the way out

I seem to be back. April 2010, a year since my last blog entry – prompted by the return of The Virtual Onion and by hitting a brick wall. This has never happened to me before, not properly, but I am well and truly stuck. Here is what happened…

I had an agent, possibly I still have an agent, but I’m suspicious of this for two reasons: she’s very unwell; she doesn’t like my second novel. Last year, she came very close to selling my first. It was all very exciting. It got lots of compliments. The language, the voice, the characters were all highly praised, but the story, while moving, was generally seen as too quiet for the current market. Nevermind, a handful of editors were keen enough to want to see what I did next. They knew my second book was set on a cargo ship and this was, apparently, A Good Hook for Marketing. So we were all lined up and I was on my way… I powered through a tough year and a first draft and sent it to my agent before Christmas. She got back to me in the new year and said she didn’t like it. She wasn’t even sure it could be saved. I was crushed. I was a worm in a puddle. I was a burst balloon. But I still believe this book has something fucking genius about it. So here I am faced with an interesting question: who’s right?

I spent a couple of months storming through a more dramatic plot outline. It needed it and I was fired up. But the heart of the problem remains. Whatever I do to the shape of the story, the soul of the book she just doesn’t get. I accept it could be my fault for failing to put it across but I’ve had other readers who do get it. So maybe she’s not the agent for me, or not the agent for this book. Which puts me back to staring out of the window at the ‘Straight Eight for the Ultimate’ sign above the car shop on the other side of the street’. Still here a year on after getting so close. I’ve got a major rewrite ahead of me and I can’t get up the energy to make it past the first chapter. I know I will because this book has roots but for now it’s easier most days to eat yoghurt and sort through my shell collection. I miss me. Maybe if I procrastinate for long enough, I’ll miss the book.

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