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gwynThis weekend, I attended the Pacific Northwest Writers Association annual conference, something I never expected to do because a) I don't really consider myself a true writer anymore and long ago abandoned any hope of ever really getting published again and b) can't afford it. But my friend, who has self-published one book and sort of hybrid published a new book coming out (both nonfiction), transferred her membership to me when she ended up having a big conflict with her schedule, so I figured why the heck not. I wondered if it would spark something from attending panels or whatever.
I didn't go the first day, because ironically, I had a book proofread due, but I went on Friday, which was really the first big day anyway, because a lot of Thursday was taken up by masterclasses and meal speeches. The first panel (waaaay too early for my night owl self) was a panel of editors about what they'd be looking for in the pitch blocks, where writers line up to pitch their books in little four-minute meet and greets. My friend had signed up for the one you get with the attendance fee, and an additional one, and I felt like it would be super rude of me to not attend at least one of the pitch blocks since she paid so much for them. The big editor panel, and the one after it, with all the agents, were the only things going on, so I went and listened to what they were looking for and made a mental note of who seemed likely to be interested. One of the editors was actually from the publisher I do the most work for, so I figured at the least, I'd talk to her just to say hi.
It was...very interesting, and weird. Because I haven't written anything non-fanfic in years and years, and like I said, I gave up on any hope that the promise I seemed to show when I was young would be resurrected in late life. Years of writing fanfic and responses have also really done a number on any sense of positivity I might have had about my abilities, and I've always kind of figured that if you can't get people interested in reading your stuff when you've got a built-in audience, what hope would you have if you tried to self-publish some literary fiction of ever finding an audience to buy your book (especially if you don't write genre, and the kinds of things people are reading right now which all seems to be stuff I can't stand). And regular traditional publishing would be out of the question. None of this just seemed to be worth trying for. It's always easier not to write than to write.
I managed to talk to a couple agents, both of whom said that what I was pitching (something I've never done in my life and which I found, as an introvert with no self-esteem, incredibly painful) sounded like their interests, but they said it sounded very much like something another person at their agency would like to hear about. The person from my publisher was actually really helpful about re-orienting my pitch for the next day's block, what she thought I should lead with, and it was really nice to meet her, she was adorable. I don't work with that side of the publisher, but she knew the people I do work with. Anyways, the one last agent I interested in, who had a long line, I just barely made it in to see, because the lines were so long in the early Saturday morning block (8 am is just an obscene time to try to be intelligent) that most of us only got to talk to two people, if we were lucky.
She'd said, in the panel, "if I cry, I buy." I thought that was hilarious because that's one of the few things I do hear with consistency, is that I can make people cry. I also liked that she was interested in specific things I am, and not interested in certain things I've come to dislike working on fiction so much for my job. And I just thought, well, what the hell, the story I'd pitched for the others didn't work, why not try the other idea I've flirted with for years that's based on a true story about my great-uncle. I've just finished reading two historical fiction books for work, and this one had an element of crime, which she said she liked. So I told her about it, and she said she didn't usually do historical, but she was intrigued, and said she'd like to see some pages.
So, shit. I don't have anything written--just a couple paragraphs I wrote in my writing group years and years ago when we did prompts practices. I don't even know how to write anymore, I don't think I can do this. I was talking about it in a chat yesterday, and hafital reminded me that it's just pages, and doesn't have to be linear. But this is an insane amount of pressure, because I never figured anyone would be interested, and I was totally fine with people passing on my other pitch. I'd never even intended to go. But it would be a shame to squander this...
Ugh. I've had this thing in my head for years, but it has no shape or form, and I don't know how to do it. I don't have any confidence at all these days--like, I know in my head that I'm better at writing than most people, but I don't have any feeling about my ability to pull this off. Especially outside of fandom. Also, I edit the hell out of things, and 25 pages is a lot to write and then craft and shape when you don't already have it to show. Years ago, an agent who'd read some of my fic asked me if I had anything she could look at, and instead of, you know, saying I could come up with something, I just said no, but she asked me to get in touch with her if I did--so I blew that chance and don't want to blow another one.
But yikes. I'm not ready for this. I don't even know if I can still write original stuff, it's just been too long. I went to some panels about historical fiction after that, but wished I could have attended the "plotting for pantsers" panel--it conflicted with the pitch block though. I realize the likelihood of her being interested in this is next to nil, so I'm worrying about nothing, really, but it's revived a lot of feelings and memories about my early writing life, which in turn brings up a lot of old emotions about people I've lost and things I've given up along the way.
I didn't go the first day, because ironically, I had a book proofread due, but I went on Friday, which was really the first big day anyway, because a lot of Thursday was taken up by masterclasses and meal speeches. The first panel (waaaay too early for my night owl self) was a panel of editors about what they'd be looking for in the pitch blocks, where writers line up to pitch their books in little four-minute meet and greets. My friend had signed up for the one you get with the attendance fee, and an additional one, and I felt like it would be super rude of me to not attend at least one of the pitch blocks since she paid so much for them. The big editor panel, and the one after it, with all the agents, were the only things going on, so I went and listened to what they were looking for and made a mental note of who seemed likely to be interested. One of the editors was actually from the publisher I do the most work for, so I figured at the least, I'd talk to her just to say hi.
It was...very interesting, and weird. Because I haven't written anything non-fanfic in years and years, and like I said, I gave up on any hope that the promise I seemed to show when I was young would be resurrected in late life. Years of writing fanfic and responses have also really done a number on any sense of positivity I might have had about my abilities, and I've always kind of figured that if you can't get people interested in reading your stuff when you've got a built-in audience, what hope would you have if you tried to self-publish some literary fiction of ever finding an audience to buy your book (especially if you don't write genre, and the kinds of things people are reading right now which all seems to be stuff I can't stand). And regular traditional publishing would be out of the question. None of this just seemed to be worth trying for. It's always easier not to write than to write.
I managed to talk to a couple agents, both of whom said that what I was pitching (something I've never done in my life and which I found, as an introvert with no self-esteem, incredibly painful) sounded like their interests, but they said it sounded very much like something another person at their agency would like to hear about. The person from my publisher was actually really helpful about re-orienting my pitch for the next day's block, what she thought I should lead with, and it was really nice to meet her, she was adorable. I don't work with that side of the publisher, but she knew the people I do work with. Anyways, the one last agent I interested in, who had a long line, I just barely made it in to see, because the lines were so long in the early Saturday morning block (8 am is just an obscene time to try to be intelligent) that most of us only got to talk to two people, if we were lucky.
She'd said, in the panel, "if I cry, I buy." I thought that was hilarious because that's one of the few things I do hear with consistency, is that I can make people cry. I also liked that she was interested in specific things I am, and not interested in certain things I've come to dislike working on fiction so much for my job. And I just thought, well, what the hell, the story I'd pitched for the others didn't work, why not try the other idea I've flirted with for years that's based on a true story about my great-uncle. I've just finished reading two historical fiction books for work, and this one had an element of crime, which she said she liked. So I told her about it, and she said she didn't usually do historical, but she was intrigued, and said she'd like to see some pages.
So, shit. I don't have anything written--just a couple paragraphs I wrote in my writing group years and years ago when we did prompts practices. I don't even know how to write anymore, I don't think I can do this. I was talking about it in a chat yesterday, and hafital reminded me that it's just pages, and doesn't have to be linear. But this is an insane amount of pressure, because I never figured anyone would be interested, and I was totally fine with people passing on my other pitch. I'd never even intended to go. But it would be a shame to squander this...
Ugh. I've had this thing in my head for years, but it has no shape or form, and I don't know how to do it. I don't have any confidence at all these days--like, I know in my head that I'm better at writing than most people, but I don't have any feeling about my ability to pull this off. Especially outside of fandom. Also, I edit the hell out of things, and 25 pages is a lot to write and then craft and shape when you don't already have it to show. Years ago, an agent who'd read some of my fic asked me if I had anything she could look at, and instead of, you know, saying I could come up with something, I just said no, but she asked me to get in touch with her if I did--so I blew that chance and don't want to blow another one.
But yikes. I'm not ready for this. I don't even know if I can still write original stuff, it's just been too long. I went to some panels about historical fiction after that, but wished I could have attended the "plotting for pantsers" panel--it conflicted with the pitch block though. I realize the likelihood of her being interested in this is next to nil, so I'm worrying about nothing, really, but it's revived a lot of feelings and memories about my early writing life, which in turn brings up a lot of old emotions about people I've lost and things I've given up along the way.
no subject
Date: 2019-10-04 12:54 am (UTC)