By Oscar Revelins

So, you just finished your first novel.

It’s sitting between 60,000 and 80,000 words. It’s been through the wringer. Written, deleted, rewritten. Polished until it sparkles. Passed through friends whose opinions you trust. They’re telling you it’s going to be the next Normal People.

It’s ready, in your eyes. Ready to be plucked from a manuscript slush pile. Destined to be adored by agents and publishers alike.

You have just turned 23. You’re about to start a master’s degree at The University of Melbourne. You’re obsessed with the idea of being some kind of protégé, of becoming a published author while you’re still young. To be known as talented “for your age”.

Your internal clock is ticking away for some benign reason, so you rush the process. Over the course of two months, you mass submit to any and every publishing house or agent allowing submissions.

Six months later when nothing has come of it, you decide that novel writing is for sad loners. You’re probably not talented anyway. You’ve spent the better part of a year sitting in front of your laptop with nothing to show for it.

But you take a breath. You’re OK.

Having a complete manuscript is only the first step in a long process. Image by Oscar Revelins. Used with permission.

The publishing industry is fickle. It requires you to learn as you go and be resilient. No self-help book, blog post or article contains the recipe for nailing a book deal on your first try. All we can do is share our experiences and hope that it helps others.

Now that I’ve had a year to reflect on what worked and what didn’t during the process of trying to get my novel published, I thought I’d share some of the things I wish I’d known.

Hands off

When you hit that point where you think your novel is ready to send off, resist the temptation. Wait for six months to a year. Literally put it in a drawer and do not touch it, look at it, or even think about it. For that period, it’s dead to you.

It can be so difficult to be objective with your work when it’s all you’ve been thinking about for a year or longer. You will be shocked to see how many problems you can spot after leaving it for a cooling-off period.

Each time I re-read the draft of my novel that I ended up submitting to publishers, I curse myself for not taking more time. Perhaps operating under a delusion, I sometimes wonder whether a period of rumination would’ve made all the difference to my success.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Either way, one thing I know is that perfectionism is dangerous. Perpetual tinkering will stop your work from ever seeing the light of day. I am lucky that I crave attention more than I crave precision—I’ll force my friends and family to give me feedback on pieces that I know are garbage because I believe that, at a certain point, your work must be tested in the real world.

Beware of over-editing. Be confident in the story you’re telling. Messiness can be a goldmine, because that’s where the emotion is. A good editor will be able to spot the potential and help you streamline what isn’t working.

Phone a friend

Know when to call on your friends for beta reading, but be aware of what a massive task it is. Even the person gushing about how much they’d love to read your draft will inevitably struggle when it comes down to it.

Remember though, professionals charge $5,000–$10,000 for edits on manuscripts, so anyone kind enough to do it for free deserves your utmost praise and love, regardless of how far along they get.

Also understand that your friend might tell you what they think you want to hear (I often wondered if my beta readers were being too soft). Make sure to seek out the mates that you can rely on to be brutal but constructive.

Have a thick skin, know that your work is never perfect, and invite criticism. Be smart enough to distinguish between moments of tall poppy syndrome—something a lot of us Aussies are guilty of—and times when people are simply trying to help you improve your work.

Also keep in mind how subjective taste is. Ultimately you get to decide which notes you implement, and which you discard. But having an open mind is good practice. When an agent or publishing house gets hold of your work and starts reshaping it for print, they won’t want to be working with a stubborn mule.

Looking at your work critically is the key to improving it. Image by Oscar Revelins. Used with permission.

It’s a process

Take it in stages. I tried to do everything at once (agents, cold submitting, competitions) and it was really hard to keep track.

I believe that you should first submit to unpublished manuscript competitions (like the Fogarty), then try querying agents. Finally, as a last resort, cold submit to publishing houses.

There is so much hands-on attention with competitions, which is why they’re a great starting point. For one thing, you know your work is getting read. A win could get you published straight away (there’s usually a nice cash prize thrown in as well). Entering a competition has the potential to totally fast-track your career as an author.

Agents are your “in”

If there are no bites on the competition front, that’s fine. Your manuscript has only been exposed to the judges of those competitions. Reach out to agents next, because they will (hopefully) advocate for your work and provide an “in” to the publishing houses.

That being said, querying agents is difficult and confusing. In Australia, many agencies seem to be closed for submissions year-round. It can feel like banging on a locked door, begging to be let in.

Each agency has different requirements, so you must tailor your submission for each one. Some want a full manuscript, some only the first chapter. Each will have different word count requirements for the synopsis, author bio and pitch.

As for querying internationally? Good luck—I haven’t tried that yet.

Direct to publisher

Finally, yes, submitting directly to publishing houses is an option. But remember you’re probably relying on an intern who’s tasked with digging through a hefty slush pile to find something particular in your manuscript that interests them. Your work is a needle in a haystack.

When publishing houses ask which titles are similar to your work, mention one that’s been a big commercial success and another that they have published. Some might call it pandering, I call it doing your research. Something you must do is read the books you’re comparing your work to. Seek out titles that are similar in both story and style. Not every campus novel will be just like The Secret History.

Dealing with rejection

Perhaps the most important thing is to be prepared for silence. Out of all my rejections, only about 15% bothered to respond to me at all.

But don’t give up on your work. Manuscripts are like bottles of wine. Sometimes they need to age in the cellar before they’re ready to be enjoyed. (I’m not sure if I’ve come up with this metaphor or if it’s someone else’s, but I like it.) 

Rejection doesn’t mean your work isn’t strong. Sometimes your work won’t fit a publishing house’s list for a completely arbitrary reason. One publishing house told me they couldn’t fit me into their list because they’d ‘already done a gay book last year’. Other feedback might be more poignant: another publishing house said they struggled to find a warm emotional core in my work.

Patience is everything. If you want to be a writer it will happen, somehow, sometime. (I don’t care if that sounds overly optimistic.)

Rejections can make it hard to stay motivated, but you have to maintain faith in your work. Image by Oscar Revelins. Used with permission.

Marketability

Good writing is good writing, regardless of whether you’re unknown—though it certainly looks attractive from a marketing perspective when trying to publish your book if you already have a platform on social media (and I mean tens of thousands of followers).

It also helps to have published something before, no matter how small. Even blog posts, or short stories in literary journals or online magazines. It builds a résumé and lets the agents or publishing houses know that your work has already been vetted by someone.

Remember, you’re not just selling your book, but also yourself. Show that you’re great to work with. Respond to every rejection with gratitude and kindness.

I still haven’t fully grasped how small this industry is. Don’t shoot yourself in the foot by being bitter and burning bridges.

Try & try again

Am I qualified to give any of these suggestions? I have no idea. After all, my manuscript has yet to find a home.

I can only hope that my next try will be more successful. With all the faults in my manuscript, I was still lucky enough to receive some wonderful feedback from industry professionals, so the process has not been fruitless.

After a year, I’ve just begun revising my novel again, with fresh eyes and a more confident voice. I hope I’ll get another chance to pitch it, but if not, then perhaps it’s time to start on something else.

That’s just the nature of being a writer.

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Oscar Revelins is an aspiring novelist and screenwriter, and one of the co-founders of Stolen Couch Productions, a media company. You can find him reading at wine bars around Toorak or blasting Taylor Swift in his car.

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Feature image: Pursuing a career as a writer requires persistence. Image by RetroSupply on Unsplash.