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.
Hi George, delighted you found it of value.
I think the overriding message for me is that 'outsiders' see it in a completely different light and can definitely improve on our work. Balancing that, at least for me, is the inescapable fact that it will never be as good as I want and that every time I look at it, I see things I'd like to change.
Being honest, when the editor was expressing her opinions, some of it was really unwelcome - especially when she was right!
I'll be writing more about editing next Thursday so please tune in!
Thanks for that post Ian, it is very interesting.
I have a novel that is, maybe, ready for exposure to agents or publishers. My first edit was much like yours...but i needed more words 79,000 did not seem like enough. And there were gaps in the plot that jumped out at me when I read the complete draft for the first time. It now stands at about 85,000 after two edits, and I think the story works relatively smoothly - although if I am lucky enough get a bite I'm sure an editor would have their own views.
I am interested to see what my own reaction will be if major changes are suggested, or parts of the my story that are dear to me are up for 'the chop.'
Having said that, getting a story edited can only be a good learning experience for the next project
All the best
George
Thanks once more for your support, Adrian, it's very much appreciated.
Let me try and answer your questions in turn.
Editing process, in total, about three months from the submission of the original m/s to final sign-off. Not completely non-stop but pretty close (It seems, with hindsight).
In my very first self-edit, I managed to reduce the initial m/s from 88,000 words to 93,000 (sic)! So, your own discipline in achieving a genuine reductions seems pretty impressive to me.
I've got to be honest - I'm entirely with you on the never-being-satisfied front. Even now, at the late stage, I can envision improvements. For me, one of the major benefits of being published is that I may no longer tinker with it.
You're right about the ending, too. We all lavish an inordinate amount of time on our opening line. But those closing pages, when we bid 'farewell' to our readers, they're critically important, too. And to reiterate, I absolutely accept my editor's judgement that it is a more satisfying way to conclude than my original. But that didn't - and doesn't - stop me mourning the loss of that original.
I'm so pleased you like the title - it's always been 'Grosse Fugue' which has seemed right from the off.
I hope your intuition is right, Adrian. I am calm, but worry about what'll happen when the drugs wear off!