Battleaxe the writer gets a boost!

Yes, this is the second big excitement mentioned in the previous post. Was mentally and physically wrung out after the train driving experience, and slept really badly on Saturday night. On Sunday I had a pre-arranged  ‘Meet the Agent’ session at the Hastings Book Festival. It’s where you pay a bit and if you get a slot, you have an individual 20 minutes with a real-life literary agent. Beforehand, I had to send in the first three chapters of my novel, plus synopsis , cover letter etc. I wasn’t expecting too much – at the very most, maybe some learning points on how my work could be improved, with, hopefully, a final ‘keep at it – your work shows promise…’ But it didn’t quite turn out like that. Sorry if this sounds a bit swanky, but a Battleaxe does enjoy a morale boost!

I just typed the key word ‘Novel’ into the Hastings Battleaxe search bar, to see how much I have written about the topic before, and find very little. I write a fair bit about my poetry, but at best, my fiction writing gets the odd passing mention in the middle of other posts. Perhaps that says something about how I perceive my own work… There is this, about our visit to Compton Pauncefoot in 2023, (the inspiration for my fictional Compton Perceval), but  the best I could find was this – nearly a year ago.

So, to summarise, roughly a year ago I finished the first of what will be a series of three novels ‘Death, Double Lives and Cake’, and am about half-way through the second (as yet no title). Yonks ago I read a Richard Osman novel and thought hells teeth, I could do better than that, so got stuck in and eventually produced a cosy crime novel, with two amateur investigators, Caroline and Olga, both members of the Compton Pauncefoot…. eeer Perceval, Women’s Institute. Being me, of course, I couldn’t stick to a straightforward plot, so we soon get embroiled in a miasma of lesbian Vicars, Imams down from Birmingham, hedge-fund millionaires, gay Bishops, illegitimate sons who just happen to be the CEO of the local housing association (yawn, who knew…),  but it all comes right in the end and the murderer is apprehended.

Bits of this were trotted out in front of the critical gaze of my novel-writing group, and then the whole thing was subjected to the scary and even more critical gaze of the Philosopher. As I say in the post referenced above, the latter pronounced it ‘not perfect but perfectly publishable.’ He should know – he has written books of his own, reads umpteen crime novels, including many trashy holiday-reading ones, and reads/critiques the fiction-writing work of friends/ex-colleagues.

So, at the end of last year/ early this year  I submitted the novel to about 16 literary agents, and of course, got nowhere.  I say of course, but the chances of success are very poor. Just Googled it. For a debut novel, the chances of getting an agent are way less favourable than 1 in a 1000. Most agents only ask for the first three chapters, and the vast majority of submissions fall at that stage. Big agents get around 2,000 new submissions a week. If you are lucky you get a polite ‘we receive so many submissions etc etc, but on this occasion, no – but do keep trying…’

Most times, though, you hear nothing. If an agent, and it happens very rarely, asks for your complete manuscript, you are over a truly massive Becher’s Brook size fence/hurdle, but you still have to race with other surviving contenders down the straight to the finish. You can still lose the race at this stage…

I hate to admit this, because I should have persisted much more energetically, I got bored with the submission business, and started on the second novel. However, my lack of persistence may not be all bad news – see later…

Would you believe I was five minutes late getting to the old Observer building in town… terrible, and Battleaxe always prides herself on her punctuality. I don’t know if it was because I was tired, or being me, possibly at some level I was not expecting anything encouraging, didn’t really want to know any nasty truths, and generally tried to sabotage myself.

In the lift on the way up to see the agent the minder said, ‘Well, I hope you’ve got your list of questions all ready’. Crikey I thought – No I hadn’t…

So, I rush in and sit down in front of her. Needless to say, first thing she asks, ‘Have you any questions for me?’

‘OK,’ sez I, ‘let’s cut straight to it. Honestly now, was it any good?’

‘Yes’, sez she. ‘Very good.’

‘Good?’

‘Yes.  Yours was easily the best I’ve seen.’ (So sorry if anyone else reading this also had a slot, but I really can’t help it. I was the last one, as well). Then she started telling me why  she liked it. Probably I just stared at her vacantly, goggle-eyed with surprise. When she finished, I said that all that sounded very positive, and thanks, but now what about the learning points?

‘There aren’t any,’ sez she. ‘There’s nothing I would change in those three chapters. Again, you are the first person I’ve said that to. Moreover, I’m going to ask you to send me your complete manuscript. Of course, I can’t make any promises, but I do think …’ Once again I tuned out. What?

She gave me some feedback on the cover letter. Said it was too tentative… needed to be firmer, more definite. I said to her that I know you may still not want to proceed, so what should I do next? She said to write again to agents that had not responded the first time round, contact more new ones, revise the cover letter and tell the agents what had just happened. This would drastically improve the odds for me, and she thought there was every chance my work would be accepted.

At that point a man came in and told us time was up. The agent, (Louise) said she had asked for my complete manuscript. I asked her, ‘honestly, is this a big thing?’ She said yes, it was a very big thing.  The man started clapping. I felt quite faint…

The thoroughly over-blown and gaseous wind was slightly taken out of my sails by encountering Philosopher, who was furious after waiting 40 minutes for a bus…

At home, I knew I had to strike while this iron was very hot, so threw myself into a frenzy of checking the whole 89,000 word manuscript to remove any horrors. Frenzy wasn’t in it, I had to do it by the end of Tuesday at the latest and was going to the dentist on Monday afternoon as well as Mallydams all Tuesday morning. Louise had also asked me to include a revised cover letter so there I am, sitting in the dentist’s waiting room working on the letter. I’d have carried on in the chair if it had been possible… At least it took my mind away from the torture of the hygenist and the stress of the check-up. But I got it all done, and the material was sent off late afternoon on Monday.

Now, we wait and see. Louise said it would take her several weeks to get through her other work and then tackle my manuscript, so not to worry. I’ll give myself a couple of weeks off then revisit my list of agents…. Monday’s total blitz gave me eye-strain.

So, how is Mallydams? Going well, I think, and I very much enjoy it. No time to think about anything else while you are working with the creatures.  This week I had responsibility for the Holding Room. I described it in my last post about Mallydams, but it is full of birds in individual cages, who are recovering but are not yet able to go out into a flight aviary. There was a very pecky magpie, a little dove, and a pretty little bullfinch. Most of the occupants though were wood and feral pigeons – about a dozen of them. As I said last time, all the cages have to be cleaned, and all the birds individually (except for the finch – tiny birds are too fragile for us volunteers) picked up, weighed and put back into a clean cage with replenished food and water. Each bird has a medical chart, where you have to record whether they are pooing, eating, today’s weight, and any comments on their condition. There is a lot to remember… zeroing the scales with the empty bird box on, recording the weight before those scales turn themselves off… getting the right chart for the right bird… noticing if they have pooed before throwing the used cage lining in the bin… filling in the charts, and of course, handling those wild birds. As I said before, the feral pigeons are generally quiet and trusting, but wood pigeons are known for making a fuss and flapping about. They also shed their feathers from stress, when they feel threatened. A defence mechanism I suppose – a predator would be left with just a mouthful of feathers. Well, one bird left Battleaxe with a handful of feathers. I worried about telling the staff… but of course I had to, and they said it was normal. Another fully grown wood pigeon was so big I couldn’t cram him into the weighing box, so had to leave him unweighed.

Then I fed the seals, three of whom had gone outside into the big seal pool, where they can swim freely and build up their strength. This photo is from Mallydams FB page, just after the pool was filled. Those babies are growing very quickly…