How I Got Published (Part I): Tommy Donbavand

I first came across Tommy Donbavand's books in the Barrington Stoke catalogues and, when I spotted him on Twitter, I pounced. I blagged a free book from him and then insisted he write something for my blog. I knew it would be good.


One of the questions I’m asked most often (aside from ‘what are you doing in my garden?’) is how I got published. What’s more interesting than the question itself, however, is the belief and/or hope that there is some sort of magic formula or shortcut that I have found and can give the questioner to stop them having to do it the hard way.

Guess what? There is no magic formula. You have to do it the hard way.

I started writing while still at school, eschewing the teenage norm of hanging out on street corners to sit at home and practice my art. Thankfully, I hit the library (no Internet back then…) and knew enough about how books were made not to submit my first ever attempts (although I did send some sketches out to Spitting Image, Stephen Fry and Ben Elton, getting very kind ‘keep it up’ letters in return).

After college I made the obvious career move — and became a clown called Wobblebottom (no, really). I worked first at holiday centres around the UK and later on cruise liners, entertaining children.

A few years later I joined the cast of a musical in London's West End — Buddy: The Buddy Holly Story — and even that was down to one-part perseverance and two-parts metal balls. I went to see the show with my parents, spotted a part I thought I’d be good at and wrote to the producer that night, claiming I would be a much better choice than the current guy. That landed me the audition — but, when I got there, they asked me to read for a different role. I knew I would only have this chance once in my life and so I stopped halfway through and told them they should let me audition for the character I wanted. They did, I got the part, and stayed with the show for the next eight years.

While in Buddy, I continued writing and continued being rejected. Neither agents nor publishers were interested in the fiction I had to offer. So, I turned to the old phrase 'write what you know' and put together all the games and activities I'd created and developed during my work as a children's entertainer. I pitched the book far and wide and, soon after, Quick Fixes for Bored Kids was published by How To Books in the UK.

Three other books — More Quick Fixes for Bored Kids, Quick Fixes for Kids' Parties and Boredom Busters — followed. Before long I was running events in book shops and being interviewed on both local and national radio as an expert in keeping kids entertained. It wasn't what I wanted to write, but it was a foot in the door, nonetheless.

Then the door closed over my foot.

Buddy ended, I left London, and the events dried up. The books weren't selling very well at all — partly because parents who buy books telling them how to keep their kids from being bored don't generally have the type of kids that get bored — and partly because the publisher insisted on classifying the books as 'parenting' titles, instead of 'activities'. I would often go into book shops and find my work far away from the children's section, sandwiched instead between toilet training guides and books of baby names.

I worked for a few months on a computer tech support line, then auditioned for a role in a small-scale children's show visiting schools over Christmas. I did the tour, and stayed with the production company afterwards in order to write their next shows — for next to no money at all. But hey, at least I was writing again. I often found myself playing a part in show ‘A’ while writing show ‘B’. It was exhausting.

I was still writing fiction in what little spare time I had, sending off my work to publishers and agents, and amassing an impressive collection of rejection letters in return. Apparently, my four previous books (now rapidly dropping out of print) counted for nothing. I was back on the outside, forcing my work into the bottom of the slush pile.


You can read the second part of Tommy's story next week, so long as I manage to squeeze pictures of all his book covers onto one short post. Perhaps next time I should ask a less prolific writer to share his story!

Fiction Masterclass, 2010

I don't often endorse writing courses here: there are so many of them, and so many are of very questionable value. But the "Fiction Masterclass: Make Your Novel A Reality" from London Writers' Club looks absolutely fabulous, and I have no hesitation in advising you all to consider signing up. Just be warned that it begins next Monday, February 1 so you'll have to move quickly to make sure of a place (there are just a few still available). The Masterclass takes the form of a phone conference so you can take part no matter where you are in the country (or, possibly, the world!); and the people behind London Writers' Club are established publishing professionals with years of editing and agenting experience behind them. It's bound to be good.


There are many good creative writing classes and writers retreats but at London Writers' Club we wanted a modern, time-effective and practical solution to help people to get their books written.

We also thought, wouldn’t it be fab if we could give budding writers access to first-rate publishing industry advice without leaving their homes.

Learning from the sofa. How noughties can you get!

We decided that a teleconferenced series of classes with the opportunity to ask questions of the speakers was the way to go.

And so Make Your Novel a Reality in 2010 was born.

Over the four-week course we've developed, we’ll take writers from concept through structure and narrative and then we’ll make them aware of the publishing process and finally, let them into some secrets of how to secure an agent.

Lots of authors don’t have agents and will find it near impossible to get one nor can they afford to hire an editor so we're excited to create this opportunity for authors to get close to a prime selection of publishing professionals – be they author, publisher or agent. We've got them all on this course.

There's Matt Whyman who is a master of writing sustainably. He writes young adult fiction, is an agony uncle and has just signed a major book deal for a book on living with minipigs.

And Emma Rose who has commissioned and edited many fabulous books with Arrow.

Naomi Wood, whose debut novel, The Godless Boys, will be published in 2011 by Picador. Naomi has an MA in Creative Writing from UEA and continued with a PhD in Critical and Creative Writing.

And last but not least, the hugely experienced, Kirsty Mclachlan who has been agenting for over twenty years – and now works at DGA Ltd as a literary and film/tv agent.

Together they will tackle nuggety issues such as:

* How do you know your idea will work?
* So many ideas, but which one to choose?
* When to give up, when to persevere.
* How do you know if an idea is good enough to go with?
* Do blocks and skids mean the idea is no good or do you push harder to make it work?
* Writing goals and good habits, how to knuckle down.
* How do you take your novel from dream to reality?
* How important is the zeitgeist?
* Are there identifiable trends and if so how can you be sure you are
writing something that will sell?
* What is this thing called concept and why is it important?
* And as for writing in a fresh and unique voice, how on earth do you
get that right?

They will also explain:

* How to ensure you’re hitting the right note.
* How to get your idea to market.
* How not to blow your chances by pitching in the wrong way.

And we'll delve into what publishers are looking for, how much work will an agent do on your manuscript, what happens once an agent takes you on and then what will an editor do for you?

Phew, there's even more.

We understand that publishing is a large impenetrable beast to those wanting to break in and we'll do our best to lay its secrets bare.

You'll find more details here.

We are limiting numbers to make this course cosy so do submit your booking enquiry now if you would like to apply for a place.

On with the writing then, and good luck with it.

Jacqueline Burns
London Writers Club

How I Got Published: Josa Young

Josa Young is a writer more used to magazine publishing than book publishing, but last year her debut novel was published by independent pubilsher, E&T Books. You can find Josa on Twitter, at her own website, or via her novel's website.

How did I get published? Well, it started a long time ago with an obsession with fairies. I was a tomboyish child, so the gossamer ones did not sit well with my desire to climb trees. But I was convinced that when I was ninety-nine, those bony wings on my back would sprout (being a child of the skinny Sixties they were not immersed in fat) and transport me somewhere or other. So I wrote extensively on the subject; before I could read, in fact.

At prep school, the games mistress also taught English. She hated me so much on the pitch that she once threw a rounders ball at me which hit me smack in the eye as I dreamed at fourth post: but in the classroom she loved me as I wrote delicate haikus about the moon, and drew pictures of Gollum. My first encounter with pedagogic schizophenia.

At Cambridge I wrote very poor imitations of Roald Dahl short stories, published by my friend Roger in his amusing magazine. Later, I applied my fictional gift to preventing myself from dying of boredom while writing about conservatories for a magazine: 'Emerald swept into the double-glazed Amdiga conservatory, her satin dancing slippers making little noise on the Fired Earth terracotta tiles.'

Later still, I went on an Arvon course because although I had been suppressing and sublimating my passion it still had to find an outlet and there, on a windswept moor in Devon, it did. The midwife was Beryl Bainbridge, the doctor Nicholas Shakespeare (who accused me of verbal diarrhoea — Beryl said he was jealous of my typing speed).

She told me I should write a novel while stirring powdered gelatine into her tea. So I did, in the five weeks between two magazine contracts (Slimming, and Pregnancy — one leading inexorably to the other). So excited was I with my 100,000 words that when I bumped into a rather grand publisher who was now doing a little light agenting, and he offered to read it, I was overwhelmed. Particularly when he rang two weeks later and told me he loved it. I thought all that writing about hitherto very fat ladies standing in one leg of their trousers was over at last. That was in the mid-1990s. I have a few dry and withered rejection letters, but nothing else to show from that episode.

In 2006 I was writing a piece about self-publishing, vanity publishing and publishing for a magazine. I contacted self-publishers AuthorHouse, who had just landed in Milton Keynes from the US and they asked me if I wanted to give it a whirl for my piece. I didn't even think the manuscript was in an electronic form any more, but managed to get it converted to disc and sent it off. When the galleys came back, I could see all kinds of wince-making glitches and set to work with a will on a couple of new drafts — again between editorial contracts.

Then I forgot all about it again. It sat on the AuthorHouse website. I designed a cover (heavily influenced by 1980s Virago), and mucked about with editing, putting quotations at the top of chapters, typefaces and all, but I did not publish. While Acting Features Editor at Tatler I was approached by Lorne Forsyth, who had just taken over publishers Elliott & Thompson. He wanted to grill me about internet matters, as that is the other thing I do (CondeNet, ivillage.co.uk, AOL UK etc) and I just wanted a nice lunch. Ever a girl to sing happily for Zafferano, off I went.

While I confidently expounded on SEO, blogging, social networking, interactivity and all that stuff to this highly competent and intelligent person, he gently probed me on the subject of my own writing. Instantly I shrank back like a snail. Detecting this, he pointed out that he was always astonished by how sensitive people were when it came to their own creativity. Could he see something I had written? I shyly handed over the password to the Authorhouse PFD.

That was in 2008. In 2009 he relaunched Elliott & Thompson as E&T Books and requested One Apple Tasted for the launch list. To begin with I was quite stunned. In January of last year we had our first proper meeting and there was One Apple Tasted all nicely marked up by editor and publisher with comments. All I had to do was take it home and 'run it through the typewriter'. Then we were off. I suggested Lawrence Mynott, a brilliant illustrator and book designer, as well as an old mucker of mine from that glorious decade, the 1980s. And there it was — the pink, black and white cuboid of my dreams.

E&T gave a hilarious party at my mother-in-law's house — where Peter Pan was written — on a lovely July evening. And people started buying it, and reading it, and saying things on Amazon and elsewhere that made me hide my blushes behind my fan. I compounded the problem by writing a piece about sex for the Telegraph, which caused a flurry. I had to explain that I could not write as I wanted to until after my beloved mother died — but then when my father died as well, I found caches of letters dating from WWII which indicated a very different emotional landscape. I am really sorry they are not here to share the fun.

Now Sail Upon the Land, the next one, is bubbling around in my head night and day, and flying out of my fingers when moving house, childcare, building websites and writing for some reason many brochures about chalets, will let me.

The Real Value Of Mainstream Publishing

Last spring, the lovely Sally Zigmond linked to this interesting article on her blog. It's a great piece about the value—or not—of publishing by non-mainstream routes.

It's essential reading for writers—particularly those who believe that some sort of Great Publishing Conspiracy is in operation to stop new writers from getting published, and that Indie Publishing is the Next Big Thing.

How I Got Published (Part II): Nicola Morgan

Last week Nicola Morgan told us a little about the writerly struggles she faced in the days before she was published. This week she reveals how she found herself an excellent agent, moved from not-really-published to very-well-published-indeed, and discovered her heartsong.


Ok, so there I am ridiculously pleased with my boring government documents but horribly desperate to be published “properly”. What happened next?

The school where I’d taught had lots of kids with dyslexia, and I’d learnt quickly about specific learning difficulties. I’d become fascinated. So I did a diploma in teaching pupils with dyslexia. That sparked an interest in the brain (which is a huge strand of my writing and speaking now) and a chance to be a recognised “expert” in dyslexia. As well as this work, I started another entrepreneurial idea: Magic Readers, which in 1999 became a website, The Child Literacy Centre (I actually only closed this down a few weeks ago after deciding that I no longer had enough time). Magic Readers was fabulous fun and very rewarding — groups of 4-year-olds in my house, having brilliant fun with books, games and activities to develop their pre-reading skills, but answering many, many emails from parents needing free advice and support was just too much for me on top of everything else I now do.

Although this had nothing to do with me becoming a novelist, it led to my first book contracts. See, (and here comes another secret, because I always forget that this is how I started) I self-published (badly) the Magic Readers books. I sold the first print run of 1,000, but sent some to the educational wing of Egmont. By chance, they were about to commission a major home-learning series. They asked me to write the whole series, for a glorious fee and my first experience of a nightmare deadline: twelve books in three weeks… (that series is called I Can Learn and there were many spin-offs which I also wrote. They are still market leaders, twelve years later — and I’ve had more dosh each time they reprint [I've shown the covers for two editions of just one book to emphasise this—Jane]. Recently Egmont paid me to allow them to put some material on their website. No royalties but no complaints).

Suddenly, I could call myself an author. I was published. I was earning. I was valued. My books were in shops. I was well.

But I wasn’t A Novelist. My second novel was still coming back. I’d had near-misses: a fabulous letter from Collins; a story being short-listed for the Ian St James Awards; several times when the novel got as far as acquisitions meetings. But nearly being published is still failing.

I started a third novel. I was full of hope. Sent the first part to an agent, got a lovely reply asking for the rest. (More rules broken — don’t send a novel out before it’s finished…). Went back to it, but didn’t finish it because...

… I read a new children’s novel. I’d been writing for adults and had never thought of writing for kids. Why would I? I wanted to break boundaries with language, not be held back by simplicity. Oh how wrong I was! The book I read was Skellig, by David Almond, a beautiful writer with an extraordinary voice. He expresses deep ideas in language which is only simple because it is perfect, not because it’s trying to avoid complexity. He is unselfconscious and his words are crystalline and generous where mine were convoluted and self-indulgent.

This was what I wanted to do. I’d been so tangled in prose that I’d forgotten about story, about plot. And now I could do both.

So I began to write Mondays Are Red. When I’d written about a third of it I became impatient and broke that rule again: I sent it to an agent and two publishers. The agent and one publisher wanted to see the rest. I explained to the agent that I hadn’t finished but would do so NOW, and to the publisher that I had interest from an agent and would be in touch soon. I then wrote furiously and sent it off to the agent. The agent said a) she loved it but b) she was ill and had decided she couldn’t take anyone on. Gah! I told the publisher that and sent them the rest of the book. Meanwhile, the second publisher, Hodder, said no. (Hold that thought.)

The first editor was very excited but wanted changes. She also suggested that I got an agent. I contacted two agents that day, one by letter because she had no email address and one by email. I included in my covering letters some glowing quotes from the editor.

The agent whom I’d contacted by snail mail phoned the next day and said she wanted to take me on. Just like that.

When I opened my emails, I found a reply from the agent I’d emailed, apologising for not contacting me immediately. She was interested. Yikes!

I contacted first agent, explained and said I needed to know if we were definitely going to be working together. Yes, she said. I got to turn an agent down!

To cut a long story short, my new agent and I worked on Mondays are Red, got it to the state we wanted it; but the editor wanted one change too many and my agent advised that we go elsewhere.

Which publisher took Mondays are Red? Hodder, who had turned it down when I’d sent it on my own… Useful things, agents.

Anyway, I did four novels with Hodder but when my editor left and went to Walker Books, I followed. I’ve written four teenage novels for Walker (including Wasted, publishing in 2010), a younger novel (Chicken Friend), and three teenage non-fiction books: The Leaving Home Survival Guide, Know Your Brain, and Blame My Brain. And around 80 home learning books for Egmont, including Thomas the Tank Engine books. Do I earn a living from all that? No. It’s the public speaking that provides the bread and butter. It’s amazingly hard to earn a living as a children’s writer, especially if you write mainly fairly literary stand-alone teenage novels as I do. It’s not how to earn a living but it’s how I feed my soul.

Do I wish I hadn’t had those years of failure? No. They stop me taking anything for granted or thinking too highly of myself. They are crucial to who I am now; they are also why I understand what gets published and why some perfectly wonderful writing does not.

Now, I am wholly well. I put that down to having repaired my bruised soul. In the dark days, a clever medical person told me we need heartsong in our lives and that the key to health was finding my heartsong. When he said that, I knew what he meant and where I needed to find it. That’s why I spend time blogging for talented, hard-working, non-delusional writers: because if you have that same need for heartsong, I understand.

Yes, The Internet Does Count

I read two very similar blog posts last week: this one from Janet Reid, and this one from The Rejectionist.

Both make the point that it's important for writers to take care over their writing: to use the words they mean to and not ones which sound the same; and to check their work carefully before submitting.

I'd add that writers should extend these habits to include all written work they make public. And yes, that includes emails, tweets, and comments on message-boards and blogs, because those online comments are tied to our names. They stay around for a very long time and just supposing that an editor or an agent types our names in to Google, do we really want them to discover that we're often sloppy and careless with our words?

Snow Pictures

We had a lovely New Year's Eve this year, part of which was spent following our sons as they sledged down the mile-long track which separates our house from the road. Here are a few pictures which I took along the way.

The stones in the foreground are the topstones to an eighteen-inch high wall which borders our front lawn. The snowdrift just visible to left of the picture blocks the path to our front door (which is roughly opposite that tree), so when there's snow we have to park a distance away from the house. Oh, and look: there's our wind turbine. It's a 6kW Proven, was one of the first in the Peak Park (and has since been trumpeted as a brilliant installation by the Peak Park, despite several objections to our planning application). It provides us with almost all the electricity we need, and a lot of our heating too: our house is completely off-grid, so when the wind doesn't blow (which isn't often, here) we use a diesel generator to make our own electricity.

Half-way down the track is this cattle-grid, now up to its ears in snow. The good news is that the snow also fills the many potholes in the track: the bad news is that although I drive a Discovery, it isn't entirely dependable on snow as deep as this and I've spent the last few weeks slipping about far more than I'd like.

The trees are pretty, with their skirts all full of snow: but the weight of it hangs heavy on them and brings them down. Just two so far this winter, and we do have a chain-saw and the wood comes in handy: but that's two too many when I have to get the boys to school.

The last third of a mile down to the road is pretty straight, and all downhill. The snow wasn't too deep when this was taken: you can almost see the track breaking through in the bottom of our wheel-ruts. I long to see it again!

On the right here is our neighbour's field, which was home to a trio of guard-geese before the fox got to them in November. Part of me is glad they didn't have to endure these weeks of bitter cold; part of me misses the geese's constant grumbling, their low-slung, swaying behinds, their curious presence. Despite the gander's frequent wide-winged attacks, his his dry-mouthed hissing always delighted me--so long as I was in the car!

A little further on, on the right, we reach our neighbours' houses. Then there is a stretch a few hundred yards long where there's a drystone wall which borders a nasty drop, into water. Every year I worry I'll lose traction in the snow, crash through the wall, down the slope, and into the stream. I've not done it so far. Fingers crossed.

And here we are at the road. On the left of the picture there's usually a reservoir but right now it's drained, while maintenance work is carried out (it's been drained, off and on, for the last three years for this work, but there's been precious little evidence of any work going on). The road is a dead end and luckily, the way out is in the other direction otherwise those giant snowballs which have been made on the road would stop us getting out when we need to. Despite all this snow, people still come up here to have a look at the countryside: on New Year's Day we towed a couple of cars out and ignored a few more. Why do people think their little hatchbacks will cope with snow which is over their axles? I don't understand.

Since New Year we've had more snow, got the car stuck a few times, got the boys to school five miles away when their friends who live within yards have stayed at home, and I've managed to kill my mobile phone by using it when it's far too cold for pretty red phones to be outside: but for now, these few snow pictures will have to do. If I get the time I'll post a few more pictures in a few days: but in the interim you'll have to make do with more of my usual publishing nonsense.

Happy Blog Birthday To Nicola Morgan!

Today is Nicola Morgan's very first blog birthday. I'm somewhat flabbergasted to realise she's only been blogging for a year: it seems like we've been benefitting (benefiting? gah...) from her wisdom for far longer than that, such is the reach of her fabulous blog.

To celebrate, Nicola is hosting a blog-puff. Everyone is invited to promote their own blog in her comments, on the understanding that they visit several of the other blogs so puffed. It's a great way to boost your own blog's comments, and it's a wonderful way to discover several new and wonderful blogs. So get yourself over to Nicola's birthday celebrations, puff your blog, and wish her well. And if you've not read her blog before then you have a whole year's worth of brilliant writing and publishing advice to catch up on, you lucky things.

How I Got Published (Part I): Nicola Morgan

We all know the many-times-published, human-whirlwind, footwear-obsessive that is Nicola Morgan. Our favourite crabbit old bat recently posted this beautiful piece about getting published, inspiration and support on her own blog: it is now my great pleasure to give you Nicola's own account of how she first got published, and how that publication has changed her life. This is the first part of her moving and inspirational two-part story, which will conclude next week.

It took me a horribly long time to get published. Twenty-one years. I blogged here about why I failed for so long. Now I pinch myself. Was that really me? That screwed-up, jealousy-riddled person who wanted to strangle every hot-shot debut author after a prolonged session of torture?

How did I get from that darkness to here, where I find myself invited to write things? And sometimes say no. No?!

Aged twenty, wondering what the hell a Cambridge degree in Classics and Philosophy was for, I decided that I wanted to be A Novelist. I knew I couldn’t earn a living immediately (hollow laugh) so I needed a job. I went to London, where streets are paved with all manner of wondrousness, and got a job cooking for an advertising agency, and dinner parties for Belgravia ladies who wanted strawberries only in December and smoked salmon if it was twice as expensive as the stuff their neighbours had.

And I wrote. Stories aimed at women’s magazines, none of which got published, because they were completely wrong for their market. I got something published in Reader’s Digest — incredible payment: £150 for about 50 words. My photo was on page one — fame and fortune, I thought. I was almost right about fame: on a bus, I saw a man reading it, looking back and forth between the picture and me; I grinned; he asked me to sign it. My first signing!

Meanwhile, I was writing The Novel. And revelling in the sound and fury of my own prose. Meanwhile, meanwhile, I had one of many entrepreneurial ideas: I would devise a creative writing course and offer it to schools. (I did have some teaching experience — long story...) One school asked me to see them, and I found myself being interviewed by the head and deputy. At some point I realised that they thought they were interviewing me to be an English teacher (actually head of English, as the school was so small that there was only one teacher in each subject). I explained their mistake... but got the job.

Between terms, the novel grew and was finished. I sent it off. And received it back. Often. Each time I “improved” it. Trouble is, sometimes they said it was too long, and sometimes too short, so I was confused. One praised the original plot and another criticised its traditional nature. There was no internet and little advice available. I knew no one in the business, no one who was published, no one who was even trying.

Every time it came back, I dissolved. To most people, I seemed fine. But inside I was devastated that I couldn’t find the key to publication. I didn’t know what I was doing wrong. I failed every target I set myself. I felt useless.

For three years I handled the English department in that little school. But I decided to give myself a year of writing full-time, really going for it, because being a teacher was incredibly exhausting and time-consuming and I couldn’t write enough. I also wasn’t particularly well — I had glandular fever, toxoplasmosis and a couple of knee operations. So, supported by my lovely husband, I gave in my notice for the end of that third year.

A month before term ended, I discovered I was pregnant. So, I didn’t get my full year of full-time writing — what I got was a lovely daughter. But, that’s no excuse — and I was still sending off that bloody novel, still getting it thrown back. I’d revised it endlessly and didn’t know what to do. So I did the right thing and started another one.

We moved to Edinburgh and soon had daughter No 2. I tried to carry on writing. But my health wasn’t good — I now believe that this was down to the gnawing pain of failure. I wanted publication so much; I was trying so hard. I felt I was good enough, so why wasn’t it happening? It wasn’t enough to be a mother/wife/perfect houseperson — I wanted more and I wanted it so much that it was making me ill. Postnatal depression was diagnosed, followed by a wrecked thyroid, followed by Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. OK, the thyroid was true, and I still take thyroxine, but the rest wasn’t: it was Bruised Soul Syndrome. I was damaged where it matters. I was happy as a mother and wife, loved my family, (should have been grateful for all that) but I had a chasm where “myself” should be. The odd thing was that to everyone else I was Mrs Efficiency, Mrs High-Achiever, Mrs Get-Christmas-Sorted-in-October — all the failure was hidden inside.

Then, a dull government organisation offered me work, writing documents. Oh joy, I hear you say, but I sailed out of that interview feeling fantastic. Energy flowed through me. I still remember that. God, those documents were boring but they gave me my life back.

But that is obviously not the end of the story....

You can read the second part of Nicola's story next Friday, and if you're anything like me you'll need to get your hankie out before you start. It's a wonderful piece. But I'm not surprised: Nicola Morgan wrote it.

Distributor Or Wholesaler? Writer Beware Explains!

If you're considering submitting to a smaller publisher, one of the things you should investigate before you send your work out is what sort of distribution deal that publisher has. Because if it doesn't have a proper distribution deal in place, its books (for which you can read your books) just aren't going to sell.

But what does that mean? How does distribution work, how does a distributor differ from a wholesaler, and what implications does all of this have for your work? Over at Writer Beware, bestselling author Cathy Clamp explains. Read it now, bookmark the article, and next time you're considering submitting your work to anyone other than a major publisher you'll know what questions to ask, and how the answers might affect you.

The Christmas Box

Every writer I know feels a certain bitter thrill when they hear of a story like this one. An unknown writer writes a beautiful story, which he self-publishes. He prints only a handful of copies, which he gives away to family and friends as Christmas gifts: word quickly spreads and he prints up another batch, and before you know it he’s sitting on a publishing sensation. He makes a deal with one of the biggest publishers in the world and goes on to make a fortune from the sale of this single short book.

Despite myself, I love stories like this. I resist the books concerned for as long as I can because I don’t like getting caught up in all the excitement, in case it clouds my judgement: and when reading a book which has already earned millions I find I’m constantly looking for that trick—the reason behind its amazing success. I do usually give in and read them once all the fuss has died down (I only read the Da Vinci Code once the DVD of the film was in the discount bins, not that it took very long to get there) and I can usually see something of merit in the big-fuss books which explains their huge success. A new twist to an old story, perhaps; or a writer who might not produce the loveliest prose there is but can nevertheless make the pages turn almost on their own. No matter how cynical I become, I’ve always managed to spot that important detail. Until now.

After years of hearing about Richard Paul Evans's book The Christmas Box I finally gave in and bought it despite the reverential sentimentailty which tinged many of the Amazon reviews. As I read the book I was amazed that it had done so well: the story is predictable, draw-droppingly sentimental, and pretty badly written too, full of oddly-formal dialogue and exposition. It took me less than an hour to read through to the end; it was simplistic, sentimental tosh. Despite the many shortcomings of the text it was a very pretty book, I thought, with its small size and gorgeous design: but making a best-seller has to involve more than binding a short story up into an odd-sized book, designing an elegant, uncluttered layout and printing it on heavy cream stock. Perhaps it was the delicious, jewel-like dust jacket heavily laced with gold which appealed to me: I'm a sucker for a pretty design. I just don't know why I reacted as I did. I will grudgingly admit that while I found The Christmas Box a ridiculously sentimental story, full of lacklustre writing and clumsy technique, there is something about it that I loved.

Now all I need is for someone to explain to me why I found this little book so very covetable, so that I can write my own international bestseller in just a few thousand words.

Pulped Fiction

This article from the Mail Online which suggests that books aren't selling and that most end up at the pulping-station is chock-full of fallacies. The article leaps from one incorrect statement to another; it builds conclusions on assumptions which are inherently unsafe; and it cobbles together quotes and snippets of information from various unrelated sources to present an argument which just doesn't hold water. It's a cringe-making example of bad reporting and has been discussed on several writers' message boards: here it is at Absolute Write.

Despite the article's many flaws I don't accept the argument "it's in the Mail, what do you expect?" I've written for the Daily Mail and know how hard-working and professional my editors were. I think that this is yet another case of someone not really knowing how publishing works, and consequently being unable to recognise the mistakes that they've made. And if their editor didn't understand book-publishing either, then those mistakes just wouldn't be noticed. It's a shame, as the central premise regarding returns and book-pulping is an important issue for publishing right now, and needs to be addressed. I'll save that for another time, and will be writing about the article's many errors in the next week or so; but meanwhile, join me in a round of Spot-The-Problem. I found a stonking twenty-eight troublesome phrases in that single article: what score did you get?

Dreams Can Come True

There are all sorts of myths which vanity presses and self-publishing companies encourage. Two of the most enduring are that publishers won't consider debut authors; and that publishers don't promote their writers' books any more.

If that's the case, someone ought to tell Jamie Ford so he can stop making such obviously delusional posts.

(He's living the dream and deserves every wonderful moment of it. I hope that a few of us get there too this year.)

How I Got Published: Lorraine Mace

We've all heard that you need talent, hard work and determination to get published and Lorraine Mace and Maureen Vincent-Northam proved it when they got their co-authored book published not once, but twice. In this piece Lorraine is kind enough to give me some of the credit for their success but trust me: Lorraine and Maureen did all of the hard work and I'm thrilled that it's paid off for them both.


In these credit crunch times it’s harder than ever to get a publishing deal, far less have the same book published twice by two different publishers, but that’s exactly what I and Maureen Vincent-Northam, my co-author of The Writer's ABC Checklist, managed to do. We didn’t set out with that intention, but sometimes life makes you work harder at your dreams than might initially seem fair.

Maureen and I ‘met’ on a writers’ site many years ago and enjoyed (still do) a great online friendship. When it came to co-authoring a book, we were the perfect match. We share a sense of humour, have similar writing styles, and were already proofreading each other’s articles for various magazines. We’d also critiqued and edited each other’s e-books and non-fiction titles prior to publication.

One of the things that we both felt strongly about was that a book containing advice on how to present your work to the industry would be useful to any writer. Not a book on how to write, but a guide to presentation, because it is this area, more than any other, that causes so many writers to lose sales. We searched, couldn’t find what we were looking for, and so decided to write one ourselves.

The first publisher we approached liked the idea enough to take it to the acquisitions stage, but it was ultimately rejected. The second publisher was so impressed by our proposal (practising what we planned to preach) that he invited us to a meeting to discuss taking the idea forward. Until this point, Maureen and I had no idea what the other one even sounded like. Not only had we not met, but we’d only ‘spoken’ through messenger and email. We met in person for the first time in a hotel lounge while waiting for our publisher to arrive.

Once we’d sorted out a deal, signed contracts and received the first half of our advance, we settled down to complete The Writer’s ABC Checklist. Everything in our writing garden was rosy. Not expecting anything to go wrong, we worked hard and delivered the book ahead of schedule. The ms winged its way to the publisher. Corrections, amendments and additions were requested – we complied and the final ms was accepted well ahead of the contract’s delivery date. If only the same could have been said about the remaining payment due on our advance!

The first intimation we had that something might be wrong was when the publisher asked if would agree to an amendment to the contract, which would mean he didn’t have to pay us the outstanding amount. We politely stuck to our guns – and the wording of the contract – and, after advice from the Society of Authors, finally received our long overdue payment plus interest.

The book appeared later than planned, but at least it appeared. At one stage we’d feared it might not. Despite no advertising whatsoever, the book sold well. Word of mouth and some great reviews on writing-related websites and in writing magazines took care of that.

But then requests for review copies to be sent out went unanswered. Phone calls and emails were ignored and all contact with the publisher ceased. When we finally tracked him down, it was no surprise to find that he was on the verge of going under.

Thanks to some great advice from Jane [you're welcome!] and the Society of Authors, we were able to get the rights reverted to us prior to his business folding.

After a brief period of feeling sorry for ourselves and a fair amount of wound licking, we decided to try again. We believed in our book and, if the emails we’d received were anything to go by, then so too did the writers who’d bought it.

It was at this time that an email from Accent Press, promoting their forthcoming titles, dropped into my inbox. When so many independent publishers were going to the wall, here was one that appeared to be doing okay. Although exercising due caution (they were closed to new submissions) it seemed Accent Press was thriving.

I sent the MD an email telling her about The Writer’s ABC Checklist, explaining what had happened to our publisher and giving a full history of events, and she replied by asking to see the manuscript. She liked the book enough to take us on and a new version is published today.

So, what is the purpose of this blog post? Basically, there are two important points I want to make. The first is that if you have a book you really believe in, no matter what goes wrong, or how impossible achieving the goal might seem, you should never, ever, give up. Believe in yourself, believe in your book, and don’t allow anyone or anything to take your dream from you.

Secondly, if things go wrong, always seek professional, informed advice. Don’t listen to what the bloke in the pub, or the woman in your office, has to say. Ask someone who knows the publishing industry and who is able to give impartial recommendations. Without the excellent guidance Maureen and I were given, we might not have been in a position to have our book published the second time.


Lorraine Mace is a columnist with Writing Magazine (UK). A former humour columnist for Living France and Spanish Magazine, she was the winner of the Petra Kenney 2006 Award (comic verse category), she writes fiction for the women’s magazine market, features for monthly magazines, is a writing judge, and a tutor for the Writers Bureau. She is the author of The Greatest Moving Abroad Tips in the World (Oct 2008) and co-author, with Maureen Vincent-Northam, of The Writer’s ABC Checklist. Her children’s novels are currently being submitted to publishers by her agent.