for several heart pounding moments, those were the only words I could focus on. What did this mean? How long would we have to wait before our book would finally be published?

Okay, Lord, I thought to myself. I know you said all things work together for the good of them that love You, but this?

I reread the message, this time focusing on everything I’d missed the first time around. Words like “marketing push” and “advertising campaign” caught my attention. Slowly, the shock and disappointment wore off and I began to see everything Barbour was doing in a positive light.

Barbour wasn’t postponing the launch because they didn’t believe in the line, they were postponing it because they were committed to its success. With money earmarked toward publicity, and resources I could only hope to tap at their disposal, I suddenly realized that the execs at Barbour could accomplish something I could only hope for—a marketing blitz geared toward guaranteeing the success of my book.

A spark of excitement returned to my heart. Amidst a plethora of messages from new authors bemoaning low sales figures and pleas for ideas on boosting low sales figures, I felt a swell of gratitude for the caution and care with which Barbour was proceeding.

Okay, so I won’t try and pretend that waiting is easy, but I can with confidence say that it’s good. And while I still hope to hold my book in my hands early next spring, I’m more than willing to wait until the powers-that-be decide the time is ripe. After all, I have a sequel to write!

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Moody Blues

It hit me the other day.

One moment, I was on top of the world, rejoicing over the fact that my words were down on paper and would soon be in the hands of readers. The next, I was scared witless over the fact that my words were down on paper and would soon be in the hands of readers.

What ever made me think I was called to write? How dare I think that I can string together a handful of words and make them into a coherent sentence that actually touches a reader’s heart? What if people hate my book? What if I get bad reviews and never sell another manuscript? For days, fear plagued me. Fear of failure, of bad sales figures, of. . .rejection. Now there’s a word.

I sank into uncertainty, felt its paralyzing effect on my writing. Not a word flowed from my fingers into my wip. I wrote a doggie devotional—three, in fact. I wrote a book review, a blog article, and a check to the electric company. But nothing for my wip.

“How’s the book coming?” a kind hearted soul at church asked.

“Fine,” I said, and then skipped the following Sunday so I didn’t have to answer that question again.

But God isn’t so easily dissuaded. I felt His pull upon my heart, the gentle question, ‘what are you hiding from?’ sounding in my brain.

“Well. . .God. . .I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of never being able to write another book.”

“Why?”

“Because. . .”

Uh-huh. There it is. I’m afraid I just got lucky the first time. I’m afraid that God wasn’t in it at all, and that I pulled a cosmic joke on the universe and somehow managed to get around the system. I’m afraid that there are other writers out there who are so much more deserving than I am, and that somehow, my shameful secret will be found out. Let me tell you, if I had any doubts before, they’ve certainly doubled now.

The good news is God isn’t into moody blues. He’s more interested in pulling me from my funk and reminding me of who HE is. I’m not writing for me, or my readers, or for reviewers. Fear and doubt? Those are the devils tools. God sees me where I am, whether it be high on the mountaintop, rejoicing over a victory, or deep in the valley, struggling with feelings of failure and doubt.
And He’s faithful.

Faithful to remind me how and when I knew I was called to write, to heal my insecurities, and renew in me a peace that passes understanding.

So yesterday, I got out my laptop and hesitantly typed the first words I’ve managed since before my writer’s conference. I wrote and erased the same line several times. The next line came a little easier. Soon, I’d written an entire chapter. It felt so good, and it reminded me. . .I’m not alone in my funk. God is there, helping me, sustaining me. He’s just not interested in staying there. And neither am I.

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Pitch and Prepare

Before I was published, the process for submitting a manuscript was a long, sometimes grueling task. First came the query letter. Beyond that hurdle lay the proposal. After that, the full manuscript. Then the backcover copy. The list went on. I learned to sympathize with the pets in a circus performance. Here’s the hoop. Jump through.

As authors, we’re willing to do almost anything to see our work in print. We spend hours laboring over just the right turn of phrase for each and every paragraph. The query letter itself is polished to a fine sheen, for there have been times when those few precious lines were all an editor ever saw of my work. All they needed to see.

“Your manuscript does not fit our current publishing needs…”

Ugh. I have those words seared into my psyche, which is why going to Dallas to attend an annual writer’s conference proved such an interesting endeavor. Would anything be different now that I had the added credential of having sold a book on my resume?

“What have you got?” an editor asked me at dinner one night.

“A historical, set in Scotland around 1040.”

“Is it finished?”

“Yes.”

“Send me a proposal.”

Excuse me. What?

Not, ‘fantastic, that’s just what we’re looking for,’ or ‘I’m sure it’s perfect, here’s a contract,’ but, ‘send me a proposal.’

Sigh. So not much is different, I’m afraid. Except…

Did I mention that I skipped right over the pitch? This editor didn’t ask me what the book was about, or how long I’d been writing, or if I’d taken time to research. One look at my nametag, emblazoned with the words, “Barbour Mystery Author,” was enough. I could almost see it on the person’s face. “You’ve sold. You’ve got to be pretty good. Send me what you’ve got.”

It wasn’t until I got back to my room that night that the full realization hit me. Writing will never be easy. It'll require all my energy, all my effort. There is no grand 'arrival.' Each step is part of a journey, one I gladly set out to take.

Yes, there’s still hoops, just not as many. And somehow, they’re not as daunting as they were before.

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The Royalty Statement

I received an interesting piece of mail the other day. Since it bore my publisher’s address, I was quite intrigued and couldn’t wait to get it home so I could open it. My hands trembled. I took in air with short, troubled gasps. What if my editor at Barbour changed her mind? What if Barbour didn’t want my book after all, and they were informing of their decision through a standardized form letter? Imagine my surprise when I pulled out a piece of paper with the words “Royalty Statement” emblazoned across the top! After all, my book isn’t even on the shelves yet.

Which I guess explains why the statement was blank. And why there was no check enclosed.

I got quite a chuckle out of this very first royalty statement, because although it was blank, and no fat check fell out of the envelope, it was a bit of confirmation for me, a proving almost, that I’m a working writer now, with real responsibilities.

So this is what it feels like, I pondered to myself. This is what my life will be like from now on. . .deadlines, royalty statements, book signings.

Well, except for the money ;-) I’d like to think that someday, I actually WILL have a check attached to my royalty statement. Until then, I think I’ll frame this one, sort of as a reminder to be humble, for no reward comes without hard work and sacrifice. Reminds me of a parable I heard once, about a servant with five talents. . .

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Conference Update by Janelle Mowery

I’ve been to four ACFW conferences since joining in 2002. Some have been good, others…well, not so much. Dallas proved to be a far different experience. I arrived on Wednesday, expecting very little beyond my appointments, though it was my hope that author Jane Orcutt, who’d agreed to do a paid critique with me, liked the chapter I’d sent. Little did I know how wonderful this would prove to be—to go with no expectations and let God do the work He wants to do.

I felt the quiet buzz the moment I walked into the hotel lobby. Conferees occupied the seating areas and spilled out into the halls. No one wore name tags yet, but their faces spoke hope and excitement that immediately set them apart as writers, here for a purpose. All around me, I felt the warm embrace of people like me, kindred spirits with a love for writing and a love for the Lord. Also present were those conference newbies, eighty-nine in all. First timers with a look of fear on their face that brought me back to my first conference experience. I reached out to them, just as someone had reached out to me, and felt the thrill of helping make Dallas a wonderful experience for someone else.

Anticipation made sleep elusive that night. I’d memorized my ‘one-liner,’ and planned to read off my pitch sheet during my appointments. While I did not feel the same nervousness as I had at previous conferences, there was still that ‘waiting’ that accompanies every attendee. I awoke Thursday, eager to begin. Unfortunately, my appointment with Jane was postponed until Friday. This ended up being a blessing, though I only realized that later.

Our keynote speaker that night, Liz Curtis Higgs, was awesome. Her message will stick with me. I wish I could carry her around in my pocket, and take her out from time to time for encouragement. The worship sessions were wonderful, a place of praise and healing. Joy shone from people’s faces as they sang. From that point on, I knew I had a great conference in store.

I rose Friday morning, encouraged by Lizzie’s (as she referred to herself) speech, and ready to face my first appointment. Jane met me in the hotel lobby. She prepared me for my meeting with Melissa Endlich, Steeple Hill editor, much like a cheerleader, pushing me from the sidelines with her encouragement and enthusiasm. She helped me hone my pitch, stressing the things I needed to bring out, even offering to do my pitch for me when I told her about my aversion to the silly things. I was floored by her outpouring of compassion and generosity. Forgive me, Jane. Even this little bit does not fully express how much your kind actions meant.

Immediately following my appointment with Jane, was Melissa Endlich. Funny how editors and agents are just like real people. They weren’t nearly as scary as I’d always made them out to be. For the first time, I saw them as friends, people just like me, who understood my nervousness and fears and wanted to help. While I can’t say it went without a hitch, it was encouraging to receive a request for a full manuscript. This, I know, was in part, thanks to Susan Downs’ gift of “Barbour Mystery Author” which each of us stuck to our name tags. I doubt that Susan realized as she labored over these small tokens, how many doors would be opened to us as a result. Thank you, Susan. You are a priceless gift.

Just when I thought the conference couldn’t get any better, Liz Curtis Higgs addressed us again, right after lunch on Saturday. Her message of hope and healing inspired me, touched me, moved me to tears. I’m scared to death to put my heart into my writing, but she taught me the importance of daring to try.

“God doesn’t waste anything,” Liz said. “He uses your sins and your hurts.”

Readers want to feel connected with my words. Unless I am brave enough to bare my soul, I cannot hope to change a reader’s heart, or help them heal a hurt. Thank you, Liz, for challenging me beyond what I thought I was able.

Saturday night—awards banquet. We celebrated the joys and excitement of the Book of the Year finalists, the Genesis finalists, and the Mentor of the Year. Congratulations to you, Colleen Coble, for having your book, Distant Echoes, named as the ACFW Book of the Year. Lena Nelson Dooley won Mentor of the Year, and after having spent time with her, it was easy for me to understand why. Lastly, I want to thank Marian Merritt, a dear friend that I met at last year’s conference, for giving me something to celebrate as she was named the Genesis winner for 2006. Congratulations, lady. I know it was well deserved.

We’re on our way home now. My immediate plans are to get right to work finishing the revisions on the manuscript Steeple Hill has requested. I’ve also got a proposal to send to agent Wendy Lawton. Hopefully, six months from now I will have heard from them both, and I’ll have two more things to celebrate as I lay plans for 2007. If you weren’t there this year, we missed you. Hopefully, things will be different next year, and we can all say, “See you in Dallas.”

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The Appointment

I went into my first conference without the benefit of a mentor. Choosing my editor/agent appointments was interesting, to say the least. At most, it was hit or miss. Thankfully, God was with me as, with fingers shaking, I made my selections.

The next two years, being much more informed (grin), I researched each editor/agent carefully, perused and pored over each publisher’s guidelines, and with fingers shaking, I made my selections. Somehow, I still got the feeling that it was hit or miss.

What makes this year different? Time and connections.

It’s not enough to check out a publisher’s website for guidelines. I’ve discovered that one of the many valuable assets to attending writer’s conferences is the things you learn in the hotel lobby, or the even the bathroom! People talk, mostly about which house acquiring, and who sold what to whom. This stuff is invaluable, folks.

The editor/agent panels are also wonderful tools when used correctly. Take notes! Though the business can change over the course of a year, much of what you learn regarding a house or agency remains the same, even a particular editor or agent moves on.

And don’t overlook writer’s loops. Even casual conversation can be important. When someone announces a book sale, I’m careful to examine what they sold, and who they sold to. Several times, I’ve been surprised to learn that a house I didn’t think was acquiring historicals, for example, bought not one, but a series, and so on.

Sound like an involved process? That’s because it is. In a nutshell, scheduling your editor/agent appointments is the culmination of a year long process of researching, listening, and asking questions, but don’t be dismayed if you’re just now getting started. ACFW is wonderful about updating news and information before the conference begins. The next step will be to start planning for 2007’s conference, the day after this one begins.

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