The Experts Weigh In

I've had two general writing questions of late. The first was how to classify agent rejection letters. The second was how do organic, write-by-the-seat-of-your-pants writers manage to crank out a proposal for an unwritten book (which is basically the way things happen once your work starts selling). The results are in.

Question 1 yielded several answers. The response to my agent rejection varied from neutral with positive elements to positive overall. Two published authors provided their feedback. From Wen Spencer (via Forward Motion): "This isn't a judgement on her part on your book, but a 'we just don't click' on your writing style and her personal taste." From Sheila: "As an authority on rejections (cruising toward a career total of 2000+ myself) I can assure you this one is very positive. The agent has class and professionalism, sounds honest, and took the time for a personal response, all of which is always a good indicator. When you get three-word brushoffs like 'Not for us' scrawled in the margin of the original query letter, then it's time to break out the solace substance of choice and rethink the proposal."

For Question 2, I went straight to Carol Berg, whose workshop on outlining alternatives I attended at the RMFW conference in September. Seems this is something she struggles with as well. Her own experience has been to write as many as nine chapters of the proposed novel and then write a proposal that concentrates heavily on the events of those chapters while sketching her best prediction of what the rest of the novel will look like.

These answers mesh pretty well with the basic answer I had floating around in my head. The rejection was good. Nothing too earth-shatteringly good, but better than most folks can expect their first time out the gate. A nice bit of encouragement to keep me trying. The organic writer's proposal is a problematic thing, something only writing at least part of the book will accomplish. Which isn't necessarily different from the more structured writer's proposal. Instead of all that detailed outlining and such, organic writers just dive right in and then sketch the basic premise they see unfolding. The problem is that starting the book is usually more time-intensive. And that becomes a problem once you are a published author and have to worry about writing the books that have deadlines and weaving in time to start books that may not get bought by a publisher. Hopefully Carol will have some advice on this at the next conference.

Knowing these answers provides nice closure to 2003, in a writing sense. Everything seems to have wrapped itself up. Not my projects, of course, but my goals and ideas for the year. My first experiences with a writing contest, with a writing conference, and with an agent submission have all concluded. All i's dotted, all t's crossed. That goes well with my hopes for 2003. I still have many things to do, many goals to reconsider and create anew, many self-analyses to make, many dreams to savor, and many realities to face. More on this to come.