THE ROAD TO PUBLICATION
BY JOAN HALL HOVEY
(Previously
published in The Writer Magazine)
Where
I write in pleasant weather. A variation on 'A Room of One's Own'
Like you, I started out as a story 'listener'. Both my
parents were avid storytellers, and I needed only to hear the words, "I
remember the time when..." to feel that rare and exquisite pleasure in the
anticipation of a new story. The dark, scary ones were best - stories my father
told of the man with the cloven foot who showed up at the card game, or the
discovery of a young girl's body in the woods behind the school ... the town
drunk found dead in the cemetery, his face as granite-white with frost as the
tombstones surrounding him...
From the time I could find my way to the Saint John
Library, I was a constant visitor. For me, the library was a magical place - a
hushed, warm haven where, through the pages of a book I could travel to far off
exotic places in my imagination. I could experience vicariously all the joy,
romance, terror, tragedy and triumph of the characters in the stories.
Among my favorite authors were Mark Twain, Edgar Allan
Poe, Charlotte Bronte, Shirley Jackson and Phyllis Whitney. Far too many to
list here. I am forever grateful to them all, for it was through reading their
works that the seed to be a writer was planted in me. I wanted to join the
ranks of those authors who had given me so much pleasure, and in turn tell my own
stories. I had learned about the power of words.
Reading is, of course, where it all begins for all
writers. Although it might surprise you to know that a number of aspiring
writers have told me they didn't have time to read. Or that they didn't read
because they wanted everything in their own work to be totally original. Sadly,
I don't expect to read much of their work in published form. So the first key
to publication is to Read! Read! Read! Nothing you didn't already know. But
it's true; we learn by osmosis. And we learn by doing.
When I first set pen to paper with thought of
publication, I didn't know bad literature from good. I devoured it all, and
learned from it all. I came across the True Confessions in the market section
of a copy of Writer's Digest Magazine, and it seemed possible to me that I
could write one. I was right. That first story was titled: I Didn't Kill My
Husband, But I Might As Well Have. Pretty bad, I know. But looking at the models
on the page portraying the characters in my story, not to mention my cheque for
$125.00, I felt like I'd won the lottery. The only downside was that my name
wasn't on my story. You don't get a bi-line from the confessions. The stories
are supposed to be true. Or at least read like they're true. Everyone I wrote
sold. I seemed to have a knack. But I never approached the writing of these
little stories lightly, or with tongue in cheek; I always wrote from my heart,
in all seriousness. When I could no longer do that, I stopped writing them.
My children were small then, three under six
years of age, and I was squeezing in writing time when I could find it.
Usually, in the evenings after they were in bed. (Ah, to be so young again! )
Later, I wrote while holding down a full-time job. You do what you have to do.
John Grisham rose at 4:00 a.m. to get in his stint of writing before going off
to his law office.
My second story, God's Special Gift, made the rounds
for a time and finally sold to Home Life magazine in Nashville. It was about my
grandmother, who died in a house fire when I was 15. Writing that story, albeit
many years later, was very cathartic for me. And I got a bi-line. My work soon
found its way into the now defunct, (unfortunate, because it was a fine
magazine) Atlantic Advocate, both fiction and non-fiction, and various other
magazines and newspapers.
Pregnant with my fourth child, I determined to
pursue my lifelong dream of writing a novel. That summer, I sat on our back
deck and read a stack of suspense novels of the sort I wanted to write. I
reread Poe, Patricia Highsmith, Shirley Jackson and many of the new authors who
were also becoming my favorites. In the fall, I began writing my own suspense
novel, The Strawman. (Later Zebra Books would change the title to Listen to the
Shadows.) I wrote it at our kitchen table in longhand, and the book took a long
time to write. I worked on it off and on over a period of maybe four years.
Finally the novel was finished. I'd already gone
through my Writer's Market, as well as checking out the books on the shelves of
our local bookstore, and Zebra seemed right for The Strawman. I sent it off. It
came flying back within a few weeks, but the attached slip of paper wasn't
quite a rejection. Anne Lafarge, acquisitions editor at the time, had scribbled
a note saying she liked the book, but it was too short. They needed 100,000
words; mine was about 75,000 words.
I settled down to work. It took another four
months to add the other 25,000 words, which I did by weaving in a couple of
subplots. In November I sent the manuscript off again, addressing it to Anne
LaFarge. On the outside of the package, in bold black marker, I printed:
Requested Material, just in case she forgot me, which I'm sure she did.
One day in February the phone rang. I knew
intuitively that it was Zebra. They wanted to publish The Strawman. When my
husband came home that night I was at the stove cooking spaghetti. He took one
look at my face, and said, "You sold your book."
It was a dream come true. I felt weepy and
humbled. And very happy.
Nowhere To Hide later received an Eppie Award for best
thriller. After that Chill Waters received the Blood Dagger Award. I was
very happy.
End of story? Hardly. I completed and sent out
the third manuscript and it was returned. I was told Zebra was no longer
publishing suspense. At least the kind of psychological suspense I like to
write. And I'm convinced you should only write what you really want to write.
Otherwise, it's just too damn hard. The moral of the story: You're never there.
(Unless you're Stephen King, but he's a genius.)
Back to square one? Well, not quite. What I have
now is a track record. Publishers tended to give my work a longer look before
they turn it down.
This is a precarious business, with no guarantees for
any of us. So you must love the actual process of writing. In the end, the only
thing we have any control over is the writing itself. It takes courage to be a
writer, to put our work (ourselves) out there, never knowing if it will be
praised or ridiculed. We must rise above the fear, and do what we know we can
when all cylinders are firing.
So give that critical editor on your shoulder the
bum's rush (He gets called in for work later.) and write your novel. Enjoy the
writing; give yourself to it like a lover. Get out of your own way by focusing
on the characters and their story. And know that you are not alone. All around
the globe, at this very moment, writers are sitting at kitchen tables with pen
and paper, or at their computers, struggling to write their own novels.
Lastly, no matter your genre, be it romance,
mystery, horror or science fiction, go where the passion, the pain, is. Write
with joy! And believe in yourself. No one can tell your stories but you. No
one. And if you need a little inspiration, check out the books on my
site. www.joanhallhovey.com
I’ve written five suspense novels to this point
in my career, the new one on the way. All are published by a wonderful Canadian
publisher Books We Love Ltd, all available at amazon.com , Barnes and Noble and
various other online publishers, in both paperback and ebook.
Happy Reading~
Joan Hall Hovey
Books by Joan Hall Hovey
Defective
I Hitched a Ride into Hell (Teen/YA novelette)
The Abduction of Mary Rose
Night Corridor
Chill Waters
Nowhere To Hide
Listen to the Shadows
“You
have no idea. I actually made some progress on my novel tonight, but my muse
isn’t cooperating because I can’t stop thinking about Kitten and Persia.”
.jpg)
.jpg)
