Here’s a good example of one of the timeless lessons in publishing. The book I just finished stirred a new idea for me, a novel I wanted to set here in Chicago. Not only was the prospect of vast and easy research appealing, but there was a character in Bees In The Butterfly Garden (releasing June 2012) that I just couldn’t let go. She’s been lurking, waiting for me to turn all my attention to her (that’s the kind of demanding character she is).
So I thought about what kind of story might fit this character and did a bit of research (always the fun part!) then wrote up a summary for myself and my editor. I’m already contracted to write a different story next, but I thought it was worth talking to my editor about shifting focus. I’ll still write this other story, but perhaps we could adjust the order.
I was happy to learn this wasn’t an impossible scenario . . . however, and here is where the lessons in publishing start, since labor strife played into my late 19th century setting, I met some hesitation. There is already a book in the pipeline for something similar.
Sigh.
Much of the conversation with my editor revolved around making sure I was excited about whatever project I took on next. It was then I appreciated a whole new aspect about her job. It never occurred to me that writers might be . . . well, let’s just say our job requires a certain intangible that a sensitive editor wants to keep in tact.
So while my demanding (but redeemable) character taps her toe in impatience to find herself on the page, I turned my attention back the other idea I was already contracted to write.
And here is a lesson about the writing end of things. If the story is right, that lovely intangible—the element necessary to be excited about whatever project we’re creating—is flexible and nearly indestructible.
All I needed was the hope that I’d get to keep alive that other character, which I received. Once I turned my attention back to the other project I’d presented a while ago, the old excitement was easily revived. Good as new, because it has all the elements I need to get into a story: an interesting premise, a character who intrigues me, and a theme I want to explore.
The setting is—you guessed it—Denver! I love the west but somehow have never done such a setting. The main character is Henry Hawkins, a man with a secret, the kind of secret that is the precise antonym of the values my heroine holds dearest. Ah, the angst we press upon our characters! All of it revolves around the theme of what we treasure most—which just so happens to fit with the current sermon series I’m enjoying at my church. I guess God knew all along which book I’d be writing.
So here is what I learned:
Timing: what we writers want to write must fit the publishing lineup. This is a business, after all, and has survived for centuries. As writers, we don’t have the full picture of all the contracted projects.
Tact: A good editor will treat that lovely intangible all writers have with amazing delicacy! She or he is aware that the emotional aspect of writing is vital, and doesn’t want to bruise that creative fire if they want their writers to produce their best work.
Tenacity: a working writer needs this, but with the real hope that ideas born in us with a flash of excitement can be put on backburners without simmering away. Tenacity is easy when partnered with hope that the stories we want to write will be valuable and valued. Old ideas never die.
I like "Tenacity"…needed to hear it right now, even though I'm nowhere NEAR the publishing scene…just getting my "ducks in a row"…or novel ideas in a row in order or priority. 😉
I think tenacity starts on day one if whatever we're starting is going to get finished. 🙂 I also like to remind others that the journey toward publication might be longer than we hope or expect, but it's not going to happen unless we do all the things you're doing right now. Getting those ideas sorted according to priority is a must, so it's a good place to be!