Flirting With Murphy

Here we go again. I just never learn.

A couple weeks back I caught an announcement for an open call from a UK SF publisher. They’re looking for anything with a science fiction, fantasy, or horror flavor. Young Adult is okay, as long as it has crossover appeal. Self-published is okay. Partially written/unfinished works are okay. No agents required. In fact, if you’ve got an agent, they ask that you have said agent submit your work through the usual channels. This open call is meant for the unagented only.

Perfect. I don’t have an agent. I do have an old urban fantasy/horror book I wrote way back when. It’s already been through several open calls, without success. Ditto for queries to publishers. But hope springs eternal. Maybe its time has passed, but it could be its time hasn’t come around yet. Sooner or later it’s bound to hit the right desk at the right time. Is this that desk and time? I sent my synopsis and chapters last week. We’ll know in a couple of months.

Then there’s that YA book I’ve been screwing around with. It’s science fiction, alien invasion of Earth division. It’s definitely YA, but is it crossover enough to satisfy these people? I sent that one too. I figured I’d let them decide.

Here’s the problem: the urban fantasy’s completed. The YA isn’t. I’m maybe a third of the way through, longhand in a spiral notebook. I know vaguely how it ends, but how I’m supposed to get there from where I am, that’s a little sketchy. Make that a lot sketchy. I’m like Indiana Jones trying to steal back the Ark: “I’m making this up as I go.”

I wish they hadn’t said it was okay to send in unfinished works. Because you know what’s going to happen now. If they’re going to say yes to one of my two entries, Murphy’s Law dictates it’ll be the one that isn’t ready. I know. I’ve been through this before.

Several years back I entered the American Title writing contest, sponsored by Dorchester Publishing and Romantic Times magazine. When I entered, I had a finished book, of sorts. It was a handwritten first draft. I sent in what the contest asked for and then went on with my life. I kept meaning to type up the manuscript, just in case. But then again, why bother? They must have gotten hundreds of entries. What are the odds they’d ask for mine?

Pretty damn good. I got the email while at work. I’d been chosen as a finalist. They wanted my complete manuscript.

Eek.

Massive panic followed. I told the job I had an emergency and had to leave. I went home and for the next day and a half typed like a maniac. Dorchester wanted an email version, but I didn’t have the laptop then. I got them to agree to accept printed pages. I FedEx’d the book to them in batches. I was red-eyed and exhausted at the end, but I got it done.

Then I got cut in the first round. Yeah well. I got fired from the job, too, but that wasn’t as big of a deal. It was temp and I didn’t like it anyway. Dorchester went out of business about three years later, so they didn’t fare any better.

The point is, never think, “It won’t happen to me.” It will. Murphy’s got a vicious sense of humor, and he’s always on the lookout for unsuspecting schlubs to lay down his law on. If I don’t finish the book, the publishers will want it. If I do finish the book, I’ll get a “thanks but no thanks.” Although if I finish the book, I’ll have something to query YA publishers with, so that’s a win for me.

Fortunately, I have plenty of time. They’ve told us we should all hear back by the end of September at the latest. That gives me over a month to finish a first draft. More than that, I’m willing to bet. My past experience with open calls has taught me to add a minimum of six months to any done-by date the publisher gives us. The last one I entered, for Harper Voyager, was supposed to run three months. We waited for over a year before they made a final decision. England’s a smaller country. Maybe they work faster.

At least this time around I have the laptop. I can type up the manuscript directly into the computer if I have to, so it (or however much I have done) will be ready to go at the touch of a finger. Of course, if I’m done by the end of September, they’ll say no. With Murphy, you just can’t win.

But wait! There’s that story I sent to Evernight, the one that got accepted. If I get those edits with a short turnaround, that’s the week I’ll get the response from the UK publisher. I forgot to factor in all the variables.

Best-case scenario: I get the book done and almost completely typed before I get a go-ahead. Worst case: I just covered that up there. I suppose it could be even worse. This time I don’t have a job.

Wait for It ...

As reported last week, my latest foray into smut, Jessalina’s Pets, has been accepted by Siren. It went out to them on a Thursday evening; I got the acceptance the following Tuesday. That’s one of the many things I like about Siren: they’re speedy. I’ve heard about similar quick response times from other online romance publishers. The eagerly-awaited yes (or the dreaded no) can show up in your mailbox anywhere from six months to literally overnight.

Other publishers, print publishers, magazines … eh.

Waiting for a publisher’s response, whether it’s yea or nay, sucks. It’s never fun to send your baby out into the world and then have to wait to find how it’s been received. Sure, you can work on something else—in fact, that’s recommended—but part of your brain will always be wondering, “Yeah, but what about that one I sent out X weeks (or months) ago? When am I gonna hear back?”

Yeah. About that “when.”

Publishers are busy people. So are writers. We sit home and churn out the pages and inundate the publishers. Somebody has to wade through all those subs. Then somebody else has to recommend the manuscript to others up the ladder. Then somebody makes a decision. Then somebody notifies you. All this decision-making takes time. Like weeks sometimes. If you didn’t sub through an agent, your masterpiece gets shoved to the end of the line with the other 1000 pieces of slush the publisher got that week. Meanwhile, the editor, selfish bastard that he/she is, decides to have a semblance of a personal life or take a vacation or has a heart attack. Tack a few more weeks onto your response time. It’s not uncommon for writers to wait literally years for the good word. Or a rejection. Or anything.

To make matters worse, most publishers insist on exclusivity. “No simultaneous submissions.” One publisher at a time. That means your book can languish on a desk or in a slush pile for months, when it could be out making the rounds to other editors who might actually want it. Remember, you don’t get paid until the editor says yes. It can’t get to Editor #2 until Editor #1 says no. This is why you need to write other stuff while your magnum opus makes the rounds. Get enough polished and out there, and you can get a nice little sub circle going among your target publishers. Somebody somewhere in there is bound to say yes eventually.

Or maybe not. I’ve seen publisher guidelines that announce, “We only respond if we want it,” but don’t give a time frame. How long are you supposed to wait before you send it elsewhere? Six weeks? Six months? A couple years? I queried a publisher in 2006. Never got a response. Is it safe for me to send it out again?

Meanwhile, the bills keep coming in with depressing regularity. We don’t get to reject those, or delay prompt response. I suspect editors, publishers and even slush readers get regular checks, on time. Still want to be a writer?

Here’s a few of my (least) favorite waiting stories. Every writer has these. Whole stacks of them, more’s the pity.

I once sent a story to a fantasy magazine. They held it for a year and a half before they said no. I sent it to another mag which told me the same thing within two weeks (I like them). Tried somewhere else. After not hearing back for several months I finally withdrew it and sent it to another mag. This outfit held it for close to two years and then went belly-up. I learned of the mag’s demise on a market site a couple weeks after I'd nudged them and been told they were about to get to it. The story now sits in my closet, unsold.

One of the primary gaming companies decided to start a new fiction line (in addition to their game-related books) and announced an open call. “Anything that can be shelved in SF or fantasy,” said the editor. Well, I had one of those, which I figured would fit their primary demographic of late teen/young adult males. So I sent it in. And waited. A year passed. The book line started a second open call with the first still unresolved. Now they had two sets of anxious writers biting their nails. Somewhere around the year and a half point the original editor either quit or got sacked and a new ed was brought in. She announced they were looking for a more adult slant with only minimal SF/fantasy content. In short, they were targeting the Stephen King/Dean Koontz audience. That’s not who my book was aimed at. I got my rejection soon after. The line lasted roughly two years and then folded. Yeah well.

I sent this same book to the recent (2012) Harper Voyager open call. HV promised a three-month submission window, with decisions to be made in January 2013. They got over 4500 entries. They recently (yes, in June 2014) announced their final selections. I got my rejection back in October, roughly a year after entering. Others I’ve been following on a writers’ site never even received a rejection. The book’s now at the Angry Robot open call. So far that wait is six months and counting. I sent it in at the last minute, so I figure I’ve still got a couple months to go.

Oh yeah, this is also the book I sent to Amazon’s 47 North line. They’re one of those outfits that only responds if they’re interested. It’s been three years and they haven’t responded. I think I’m safe in sending it elsewhere at this point.

Finally, a true story that, thankfully, didn’t happen to me. Another writer sent a book to a major SF publisher. They ended up withdrawing it—ten years later. The publisher kept saying, “We haven’t made a decision yet. It’s still under consideration.” That’s ten years it sat exclusively on somebody’s desk when it might have sold somewhere else. It never even got an official rejection. That writer has a hell of a lot more patience than I do. I think they finally self-published.

Yeah, that’s the ticket. Self-publish! No waiting! Just hit Send and there y’go. Publishers, better pay attention, or you might find yourself waiting for product to publish. I’ll try not to feel too sorry for you.