The art of talking about your work
Without hitching a ride inside someone else's mind
If my writing strikes a chord with you, a very simple way to support me is to like this post. It will help me reach more readers.
A very particular project I’m working on at the moment is to conquer my reluctance to talk about my unpublished works. With unpublished works I don’t mean the stories that nobody wanted and which now cower forlorn in some forgotten folder, never to see the light of day again.
Neither do I mean the stories that are works-in-progress, those I will never be able talk about, because f I do, I’ll ruin the magic and won’t be able to write them. Writing for me is going on a journey of discovery inside my own head, and I can only do that if I know nobody’s watching. If I talk about unfinished work, not only do I end up outside of my own head, where the stories are not, but suddenly I have invited another explorer inside my head who will keep questioning my choices.
Or at least this is what it feels like, because I think not a single one of you have any interest whatsoever in hitching a ride inside my head while I write stories, but the fact remains: If I talk about stories-in-progress to a person, that person gains substance in my own private storyland and their presence there stops me from being as free as I need to be when I write the first draft of anything.
No, I’m talking about the stories I’ve written, and that I’m proud of, and that are currently out on submission, and that I’m trying not to think about, because I want all my focus to be on writing new stories, not the will-or-won’t-it-be-published, which is another thing I’m working on, as many of you will know from a previous post:
I have been on social media since its inception, and from what I’ve seen its the authors who start marketing their books from the word go, as they begin to write them, and invite readers into the process, share the ups and downs, even now AI-generated images of what their characters might look like, who do best once the book is finally published. There’s nothing strange about this, people will buy your product if they feel invested in you.
But writing has always been my safe space, my imaginary world where nobody else can enter, or hurt me, the space where I can go and be happy all on my own. How am I supposed to share that?
I was naive enough to think that once my words were as good as they could be, sent off to a publisher, accepted and turned into a book, that this physical thing, this book people could hold in their hands, would be enough to get them reading it. Because isn’t the book itself the ultimate sharing of my innermost writing world?
Perhaps it used to be that way, in the days before the internet, but now readers want “the whole package”, and I’m not sure that I look my best as any sort of package.
‘What’s to be done then?’ I hear you ask.
‘There’s only one thing for it,’ I reply. ‘As with everything in life you have to reframe these concepts in a way that works for you.’
‘How do you mean?’ you say.
‘Well, “marketing”, even though it ultimately consist of storytelling, just isn’t a writerly word for me. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, of corporation, of trickery and fakery, of “too good to be true”, of being consciously manipulated by a board of directors (all male) to increase their sales targets, of committing mind-assault.
‘Errrm, would you maybe like a cup of tea?’
‘Later, because right now I need to follow this train of thought all the way to the end. What if I were to dispense with this term “marketing”? Because I love books, I love reading, I love writing, I love talking to other authors, I love connecting with like-minded people, so what if I were to think of this “marketing” as “connection” instead? After all my aim is not to shove my book in your face and make you buy it whether you want to or not, but I know that when it finds its way to the right readers it touches them, and makes them feel all the things I was hoping they’d feel, and that’s a gift, for both of us I think.’
‘Alright,’ you say. ‘What’s the plan then?’
‘I’m going to conquer my reluctance and tell you about my second novel, The Legend of Maderwerth, that’s currently out on submission, so neither a work-in-progress nor yet a physical book. And I’m going to tell you about it, not because this story has been called a masterpiece by beta readers (which my ego liked a whole bunch), but because I think it’s a story that will appeal to many.
With this post already being quite long, I will limit myself to telling you about the setting and the pitch.
The Setting:
The story starts off in Croydon, but then moves to the remote countryside of West Penwith in Cornwall (UK), a setting based on the area around Mousehole.
These last few years I’ve dragged my real-life family there for many summer half-terms, to walk the land, to smell the wind, to see what grows, to see what’s possible in terms of landscape.
In the story, the move from Croydon to West Penwith is both a physical and an emotional shift, because this move allows the reader to rediscover nature through my main character Marcus’s eyes. Up until that point, Marcus has spent his life amidst concrete and traffic.
The Pitch:
15-year-old Marcus finds himself to be the hero in an ancient cycle of myths that have been carried down through time in order to reach him.
In other writing news:
Finished a short story, which I will give a quick once-over before submitting. I know that ideally they need to “rest”, but there’s a deadline and I’m in the mood to be reckless.
Spent two days researching and starting another short story, my fifth since September, towards this potential collection around the theme of population control.
The Legend of Maderwerth, went out to another batch of publishers. Keep your fingers crossed for me and it please.
Still reading Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver, but also Short Circuit, edited by Vanessa Gebbie, and all about short story writing.
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Christmas is upon us and my debut novel The Shape of Guilt, would make a great present for any avid reader, currently with free delivery within the UK from Blackwell’s (also available at Barnes & Noble in the US).
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