As all querying authors know, feedback on a manuscript is scarce, simply not getting a reply is common, and sometimes, if you can afford it, you should just throw money at the situation to get to know the state of the nation. So recently, I put my big girl pants on and booked an agent 121.
Here’s a rubbish stat: Out of all my full requests, only one agent responded, and I’ve been thinking about that since, and wondering whether it means no one else was into it, or if they’ve just been busy and/or forgotten about it.
Either way, the fact is, something isn’t landing, and I was at that stage for ages where I didn’t want to look at it, was convinced it was shit, was moving on to something else, etc etc. I’m sure we’ve all been there.
So in prep for my call, I re-read it, and it’s amazing what simply not looking at a manuscript for half a year can do. In one pass, I cut 5000 words without even denting the plot.
And to be clear. I wasn’t sending off a first draft. That book’s been through beta reads and multiple editing rounds. Five thousand filler words that I didn’t even see were filler before. Gone! Bye! Arrivederci! I felt like that’s a start.
So I had my 121, and the upshot of that was that the writing? Excellent (thanks, girly, love that for me), the hook? Needs something. Okay. Ouch, but okay. Finally, an insight we can work with.
I immediately sent a hyperbolic and slightly teary OMGWTFIWROTEAPILEOFSHITANDVERYONEISLAUGHINGATME voice note to a friend, who suggested adding some impossibility to the plot. After all, there are no rules. It’s my book, I can do what I like. What if they’re exes? What if he’s already married and hasn’t told anyone? What if she takes one look at him and nopes out of there?
Well, it just so happened that one of my nails broke at the gym earlier in the day. Part of my BIAB mani snapped clean off on the elliptical, and so I’d booked an SOS appointment to the nail bar to get them all soaked off and to give my paws a break for a few weeks.
And it was whilst I was in the chair, my fingers soaking in pure acetone, ready for the efile, that the epiphany came, and I could do nothing but sit and ponder as the gel on my nails melted away. I worked through all the possibilities in my head, examining how it affected every character and every plot line, and guys, I got that feeling where you just know. Another voice note was sent: ‘LIA! What if…’ The response; ‘Steph, I really think this is it!’
The nail tech laughed, but I’m sure I’m not the only person to have ever re-plotted a romcom novel in the chair. I felt better about things. My nails look like shit and are weak as fuck, but I think my book might have a new lease of life.
Of course, there’s always the possibility that I’m completely delulu, but I’m not even touching that right now.
(No Esty Mackie this week because, as you’ve probably guessed, I’ve been busy with The Matchmakers version 3.0 and I don’t have space in my brain for concurrent editing right now.)
Bye!
Love this, Steph! How wonderful to have that eureka! moment - and yes, it's guaranteed to hit us at the most inappropriate time, when we can't write it down. But at least the lightning bolt hits. I'm still waiting for my one for my latest wip, lol!