I had the weirdest experience as I read the galleys for Love is the Thread, my memoir with a publishing date of December 1, 2011. Every word was familiar to me, but at the same time certain events, selected phrasings and many insights stunned me.
Did I really write this? I know I did. But a larger voice peeks through the words, one far wiser (and in places, funnier) than I could ever be.
Oh yeah, it's beautiful, too. And there were only a handful of typos. Great design and layout, Pearlsong Press!
I believe characters live in one layer of reality and readers in another. It is my job as an author to build a bridge between the two. I strive to share writing struggles and triumphs. Inspired by Jo in Little Women, I began writing at age nine and submitted my first story for publication at seventeen. I haven't looked back since; words, pens and paper, and the keyboard have been my constant companions ever since.
Showing posts with label publishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label publishing. Show all posts
12.9.11
16.3.11
Submmission
So many of my posts here relate to works already well along the creation pipeline--Love is the Thread, on its way to becoming galleys. Judith, ready for serious research and then (ha!) one last revision. The Fairy Gate, inching its way toward completion. Yet I haven't really touched on the nerve-wrenching and often painful subject of submission.
I just sent a manuscript to a new publisher. A client and good friend just received a rejection. She waited several weeks, a relatively brief time, before she heard back from the publisher. I have at least eight weeks to wait, at least according to the publisher's response and website.
When my client and friend grieved over her rejection, I told her that I used to save all my rejection letters (or print outs of emailed replies) all together in a big manila envelope. Every once in a while I would take them out and read them, usually late at night when my soul was at low ebb.
Then one night after reading them, I realized I was as close to suicide as I'd ever been. I'd once imagined papering a small room or a large wall with the rejections. Now I asked myself why I was holding on it all? (As I once told my sister and fellow writer, Nancy, "I don't need men. I get rejected in writing!"
At that point, at three in the morning with the rejections scattered around me, the joke didn't seem so funny. So I made a list of which publisher had rejected which manuscripts, then tossed all that rejection away. I've also learned to submit a manuscript--and then forget about it until I hear back. If it does fly home again, I decide, "Ah, I must have misaddressed the envelope. I meant to send the manuscript to the best home for it."
Then I readdress and submit the manuscript again. We'll see how that works out this time.
I just sent a manuscript to a new publisher. A client and good friend just received a rejection. She waited several weeks, a relatively brief time, before she heard back from the publisher. I have at least eight weeks to wait, at least according to the publisher's response and website.
When my client and friend grieved over her rejection, I told her that I used to save all my rejection letters (or print outs of emailed replies) all together in a big manila envelope. Every once in a while I would take them out and read them, usually late at night when my soul was at low ebb.
Then one night after reading them, I realized I was as close to suicide as I'd ever been. I'd once imagined papering a small room or a large wall with the rejections. Now I asked myself why I was holding on it all? (As I once told my sister and fellow writer, Nancy, "I don't need men. I get rejected in writing!"
At that point, at three in the morning with the rejections scattered around me, the joke didn't seem so funny. So I made a list of which publisher had rejected which manuscripts, then tossed all that rejection away. I've also learned to submit a manuscript--and then forget about it until I hear back. If it does fly home again, I decide, "Ah, I must have misaddressed the envelope. I meant to send the manuscript to the best home for it."
Then I readdress and submit the manuscript again. We'll see how that works out this time.
Labels:
manuscript submission,
publishing,
writing
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