Try, Try, Try…and Try Again.
By Brooke Moss
Thanks for having me here on Chick Lit Plus, I’m thrilled to be here!
Ever since I sold my debut novel, The What If Guy, to Entangled Publishing, I’ve been asked at least a dozen times for advice on how to break into the publishing world. And as much as I’d like to be able to share my amazing words of wisdom, and to map out the way to publication for all of the aspiring writers out there, I have to admit something:
I’m still as clueless as I ever was.
Well, maybe not quite as clueless as I was. After all, I was pretty clueless. But do I have all of the answers? No way, man. Not at all. Every day I move forward in this new career of mine, I learn more. I’ve learned about the editing process, and how grueling and painful it can be. I’ve learned about doing publicity for your books, and how time consuming that process is. I’ve learned about timelines and deadlines, and how important it is to learn the dying art of patience.
Since selling my book, I’ve been the student, so to speak. But I do have some sound advice for all of the aspiring writers out there. And this advice comes straight from the mouth of an author who was aspiring just a few short months ago. Follow these steps, and it may be your debut hitting the shelves next:
1.) Write a book. Don’t query it before it’s done. Sure, it’s tempting to do so, but it’s simply not a good idea. Because you never know how long your editing process might take, and if an agent or editor expresses interest in it, you’d hate to make them wait six months before it’s in the right shape to send. DON’T query a book that’s not finished. As the great Cherry Adair says, “Finish the damn book!”
2.) Once that book is finished, start editing. Now, this may take a while, and a few separate sets of eyes to look at it, but don’t get discouraged. Editing is a normal part of getting your book in the proper shape for querying. Take it from me, editing isn’t fun. Personally, I loathe it. But it is a necessary evil. So keep your chin up, and do it.
3.) Edit it again. I know, you were so happy when you thought you were done. You danced and celebrated and breathed a sigh of relief, because the worst was over…but no. The work is not done.
4.) Edit it again. Okay, okay, don’t stop reading…I promise that I know what I am talking about. Give your manuscript to a friend, and hand them a red pen. Ask them to mark anything that doesn’t read smoothly, or is confusing. When you get the manuscript back, go through it with new eyes, and fix fix fix.
5.) Write a query letter, and repeat steps three and four. That query letter is an agent or editor’s first impression of you. Make it short, sweet, and undeniably you.
6.) Make a list of agents and editors that you would love to work with. Never query an agent that you haven’t researched. You don’t want to wind up working with an agent that you don’t mesh well with, or have an unforeseen clash of personalities. Plus, what good does it do to query an agent or editor that only works with contemporaries, when you write paranormal, or vice versa? Do your research, and query the right options for you.
7.) Send the queries. And follow their guidelines! If they say no attachments, by gosh, they mean it. Don’t include a picture of yourself in a bikini, or send the first fifty pages of your manuscript, just because you think they’ll give it a chance out of pity. Not following their guidelines is a one way road into the slush pile.
8.) When you get rejected, and believe me, you will, don’t get down on yourself. This is part of the process, no matter how very much it sucks. And believe me, it sucks. Sometimes I even cried. The point is: Just keep sending out the queries. Thank each person who rejects you for pushing you even closer to the person who will offer you a contract.
9.) If you’ve been rejected more times than you can stand and you feel like you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown (which is totally normal) then table the book. Put it in a drawer and promise yourself to revisit it in six months. A year. A decade. Whatever feels right.
10.) Start a new book. I know, I know, now you’re rolling your eyes saying, Why the hell would I do that, when I’ve already written such a good book!? Believe me, I’ve been there. Here’s the deal: A writer who writes ONE great book is like shutting one’s self into a tiny room with no windows or doors. No room to expand. Write another book. Keep making up new worlds. Keep creating new characters. You never know when you’ll be given the chance to revisit that old book, but why limit yourself? Write another damn book.
11.) Edit the new book.
12.) Repeat steps one through nine. If that book doesn’t sell, repeat step ten.
Here is my point in a nutshell: Never give up. If you can’t sell one book, write another. Fine tune your skills. Go to conferences. Listen to lectures. Try new styles, perspectives, methods, etc. Never consider yourself to be at your best; otherwise you’ll never reach your best. Perfect your craft. The What If Guy was the fifth book I wrote. After I was offered a contract for it, my editor read on my website about a trilogy I’d written a few years ago, and asked to read it. This particular trilogy was rejected over forty times.
No, I’m not kidding.
The books you’ve tabled aren’t being forgotten. But never allow yourself to be so tethered to an old project that you’ve stagnated yourself. Keep trying. Try, try, try, try, try…and try again. That’s the best advice this debut author can offer to aspiring writers. Good luck to each and every one of you.
The What If Guy is available through Entangled Publishing, and I am thrilled to be sharing it with the world. It tells the tale of single mom, Autumn Cole, who is returning to the miniscule farming town of her youth, to reluctantly reclaim her role as daughter of the town drunk. Things become even more complicated when she realizes that her son’s history teacher is Henry, the college sweetheart she dumped, but never stopped loving. Be sure to grab a copy of The What If Guy, and then tell me what you think!
Find The What If Guy at Amazon, B&N, Books On Board, and at your local bookseller. A special thanks goes to Entangled Publishing for their amazing prizes and giveaways. Thanks guys!
Find me on the web at Website, Blog, Twitter, Goodreads, and Facebook.
Fondly,
Brooke Moss
An excerpt from The What If Guy:
Seattle, Washington
“Why are you doing this?”
The desperate, sad look in Henry’s eyes made my heart ache. His brown hair fell across his forehead in rain-soaked waves, and his eyelashes gathered in dampened clumps. Henry’s eyes, the same shade of gray as the weeping clouds above us, searched my face for answers I was too ashamed to give.
“What we have is real, Autumn.” He pulled me against his chest. I felt his heart pounding through the wet fabric of his soft, flannel shirt, and we trembled in unison, standing on the front steps of Henry’s apartment building. “Why do you want to break up? Don’t you love me?”
“Don’t do this,” I said weakly. My eyes filled with hot tears that threatened to undermine my brave façade. When he grazed his fingers across my cheekbone, swiping away a tear, I instinctively turned my face into his hand, breathing in the warm, outdoorsy aroma of Henry.
My Henry.
He kissed my cheeks, my temples, my shivering lips. My resolve started to crumble. Strength. I needed to show strength. I needed to walk away before I ruined his life, before I hurt him any more than I already had.
“Tell me that you don’t love me,” he whispered into my drenched hair, tangling his fingers in my curls. “Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”
I choked on a sob. I did love Henry. The past two months had been the best months of my life. Not once had I dreamt of meeting someone who made me feel safe, peaceful, beautiful, and deliriously happy, the way Henry Tobler made me feel. I wanted to be with him—and no one else—forever.
“Of course I love you,” I said.
“Then why are you doing this?” His voice cracked.
I shivered in Henry’s arms, not only from the cold, but also from the burden I
bore. Pulling back, I raised my eyes to meet his. “I….I’m pregnant.” My words were barely audible over the sound of the pounding rain and passing traffic.
His face morphed from shock to anger, then settled on absolute sadness. We hadn’t slept together yet.
“It was from before,” I explained lamely, feeling dirty as the words came out my mouth. Henry’s shoulders drooped. He released me and a shadow fell across his eyes. That said it all. His girlfriend was pregnant with someone else’s child.
Henry deserved better than me.
I had to get out of here. I backed away, down the cement steps and onto the sidewalk. I rubbed my chest, my heart breaking just beneath the surface.
“I’m sorry,” I said, words quavering. “I’m so sorry.”
I turned and ran. Away from love.
