The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 1 The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 2 The 11 Secrets to Getting Published Copyright 2011 Rockwall, TX 75087 The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 3 To Leslie Wilson and D’Ann Mateer. We’re in this for life. The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 4 Table of Contents Introduction Secret 1: Learn the Craft Secret 2: Develop Discipline Secret 3: Know the Publishing Industry Secret 4: Welcome Critique Secret 5: Write Great Queries and Proposals Secret 6: Embrace Marketing Secret 7: Overcome Fear and Rejection Secret 8: Understand the Key Players Secret 9: Navigate Writer’s Conferences Secret 10: Excel in your Genre Secret 11: Thrive in your Career The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 5 Bonus Section 1: I’d Be Published, But… Bonus Section 2: Quick Writing Advice Bonus Section 3: Path to Publication The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 6 Introduction Years and years ago in the decade of the Nineties, I wanted to be published. I wrote miles of unpublished words, developing my voice. I had some small successes writing video copy for an ultrasound corporation and a packet of homeschooling curriculum, but other than that, I had no idea how to go about getting published—either in a magazine or by a traditional publisher. Around that time, I developed a for–profit newsletter entitled The Giving Home Journal. That small scale venture helped pay for my first computer, and bought our family groceries on occasion. When we moved to a new location, I met a real author—a woman who wrote for a major magazine and had a book contract. I invited her to lunch so I could pick her brain about the secrets of publishing. We sat eating salads while I peppered her with questions. “So, how do you get published?” Silence. Hemming. Hawing. “I’ve tried to get published in magazines, but I think I’m doing something wrong. I send in the article, and all I get back is form letter rejections.” She responded in vagaries. By the end of the meal, I had no clear direction to follow, no understanding of the publishing industry. My author friend guarded those secrets as if she knew them to be national secrets. If she dared let them out, the world would implode. I tried to not let my anger implode me. Leaving that lunch, I made a vow. If I ever figure out the secret to getting published, I will share it with anyone who is interested. The secrets came to me over the period of a decade, bit by bit. I delved into the craft and made myself meet artificial deadlines. I learned how to write a query letter. I joined a critique The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 7 group. I wrestled and wrangled the nonfiction proposal beast. I penned my first novel. I studied the publishing industry just as I had studied the English language. I sold my first article to a major magazine. I became a columnist. I braved conferences. I met then landed an agent. I signed my first book contract. I became proficient in marketing. After all this, I became passionate about helping other writers navigate this crazy publishing process. To do that, I started a blog called WannabePublished and a mentoring service, The Writing Spa1. This book is the compilation of those two endeavors as well as a distillation of several of my writing talks I’ve given around the country. These are the secrets to getting traditionally published. The secrets it took me years to find. They are my gift to you, my way of sitting across a café table from you and answering all your questions. In addition to the 11 Secrets, I’ve provided three bonus sections at the end of the book. The first is how I responded to the excuse, “I’d be published, but …” The second is lists of pithy pieces of writing advice. The third is my story of publication (a longer version than what I’ve shared here). It’s my hope that this book helps you become not only a published writer, but also a writer who dares to spread the joy to other up-and-coming writers. Let’s start a publishing revolution with our mentoring! With joy, P.S. Would you be willing to do me a sweet favor? Once you’ve finished this book, would you be so kind as to write a 2-sentence blurb on Amazon for me? Simply click this link: http://amzn.to/pmDSLH Thank you so much! 1 http://www.thewritingspa.com The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 8 Secret 1 Learn the Craft I start this book with the most important thing a writer needs to know: the craft. Neglect this at your peril. While it’s true that story trumps great writing and a terrific idea can get you published, if you consider yourself a professional, honing your craft will endear you to editors. It will make you stand out from all the other wannabe writers in an agent’s slush pile. Recently an editor from a major publishing house contacted me out of the blue. This led to a phone conversation where he quoted sentences from my memoir that he had committed to memory. “I love the way you use words,” he said. He never would’ve commented on my word-smithing had I not spent years studying the craft. This connection between an editor and my writing may lead to a significant contract. You may feel like learning the craft of writing is monotonous, boring, or insignificant. It is not. It’s the foundation on which you build your writing career. Shortchange this step, and you venture forth with a shaky foundation. Note about these chapters: Since this is a book compiling everything I’ve written about writing, it is divided up in short essays, which makes it easier for you to pick up and read, then put down and practice what you’ve learned. Each heading in bold connotes a new topic beneath the secret. So without further rambling, let’s consider how we can improve our craft. The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 9 Write nekkid I’m reading one of those stark books (like The Kite Runner) where the author writes pretty darned nekkid. What I mean by that is spare, harsh, in-your-face prose, the kind that evokes emotion and curiosity. The book? The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien. Digest some of his prose: “For the most part they carried themselves with poise, a kind of dignity. Now and then, however, there were times of panic, when they squealed or wanted to squeal but couldn’t, when they twitched and made moaning sounds and covered their heads and said Dear Jesus and flopped around on the earth and fired their weapons blindly and cringed and sobbed and begged for the noise to stop and went wild and made stupid promises to themselves and to God and to their mothers and fathers, hoping not to die.” (p. 19). Beautiful, isn’t it? When I first started writing, I resembled young Anne of Green Gables (which my young daughter mispronounced and called Anne with Green Bagels). Full of pomp and circumstance, my writing flowered its way through sentences and paragraphs. Adjectives and adverbs became my trusted friends. But worse than that was a weird pompousness that came through, like I touted my English major, thank you very much. It reminded me of that poetry you read and go “huh?” afterward. Great, effusive words strung together that had very little meaning. I balked at editorial correction too, thinking myself high and mighty, a wielder of words. But, as the years wore on, I realized great writing isn’t the stuff of prettification. It’s not full of bright lipstick and rouge. It’s natural, stark, raw. I started concocting sentences that evoked emotion that kept rich in its description of place, but spare in its contrivance of human emotion. The 11 Secrets of Getting Published 10 Ew. Now I just read that last paragraph and it sounds a bit hoity toity. Maybe I’ll always have Anne and her green New York rolls lurking inside. Even so, I want to write nekkid. To grab my reader and thrust her into the lives of my characters. I want my prose to serve the story, not detract from it. I think it’s working. To prove it, I’ll paste two snippets, one from my first novel (not published) and another from a newer novel (not published). See if you can tell the difference: Sample one: When Augusta finished washing the last jelly jar, the sun burst through the mist, and the lake water danced as it did every time the fog dissipated. To call its lifting a miracle might be an exaggeration, but she called it that anyway. Sometimes the house stayed shrouded until suppertime, other days it evaporated all at once. Sometimes it dissipated in tendrils, wild and inconsistent, leaving the valley resembling Grandma Ellsworth’s silvered hair. Today the retreating curtain of fog revealed the fields beyond the lake, their softness in stark contrast to the lake’s prismatic dance. Sample two: “We can go up,” he said. “Let’s take the stairs.” “Why not the elevator?” “Don’t you remember?” “Refresh my memory.” “We kissed there once . in our pajamas.” My memories hung on a broken charm bracelet. Some charms suffered from inefficient clasps, dropping along the streets of life, never to be returned.