Depressing realisation, as I try to attack this editing process in a systematical fashion, i.e. by making a checklist. There are some things you can do to make a book good. There are some things you can do to make a book easy to sell. They're not always the same, these things.
What now? I want this book to be published and read. I absolutely don't want it to be drivel.
In fact, given how hard it is to get published, I can't get over how many bad books are being published everywhere, all the time. Publishers get a tad defensive about these; 'oh, but think of the many good books that are being published' I heard some say. Yawn. That is not the point. How did the terrible ones get through?
I finished one a couple of days ago. I would have chucked it out of the window, if it weren't on Kindle (where it sat possibly infecting all my other books...). Arrrgh - how come no agent, no publisher said wait a minute... the narrator is spineless and nothing really happens, no redeeming feature, except maybe for that one metaphor on page 57. But the hero looks cute and there's some sex half way through... it doesn't go anywhere and everyone dies but heck, let's print it anyway. Let's con some people into buying it by writing a few blatant lies and fake reviews on the blurb. Here, well done.
Delete, delete the book, delete that thought. Deep breath. Think of Vora.
I write my checklist. It's huge. Lunch becomes suddenly important, and a nap. It was impossible to sleep last night - the music stopped only briefly, for the fireworks.
(do you see the outline of the church, underneath the red mushroom?)
We breathed cordite between 3-5 am, while the music continued. Music, by the way, exactly like that novel I was describing: trite and depressing - a string of cliches and pseudo-philosophy, this is how men are, this is what to do with a broken heart. A vision of hell, what with the cordite and all the smoke.
Could this be what people -readers- want?
I refuse to believe that, and drop the cheque-list into the stove, the first to burn come winter.
What now? I want this book to be published and read. I absolutely don't want it to be drivel.
In fact, given how hard it is to get published, I can't get over how many bad books are being published everywhere, all the time. Publishers get a tad defensive about these; 'oh, but think of the many good books that are being published' I heard some say. Yawn. That is not the point. How did the terrible ones get through?
I finished one a couple of days ago. I would have chucked it out of the window, if it weren't on Kindle (where it sat possibly infecting all my other books...). Arrrgh - how come no agent, no publisher said wait a minute... the narrator is spineless and nothing really happens, no redeeming feature, except maybe for that one metaphor on page 57. But the hero looks cute and there's some sex half way through... it doesn't go anywhere and everyone dies but heck, let's print it anyway. Let's con some people into buying it by writing a few blatant lies and fake reviews on the blurb. Here, well done.
Delete, delete the book, delete that thought. Deep breath. Think of Vora.
I write my checklist. It's huge. Lunch becomes suddenly important, and a nap. It was impossible to sleep last night - the music stopped only briefly, for the fireworks.
(do you see the outline of the church, underneath the red mushroom?)
We breathed cordite between 3-5 am, while the music continued. Music, by the way, exactly like that novel I was describing: trite and depressing - a string of cliches and pseudo-philosophy, this is how men are, this is what to do with a broken heart. A vision of hell, what with the cordite and all the smoke.
Could this be what people -readers- want?
I refuse to believe that, and drop the cheque-list into the stove, the first to burn come winter.
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