A couple of years ago I had a really great idea for a book. It took me a year to write it.
Everyone I talked to about the idea, including other authors, loved the idea.
Everyone who read the completed manuscript has really enjoyed it, told me how good it was. I got connected to an agent, who also liked the book. Liked the way I write. Agreed to represent me. So we submitted it to 13 publishers in mid-January.
In spite of the odds, in spite of the competition, the shrinking publishing market, the fact that I'm a "rookie" at novels - I was sure this book would click, someone would agree to publish it and off we'd go.
Now, it's past mid-April. Four of the 13 publishers we submitted it to have declined. The other nine seem to be lost in space bar.
My agent admits she's surprised by the lack of interest generated by the book. Yeah, it burst my bubble, too.
But here's my quandry, oh-great-web-universe in the ozone. Now what?
I've got three other book ideas kicking around: an old one that is complete but needs a major overhaul to come off life-support, and two others that are sketched out in synopsis form and the first few thousand words. But neither of the two in summary form is as much fun as the first book. Only one includes terrorists, international intrigue and weapons of mass destruction ... the things that stoke my engine.
Seems the market now is for "small" stories, intimate stories.
Now, this ... this is work.
Give me a good disaster any day. Must be that old reporter is still kicking around in my psyche.
Monday, April 21, 2008
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