I realize that, since I'm trying to get actual readers for this blog (i.e., I'm conning all of my Facebook friends into following links I post on my Wall), I should probably explain just what I'm up to. Given that this blog is two years old anyway, and was sporadically updated in that time frame, some background should hopefully prove helpful.
In August 2008, I started work on what would eventually become my second completed novel, Seafear. It's a story about pirates, adventure, kidnapping, magic, overcoming your fears, with a little bit of sexual tension thrown in for good measure. It took me a little under a year to write, and I completed the manuscript in late June 2009. Seafear is about as long as the first Harry Potter book, for a reference.
After finishing the first draft of the novel, I spent about two months editing. I printed the whole thing out (and it was 370 pages with the font I used, so that took a while) and three-hole punched all the pages with my mother's help, and then set to rereading the thing. Only another writer can really understand how surreal it is to read a book you wrote, to see things you thought were crap when you wrote them down seven months ago fitting in with the overall arc of the narrative.
Editing was a slow process, and it's a continual process. I went line by line, taking notes on things I felt worked or didn't work, things that needed to be moved, reworded, deleted, emphasized. The notes I took varied from "change 'being carried' to 'carried'" to "no odd symbol. What was I going for?" to "Snide doesn't fit Captain Monday's character." The writer is never the best judge of his own work, so the fact that I'm not actively editing Seafear right now does not mean that it's complete.
Following the revision process, I sent a few copies out to friends to see what they thought about it. That alone was frightening. Here was something that nobody else had ever heard of, a whole world that existed only in my head, and now a few of my friends could sit down and tell me about the plot. To this day, I still think it's weird hearing one of my friends say any of the characters' names -- the characters may be real to me, but to say their names out loud sounds very foreign.
After the feedback, I made the decision to go ahead and try and get Seafear published. A lot of you have been asking things like, "What publishing house did you send your book to?" or "How much does it cost to get your book printed?" Publishing doesn't work like that, I'm afraid.
Going from finishing your book to seeing it on the shelves at a bookstore is a lengthy process that begins ultimately with a literary agent. A literary agent is sort of like a lawyer who negotiates your publishing contract. But they're more than that; a literary agent helps you edit your book, helps you usher your ideas from a few scraps of paper to a completed manuscript, and helps you find the best home for your book. But they don't just take up any project that passes under their nose; no, a literary agent must be wooed. To do this, the author (and prospective client) must undertake an excessively difficult task: the query letter.
A query letter is one part business letter, one part jacket copy, and a whole lot of agony. A lot of agents ask you to kindly summarize your book into a few sentences to hopefully entice them into wanting to read more. You also have to do some background research on the agent you're querying; a surefire way to get a rejection letter is to send your young adult thriller novel to an agent that only represents historical Christian romances. On top of all that, they ask for any relevant background information that could show why you're qualified to have written this book, or any publishing credentials you have.
Then, between the time span of a few minutes to several months, the agent will get back to you. (They receive a lot of email every day, on top of having to manage the clients they represent. It's understandable that it takes a while.) Sometimes it's a rejection letter, saying "Sorry, not for me, thanks" (the extent of one of the rejection letters I've sent), and sometimes they'll ask to see more. If they ask to see more, and they like what they see, they offer you representation, and then the hunt begins for an editor and a publisher.
So where am I in this whole process? Well, I've been sending query letters out for almost a year now, although not with any consistency. I sent a bunch out back in August 2009 and didn't get any positive response -- in fact, most of the agents I queried back then didn't even send me an email back. I rewrote my query letter and sent out a few more emails, and tend to only remember to query more agents once a month. All in all, I've sent out 23 query letters.
I've had two positive responses from agents who, after seeing my initial query letter, asked to see the full thing. Unfortunately (though both said they enjoyed Seafear), they chose to pass. As of now, I'm waiting a response from three different agents, one of whom I queried about five minutes before writing this blog post.
My letter is pretty solid; it's gotten me some positive response, which is more than a lot of unpublished writers can say. I don't have any background in publishing, or any previously published material. Generally these are short stories that have been published in literary magazines, but I think I'm categorically incapable of writing a short story. Instead, this is what I put in my letter where my credentials should be: "SEAFEAR is the kind of story I wanted to read when I was a younger teenager – it doesn’t revolve around the piddling troubles of Mary Sue and her vampire/werewolf/demon/wizard/custodian boyfriend, it revolves around adventure and intrigue." No the most professional bit, but it gets a bit of my personality out there.
Oh, and on top of trying to get Seafear published, yesterday I reached page 200 of its sequel. It has a real title, but for purposes of being coy and annoying, I'm calling it Seaquel. It's not even halfway done yet. So all in all, I've been keeping quite busy.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
The Terror of New Beginnings
I tend to plan books far in advance of when I'm going to actually write them. I started taking notes on the first book I completed back in the summer of 2005, and didn't really get started on anything until May 2006. Before that, during my first attempt at writing a novel ever, I started planning it in 1999. Yes, I was ten, and very precocious, but I still used the same world, characters, and general plot that I wanted to use when I started writing in 2003.
When I plan my novels, I like to do chapter-by-chapter outlines, detailing exactly what will happen in each chapter, giving it a title, and trying to shoehorn some character development elements into it. I usually stick to the outlines while I'm writing, occasionally adding a chapter or removing one when I don't feel it's necessary to take the story in that direction.
The one exception to both of these rules was Seafear. Seafear was a kind of fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants novel, which I'd never really done before. I wrote my first notes down for it on August 3, 2008, and I started writing it twelve days later. Yeah, I did an outline for it, but that was abandoned by Chapter Five and I never looked at the outline again until the very ending, when I needed to steal a chapter title. It was a very different experience than what I'd normally done, but it worked out well.
With Seaquel, unlike Seafear, I've been much more strict about adhering to the outline. I already have the bedrock of the first book to build off, so I need to stick to continuity. Seaquel is also the second part of a trilogy (because every debut young adult series needs to be a trilogy is why), so threads that I began to lay in the first book need to be carried through in this one.
With all this in mind, I began plotting out Threequel this weekend (get it?), and it's scaring the bejeesus out of me. If I stick to my outline, this book is going to be a very long one, maybe the length of the sixth Harry Potter book. While overly thick volumes seems to be standard fare for a lot of fantasy series, I've never written anything that crosses over the 100,000-word mark. My longest work was 85,000 words. If Threequel goes as I think it will, it's going to pass 150,000.
That petrifies me and excites me at the same time. Right now I'm focused on Seaquel, but Threequel is going to ultimately be the most difficult, most complex, and hopefully most fulfilling book I'll have written to date. Too bad it won't get written until at least 2011.
When I plan my novels, I like to do chapter-by-chapter outlines, detailing exactly what will happen in each chapter, giving it a title, and trying to shoehorn some character development elements into it. I usually stick to the outlines while I'm writing, occasionally adding a chapter or removing one when I don't feel it's necessary to take the story in that direction.
The one exception to both of these rules was Seafear. Seafear was a kind of fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants novel, which I'd never really done before. I wrote my first notes down for it on August 3, 2008, and I started writing it twelve days later. Yeah, I did an outline for it, but that was abandoned by Chapter Five and I never looked at the outline again until the very ending, when I needed to steal a chapter title. It was a very different experience than what I'd normally done, but it worked out well.
With Seaquel, unlike Seafear, I've been much more strict about adhering to the outline. I already have the bedrock of the first book to build off, so I need to stick to continuity. Seaquel is also the second part of a trilogy (because every debut young adult series needs to be a trilogy is why), so threads that I began to lay in the first book need to be carried through in this one.
With all this in mind, I began plotting out Threequel this weekend (get it?), and it's scaring the bejeesus out of me. If I stick to my outline, this book is going to be a very long one, maybe the length of the sixth Harry Potter book. While overly thick volumes seems to be standard fare for a lot of fantasy series, I've never written anything that crosses over the 100,000-word mark. My longest work was 85,000 words. If Threequel goes as I think it will, it's going to pass 150,000.
That petrifies me and excites me at the same time. Right now I'm focused on Seaquel, but Threequel is going to ultimately be the most difficult, most complex, and hopefully most fulfilling book I'll have written to date. Too bad it won't get written until at least 2011.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Writer's Block
The pithy answer to "What is writer's block?" is "There's no such thing."
This is, ultimately, true. There is no such thing as a disease that prevents you from sitting down and writing. A lot of times, it's a case of lazy. It's when you suddenly realize there are an unlimited number of websites out there, a whole lot of video games to play, friends to talk to, TV to watch, blog posts to write, et cetera, et cetera. Writing on the computer is a dangerous habit, because (for me at least) Facebook inevitably opens.
I've had a hard time making headway in Seaquel lately. (Yes, I'm still being coy about the title. Shut up.) After my last rejection, I've been feeling down about the prospects of Seafear, and it's very hard to force yourself to write when you feel like you can't. I know it's bullshit that I feel that way; both agents who looked at my book said they enjoyed it. But I still worry that it's not going to prove fruitful.
Then I remind myself that I put two years of my life into this thing. On the 25th, the complete manuscript of Seafear will be a year old. On August 15, the story itself turns two. I've put too much into this to be stymied by the inevitable rejection letters that come before that sweet, elusive acceptance letter.
So I'm telling myself I have writer's block right now, because I can't get much done with Seaquel. My poor merry band of pirates have been standing around in a dark corridor for almost two months now, and they really would like to move on with their mission. I'm tantalizingly close to passing 200 pages, which will feel like an accomplishment, so I have reason to write. But I have a severe case of scared and self-doubt (not to mention a little bit of lazy).
The lazy is definitely showing through. After all, there were four seasons of The West Wing to watch when I came home from school, plus plenty of hours to play the Sims 3, and three separate video games that required my immediate and undivided attention.
I need to get back to work. Starting next week, no more nonsense.
This is, ultimately, true. There is no such thing as a disease that prevents you from sitting down and writing. A lot of times, it's a case of lazy. It's when you suddenly realize there are an unlimited number of websites out there, a whole lot of video games to play, friends to talk to, TV to watch, blog posts to write, et cetera, et cetera. Writing on the computer is a dangerous habit, because (for me at least) Facebook inevitably opens.
I've had a hard time making headway in Seaquel lately. (Yes, I'm still being coy about the title. Shut up.) After my last rejection, I've been feeling down about the prospects of Seafear, and it's very hard to force yourself to write when you feel like you can't. I know it's bullshit that I feel that way; both agents who looked at my book said they enjoyed it. But I still worry that it's not going to prove fruitful.
Then I remind myself that I put two years of my life into this thing. On the 25th, the complete manuscript of Seafear will be a year old. On August 15, the story itself turns two. I've put too much into this to be stymied by the inevitable rejection letters that come before that sweet, elusive acceptance letter.
So I'm telling myself I have writer's block right now, because I can't get much done with Seaquel. My poor merry band of pirates have been standing around in a dark corridor for almost two months now, and they really would like to move on with their mission. I'm tantalizingly close to passing 200 pages, which will feel like an accomplishment, so I have reason to write. But I have a severe case of scared and self-doubt (not to mention a little bit of lazy).
The lazy is definitely showing through. After all, there were four seasons of The West Wing to watch when I came home from school, plus plenty of hours to play the Sims 3, and three separate video games that required my immediate and undivided attention.
I need to get back to work. Starting next week, no more nonsense.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
More Rejection
I'm writing this mostly in annoyance to the fact that I've now gotten my 13th rejection letter, this one from an agent who requested a full copy of the manuscript.
The one thing I don't get -- and I don't know I ever will, unless I become a literary agent myself -- is what makes a book the right fit for an agent. I've researched these people, plied them with my query letters, have created a "compelling concept," a "vivid world" that I've put "a lot of care into creating" (mushing together a few different agents' words here), but I'm still rejected because Seafear is "not the right fit."
I don't know. It just doesn't make sense to me.
The one thing I don't get -- and I don't know I ever will, unless I become a literary agent myself -- is what makes a book the right fit for an agent. I've researched these people, plied them with my query letters, have created a "compelling concept," a "vivid world" that I've put "a lot of care into creating" (mushing together a few different agents' words here), but I'm still rejected because Seafear is "not the right fit."
I don't know. It just doesn't make sense to me.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The Beauty of a Good Ending
I just finished watching the series finale of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Although Avatar is a kids’ show, the storytelling in that series is really high quality, a good balance of plot, character, drama, and humor. The story throughout the three seasons is quite well told, and the ending in particular is one of the the most poignant I’ve encountered.
To sum up the basics of the story, the Avatar is the only one in the world of the Four Nations who can manipulate (or bend) all four elements. Aang is the Avatar, and the last Airbender; they were all wiped out by the Fire Lord a century ago, and the war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world goes on throughout the series. Aang has to master the four elements and defeat the Fire Lord, or else the world will fall out of balance.
Well, obviously, he does that. It is a children’s show, after all, and they’re not going to end it in a Shakespearean fashion. But all the loose ends come together so neatly at the end, and it’s one of the most moving images in the whole series to see Aang, at the end, dressed as a master Airbender, savior of the world — and last of his kind. The ending sticks with me every time I watch it.
Or how about the ending to Harry Potter? I invested three years of my life into Avatar, so I was eagerly anticipating its conclusion, but I started reading Harry Potter on my tenth birthday, in 1999. Not only did I spend eight years of my life waiting to see how all that would turn out, but I essentially grew up with Harry. I started the first book right when I was around his age, and due to the timing of the other books’ publications, I finished it the summer before I turned 18 — Harry Potter is almost my peer.
I don’t think I need to recap the ending of Harry Potter here, but J.K. Rowling also constructed a masterful conclusion to the series. Say what you will about the epilogue (and the beastly names Harry and his friends decided to burden their children with), but after racing through roughly 3,800 pages never sure what exactly would happen, worrying about the lives of fictional characters, it was a relief to see Harry fathering some children and getting some small slice of happiness.
And even before then, there is no better chapter in the entire series than Chapter 36, “The Flaw in the Plan.” Everyone starts off thinking Harry is dead, you see Neville Longbottom show off just why he was sorted into Gryffindor, you see everyone get into a monstrously amazing battle, Molly Weasley screams “NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” and kills Bellatrix Lestrange, finally culminating in Harry putting the smackdown on Lord Voldemort.
I’m a writer, so I’m naturally moved most by a really good story. For me, what makes a story entirely worth it is the ending. When you experience a story through any medium, you invest a lot of time into it. Waiting for the ending is tantalizing, and if it is good, if it is satisfying, it makes that time worth it. One of my problems with the Twilight series (yes, I read it all) was that the ending just didn’t pay off, not in any of the books, nor in the series as a whole. Yes, Bella and Edward end up with their happily ever after, but that’s never seriously in jeopardy. Breaking Dawn sets up what could be a real impressive feat for the Twilight saga: all these vampires and werewolves are lining up, and getting ready for some final struggle. And then Bella just shows everyone how cute her baby is and they go away. The end.
I’m not saying every story needs to end with a climactic final battle like Avatar or Harry Potter, but to have plot one must have conflict. Conflict is only resolved with a struggle, even if it’s an internal one, like Huckleberry Finn deciding fine, forget everything I know, I’ll go after Jim. They can be external struggles, like Harry versus Lord Voldemort, or Aang versus Fire Lord Ozai. Really good stories (or at least the ones I love) feature a mixture of internal and external conflict.
That strong rush of feelings I got when I finished the last episode of Avatar, the intense emotions I felt upon closing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows — those are times when I really feel alive and the full extent of what being human entails, even if it’s only vicariously experienced. I’m a writer because I want to try and get others to feel that same rush of feelings I do when I finish something really, really good.
So don’t wimp out on an ending. Don’t pull a Twilight and avoid a bloodbath just because you think that would be sad. Be like J.K. Rowling, don’t be afraid to let some important things be lost, so the price of the conflict’s resolution is apparent.
And that is what makes a good ending.
(Originally posted on my LiveJournal.)
To sum up the basics of the story, the Avatar is the only one in the world of the Four Nations who can manipulate (or bend) all four elements. Aang is the Avatar, and the last Airbender; they were all wiped out by the Fire Lord a century ago, and the war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world goes on throughout the series. Aang has to master the four elements and defeat the Fire Lord, or else the world will fall out of balance.
Well, obviously, he does that. It is a children’s show, after all, and they’re not going to end it in a Shakespearean fashion. But all the loose ends come together so neatly at the end, and it’s one of the most moving images in the whole series to see Aang, at the end, dressed as a master Airbender, savior of the world — and last of his kind. The ending sticks with me every time I watch it.
Or how about the ending to Harry Potter? I invested three years of my life into Avatar, so I was eagerly anticipating its conclusion, but I started reading Harry Potter on my tenth birthday, in 1999. Not only did I spend eight years of my life waiting to see how all that would turn out, but I essentially grew up with Harry. I started the first book right when I was around his age, and due to the timing of the other books’ publications, I finished it the summer before I turned 18 — Harry Potter is almost my peer.
I don’t think I need to recap the ending of Harry Potter here, but J.K. Rowling also constructed a masterful conclusion to the series. Say what you will about the epilogue (and the beastly names Harry and his friends decided to burden their children with), but after racing through roughly 3,800 pages never sure what exactly would happen, worrying about the lives of fictional characters, it was a relief to see Harry fathering some children and getting some small slice of happiness.
And even before then, there is no better chapter in the entire series than Chapter 36, “The Flaw in the Plan.” Everyone starts off thinking Harry is dead, you see Neville Longbottom show off just why he was sorted into Gryffindor, you see everyone get into a monstrously amazing battle, Molly Weasley screams “NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” and kills Bellatrix Lestrange, finally culminating in Harry putting the smackdown on Lord Voldemort.
I’m a writer, so I’m naturally moved most by a really good story. For me, what makes a story entirely worth it is the ending. When you experience a story through any medium, you invest a lot of time into it. Waiting for the ending is tantalizing, and if it is good, if it is satisfying, it makes that time worth it. One of my problems with the Twilight series (yes, I read it all) was that the ending just didn’t pay off, not in any of the books, nor in the series as a whole. Yes, Bella and Edward end up with their happily ever after, but that’s never seriously in jeopardy. Breaking Dawn sets up what could be a real impressive feat for the Twilight saga: all these vampires and werewolves are lining up, and getting ready for some final struggle. And then Bella just shows everyone how cute her baby is and they go away. The end.
I’m not saying every story needs to end with a climactic final battle like Avatar or Harry Potter, but to have plot one must have conflict. Conflict is only resolved with a struggle, even if it’s an internal one, like Huckleberry Finn deciding fine, forget everything I know, I’ll go after Jim. They can be external struggles, like Harry versus Lord Voldemort, or Aang versus Fire Lord Ozai. Really good stories (or at least the ones I love) feature a mixture of internal and external conflict.
That strong rush of feelings I got when I finished the last episode of Avatar, the intense emotions I felt upon closing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows — those are times when I really feel alive and the full extent of what being human entails, even if it’s only vicariously experienced. I’m a writer because I want to try and get others to feel that same rush of feelings I do when I finish something really, really good.
So don’t wimp out on an ending. Don’t pull a Twilight and avoid a bloodbath just because you think that would be sad. Be like J.K. Rowling, don’t be afraid to let some important things be lost, so the price of the conflict’s resolution is apparent.
And that is what makes a good ending.
(Originally posted on my LiveJournal.)
Monday, May 24, 2010
On Agents
One of the scariest and most exciting emails a prospective writer can get is the one from a literary agent that says, "I like how this sounds, can I see more?"
I went almost six months of not hearing anything positive from agencies about Seafear -- a lot of no responses, and almost the rest form rejections. Then, I got my first ever request for a full. For those who don't speak publishing, a full is exactly what it sounds like -- a request to see your full manuscript. So I sent out Seafear.
It was ultimately rejected, but less than two weeks later, I got a second request for a full. I think I'm onto something now.
I went almost six months of not hearing anything positive from agencies about Seafear -- a lot of no responses, and almost the rest form rejections. Then, I got my first ever request for a full. For those who don't speak publishing, a full is exactly what it sounds like -- a request to see your full manuscript. So I sent out Seafear.
It was ultimately rejected, but less than two weeks later, I got a second request for a full. I think I'm onto something now.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Several Things
Goodness it has been a while since I posted here. This is largely because I've moved my blogging to LiveJournal, but I'm suddenly motivated to continue using this blog. Why? Primarily because it's the first thing that pops up when you Google "Seafear." Being the first result for a Google search is a very good thing, especially when you discover that someone bought a trademark on the term "Sea Fear" in March 2010.
I'm going to try and figure out how to link the two blogs together, because it's very important that I keep on top of this thing and continue to be the first result for Google searches for "Seafear."
Oh, and also, agents have been responsive now. So there's that, my non-existent readers.
I'm going to try and figure out how to link the two blogs together, because it's very important that I keep on top of this thing and continue to be the first result for Google searches for "Seafear."
Oh, and also, agents have been responsive now. So there's that, my non-existent readers.
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