Hurry Up and Wait

You can also play with cover ideas!

By Kim

A couple of weeks ago I edited the complete manuscript for The Oak Lovers and sent it to my first round of critique partners and Beta readers. Fellow What Women Write contributor, Joan Mora, advised patience.

“Don’t be too surprised, or too frustrated, if your Beta readers don’t read as fast as you’d like them to,” she said. Joan’s recently been there, done that, and she knows of what she speaks.

Of course, I thought. Just because people have been telling me for years that they can’t wait to read my book doesn’t mean they will open the document the moment it hits their inbox. Some of them have edits of their own to do or deadlines looming. Many have jobs, kids, or both. One just had a tornado hit her house. Really. Others may be overwhelmed by having a four-hundred page document that they have not only agreed to read, but to comment on. What if they don’t like it? What if something doesn’t work? How can they break it to me? (Hint: Just tell me.)

All writers encounter this no-man’s land between composition and submission, so I thought it may be helpful to offer some suggestions for how to pass the time.

Research agents and compose your query. A no-brainer.

Google yourself. Has your blog been neglected? Do you have a website? If not, do you need one? If so, does it need a facelift? Mine did! (Check out my handiwork here.)

Purge office of clutter. Obviously, I’m not about to throw out family documents, but I no longer need files on secondary characters or books on Ojibwa ceremonies. Vintage postcards of settings used in The Oak Lovers can be stowed away like old love letters. This is a break up of sorts. If old voices linger in my mind, it will be harder to hear any new ones.

Brainstorm new projects. I have a few ideas.

Cook. This tip may work better in other homes. In mine it's a futile exercise. I have yet to find a single thing that all members of my family enjoy.

Clean. Dust those high shelves. Organize those cabinets. Dare to face your child’s closet.

Tackle unfinished house projects. Paint a room. Hang new blinds. Install new flooring. Garden.

Read. I don’t know about you, but my to-be-read pile has became a bookshelf, and it's overflowing!

Have a glass of wine. Or two. You’ve earned it.

What you should not do: Open your manuscript. You will think every word you've written is crap. Trust me on this.

Switching Gears

By Kim

Untitled landscape by Carl Ahrens

As some of you know, I completed The Oak Lovers last week. I expected to feel emotional as I typed “the end” and I did – for about ten minutes. Carl and Madonna’s story has haunted me since childhood and I’ve lived it for years. Now it’s over. I imagine I feel much as Madonna did after she lost her precious invalid. Free of a giant burden, but too loyal to celebrate and too numb to mourn. Exhausted.

Shortly before Carl died, he commented to Madonna that it felt “wonderful to be empty.” I have a new understanding of what he meant now. The only voice in my head is my own. It’s refreshing, though it may take me some time to adjust to being alone. When I do, I suspect another voice will invade, another story will demand to be told. Such is a writer’s life.

My manuscript is now in the hands of critique partners and beta readers. The “hurry up” has turned into “wait” for the first of  many times on the path to publication. I've no shortage of things to do during my downtime. There's a website to update, agents to research and queries to write. The dreaded synopsis lurks in my dreams, as do the inevitable rejections.

I know better than to look at my novel now. What gleamed last week will appear tarnished, even rusty. I would attack it with literary Brasso and rub away the stains that give the story heart. I would polish it to death.

So, I wait. I clean my house. I dig into my to-be-read pile. I tinker on my website. I open Query Tracker and take a deep breath.

I listen to the silence.

Countdown

By Joan

Not that I’m counting, but in seven short weeks my only kid goes to college. During these bittersweet days, he’s been around more than in his past four years. He’s indulging me a bit, but I sense he’s also feeling bittersweet about leaving. He’s asked for man-in-the-moon eggs, shared movies and great meals, played card and board games, even my new obsession, Words with Friends, a crazy iBlank game which must soon be deleted from my phone! Soon this microburst of bonding and joy will be replaced by excitement and angst as we send him across the country, into the vast and sometimes harsh world.

I’m in the midst of another countdown—four weeks (give or take) until I send my first query for The Italian Architect at Highgate. Right now my manuscript is in the hands of my trusted group of beta readers. All of my What Women Write partners have either critiqued it or are doing so now, plus I’ve enlisted a few trusted mega-bookworms who share the same taste in fiction.

Some established writers might balk at the idea of so many people commenting and picking apart their manuscripts, but after writing, rewriting, revising, editing, culling, sprucing, sprinkling, killing, I’ve lost a bit of perspective. Plus, as any proud parent would, I relish the time and attention my baby is getting.

Most writers who have queried manuscripts (as a 3-time almost ran, I feel somewhat qualified) know that opinions vary widely. There will be those who love your idea and words, others who pass them by. It’s no different than browsing a bookstore display of new fiction—sometimes you just know at the first few words that it’s not for you.

If three people love a sentence or paragraph and one does not, look hard at the negative comment. Especially if the phrase in question has bothered you—I have one or two in Highgate—hone and twist it into a fresher sentence, save it for your next go, or send it to the guillotine and briefly mourn. The trick is to study the advice and comments and track-changed manuscript for what feels right.

Ultimately, you are the final judge of what ends up in the version you send off to agents and editors. You are the one who will send your baby off to the harsh world, and know it will be in good hands, that in 18 months (or 4 years) from now, you will reap the benefits, see its name on a shelf or a college diploma.