
My story is supposed to be fiction today and as I type, I'm all fictioned out.
I join the ranks of a LOT of you that have completed my first novel and am now "shopping an agent". The agent, in the publishing world, is the offesive line in the game that is played. Your agen reads, represents, takes your baby and convinces someone that it is a good risk to publish - and represents you during the deal.
Well, crap.
In the last few months I have been writing and re-writing with eight (count em - 8) voices of women I have grown close to. These women weave a story and all oof them live in my head, speaking as I write down what they say and think.
I finished my first draft and hired a professional editor who said she "couldn't believe it was my first attempt". She's not just an editor, she was my first pick of professional editors and her love of my book made me all gooey and blushy. I was walking on air through the re-writes that she suggested....
And sent it off to my "dream agent" who wrote me back -- and flattened me. Here's part of what the agent said.
" Getting into the material itself, I’m sorry to report that I wasn’t as taken with the writing as I’d hoped to be. There seems to be much more telling than showing, at least in my view. You have rich material, for sure, but isn’t working very well as fiction, for me at least. Would it function better as non-fiction (which would change the story, of course), I wonder?
Alas, Janet, I wish I could sign on but I’m just not in love with the project, which is so essential when it comes to fiction. Please know that we’ll be cheering you from the sidelines and hope that another agent has the vision for this project!"
Well, that's it. Because I'm a glutton for punishment I am posting this and you can probably know first hand the pain of denial.
No, you're not a genius.
No, I wasn't enthralled.
No, the book is not what you thought it was.
Now, I know I'm supposed to say "Whatever, next!" but my heart feels the stab of denial that I was crazy to think I would be able to avoid.
I am hoping that OS Weekend Fiction Club will forgive me for writing a first person truth and all-about-me.... but I saw the prompt and just laughed.
Still, I'll press on.


Salon.com
Comments
I'm not giving the miserable bastards the satisfaction.
a book ???
like, a real damn book i could read, if these damn fools
only saw its secret dreams & confessions
for what they are: wisdom in a tricky time.
i would think wisdom would sell. i would hope so!