A Big Disappointment for Publishers Everywhere

In late 2002, I was writing short stories for an online magazine, or e-zine, called WritersHood. At the time, I was extremely excited; I was working with an editor, and having my work critiqued by published authors and editors alike. It was thrilling. Then, in early 2003, I deployed to Kuwait (and subsequently Iraq), and forgot all about Writershood for the time. When I returned to the States, I had much more on my plate to worry about than trying to publish short stories online. By the time I remembered WritersHood, it had closed down; I wasn't crushed, but I was disappointed that I had lost my contacts withing the 'Hood.

Then, in October of last year, the original Science Fiction editor from WritersHood contacted me. He had been hunting me down (literally) for almost half a year, starting with my old military email address and working forward from there. Needless to say, I was both impressed with his acumen and implacability, and honored and humbled that he had kept my contact information in his "future contacts" list. He inquired as to whether I had any Science Fiction (some) or Fantasy (yes) novels that I was wanting to get published. I immediately ran all my novels by him, received the constructive criticism that I knew I had coming, and then started submitting my Fantasy works through his new employers. I was thrilled!

As all this was occurring, I threw out a general query as to whether or not there was anything that I could help him or his Publishing House do; yes, I had no formal education, but what I lack in book smarts I believe that I make up for in willingness to learn and a gung-ho attitude. Personally he had no use for me, but he suggested that I join the First Readers club. I accepted with great expectations: I was going to be in the front lines, the trenches so to speak, of a Publishing House, slogging through manuscripts, offering up those that were worthy to be scrutinized further by accomplished editors, and rejecting those that should never have seen the light of day in their current form. I would be separating the wheat from the chaff, so to speak, and I couldn't wait.

So far, out of the five novels that I have done a Readers Report on, I have recommended only one. It was phenomenal; I was hooked from the first sentence. The main character was believable, and what made him even more interesting, to me, is that he came across as a world-weary business man, but when he needed to, he could whip it on pretty good. I was very impressed with the amount of effort that the author put into this novel, and if it makes the final cut from the acquisition editors, you can rest assured that I will purchase the novel to add it to my library.

Then, there were some novels that I read that were good, but not good. There were little things about them that bothered me; for example in one novel there was a large cast of characters and a pretty good plot, but there was no depth to the characters, nothing to make you love or hate them, nothing to make you root for them; in short, I finished reading it because I don't like leaving things unfinished, not because I cared about the characters.

In another novel that ended up getting rejected, mostly everything was amazing; the plot was awesome, the characters believable and likable, the technology (it was a Science Fiction novel) was cool, even the spacecraft was well thought-out... but the antagonists were goofy. There's no better word for it. It was as if the author had put all of their attention into what they had thought to be most important, then flipped through a dictionary, and stabbed their finger down at a certain point and said, "yes, oh mighty spatula, you and all of your kind shall be my antagonists!" (The antagonist was not a spatula, but I am trying to protect the author should they stumble across my blog) This novel joined the growing list of polite "thanks, but no thanks" pile.

The last two manuscripts that I have had to read... well, the only word that could possibly suit them is bloodcurdling. One was so bad, I wished that I had never learned how to read. Aside from having a horrific plot, I felt as though the author himself did not even know where he was going, or what he was wanting to say. At one point, the only reason I knew that I was reading the same manuscript was because two of the side characters kept popping up. Aside from that, absolutely nothing else that was occurring had absolutely anything to do with anything in the rest of the manuscript. It has been said that "one million monkeys, typing on one million typewriters, for one million years, would rewrite the complete works of William Shakespeare." I'd argue that two million monkeys typing for thirty seconds would have been able to produce roughly the same quality of work that I had, unfortunately, volunteered to read.

The latest manuscript that I am laboring over is beginning to shape up along these lines. So far, even though the characters are living in the 22nd Century, they are still watching television and listening to radios. Call me old fashioned, but I'm hoping that we will have invented something way cooler than televisions by at least the year 2030.

Why am I telling you all of this?

I want to exhort any reader of my blog that is considering submitting any manuscript to any Publishing House: Do Not, under any circumstances, simply submit the first thing that you happen to pound out. Just because you have written a fiction-length manuscript does not mean that it is suitable fiction. Likewise, simply because one of your friends, or your mother, think that what you have written is "good," does not mean that it is suitable for submission to a House. A writer must hone their craft, read and re-read their manuscript, labor over it like a blacksmith labors over a sword, they must put their sweat and their blood into it, they must ponder it when they are forced to be away from their manuscript, and constantly be thinking and re-thinking their manuscript. When the writer thinks that they are finished, they must then turn to Page One and start all over again; the writer must know their work inside and out, backwards and forwards. The characters in the manuscript must become the writers best friends or their worst enemies; they should know their characters better than they know their family members, they must be able to tell you, at the drop of a hat, how their characters would respond in certain situations. I have seen writers smile when they think of something funny that one of their characters did in their manuscript; this, reader, is how one must write.

And, when the writer has poured themselves into that manuscript, when they believe that it is finally ready for submission, they must then ask a pivotal question: "Were I not me, would I read this?" That is the central query, and one that the writer alone cannot answer. At this point, the writer needs to begin soliciting their manuscript to anybody they know who would be willing to read it, with one giant disclaimer. The writer must tell their reader, "Do not tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me what you really think." If the writer truly knows their reader, and vice versa, then the reader will be brutally honest. And that is what the writer needs to hear, brutal honesty. However, if the writer is not ready for brutal honesty, then they need to put their manuscript away; forget about it. They need not begin to think about submission until they are ready for brutal honesty. If the writer cannot take constructive (and sometimes not so constructive) criticism, then the writer is in the wrong arena.

When all that is said and done, and the writer has taken constructive criticism, he or she must begin at Page One all over again. Read it through the eyes of their readers; they ought to look for basic spelling and grammar mistakes; look at things that caught their first-readers attention, and examine whether or not they ought to make the suggested changes that had been brought to their attention. The writer should read their manuscript all the way through; when they are finished, they should be excited not because they wrote a manuscript, but because the manuscript itself was engrossing, and invigorating, and exciting.

When the writer finally begins the submission process with any Publishing House, they should do so with the secure knowledge that what they are now submitting is the best manuscript that they could possibly produce.

Please, Writers of the World, do not slap together words that two million monkeys could pound out on two million typewriters over a time period of thirty seconds; put your heart and your soul into it. Publishing Houses everywhere will thank you, and you will be secure in the knowledge that, even if you end up being rejected, it wasn't because you didn't try your best.