On my blog today, I am thrilled to welcome Claire Sandy, author of What Would Mary Berry Do? to share some advice on being a writer and getting published!
You know when you're trying to decide what to wear for the party
you've been looking forward to for weeks, or your friend's wedding, or a bash
where you confidently expect an ex to be lurking among the vol au vents? You
know how you pace and stomp in front of the mirror, trying on that skirt that
has never fitted, and that black dress you love but it shows the top of
your arms, and the low cut red thing that either makes you look like Jessica
Rabbit or Bet Lynch depending on how confident you feel? And then you trot off
to show the ensemble to a trusted chum or your other half or a teenage
offspring and you say 'How do I look?'
Well, handing your editor your finished manuscript for the first
time is a little like that.
What they say next is very very important. There are possibly more
important things, but offhand I can't think of any. You see them think. They
nod. They press their lips together. You have no way of knowing whether they're
going to shout "I love it!" or
growl "This stinks".
My husband knows better than to deviate from a well-worn and compact
vocabulary when asked to comment on an outfit. Acceptable phrases: That looks
lovely; the cut is very flattering; it makes you look slimmer. Unacceptable:
didn't it used to be looser; you remind me of my mum; no no no honestly it
looks nice it does honestly.
Once he told me I looked 'fine' after I'd spent three hours and all
my bad words getting ready to go to a very important 'do' which he was 'too
ill' to attend. (For 'too ill' read 'couldn't be arsed'.) He was right; at
most, I looked fine. In fact, in the wrong light I looked crap, but I didn't
need to hear I looked 'fine' as I girded my loins to go alone to an industry
event.
He's never said I looked fine since.
It's hard to be criticised by people whose opinion we trust. That's
why, when my editor sends me notes on my first draft, I don't read them with
the serene air of a pro. I read them with my skin on inside out. Every comma is
my baby, each metaphor my pride and joy. When I hear that a scene just doesn't
'work', it's worse than hearing that the low cut red thing makes me look like a
comedy prostitute.*
Having said that, no writer should be handled with kid gloves. We
all need criticism. I'm not asking that you be gentle with us; you pay good
money to buy our handiwork, you have the right to a say.
Just don't say it's 'fine'.
* It does.
What Would Mary Berry Do? is out TODAY! Get your copy here:
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