End of PitchWars and I didn't get in

The odds were never in my favour. Out of 1700+ entries for 130-something mentee spots, you can do the math.

That I didn't get in didn't hurt. For me, the biggest disappointment was that I didn't get a single ms request from my query & Ch1. That's what stung.

During the submission/selection window all the mentors were reading the entries and requesting partials/fulls.  My query letter and Chapter 1 wasn't hooky enough to get anyone's attention.

I suspect it's voice, but I honestly don't know. The reason I suspect voice is because during the window everyone on #PitchWars was raving about voiceVOICEvoice and how that was the one thing that caught their attention. Everything else, they reasoned, was fixable.

But if you didn't have voice...

Now the feed is full of congrats for the lucky mentees and half-glass-full reassurances for the 99% of the rest of that PitchWars isn't the end.

Of course it's not the end. The wise not-mentees will go on to QueryKombat and PitchSlam and the good old-fashioned query train. Anything to achieve their goals of publication. Also, there were many interesting people and resources and CPs and FB groups and lots of stuff. Plenty to be learned from PitchWars.

But the biggest thing I learned is that I can't hook. Could be the query letter (which I desperately rewrote thanks to feedback 12 hours before the submission window), but most likely is the voice in Chapter 1.  I don't base this off of this one contest, but off the dozens and dozens of agents I pitched prior without a single request and this one contest. PitchWars simply confirmed for me that there's something wrong with my hook.

This is more important that one realises. The success of a book at every level depends on the hook. At first the hook is to catch an agent. The agent uses the hook to catch an editor. The editor catches the acquisition board's attention and marketing uses the hook to catch the readers. Readers gush about this one great book because the hook caught them and they had a great time.

Even if I was to go the indie route, I still need that vital hook, more than ever. If I can't hook potential readers, I'm not going to get any sales, never  mind reviews.

Essentially,  I can't go on until I figure out how to make this hook work.

How does one fix voice? Everyone's advice has been, "Write another book."  Okay, great, if you're an apprentice who's just finished their first novel. But what about the journeyman working on their twenty-first?

I wish I could figure out what it was about my voice that sucks.

The Sad Tale of a Lost Voice

Actually, this has nothing to do with being sick. This mezzo-soprano doesn't have a meltdown at the first sign of laryngitis. Rather, she treats it as the perfect reason not to answer the phone.

Instead, today I am going to mourn the sad little wet blanket of my author's voice.

I just spent a year pitching a novel I love very, very much to just over a hundred agents. Ignoring the unresponsive NORMANs, every agent who replied (except for one)* gave me a form reject. No personalisation, and certainly no requests for more pages. Absolutely no one was hooked enough to want to read more.

But I love this book to bits and really want it to go out in the great, wide world and do well. So I entered #PitchWars and stalked the feed.

The one thing the mentors are looking for? Works with voice. Or rather, V O I C E. Voice is the one thing a manuscript must have. They're confident they can fix anything else--craft issues, plot issues, character issues.  But voice is the must-have.

They're all raving about voice, which I find a bit depressing.

I'm thinking my author voice sucks.

How do you tell? Agents send you form rejections. Lots of 'em. And no requests for further material. They're just not interested in reading more.

I can't see my voice, I can't hear it, I can't define it. So how do I fix it?

I've had over two dozen critters and beta readers go over this, at at least five sets of eyes read the whole project straight through. They focus on characterisation, plot, everything. Rave about it, even. But nobody has ever said anything about voice.

"It's one of those things," others say. "Keep writing until you find your voice."

I've written twenty fricking books. If I haven't found my voice by now, how on earth is the twenty-first book going to help me find it? It's not like craft, where you can study up on how to do it, analyse others' works and take the gears apart to see what made it tick. It's not something that can be taught, they say.

I wish it was. I really wish I could look at my writing, see my voice, and see what made it work, or not, as the case is. I wish I could file the rough corners, tighten the rhythm, drench the words with liquid crack.

I want to keep readers up all night with my books because they don't dare put it down.

How do I do that?

________________________________________
*the one agent who gave me personalised feedback does so because I always query her, and she knows how hard I'm trying. She's a real sweetie and I respect her a lot professionally. Still, her reply does, to a degree, support the issue I'm having. My voice isn't so overwhelmingly alive it grabs her and she absolutely must consider adding me to her list.
I wish it was.

But That is Real Life, Honey -or- Stop Your Whining, Valedictorian

You don't see successful clip artist
Philip Martin whining about his education.

It is the end of the school year here in Australia and I've got a young graduate. Yay. She's done well and aims to keep doing well in the continuation of her education.

Recently I saw a few links to valedictorian speeches come through one of my social media scrolls. Every once in a while you find a brilliant speech (wear sunscreen). However, most tend to be the usual inspirational claptrap full of cliches and then there's the requisite "trying to be different but really just venting" angry ones.

One particular speech caught my attention. It was one of the latter. In this valid-dictator-ial speech  (which I will not be linking to because she doesn't need the additional audience), she whined about the fact that the only reason she was valedictorian was because she got really good at completing assignments and taking tests. She said she didn't get a real education but merely learned how to play the system.

Guess what, honey, you did get an education! You got a brilliant preparation for what the 99% call "The Real World". (Granted, you are from the American Empire, who failed to upgrade their educational and medical systems sufficiently during their evolution, and that does give you a disadvantage compared to the rest of the First World. Heck, it might give you a disadvantage compared to certain parts of the Third World.)

But yeah. Real Life in the Adult World is all about playing the system. I don't know what sort of job/career you were planning on, but I can guarantee you pretty much all of them involve completing assignments (ie meeting sales targets, adhering to guidelines, upholding service catalogues, quality control, etc) and taking tests (delivering a satisfactory product and/or service).

It doesn't matter what field you're in. Accountant?  Better get your maths correct. Fast food worker? Better meet quality control targets. Ballet dancer? Precision and focus are mandatory. Scientist? Professional development is an ongoing thing. Secretary? Speed and accuracy. Attorney? Research and fact memorisation. Author? Self-starter skills and long hours of repetitive tasks.

Whatever it was you were thinking you failed to learn in your mastery of assignments and test-taking, that sort of stuff doesn't come along until after you've gained practical experience in the entry levels. Creative Consultants, Decision Makers, CEOs... none of this stuff will come to you for at least another twenty years. Stop worrying that you're not ready now.

So if you were looking for something that would "tap into your potential" because "we can do anything we want" and "the sky's the limit" and all the other cliches with which your valedictory speeches are rife, you're in for a dreadful surprise.  There is absolutely no difference between your teacher telling you "Your fifteen questions on page 87 are due on Monday" and your manager telling you "I need this spreadsheet analysis done by Monday."

The only two differences you will find between an education and a day job is this:  When you do your job well (ie complete your assignments and get a good grade), you get paid. When you  don't do your job well (ie keep failing your tests), there's a good chance you can get fired.

Welcome to the Real Life in the Adult World, padowan. Let's see if you can keep up with the big dogs.  Oh, and I need that spreadsheet analysis done by Monday.

________________________
Her Grace, who has a BA in Music and Film from the UofU, a CertGr6  in Piano from AMEB, an MFA in Creative Writing and a PhD in OB-GYN from SoHK and soon to have a MSc in Astronomy from SwinU.  All this wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the support of a Day Job full of assignments and tests.

Me vs Sucky Reality

In the first corner, at a hundred and fifty pounds and seventy-five pence, we have Me (aka Mighty Heidi, aka Hey You).  Dressed in dreams and other grandiose ideas, she is destined for great things... if only she had the time (and a really lovely smooch from Richard Armitage).

In the other corner we have Sucky Reality, as heavy as a wet blanket, as dour as an old maid schoolmarm from 1887, and armed with a big, thick Reality Clue Stick.

Long-story-short, my blows lead with:

• Having a novella out in the end of 2014.
• Plans to go to grad school in 2015.
• Win over one of the twenty Dream Agents I've been researching.
• Convince the "You're publishable, Heidi" editors to move from from Tell to Show.
• Pass Grade 6 Piano.
• Get a good night's sleep.

Sucky Reality counters with:

• Stomach flu.  An entire weekend gone down the loo.
• Temporary full-time promotion. Talk about a time-suck. I have time for nothing that truly matters, like writing, and piano, and keeping the loinfruit clean and fed. This complex move came with a most excellent feint called "increased income", but don't be fooled, because the one-two punch includes...
• Medical bills. Whilst Australian Medicare is vastly superior to anything the US currently has on offer, it doesn't cover all possible medical bills. Sometimes one has to fork out. Bye-bye extra income. Thanks to...
• Injuries. Curse you, body, for getting too old to go for a jog. How will I keep up my cardiovascular fitness?  After all...
• Diet and exercise is a Lie (just like the cake)!  Especially when plagued with PCOS.
• Grad school entrance quals change. Forget the fact that I've budgeted my time to include Grad School for 2015. If I don't apply by Semester 2 of 2014, I don't get in at all. (Really, a musician can study astronomy. Really. They're quite closely related.) One cannot work full-time, study part-time and still have any time for writing. Sorry.

Lest you think Sucky Reality has completely knocked Me for ten, thanks to the double-blow of Full-time and Medical bills, a fall to the mat has put me in an excellent position to lash out with my (uninjured) leg and deliver a crushing blow to Sucky reality's knee.

And she's back in the game, with a Good Night's Sleep!  That move alone means that at this point, it could be anyone's game.

Who will win: Me, or Sucky Reality?

Stay tuned...


___________________________
Her Grace has learned many valuable things over the course of the past few months:
1. She does not want to work full-time. Unless it's to be a full-time author. That would be okay.
2. She definitely wants to be an author and dedicate her life to that pursuit.
3. Grad school is really hard when one doesn't have enough study time.
4. Playing the piano is like riding a bike--not as bad for your joints as you would think.
5. How's your math:  T>$ when $>X when X=financial needs.