I would estimate that ninety-five percent of the questions or comments that I get have to do with my writing process. Inevitably, those questions and comments tend to be prefixed or suffixed by some form of the title statement of this post. As in, “I was just wondering, because I have this Really Cool Story Idea.” Or, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, it’s just that I have this Really Cool Story Idea.”

So, for those that started working on something for NaNo (or those who have been musing just because), have decided that what they’ve got going actually might be a “Really Cool Story Idea,” and are interested in taking the next step with it, I thought I’d sum up the process of novel writing/getting published. Hopefully I can pass on some inspiration, information, and ideology. If nothing else, it will give me a link to direct the next inquiring mind to, and I won’t have to type out my reply again.

Step 1 – Evaluating The Really Cool Story Idea (RCSI—I’m getting too lazy to keep typing it)

As cool as the idea of a marshmallow man and his pulsing, chocolate-sauce-gushing manhood might be, there are obvious disadvantages to having a main character that will melt into a puddle of sticky goo in direct sunlight. This is the step where you have to figure out what’s wrong with your characters, what’s right with them, and how those rights and wrongs are going to fit into your story. For example, how did Marshmallow Joe get his bubble-butt self to the deep, dark, perilous streets of New York City? And what does MJ’s mom think about the move? How will you be explaining the fact that MJ needs a steady diet of Bosco to keep his chocolate-centered-self perky?

Step 2 – Taking the Plunge

The next step you’ll have to take with your RCSI is the simplest thing in the world to tell someone to do, but the hardest step to take. You’re going to have to actually WRITE IT. (Wouldn’t it be really cool if I could put sound effects in right now? Some kind of a ‘dun-dun-dun’ thing.)

I realize that probably sounds obvious. But I can guarantee you that it is here, right at the base of Step Number Two Mountain, that most RCSI get left… abandoned… weeping… begging for their Creator to return… A moment of silence, shall we, for the forgotten and the left behind?

Assuming that you’ve decided not to leave your RCSI an orphan, let me point out that there is the possibility that will come to a point within this ominous step number two wherein you will (a) convince yourself the story is worthless, (b) hate one or all of your characters, (c) decide you should never have attempted to write in the first place, and (d) question your validity as not only an author, but a human being.

This is normal. Just keep writing.

Step 3 – OMG, I’ve Finished the Story!

No, you haven’t. You’ve just finished writing it. Now you have to edit it.

What’s that? You say you’ve been editing it all the way through and you couldn’t possibly have missed anything? You have. And you did. And you need to edit it. Then you should probably send it to a beta-reader, or at the very least your bestest friend in the whole world, and let them see what they can find. Once they’ve ripped it apart, I mean, uh, helped you identify any issues, give those issues some serious consideration (after you’ve given your friend a bandage and some ice for that lump you left on their forehead) and clean the story up. Don’t assume that your beta/friend has no idea what they’re talking about. They’re a reader at this point so you’re going to want to put some trust in them. If you really don’t get what they’re saying, try another beta/friend and run through that part of the process again.

Okay, done? Now do yourself a favour and give it another read through. If you’re serious about sending your RCSI to a publisher, you’ll want it to be as clean as you can possibly make it, because no matter how very good you are, and no matter how many times you edit, you will miss things. And they will find them. Or, worse, they won’t, and your readers will. Either way, you’ll end up feeling like a dork. Avoidance of dorkiness is always a good plan.

Step 4 – OK, I’ve done the damn million pre-edits and rewrites. Now what?

(That was kind of a hostile question, wasn’t it? Sheesh.)

If, at this point, you have a RCSI that is finished, polished up the best you can manage, and you are ready to continue forward, I say congratulations! You can relax a bit now; this is the fun part. (I lie. That was totally sarcasm.)

In all honesty, though, I have to set aside humour at this point. Just for a moment because this really is some serious stuff, here. When it comes to selecting the publisher(s) that you want to submit a manuscript to, I urge you be extremely cautious. Do your homework. Look them up, and by ‘look them up’ I mean Google the hell out of them. Find a publisher that is reputable, secure, and has the same mindset that you do with respect to your work. If you start seeing blogs trashing their payment process or the way they communicate with their authors, take that as a great big flashing sign of caution. Having a publisher that you can work with, who understands where you’re coming from, and that’s willing to communicate with you, is going to, at its very least, make a world of difference in how the next few months play out. At its worse, it could be the difference between whether you ever see a dime for your RCSI at all.

Read the submission guidelines for the publisher(s) you want to use. Some let you submit to other publishers at the same time, some don’t. Some are going to ask for a detailed synopsis, some won’t. One thing they are all going to do is ask you to follow their specific formatting and layout processes. These aren’t recommendations; they will expect you to adhere to these requests and you should definitely make sure you do them. No matter how good your RCSI is, if you start the process by thumbing your nose at their expectations, they’re probably going to tell you to pound off. They’ll do it in a nice, professional, form-letter, of course, but the short of the long of it is, they aren’t going to want to work with you if you’re not going to work with them.

Submit your RCSI. Celebrate.

Fret into your pillow every night in quiet desperation as you wait for them to get back to you.

Step 5 – Hot damn, Henley, they’ve accepted it!

Congratulations! I’m thrilled for you—Hey. What are you doing? Put down that pen. Don’t sign that yet!

Before you do anything else at all… before you call your friends, throw your party, and most assuredly before you sign your contract, print that baby off and read it. Read every little word and make sure you understand it completely. If you don’t, or something sounds vague, contact your publisher and have them explain it to you. This is your RCSI. As badly as you want to see Marshmallow Joe’s name in print, there are some things you should be cautious about. How long are the publishing rights? What are your obligations with respect to marketing and media? Read, read, read. Digest, digest, digest.

When you’re absolutely comfortable, then go ahead and sign it. Don’t forget to send it back.

Breathe a sigh of relief. No, seriously, do it. Make it a deep one. This might be your last chance to breathe for a while.

Step 6 – The I Hate Everything Part

Remember how much you hated editing back up there in step three? Well, welcome to the new kind of hell known as step six. Be prepared… nothing can destroy you quite as much as the first time you get edits back from your publisher, especially content edits. (If the electronic age has done anything for authors, it has at least saved us the humiliation of sending back tear-stained sheets of papers that have been crumpled in frustration.)

Let me assure you right now that by the third, fourth, maybe even the fifth novel, you’re going to breeze through this part because you’ll understand that it’s all for the betterment of your RCSI. By that time you’ll have realized that Marshmallow Joe only became the hero he did because your editor caught that really important plot-hole back in the day. The sword can be mighty sharp the first time around, though.

You’ll live. I promise. And hey, you’ll only have to do it two, three or four times, right? Content, grammar, layout edits… by the time you get through them all you’ll be clicking “accept change” like it’s an old friend.

Step 7 – The Book Release

Oh, you don’t have to worry about that? Your release isn’t for another eight weeks so you can sit back and relax? Not quite. Get up. Get back on the computer.

You’ve got some marketing to do.

Cover reveals, blog tours, giveaways, promos, an author interview here and there wouldn’t hurt, and oh, have you contacted review sites so that you can get your RCSI reviewed? It’s a big world out there, even in our little genre, and there are dozens, hundreds, thousands of RCSI being released every week. Your publisher will do everything they can to make sure people know that Marshmallow Joe is alive and well, but if you don’t work just as hard as they do, MJ is going to get lost in the wave of new releases. No one loves MJ quite like you do, at least, not yet. It’s up to you to make them want to.

Step 8 – The Installing of Teflon Shoulders and Bulletproof Skin

Sounds expensive, I know, but authors get a huge discount so it’s actually not too bad. I strongly recommend both, and I would suggest that you make plans to get fitted for them well before your first review is expected to come out. No matter who you are, how well you write, or how many people love your work, there will always be some feedback that doesn’t just sting, it hurts. There are really only two ways to deal with that:

1. Never, ever, ever read one of your own reviews, even if it looks like it’s going to be a good one. That doesn’t mean don’t read reviews—on the contrary, reading reviews are a great way to learn about what potential readers like/dislike/are looking for. Just stay away from your own. Or…

2. Keep your Teflon and bulletproof coatings well-tended, and have extra stock in the back closet just in case. Know how to laugh off the absurd, and shrug away the obvious ‘I just don’t like this guy’ ones. They happen. Certain character flaws tweak some people wrong the way, and there are going to be readers that don’t get what you’re trying to say. That’s life. It sucks. Ignore it.

Choose one of the two. Stick with it. It will save the lives and sanity of the people that live with you, and probably even the sanity of the people who only have to deal with you. Like your boss. And the people who carpool with you. The guy who makes your coffee at Starbucks. The pizza delivery boy. The lady beside you on the bus. That weird guy that stands at the corner and talks to himself… Spare them.

Step 9 – Wait for the Millions to Roll In

I lied. Again. There are no millions. But by all means, do frame that first royalty statement, then go on out and buy yourself a pizza with the proceeds that MJ has brought your way. You deserve it.

 

All my love and until next time!

AF Henley <3

Henley was born with a full-blown passion for run-on sentences, a zealous indulgence in all words descriptive, and the endearing tendency to overuse punctuation. Since the early years Henley has been an enthusiastic writer, from the first few I-love-my-dog stories to the current leap into erotica. A self-professed Google genius, Henley lives for the hours spent digging through the Internet for ‘research purposes’ which, more often than not, lead seven thousand miles away from first intentions but bring Henley to new discoveries and ideas that, once seeded, tend to flourish.

Henley has been proudly publishing with Less Than Three Press since 2012, and has been writing like mad ever since—an indentured servant to the belief that romance and true love can mend the most broken soul. Even when presented in prose.

Henley’s newest release, “The Chase and The Catch” hit the market on November 19th and is now available at your favourite online book retailer in both ebook or print format. Check it out on Amazon, or directly through LT3 Press.

For more information please stop by for a visit at afhenley.com.