musings, musings on creating

a week on: how do I get published?

Tomorrow makes it one week since I finished the first draft of the book. {see the first few pages here.} I ran off to take care of exciting personal, non-writing related things this past weekend, and am now ready to settle in and give what I’ve written a good once over.

I’ve a list of things I know need working {each character needs a proper voice, as things turned out remarkably talky, some characters need a bit more development, the setting could be more fully fleshed out, etc.}, and I’m sure I’ll find a million more big and little things to fix. All of that, I know I can do.

Where I have no road map is on how I get published. It is all well and good to be able to say “I’ve finished the first draft of my first novel,” but no publisher in her right mind is going to just hand me some money and offer to publish…or even just offer to publish and pay me if copies are sold. I could self-publish, but right now I have already taken enough time off work to write this thing. I do not want to sink my own money in just yet.

And, so, I research. I beg information from anyone I know who has any contacts that might know how to go about getting published. I Google. I blog, hoping some editor person will like what she reads. I do what I can, and what I can right now is get stuck in on some edits and ask for help.

Advertisements
Standard
fiction, new from the book

first draft complete: a teaser

I feel like exclamation points. Lots and lots and lots of exclamation points. Instead of using them, there are pedicures and champagne, and the first pages of the first draft of the tentatively titled “The Worst Laid Plans,” a novel loosely based on a true story of grave robbing doctors in rural Western Pennsylvania in 1857.

“Before God, I am exceeding weary.”
Augustus Bell swallowed his whiskey and slid the glass down the bar.
“Are we about to argue the relative demerits of patients before and after the prescription again?” he asked the man who had spoken. “If so, I require another drink.”

Swinging the door securely closed behind him, the new arrival nodded his confirmation to the bartender. Downing his first quickly as his companion sipped, he signaled for another and sighed.

“The Widow Barnett arrived this afternoon, interrupting an appointment, demanding to know why half the town’s doctors appeared hungover yesterday.”
Bell shifted his eyes, searching for listeners.
“Do you think she suspects?”
“That we’re all raving drunkards and desperately looking for excitement? Absolutely.”
“No,” Bell said, “Do you think she suspects?”
“That only a few of the town’s unmarried doctors are behaving as appropriately as expected while squiring young ladies? Absolutely again.”
“Heichhold, you test my patience. Do you think she knows we have performed sustained physical labor in the previous thirty-six hours?”

Heichhold gave his chin a nod to thank the bartender for prompt service and used the opportunity to make his own scan for eavesdroppers.

“Harriet was delightfully robust in manner this afternoon.”
“You vex me. And, do not allow anyone to hear you call her Harriet. You are on thin enough ice with your ingratiating manners and constant demands for a dance.”

“Don’t be on about dancing again, fellows.”

William McKnight sidled up to the bar, somehow drifting through the cold wind without the slamming door that had followed the entry of all previous patrons.

Nick was ready with a whiskey poured, wondering like all the others how the town had come to this. He had never seen such grim faces, nor heard the whispers so loud. The various townsfolk shared the gossip they traded like currency all through the afternoon.

Continue reading

Standard
fantastical friday

fantastical Friday: April 18, 2014

the end of the first draft of the book is just barely out of reach.

“I’ve always been intrigued by the way people use the analogy of a train to describe their companies. Massive and powerful, the train moves inexorably down the track, over mountains and across the plains, through dense fog and darkest night. When things go wrong, we talk of getting ‘derailed.’ When projects fail, we talk of ‘train wrecks.’ [People think] that driving the train is the way to shape the future. The truth is, it’s not. Driving the train doesn’t set its course. The real job is laying the track.

“We also value good food made by small farms and manufacturers, but we don’t need to tweet about it all the time. We’re okay eating a foraged mushroom even if no one knows about it.” The 22 Most Hipster Foods on the Planet.

Standard
fiction, new from the book

new from the book #13

the end is near. celebratory champagne is calling my name.

“Simmons felt as though he’d been startled out of his boots. ‘Not so loud, Heichhold,’ he hissed. ‘In any case, what are you doing at a temperance lecture?’
‘Simply passing through, thought you looked as though you could use a drink.’
An elderly lady who looked as though she well knew the taste of lemons glared. ‘I am sorry ma’am,’ Heichhold said, ‘but my friend here has stolen my girl, and I am desperate to get her back. You see, she’s a Methodist and has nothing to do with liquor, while he carries on like a sailor six nights a week.’
At this, the old lady began to smile. Heichhold was sure he had won her over. ‘I knew your Aunt Minerva, young Augustus Pierce. Take your stories to the kind of a lady who will believe them and leave good people alone.'”

Standard
fiction, new from the book

new from the book #12

over halfway done with the rough first draft with this chapter. hooray.

“Willie waited until he tiptoed up the stairs to his own little room before he lit a candle. In the dim light, he winced as he sat on his bed. Whatever it was in his pocket had cut his leg. He pulled it out. The tiny sharp knife had a funny angled edge on a long handle, intricately carved. Near the join of blade and handle there was a monogram. Willie squinted and tried to make letters out of the fancy script and vines. JGS.”

Standard
fantastical friday

fantastical Friday: April 10, 2014

the Book Club ladies will be over for supper tonight…always a fun time. I’ve been running about, buying groceries and flowers, trying out a new custard recipe, etc.

“A Candid Conversation with 5 Women Leaders of Advertising and Media: The triumphs and trials of smashing the ceiling” at Adweek. The title says it all, really.

Turns out, “it’s probably safe to say that you can ignore whatever date’s printed on your food [sell by or expiration] and go for a simple sniff test.” Thanks, Smithsonian.

Changing “I love you, but…” to “I love you, and…” makes all the difference in the world.

Mickey Rooney died this week.

An Ebola outbreak in Guinea and Liberia has now officially killed 111 people.

it’s probably safe to say that you can ignore whatever date’s printed on your food and go for a simple sniff test.Read more: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/sell-and-best-dates-food-are-basically-made-hard-get-rid-180950304/#3YtZXjpreppWqTUa.99
Give the gift of Smithsonian magazine for only $12! http://bit.ly/1cGUiGv
Follow us: @SmithsonianMag on Twitter
it’s probably safe to say that you can ignore whatever date’s printed on your food and go for a simple sniff test.Read more: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/sell-and-best-dates-food-are-basically-made-hard-get-rid-180950304/#3YtZXjpreppWqTUa.99
Give the gift of Smithsonian magazine for only $12! http://bit.ly/1cGUiGv
Follow us: @SmithsonianMag on Twitter
it’s probably safe to say that you can ignore whatever date’s printed on your food and go for a simple sniff test.Read more: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/sell-and-best-dates-food-are-basically-made-hard-get-rid-180950304/#3YtZXjpreppWqTUa.99
Give the gift of Smithsonian magazine for only $12! http://bit.ly/1cGUiGv
Follow us: @SmithsonianMag on Twitter
it’s probably safe to say that you can ignore whatever date’s printed on your food and go for a simple sniff test.Read more: http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/sell-and-best-dates-food-are-basically-made-hard-get-rid-180950304/#3YtZXjpreppWqTUa.99
Give the gift of Smithsonian magazine for only $12! http://bit.ly/1cGUiGv
Follow us: @SmithsonianMag on Twitter
Standard
fiction, new from the book

new from the book #11

took two days off, then did three days’ worth of writing in one. Finding great enthusiasm from pushing myself.

“Judge McCalmont looked torn. Should he stay to supervise the town, or climb the hill to see for himself, he wondered. A stately man with a florid face, gaining a bit of girth around the middle, John McCalmont took an evening constitutional that rarely passed further than two blocks from home. That was the distance until he ran into one of the many hills in town. Just this once, he figured, he would climb that hill. It was his duty. He also suffered from extreme curiosity.”

Standard