The Rubicon was crossed. I’d committed to publishing the novel. Ratio of euphoric to paranoid/neurotic/panic moments? Oh, about 1:1000.
A second circumcision
The Rubicon was crossed. I’d committed to publishing the novel. Ratio of euphoric to paranoid/neurotic/panic moments? Oh, about 1:1000.
Negotiating the contract was relatively straightforward. The publisher had a template and we haggled over the splits of the many potential revenue streams. It’s one of the beguiling facets of this business that, although the contract focused on imminent printed and e-books, it nevertheless also had to cater for the more outlandish hopes for a work of fiction – dramatisation rights, movie options, even a buy-out of the contract itself by a large publisher (most definitely not a hint to Bloomsbury).
With goodwill on both sides, this wasn’t too difficult. Of course, the absence of an agent was something of an exposure but, in the end, I proceeded on the basis that a smaller percentage of something is better than 100% of nothing. APP has a number of publishing options but, gratifyingly, they had such faith in ‘Grosse Fugue’ that the only commitment they required from me was to invest heavily in their marketing plan – not cash, but that rather more precious commodity: self.
And then the editing began. Not for nothing did I choose this particular title. Because that’s how it felt. The book has been reduced by almost 10%, some of it writing that I felt was among the best I’d done (not that this is any way to judge it). I write this through gritted fingertips but the vast majority of what the publisher and her editor said has improved the book, of that I have little doubt. The process has been excruciating, even though the end result is more than adequate compensation. It also identified some errors of fact, such as place names that I’d mistyped and areas where the historical research was not as spot-on as it needed to be.
Losing my original ending (back to the title of this blog again – sorry!), was particularly uncomfortable as I’d lavished a wholly disproportionate amount of writing time on creating a testament discovered after my protagonist had died. I had to concede that the novel now has a far more satisfying ending but there was plenty of wailing and blood, I can assure you.
Editing is so critical and so difficult that, with everyone’s permission, I’ll write about it some more next time.
Ian Phillips is a freelance writer for businesses whose first novel, Grosse Fugue, will be published by Alliance Publishing Press on April 11th. He’s tweeting developments @Ian_at_theWord.
Adam, I am sure you mean well, but what a question to ask.
Authors have to remain humble and keep their heads down. The sensible option is to quietly gnaw your fingers to the bone in anticipation, and hope for good reviews and commerical success.
When I asked Ian how long the editing process took, I was looking for clues in his answer. I was not disappointed. My curiosity was satisfied, because three months is a relatively short time to prepare a manuscript for publication.
Excellent question, Adam!
It's so difficult to judge one's work objectively. What I will say is that it very much ticks many of the boxes that I wanted to achieve. Some of the writing I feel is pretty much what I hoped for when I embarked upon this great adventure. And I think that many of my worst excesses have been dealt with.
So, if I'm honest, I think that there are some good parts to it, of which I'm proud. And I think the ending is more effective and satisfactory than my original. But I have to leave to others the judgement of how, if at all, good the book is.
Obviously, I hope that enough people think it's good - or better than that. Time will tell. It's agonising waiting!
So do you still think the book is good?