To pitch, or not to pitch …

If you’re a writer, on Twitter, and have at least one completed manuscript, there’s a good chance you’ve participated in a pitch contest (if not, why not?).

So far I’ve entered four: one was on a blog where you submitted your query letter and first 100 words, and an agent would give feedback and make requests; another was a ‘first pages’ contest, where you submitted your first 250 words; yet another was a based on query letter and your first 250 words (also for agent requests); and the most recent one is Pitch Madness (curious about this one? It’s running right now and you can learn all about it over at the amazing Brenda Drake’s blog).

In the first contest I didn’t get a request, and the agent called my query “confusing”, BUT I did get great feedback from her on voice. Excellent. I took this as a win.

In the second one, the first pages contest, I actually won. Which earned me a query critique (rewritten multiple times since the ‘confusing’ comment) from an agent, and she had lots of good things to say. Win, win.

In the third contest, I didn’t make it to agent round but once again got good feedback on both query and first words. Also, I met one of my critique partners through this contest. Win, win, win.

In the meantime, I shelved that first manuscript and wrote another one, The Doctor’s Daughter, which is women’s fiction with a dash of magical realism. You can read the excerpt here (reworked from the excerpt below, which is what I entered for Pitch Madness … also, I’ve changed my main character’s name, but I’ll post on that another day). There were a few GREAT contests running while I was finishing up my edits, and while I SO wanted to be the impatient writer and enter them, I’ve waited until now.

Why? Because entering an unpolished manuscript into a contest is like serving undercooked chicken at a dinner party — pink chicken makes you sick, and guarantees your friends will NEVER eat at your house again. Similarly, an unfinished or imperfect manuscript guarantees you’ll disappoint (anger) agents who might be hooked by your pitch/first words, and good luck getting them to request anything from you again!

Pitch Madness is still running, so I’m not sure how my entry will shake out in the end. I made it through Round #1, where slush readers (aka ‘slush zombies’) read through 420+ entries and whittled them down to 167 to go through to Round #2. I’m one of those 167, which is great, and I hope I make it into Round #3, which is when the final 60 entries get a shot at grabbing an agent’s attention. But whether I go through or not, there’s a lot of amazing stuff I’ve taken out of playing along:

  1. It’s FUN: Contests can be super stressful — especially when hints are being tweeted out, which amps up the excitement AND obsessive nature of querying writers. But for me, I find them more invigorating than stressful — it’s exciting, watching and wondering how your entry is faring, and ultimately it’s an opportunity to learn, learn, and learn some more.
  2. It’s GOOD PRACTICE: Getting ready for Pitch Madness meant polishing my 35-word pitch (and this is SUPER TRICKY, taking 80,000+ words and turning them into only 35), perfecting my query letter, and making sure my manuscript is as good as I can get it (read: polishing, not fussing). On the note of getting pitch-ready, I know my limits and enlisted help — if you’re looking for query/pitch critiques, Lauren Spieller is awesome (she’s a writer and agency intern, but runs a query critique biz on side).
  3. It’s EDUCATIONAL: Before I started paying attention to contests I had no clue what Steampunk / Speculative Fiction / New Adult / Fantasy vs. Urban Fantasy really meant. I’ve loved learning all the different genres, and what writers can do to make their books stand out — including within my own genre!
  4. It’s a COMMUNITY: I’ve talked about writers helping writers before, and what a kick I get out of that. I have been both on the receiving and giving end of this, and think it’s one of the VERY BEST THINGS about being a writer these days. And social media makes it easy for us to connect — to support each other, be cheerleaders, offer critiques, and celebrate successes.
  5. It’s MOTIVATING: When I know a contest is coming up, especially a big one like Pitch Madness, I push my Type A into high gear and am always amazed by what I can do with a deadline. Also, I love seeing the success stories … and there are plenty that come out of contests … because on those days where the writing feels impossible, or I’m sure it’s never, ever (ever) going to happen for me, those stories remind me to ‘buck up, buttercup’. Hard work trumps all. So don’t give up.

So on that note, here’s my Pitch Madness entry:

Title: THE DOCTOR’S DAUGHTER
Genre: Women’s Fiction (magical realism)
Word Count: 83,000

Pitch: Following an odd premonition and news of her father’s death, surgeon Penley Attwater is forced to return to her traditional hometown, only to become a surrogate for her late parents’ one remaining embryo—her sister.

Excerpt:

Like always, it started in my toes.

As if stepping into a too hot bath, the prickly warmth enveloped my feet before reaching into my thighs with fiery fingers. Then the heat wave crashed into my chest, quickly moving higher to mark my cheeks with blistering circles. Under the garish bathroom light my sweaty face glowed neon pink. I took a few deep breaths and waited. Soon it would be over.

Many middle-aged women know this well: the menopausal hot flash. But today was only my twenty-eighth birthday, so I was nowhere near the change. Besides, I’d been getting them since I was about six years old.

If only I understood why.

“Penley?” The soft rap of his knuckles against the cheap wooden door startled me, and I knocked over the toothbrush holder that sat on the edge of the sink. With a soft plop our toothbrushes landed in the toilet bowl and quickly sunk to the bottom.

“Shit!” I said, too loud for the small bathroom.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Bradford tried the knob and I was glad I’d locked the door.

“I’m fine!” I leaned heavily against the sink, queasy from the heat.

Silence. “All right, but don’t take too long,” he finally said, his voice retreating. “I have a surprise for you.”I held my breath, letting it out when our mattress squeaked Bradford’s return.

Back when I was a child the flashes always ended in a raging fever, which had been resistant to any remedy my physician father could come up with.

Revisions — Part 2

So about a month ago I wrote about starting revisions, and how overwhelming it was. My manuscript at the time was 90,000 words, and it felt like a nearly impossible task to weed through all those words and decide which ones stayed, and which ones met their demise. (Curious about my book, The Doctor’s Daughter? Have a look!)

Well, I’m happy to say the book currently sits around 82,000, and I’m *nearly* done killing all darlings who got in my way. There was a lot of red pen used. I had great beta reader and critique partner feedback, which helped me figure out what needed to come out, or in some cases, what needed to be added in. A lot of the time while revising I felt like this (I got this…I got this…Noooo! Plot points don’t line up…*insert expletive*:

Michael Crichton has a great quote, about how books aren’t written — they’re re-written. I believe it. It took me four months to write my 90,000 words, and it will have taken me nearly as long to revise it by the time I’m done. But once I do, hopefully I have something that can’t be put down:

However, I should stop procrastinating and get back to it. But I’ll leave you with a few tips that have helped me through my revisions:

  1. Eliminate intensifiers, like very, really, totally, completely, and remove every ‘suddenly’ from your book.
  2. Keep dialogue tags simple. This was probably one of the best pieces of advice I took from Stephen King’s On Writing (my fave writing book). Skip tags like ‘he jeered’, ‘she tittered’, and stick with he said, she said. Also adverbs are NOT your friend, a la SK.
  3. There are plenty of nonessential words, but probably the worst one (and easiest to remove) is ‘that’ — at least 90% of these can go. Trust me on this one.
  4. “I saw Sarah go in the kitchen to turn the kettle on…” This is classic tell vs. show. Change to “Sarah turned on the kettle.”
  5. Smiling, nodding, laughing, sighing. *Sigh* This is a tough one to fix, for me. It’s not always easy to signify what a character is doing/how they’re feeling. These are okay…just in small doses. Always ask, “Do I really need this here?” and if not, slash away!

Flash Fiction Friday

Recently Kobo Writing Life ran a micro fiction contest, where writers could submit a story … as long as it was told within 100 words. (That last sentence? Twenty-five words.)

I’m new to micro fiction thing, also called flash fiction, and was instantly intrigued. I don’t see myself as a short story writer — in fact, I’ve never written one, or had an idea for anything under say, 90,000 words (I do write articles for magazines, but non-fiction is a different type of storytelling).

But I loved the challenge of crafting a story in so few words. And mostly? I wanted to see if I could do it. So I decided to write up a 100-word story and submit it to the contest. I have no idea if what I’ve written would be considered ‘good’ by the short-story, flash-fiction ‘experts’, but I had fun doing it. And because it’s Friday and I love titles with alliteration, I thought I’d share my 100 words here.

The Mummy

 We shouldn’t have unwrapped the body. But the newspaper, dated September 6, 1928, taunted us with its frailty. Crumbling in our curious hands, it revealed its secret. Tiny fingers, tiny toes. Long ago, brand new.

“We should call someone.” I held the bundle as though a whisper might blow it away. My wedding band shone with inexperience.

“Bizarre,” the police said. “Second one I’ve seen,” the coroner announced, zipping up the black bag. Finally alone, we patched the wall. Hiding her grave again behind layers of vintage wallpaper and fresh plaster.

The ‘for sale’ sign went up a week later.

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