Literary Event Numero Dos + Writing from the POV of the Opposite Gender
I really enjoyed James Frenkel; he had a good sense of humor! He wasn’t so much a sci-fi/fantasy writer as he was a publisher, but regardless, it was really nice to hear how the process worked and tips and ideas he had. The main ideas I definitely made sure to take from the seminar were
*Be confident. If you’re not confident in your work, then you most likely won’t get it published, because you need to…
*Be persistent. Many authors get rejected; I was surprised to hear Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was rejected by many a publisher, and Sherlock Holmes is a classic series! Keep mailing to different publishers
*Publishers and editors don’t have the time to type out a three page, single space letter if they don’t like your work. Take the criticism they give and fix up your story before sending it in again. If you keep getting formal rejection letter after formal rejection letter, then chances are you aren’t doing so well, but if they take the time to write out improvements, that’s a step in the right direction.
*You will be rejected. So be persistent. It’s not the end of the world.
*Write short stories. Writing and publishing a multitude of short stories gets your name out there, so when you DO submit a novel, publishers/editors have material to look at to see whether they want to look at your novel or put it in the pile (the latter of which will take years).
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Key scene in my life:
Got accepted into college.
Narrator has to be someone of another gender that was there.
She was sitting at the table, talking to one of her best friends. His cheeks were slightly numb from the cold (albeit short) walk out to the mailbox and his nose was running slightly, but he was more concerned about what he held in his hands. His wife was moving around in the kitchen, pulling out hors d’oeuvres for the company they were expecting later; he moved to the kitchen, holding a silent conference with her.
Her back was facing them, and she didn’t know her entire life would change with one slip of paper. She was instead laughing at what her friend had said, and flipping through her phone, turning it around so the other girl could see something on the screen. They both laughed, and he knew she wouldn’t laugh for quite a while if she was rejected.
You have to give it to her sometime, his wife pointed out. He agreed, if a little reluctantly, and caught her attention. “Yeah, Dad?” She twisted in the chair, looking up at him, then blinked in confusion as he held the envelope out to her. A couple seconds passed as she read the envelope, then she scurried to her feet and snatched it from his hands, her own trembling slightly. “It’s from Beloit!” she announced to no one in particular, voice rising in octave. He could see the conflict on her face; did she really want to open it now? What if she got rejected? But she could get in, too; there was no way she’d know without opening.
“Are you sure this is where you want to go?” they’d asked her, and she’d nodded yes.
“It’s like you guys said. The first time I stepped on that campus, I just knew. It felt like home. I had to be there.”
“And you don’t want to look at any other schools?”
“No.”
“You need a backup.”
“I…I know.” She looked down. “I’ll talk to Ms. Jammett about that. But I know that’s where I’m going to go.”
His daughter took a deep breath, fingers fumbling on the envelope. She waved away her friend, who moved in to help, and finally got fed up and simply ripped the top off, tossing it to the table. Her breathing was short as she unfolded the paper, face eager and terrified. Her trembling increased, and a few seconds later, one of the biggest grins he’d ever seen in his life split across her face. She laughed and shrieked and bounced in place, waving the letter above her head. “I got in!” she sang. “I did it, I got into Beloit!!”
The tension broke as she flung herself at him. He staggered slightly, back aching a little, but returned the hug, wrapping his arms around his only child and squeezing as tight as he could until her back cracked. She was laughing and still bouncing, then moved to hug her mother, and her friend, shrieking and giggling the entire time. “This is the best New Years gift I could have!” she crowed, reading over the letter again. His shoulders slumped as the tension left them, and he put an arm around his wife as they watched their only daughter celebrate the newest door that’d opened in her life. She was texting furiously, and he knew exactly what it’d say. “Come on,” she said, tugging on her friend’s wrist. The two pounded up the stairs, and he shook his head, a big smile of his own spreading across his face. He couldn’t have been more proud.