'Tis better to have loved, and lost
We all know that’s total bunk, we just don’t let it stop us. Which is why I decided to work up one of my novels and submit it. I’ve got nothing to lose but a bit of pride, and we all know that’s no good for anything other than tripping us up, right?
I’m just wondering if there’s a fundamental difference between a writer who knows his/her work is crap, but submits it anyway – and a writer who believes his/her work is ground breaking, when it’s really crap, and submits it ignorantly.
I can promise you all, I’m the former, not the latter. As I go through this novel, altering, correcting and generally feeling embarrassed at the occasionally (violently) poor quality, I’m constantly hounded by the deep understanding that this – and consequently me – is never going to live up.
Let me assure you – I’ve been around the block.
In fact, I’ve been around the block, down the road and up the path.
I know how to submit to publishers. I know how to locate them. I know the ins and outs and the cold realities. I know only agents will tell you you’ll need an agent. I know “not accepting unsolicited manuscripts” means bugger right off, we have a slush pile five miles thick already.
I know the formats, I know the prejudices, and I know the tricks to getting read.
I know where the hoops are, I’ve just never been able to jump that high.
See, the trick to getting anyone to read your work isn’t your work – I could be the second coming of Shakespeare himself, but without the PERFECT summation letter, no one would ever read me.
The trick – the one and only way to get anyone to hesitate between opening your envelope and tossing it in the shred bin – is to WOW them with the summation. It’s the one and only thing they’re going to read, and it has to introduce you, and explain in brief but amazing detail, your entire novel – in one page.
Imagine seeing a movie that has you buzzing – you loved it, can’t say enough about it, but you realize none of your friends are going to like it one bit – so you try to describe it to them, giving the entire plot away in a manner that will make them NEED to see this movie, and you only have five minutes to explain it all.
That’s how you get read. It’s not how you get published, but you won’t even get read if you can’t wow them with the letter.
And that’s after you’ve found one or two you can submit to in the first place. As we all know who’ve been around this block, down that road and up this path, each and every publisher out there has a slush pile filled with people ten times better than you. They’re not hurting for books to print, and they’re not at all desperate to read yours.
In fact, they’d really rather not.
Sure, they’re all looking for that next big money maker - - but anyone who visits a bookstore can see, very few books fit that bill. So these publishers have been taking all these risks already, on all these other duds. Why should they care to try yours?
So on days like this, as I’m nearly finished refurbishing this novel and fretting over the extremely daunting task of a summation letter that might - - just might - - have a chance, I try not to think about all that Love and Loss crap.
I just think about Jose Saramago, who published his first novel at the age of 60, and now stands as the Portuguese Noble Laureate.
Maybe I have more blocks, roads and paths to go around before I get there, but at least I’m walking !