My latest novel has been on submission for about a month; ten editors have requested it and one (as far as I know) has already passed. I know that publishing is an industry in which things happen at a glacial pace, but I have no idea how other writers concentrate on their next project while waiting to hear back. I’m about forty pages into a first draft of a new thriller, and people are making coffee and making jokes like they don’t have a care in the world. Please be creeped out, characters!
The editor who passed said she was intrigued by the premise, but the writing didn’t make her want to keep turning pages. I don’t know if this is every writer’s worst nightmare, but it’s definitely mine. “Your idea is great, but you can’t write for shit!” Please let me crawl into a hole and die.
I’m aware of the phenomenon called “imposter syndrome.” I’m also aware that nothing I write could ever be described as lyrical, literary, or any of those adjectives used to describe writers who come up with phrases such as “Her eyelashes curled onto her lids like upside-down question marks in a six-point serif font.” I wasn’t poetic even when I wrote poetry.
I like thrillers and comedy; I write thrillers and sometimes people are funny in them. I think in terms of plot and twists and character motivation. My people don’t live under big starry skies; their victims bleed until the carpet squeaks red. My protagonists tell their tales in first person and they don’t get distracted by pelicans diving kamikaze-style into the water. (I sometimes do, though.) When I read thrillers, sometimes I notice fancy turns-of-phrase, but more often I’m trying to figure out fancy turns of plot.
Does this mean I’m doomed? When editors read my thriller, will they roll their eyes when my characters roll theirs?
I don’t have an MFA. I’ve heard mixed things about the programs. On the pro side, there’s nothing like spending a year or two fully immersed in your project, with other writers and faculty members figuratively by your side. By focusing on small, specific chunks of pages, scrutinizing every word, the words get better. They have to. On the con side, though, that laser-like focus on pages sometimes means the forest gets lost for the trees. And I’ve heard that MFA programs sometimes produce novels that are more literary than commercial, with writers who focus on description over character feelings. An agent I used to edit for complained to me, “How can I sell something that leaves readers cold?”
But I’d like to write pretty someday. Perhaps, if this round of editors all agree that my writing is lacking, I’ll start looking into MFA programs. I can’t ever see myself writing a literary novel about love and grief and pain. But it would be nice to think up a few more ways to describe how blood saturates a carpet.
