A Paperback Writer

If you really like it you can have the rights
It could make a million for you overnight
If you must return it you can send it here
But I need a break
And I wanna be a paperback writer
Paperback writer

It’s no secret that I’m a self-proclaimed Beatles-brat. From a very early age, I knew the importance of John, Paul, George and Ringo. Their discography filled the walls of my childhood, and I knew the words to all of their songs well before I had permanent teeth. I remember my first viewing of Help!—watching the smoke-filled scene of You’re Going to Lose that Girl as I jumped back and forth on my parents couch—and begged my father to take me to one of their concerts—he didn’t have the heart to tell me they had broken up almost two decades before and that John had passed away. My father gave me a great many things—a list would be nearly impossible to complete—but my love for the Fab Four is probably in the Top Five. Because that’s where I found my love for the written word put to song.

Some of my favorite conversations with my father—to this day—are the ones where we’d dissect the meaning behind John and Paul’s lyrics. Take for instance Paul McCartney’s magnum opus, Let It Be. Many take the below lyrics as strictly religious:

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

It’s easy to see the spiritual connection. But the reality—supplied by my father—is quite different. “The writing was on the wall; the band was barely speaking and Paul was taking it really hard. In a dream, his mother, Mary—who died when Paul was young—came to him and told him to ‘Let it be. It will all turn out the way it’s meant to.’ And it brought him peace.” This story—which I’m pretty sure he told me at the ripe age of eight—enthralled me. A true artist can take something so mundane, but profound like Paul’s dream, and turn it into a complete masterpiece. One that is still sung by the thousands thirty years after its debut.

Lately, I’ve been feeling pretty downtrodden when it comes to my own art and I’ve been turning to the Beatles a bit more than usual. With one song in particular: Paperback Writer.

They don’t write them like this anymore, kids.

Maybe it’s because I’m trudging through the absolute murky, muck of it, but dissecting these lyrics is pretty easy for me: this song is a query letter to an agent or potential publisher.

Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job
So I wanna be a paperback writer
Paperback writer

It's a dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn't understand
His son is working for the Daily Mail
It's a steady job
But he wants to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer

It's a thousand pages, give or take a few
I'll be writing more in a week or two
I could make it longer if you like the style
I can change it 'round
And I wanna be a paperback writer
Paperback writer

It’s a basic plea for an agent or publisher to read a manuscript. To please, please, please give the work a chance—not even to publish it, just to give it a one-pass read and decide from there. Because that is the plea of all struggling and emerging artists; to allow the work to speak for itself. To just read the words and then I’ll do anything you ask to change it up. But getting your foot in the door is extremely difficult, especially in the publishing industry.

Which is the dilemma I’ve currently found myself in.

If you’ve been following my blogs, you’ll know my querying journey began in September. I was doe-eyed and optimistic, thinking I’d send out just a few query letters to a select few agents and that I’d immediately have three or four offers on the table. In my head, I thought I’d have a publishing deal by December and work towards a spring-time release for my novel. In my eyes, my book and concept were strong. Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to work with me? I’d have my pick of agents and work with the one whose vision was the most aligned with mine. It would all be so easy.

My God I was naive!

First of all, I didn’t anticipate the turn-around-time for responses. Most agents I queried were upfront with their response timelines—ranging anywhere from 2 to 8 weeks. Yes, eight weeks to read a one page letter and 5 page excerpt. You know that saying, “Everyone has a novel in them.” Well, apparently they do and everyone is CONSTANTLY trying to get published. And because the industry is so tough to break into, agents are incredibly selective over who they will work with. Its a business for them and they only get paid if they sell your book—they need to be thoroughly convinced before they will throw their full weight behind your work. So unless you have a massive social media fan base, are a reality TV star—and they can hire a great ghost writer, and slap your face on the cover—or are someone like JK Rowling or Stephen King, it’s very hard to grab an agent’s attention. An impressive query letter detailing your marketability is key. And in my opinion, my letter was pretty great.

So, not getting any positive responses from my first-round picks was a bit off-putting.

The rejection letters were nice enough, some even gave some great advice and to keep them in mind for my next project. But what about this project? This project is important, too!

So, I soldiered on. Sent another round of letters. And another. I did my research. I edited my query, personalized each for the agent I was pursuing—padding details about my project with highlights from their other authors and careers. My work lunch hours were spent crafting and sending out letters, and nights were spent researching more agents. It became a second job. One that I enjoyed because it fulfilled me in a different way.

And FINALLY in November, I got a positive response and a full manuscript request. I had grown so accustomed to the NO emails, that I actually had to read the YES email four times to believe it. But there it was, in black and white! This was it! I knew it! It didn’t matter that it was only one positive response in a slew of NOs. All I needed was one. My life was about to change in all the right ways!

So, I read over my manuscript one last time and compiled a marketing packet to send over to the interested agent. I prayed over the send icon before pressing down on the clicker of my mouse, and everyday after I manifested and visualized the resounding YES I knew was coming. I literally put a Post-It on my work computer that read, “____ will say yes to my manuscript,” and read it every morning. Over the next two months, my manuscript would be pitched to the agency and their editors, and then I’d hear back with their response. Two excruciating months, but then the beginning of my mainstream writing career. My lack of patience is my biggest vice, one that I’ve written about it in other blogs. So two months felt like a year; my subconscious circled around it constantly and every email notification made me jump. But there was a light at the end of the impatience tunnel. A big, shiny light illuminating my dreams.

Well. Lately, disappointment seems to be the name of the game.

In a lengthy email response, the formerly mentioned interested agent was no longer interested. She felt there were many strong aspects of my manuscript, but other parts she believed needed some work. And that she felt she couldn’t completely back my project at this time.

At this point, I’m pretty used to the rejection. But this specific rejection was frustrating because I’m pretty easy to work with—again, I’ve written about this in previous blogs. A simple conversation about her opinions on my manuscript would’ve addressed the issues she saw. Hell, I’ve already gone back through my pages and made changes to the content she pointed out! Her points were valid, but easily mended. With all things in my life, I like to defend or justify myself if someone doesn’t agree and to be cut at the knees without an additional conversation—an actual conversation, not just a few paragraphs via email—was really deflating. And I was angry. Like I wanted to punch a wall.

So I gave myself the weekend. Two days to feel like real shit and doubt myself and my project. But then jump right back on the horse and start querying more agents.

Which is where I’m at now—to an extent, though lately I haven’t had much energy to devout to my passion, which will be the content of another blog in the very near future. With this small setback, I’ve been thinking more and more about independently publishing, again. It’s not ideal, but I made a success of it the first time and it would allow me to put out my work, without having to bend to another’s opinion. I’d also retain all of my rights, and I know of many successful writers who’d swear their talents on the indie trade. But regardless of who distributes my book, my goal is still very real, and that of many aspiring writers out there.

We all just want to be Paperback Writers, looking for that one chance.