What eight drafts and a long wait taught me about the writing process

I’m bursting with news, so forgive me if I can’t make it through the first line without spilling it.

The book I’ve been wrestling with for a good four or five years, through eight drafts, has just been accepted for publication. With an advance, nogal, which means they must believe in it.

There. I’ve said it out loud. Without touching wood. (I’ve not mentioned this book this year without reaching for wood and clutching at my thumbs.) Now let me tell you what it took to get here, because that’s probably more worth the read than the announcement itself.

I wrote this book because I believed in it – not because I knew it would find a home. For a long time, I didn’t know that at all. Along the way, more than one person told me, gently or otherwise, that it would be controversial. That it might not be what people expected from me.

Each time, I had the same choice every writer faces: soften to be safer, or keep going because it’s the book I need to write.

I kept going. Not because I was confident it would work out. Confidence has never been my strong suit, as most of you know. But, the alternative was writing something smaller, and I’ve never been comfortable with that kind of compromise.

If you’ve ever sat with a manuscript that frightens you a little, because of the people it might displease, you’ll know the feeling. Only you can decide whose approval matters more: that of the page itself or the amorphous faces beyond the room.

Then came the part nobody warns you about: the waiting. I first faced a long silence from a publisher I deeply respect, not knowing if I was looking at a slow yes, or a quiet no (which brings with it a particular kind of exhaustion).

Writers spend more time waiting than almost anything else. We wait for inspiration, for the next draft to reveal itself, for an agent’s reply, for an editor’s verdict. The waiting is its own skill. No one teaches it, and I’m certain it never gets easier.

In my case, before I could find out yea or nay, I was contacted by another highly respected publisher, who had heard about the book from a friend. They asked to see it and, within a fortnight, came back with a strong yes. Thank you Jonathan Ball Publishers, for believing in it. I’m excited to be part of your stable.

Remember the adventure swim that was called off halfway? I wrote about it a couple of months ago. I was psyched and ready, but the swell rose and a seal slipped off the rock at just the wrong moment.

This feels like I got to finish my swim. Just not by the route, or in the form, that I expected.

I’m deeply grateful for this opportunity. I don’t take it for granted. Conventional publishing deals are rarer than they once were – regardless of how good the work is or how many books you’ve published. There’s no shame in walking a different path. Self-publishing, hybrid models, smaller presses: there are more roads to a finished book now than there have ever been.

What matters, though, is the eight drafts. What matters is staying in the water when the swell rises and you’re not sure you’ll make it to the next beach.

I’ve been turned back by the swell. I’ve been (humiliatingly) hauled out of the water by Scotty the ‘waterman’, when I overestimated myself. I’ve stood on the sand wondering whether to go in at all. But, you know what we say? You never regret a swim.

You’ll never regret plunging into a creative project and giving it your all. It doesn’t matter if you get a medal, a pat of recognition, or even make it to the end at all. You’ll have grown an important part of yourself, and you’ll have immersed yourself in another, creative world. It brings joy, and the satisfaction of knowing you’ve pushed yourself.

Richard knows all about this. He has plunged himself into the world of Clatterbridge – where his disabled detective, James, solves cosy mysteries with the help of his wife, Inky. R now has six manuscripts ready to run and will soon be launching the first in the series, Murder as a Working Hypothesis.

And if you’re unsure? Stick with us. You can swim with us anytime. We’ll be honest about how hard it is. We’ll also remind you why it’s worth it. We offer a great deal of help – and much of it doesn’t cost a penny.

As always, I’m here to discuss your writing and how we can help you. Simply fill in the contact form and let me know what you are working on, and what kind of help you need.

Happy writing
Jo-Anne

P.S. Wondering about the creatures in my underwater pics, click here to find out more.