Book, Writing

What happened to the book

The long-suffering reader might remember that some time ago, I wrote a novel. After typing the magical words The End under its last paragraph, I put it aside several times, edited, re-edited and re-re-edited a couple of times more, and finally submitted the manuscript to a handful of agents.

Surprisingly, I have found an agent at the second handful. Anyone who has ever contemplated looking for a literary agent will appreciate the gravity of these nonchalantly expelled words. Rest assured, champagne has been drunk and silly little dances have been committed.

Since signing on, I have written the outline for a potential sequel, compiled summaries and extracts and finally, the manuscript was ready to be sent out to publishers.

Aka the waiting game commenced. The painstakingly slow process of approaching the right people, waiting for them to read the manuscript (they get tons of them, who’d have thought…), hoping, praying, bracing yourself for an answer and accepting a No, ready to submit your work to the next person.

Although there has only been one No so far, I find the whole process a little trying. Patience is not my greatest asset. I am not one to sit around and wait. I want to do stuff. And when I say “do stuff”, I mean write.

To be honest, I am a little unsure where to go from here. Should I plunge into the sequel? Head first into a different kind of novel? Fiction? Non-fiction?

This is where the beauty of having an agent lies: not only is someone happy to sit down with me and discuss ideas. This someone also manages to make a No sound like a compliment.

Thanks, Adrian! 


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