The Road(s) to Publication
This is the seventh in a series of articles written by Farah Ghuznavi as Writer in Residence at the Commonwealth Writers website, based in the UK. Commonwealth Writers is the cultural initiative from the Commonwealth Foundation, and Farah is their first Bangladeshi Writer in Residence.
Publishing their work is, for writers, a subject fraught with emotion. A fortunate few aside, the primary emotion it generates in the rest of us is a combination of fear, longing and/or anxiety – which is probably why I have put off writing about it until now! Despite my gratitude at having had work published in eight countries so far, I am keenly aware that to claim any kind of expertise on the subject of publication would be outrageously misleading. So let's get that straight from the start.
To be honest, the process of being published is about as predictable as the experience of romantic love. In fact, the two have a lot in common. In a way, it is a form of falling in love when you find someone who wants to publish your work; it means that they like it (a lot), and are willing to spend time on it. That is no small commitment. And just as the search for love can be a harrowing one, the search for a publisher – as almost any writer can tell you – is, on occasion, equally challenging. And that's without even holding out for a long-term relationship!Before we get further into this topic, I want to introduce one caveat. Take a minute to consider if being published is actually the main reason that you are writing. I have touched on this in earlier posts, but it is still worth pointing out that even if everyone else around you thinks that a writer's job is to get published, you don't necessarily have to feel the same way. Because if there is even the smallest chance that publication isn't that important to you, it makes it a lot easier to experience the creative process as something joyful, rather than stressful. Why drink the Kool-Aid if you don't have to?
Recently, at the CALM lit fest in India, I took part in a panel discussion titled 'Publish or Perish', and came to the conclusion that for the serious writer, this is a false dichotomy. Because even if one is eager to be published, I would argue that a writer's survival essentially hinges on the question of 'producing or perishing', rather than publishing. As long as you are writing, and continuously working to improve the quality of what you produce, it means that you are honing your creative skills and growing as a writer.
Rejection, sadly, comes with the territory. And if publication is the ultimate aim, then it's worth taking the advice offered by award-winning novelist Barbara Kingsolver, who said, “This manuscript of yours that has just come back from another editor is a precious package. Don't consider it rejected. Consider that you've addressed it 'to the editor who can appreciate my work' and it has simply come back stamped 'Not at this address'. Just keep looking for the right address.”
The financial realities of a writer's life are undeniably challenging. Giving up a day job may be a dream for many, but for most, it's likely to remain just that. Nor is getting published necessarily a ticket to financial independence. The days of huge advances and book tours guaranteeing the writer a life of comfort are over, if they ever really existed. Apart from a handful of established authors and a small number of new discoveries who are touted as 'the next big thing', most writers can expect to continue with their day jobs, and additionally, to spend a considerable amount of time on networking, promotion and that dreaded word 'platform'. Often at the cost of precious writing time.
For those further down the food chain, namely emerging writers, it's even harder. On the one hand, many journals and competitions make it appear as if a writer is privileged just to get their work published, and should therefore not expect any remuneration. On the other hand, some fellow writers and writing instructors warn that giving away your work without payment is a mistake.
It is certainly true that writing is hard work, and should be properly remunerated. But given the environment in which we operate, the answer as to whether you should give away your labour without extracting payment is probably “It depends”. It depends on whether the cost of doing so is outweighed by the benefits that publication will bring in that particular instance, e.g. if you are writing to raise awareness for a cause, if the exposure you get from the publication significantly contributes to building your own readership, and so on.
Getting down to the nitty-gritty, the 'how-to' part of this equation, one reaches the inescapable conclusion that there are no 'five easy steps to becoming a published writer' – regardless of what any number of articles on the Internet would have you believe. Failure to get work published is such a source of heartache and frustration for so many writers, it shouldn't really be necessary to point out that it isn't that easy. And indeed, any articles which make it sound otherwise are the literary equivalent of snake oil salesmen. Don't buy the snake oil. The painful truth is, as Seth Godin said, “Bullet points, step by step processes that are guaranteed to work overnight, proven shortcuts…If it was easy, everyone would do it…they sell because they promise to reduce our fear. It will take you less time and less effort to do it the difficult way than it will to buy and try and discard all the shortcuts.”
So having given you all of this bad news – some of which was probably not news to you in the first place – let us consider the art of the possible. There are no guarantees where publishing is concerned, but there are a few key principles that can help you improve the odds. I will confess at the outset, however, that most of them require putting in a fair bit of work!
Authenticity of voice: One thing that makes a piece of writing stand out is, of course, the voice. There may be a limit to the number of novel ideas and themes that a writer can come up with, but there is nothing that limits the originality of viewpoint in the telling of that tale. By that, I don't mean affecting an experimental style or performing literary calisthenics. It is just that when a story sounds original, it is frequently because a good idea has been rendered in an authentic voice. And here I would add that for me, the issue of authenticity refers not merely to whether or not something is true – or even whether it sounds true (a good writer could make many things sound true) – but whether or not it could have been true. And that is the acid test I keep in mind, whenever I read over what I have written. I recently had to make the very painful decision to pass up a publishing opportunity because I was asked to incorporate elements that would make the story more accessible to a Western audience. While accepting the expediency of that approach, I could not bring myself to add the strikingly unrealistic details suggested, or to put the character in a situation that I knew would never occur in that context – not in the real world.
Whether or not we choose to accommodate such requests/instructions is very much a personal decision, and one that only a writer can make – because he or she will be the one paying the price for whatever decision is taken. It is not uncommon for non-western writers to be told to 'tone down' local nuances or cultural complexities in order to make their writing more appealing to western readers. Frankly, I'm not sure we are giving the reader enough credit. If a story is well told, with the nuances and complexities woven seamlessly into its fabric, there should be no reason why it cannot travel to the international market. Skilful editing can tweak it into shape, but dumbing down a story because you think that an overseas audience won't 'get it' seems unnecessarily patronising. It is often the authenticity of a story that enables the reader to empathise with its characters, just as it can be the uniqueness of an author's literary voice that attracts the attention of a publisher.
Take your time: In an increasingly fast-moving world, the writer is no more immune to the pressures of time management than anyone else. But the truth is, where creative work – of whatever kind – is concerned, rushing rarely yields the best results. If you have other demands on your time, as most of us do, be ferocious in protecting your time to write. And in between working on writing and living your life, remember to schedule downtime for yourself (some of it alone), making sure that it is spent on pleasurable pastimes and not aimed solely at meeting a series of social/familial obligations. It is a combination of feeding creativity through rest and respite – along with ruthlessly maintaining your right to work at a pace that enhances the quality of what you produce – that will enable you to showcase your talent, and ultimately result in the kind of work that some editor(s) or publisher(s) will find appealing.
(…to be continued)
This article is reproduced with permission from Commonwealth Writers. Any feedback or comments are very welcome at the CW website at:
http://www.commonwealthwriters.org/post-seven-roadstopublication/
You can read more about Farah's work here: http://www.commonwealthwriters.org/farah-ghuznavi/
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