Fight Club

There’s this movie called Fight Club. I saw it once, back in college maybe, and I don’t remember much about it aside from the poster

and the fact that Brad Pitt and Edward Norton star in it (which, yeah, I think I know just because of the poster). What’s the plot? What is Fight Club? Honestly, I have no idea. But I do know that you aren’t supposed to talk about Fight Club. (Aunt V and Uncle J would be proud of me for at least knowing that.) Why can’t you talk about it? Again, no idea.

Recently, an author friend invited me to join a group of writers that reminds me a little of Fight Club. First off, the group is specifically labeled secret. Second, its membership is limited and by invite only. I accepted the author friend’s invite, not sure what to expect.

What I found was overwhelming. I scrolled through the list of members, noticing over and over again that I have books by many of these authors. One of my favorite authors ever is one of the group’s moderators. Right there, I was sure I didn’t belong in the group. I almost sent a message to my author friend to ask if she’d made a mistake.

But the more time I spent reading posts, the more I realized I’m as much a part of this group as the well-known authors. Alongside all the authors, there are other writers like me who are deep in the query trenches. We query trench writers can ask advice from the others, knowing that they’ve been there before and have the answers we need. I love it.

I don’t comment on most posts because published authors are asking the questions. I have so little experience, but I’m learning what it’s like to be on the other side, the agented side, the side where they’ve published books (plural!) and know how the whole industry works. Part of me is jealous, wondering if I’ll always be stuck on this side, where the trenches are. But most of me is so grateful my author friend invited me along so I can read, learn, and get to know so many authors and what author life is like.

I wish I could say more, but like I said, I’m pretty sure this group is a Fight Club for writers. And you’re not supposed to talk about Fight Club.

Writing Vacation

Whenever people ask me what I’m doing in the evening and I answer that I’ll be working, they often give me funny looks. And they should (unless they know me really well). Because I make flavors, literally, and that means I spend my work days mixing hundreds of chemicals together to make the stuff that goes in your coffee creamer, your yogurt, your favorite cookie or cake, the seasoning on your chips or breaded chicken. It’s not the kind of work I could ever take home. But that’s my day job.

At night (and on weekends), I work on writing. Sometimes I’m writing something new, sometimes editing/revising, and sometimes crafting query letters to send to literary agents. I call it work because I want people to know how serious I am about it. I spend just as much time per week on my writing as I spend making flavors, some weeks more. I may not get paid for it, but I have to put that much effort into it in the hopes that someday I’ll sign with an agent and a publisher and get my writing out there for others to read.

I’m so dedicated to my writing that even though my husband and I just spent this week on vacation (Philadelphia and Boston, if you’re curious), I was determined to still write.  I didn’t take my laptop, but I tucked a mini notebook in my carry-on. I can write the old fashioned way just as easily as type on a computer.

Turns out, I didn’t write a word (unless text messages, tweets, and Facebook statuses count). Turns out, when I go on vacation, I don’t mean just from my day job. I had every intention to write, I swear, but at the end of the day, after traipsing around Philadelphia or Boston for hours, I just wanted to lie down on my hotel bed and sleep. I love sleep.

Now, vacation’s over. I’ve washed vacation away (literally, because planes). My laptop’s half-dead from being unplugged all week, but I’m dragging the cord to my workspace in my library so I can get some words in. My goal is the same as every other writing day, one thousand words, excluding this blog post. I may not be going back to my day job until Monday, but I’m right back at the writing.

From a Dusty Shelf

If you’re not a writer, then you might not know that when we writers give up on a manuscript, when it’s dead and going nowhere, we say we’re shelving it. We shove it to the back of the tallest shelf, where it’s hidden from view, where we don’t have to look at it every time we sit down to write. It gathers dust. It sits there and it waits. Sometimes forever.

Last winter, I shelved the first YA manuscript I’d written. I’d queried it, contested it, and nothing came of it. Well, not nothing. My writing was good, agents said, but the concept wasn’t there. The stakes weren’t there. I had some requests, but never an offer of representation. So I shelved it and moved on.

But I loved that story. I’d based it on a semester of college I’d spent in Paris. I lived in a Parisian dorm, took classes at a Parisian college, and traveled on long weekends to Ireland, England, Italy, Austria, Switzerland, and all over France. I discovered my love of art and lost my passport. The only thing that I didn’t have was a guy, a romance. So I took that semester of college and gave it to a teenage main character, adding that love interest that I’d wished I’d had.

Even after I shelved the story, I continued to think about, mostly because those five months abroad were a few of the most influential of my life. I still wanted that story to be told. But maybe it’d been enough to tell it to myself.

I moved on, wrote two more manuscripts. I recently shelved the first of those. The other I entered into Pitch Wars last month. I didn’t get a mentor and told myself I was taking a break before querying. I’m still on that break.

But, funny enough, a comment in one of my Pitch Wars rejection emails kept bothering me. Write something new, the mentor suggested. I think this was general advice, something the mentor told every writer who didn’t get picked to be a mentee. And the truth was, I’d be toying with a new idea for a few weeks. I just couldn’t get it to work just right.

Then I remembered that shelf where I’d shoved my Parisian story. Last week, I pulled that manuscript out of the dust, blew it clean, and began anew. I’m keeping the names of the characters, most of their personalities, and many of the settings. But I’m adding huge stakes and a massive change for the main character. She’s not me anymore, not even close, and I love her.

It’s been six days and I’m already 7,000 words in. I’m sticking with the goal I set for my last MS: 1K a day until I type The End, hopefully around 70,000 words. The best part is that I’m pulling words and phrases from my old manuscript, pasting them into my new document, and saving some writing that I’d thought was shelved for good.

Horseshoes & Hand Grenades

Rumors ran all over the #PitchWars Twitter feed yesterday that Brenda Drake would be announcing the contest’s winners at midnight EST. This was bad for me for two reasons.

1. I’m one of those people that need sleep. Seven hours will do, but I prefer eight (or ten…but that rarely happens). Since I had to get up for work at six the next morning, staying up to midnight would be a bad idea.

2. I really wanted to stay up for the announcement because I was pretty sure I had a good shot of being on that list. Then again, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be on it, no matter how close I was sure I’d be. (Self-doubt, etc.)

Either way—my name there or not there—I didn’t see myself falling asleep soon after reading the announcement. So I went to bed around eleven.

And then woke up less than four hours later. I fretted in the darkness, wondering if the winners were posted, if I was one of them. Because there were three reasons I thought my name might be there.

1. Less than twenty-four hours after I submitted my materials to the contest, one of the mentors emailed me, asking for my first fifty pages. OMG.

2. About a week later, that same mentor emailed me again, this time looking for a synopsis. Which meant my first fifty had been good enough that the mentor was curious about the rest of the story.

3. On Sunday, two days before the mentors had to turn in their final picks, that same mentor emailed me a third time, wanting to know my query history for THE BUTTERFLY GHOST (which was nonexistent). I figured the mentor was looking for some way to differentiate between top picks, which meant I was still in it.

So about 2:45 this morning, I couldn’t wait any longer. I grabbed my phone and opened the internet. Brenda Drake’s blog was already there waiting for me. All I had to do was refresh the page.

My name wasn’t there.

I wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t mean I felt any less disappointed and bitter. I’d wanted this so bad. I’d believed in THE BUTTERFLY GHOST and I’d been so sure this mentor did, too.

Turns out, the mentor just believed in a couple of other manuscripts more. I received a personalized rejection email from the mentor later that morning. The mentor explained that I was in the top five, that this was a book the mentor would love to buy and read, that the concept and writing were great. And in the end, the mentor encouraged me to keep going.

And I will.

I’ve often heard the saying that close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, but I’m not sure that’s true here. Sure, I didn’t get a Pitch Wars mentor, but I did get the best feedback I’ve had yet on one of my manuscripts. In the mentor’s initial email asking for my first fifty pages, the mentor said my query was stellar. I’m taking as a sign that I might stand out of some agent’s query slush pile.

That said, I’m taking a bit of break, starting today. At the end of that break, I’ll read through my manuscript one more time, making a few more changes based on feedback I’ve gotten from critique partners, fellow Pitch Wars mentee hopefuls, and Write On Con attendees. Then, I’ll be querying, hoping to find some agent that loves my manuscript just a smidge more than all the other great ones out there.