A moment of thought

This fortnight I’ve done so many things that I’ve lost track.

I’ve written the poorest drabbest first draft of a novel so that someone can check something in it before I polish the novel up. Last time I did this, the novel was approved of by the friends doing all the checking and I edited it lightly and suddenly it was in print (that was The Year of the Fruit Cake). This novel will need more editing that than because my gut says that it has a sagging middle. The story tells of a group of strangers that meet on a dying island and do the hard work to make themselves into such a group of friends that they will all get through the impossible even if they have no idea how they’re going to get through that impossible.

I guess I need to find a publisher for it after I’m happy with it, but that’s then.

Some writers write under contract. Me, I really like writing work that balances and expresses my research. That means it’s fairer on publishers if I have a complete novel to offer them, so contracts generally come after my work is finished. It also means I can write what I need. If it doesn’t get published, that’s my risk – so far this hasn’t happened. So far small and medium press have been very happy to take my work. (it doesn’t matter how published I am, I feel it’s always ‘so far’ – I can’t predict tomorrow.)

My novel doesn’t read like research. It’s not supposed to.

My research at the moment is pulling a lot of half seen and unseen aspects of culture to pieces and explaining them. This means my novel is almost the opposite of action-adventure, even though it’s a quest novel. I may have trouble selling it, but I had a wonderful time writing it. It helped me make sense of my theories and added 3,000 words to the book I’m writing that tells everyone about that hidden and half-hidden culture.

I am not sure how many other fiction writers do this research linked to writing. Some, but not that many. It makes for much slower reading and, as one reader told me the other day, more dense writing. My stuff is the sort you pick up when you want a slow read and maybe to drift off into thought. Also the book you want to pick up when you feel a driving passion to argue with a character or buy them coffee.

I’ve been told all this in the last few weeks, too, because I’ve had a lot of contact with readers online with this and that.

This got me thinking that there are big advantages for writers in the US and in the UK, especially if they are in the vicinity of major book cities like New York, London and Melbourne. Interaction with readers is more common and publishing activity is more… public.

Some of that everyday activity from major cities has crept online recently and a few of us from outside those areas have experienced it more than usual.

I’ve found it to be incredibly useful. First, I have been told my books are worth reading. Readers asking for signatures prove this thing normally, but most writers don’t live in a place that has ‘normally’. When I go to conventions or when I give workshops I meet readers. I come out with a lovely sense of having done something useful, and with a bit more understanding of my strengths  as a writer.

The publishing industry itself only gives those sorts of confirmations to writers they can talk to (ones near enough geographically or in the right circles) or to ones who have vast international heft, either through fame or through the amount of income they pull in.

I mostly get my everyday support from other writers. They’re kind and generous and understand the situation. Writers move into communities (which is what we discovered a couple of weeks ago and why we have this treehouse) and those communities can help fill in the emotional vacuums left by the industry.

The trouble with writing is that it occupies the brain. I’m going to persuade my brain that there is an outside world by having a nice long bath with lavender and magnesium salts. I think of this as ‘the power of the pause.’

See you in a fortnight!