Britta Jensen

Writing Life

After the Writing Conference-What Now?

By

 

I remember attending my first publishing conference in London, as an author in 2013, and reeling from information overload. It wasn’t only that I needed to process all the information, advice and conflicting feedback, it seemed all my research on the internet about the publishing process was a lot more off the mark than I had realized. My whopping 143,000 word debut YA fantasy novel– that took me six years to finish– needed a ton of work. The word count was the least of my worries.

I thankfully was surrounded by a wonderful support group back in Germany, where I was working and living. Some of the most important questions my friends asked me were: 

  1. Have you taken notes on all the advice you’ve received?
  2. What is actionable and what isn’t?
  3. What do you need more information about?
  4. Who can you ask to get that information?
  5. Is it possible to take a class to get a better understanding of the main problems with your manuscript?

One of the best things that came from this furious note-taking session with two very seasoned educators: Becky and Russ, was the sage advice: “this isn’t a ‘no’ for your book, it’s just a ‘get better’ opportunity.” 

I immediately e-mailed Andrew Wille, who I had my book consultation with, and he very kindly looked at my opening page (again) and suggested I take one of the classes the Writing Workshop (now Jericho Writers) had on offer. I took this amazing self-editing online course with Debi Alper and Emma Darwin. This gave me the opportunity to really hone my understanding of narrative structure as an author. I was also surrounded by a supportive group of authors who have become lifelong friends and allies. 

The important thing about that first conference was that I didn’t stop my learning process as an author. I didn’t say, “Oh, I’m an editor and teacher of creative writing, I can just read a book and learn everything I need to know about my own writing process.” That first conference taught me that I needed to get as much industry and professional feedback as I could afford and that I had a lot to learn as an artist about my own process.

Because I’m now an almost decade-long veteran of writing conferences, as both an author and editor, I feel fairly confident giving some hopefully sage advice to those who have either just finished a writing/publishing conference or who are getting ready to enter that busy season!

  1. If you haven’t yet taken notes or reflected on the experience, take out your notebook from the conference and hand write (not on your phone or computer, unless you suffer from dysgraphia) everything you remember using “The Crappy Memory Technique” which I’m borrowing from Nicola Morgan. Often we get caught up thinking that we have to write everything down in a particular order. Don’t worry about that. Just write what you remember, don’t worry about what you don’t. Doing this writing will trigger a memory down the line, and if it doesn’t, it likely wasn’t something important. (I hope.)
  1. After you’ve written down everything you remember, highlight or circle what feels actionable and re-write that list on a separate pad of paper (a to-do list or other type of list that you will actually reference).
  2. Choose only one of those items to focus on for the next week. It needs to be something that you can actually accomplish in the next week (and make sure that you look at your calendar so that you aren’t aiming too high). It might be that you want to contact another writer you met to see if they want to swap sections of manuscripts. Or, it might be to sign-up for a writing class, contact a freelance editor (like myself) that you met at the conference, or perhaps you’re ready to start your first round of queries and need to rearrange and re-prioritize your list of agents after meeting with a few.
  1. See the conference as a learning process, a jumping off point, not a capstone or end to your writing journey. I’m going to talk about this more below. Continue to carve away at that list and be a part of the literary community by being a good literary citizen. Attend local book launches, buy books from local bookstores, praise books that have moved you, and continue to grow as an artist by either joining a critique group, becoming a good critique partner, or getting professional feedback.
    The important thing is that you need at least one good author friend. Your spouse/partner/significant other/best friend/workout buddies are great. They’re beautiful people, I’m sure. However, they don’t know what it’s like to write a book and go through the often harrowing journey of trying to get published. Your author friend; however, knows exactly what that’s like.

 

THE WRITING CONFERENCE AS A LEARNING PROCESS

Because I’ve sat on the other side of the table: judging writing contests, exhibiting as a freelance editor, talking on panels and moderating, and taught writing for a long time, I hope to instill a great sense of self worth in authors by talking about the learning process that every conference, class or literary consult has to be. I often see authors coming back from a pitch session with a literary agent completely devastated. I can understand why. You’ve worked on this book for anywhere between 1-20 years. You were hoping that this one appointment with this agent would garner you a “yes” to submit your query and hopefully get your baby published and out to the world.

However, literary agents don’t sign authors at conferences. If they said something to the effect of “Yes, send me pages,” they need you to follow the official process of querying them (and following their querying protocol exactly). If you instead received a “no” and they say that the work you’ve pitched to them doesn’t sound like something they can sell, it isn’t a personal affront to you, your work or your dedication to the craft. They simply know what they can pitch to acquiring editors and your work isn’t possible for them to sell. It’s actually good that you know this from a ten minute conversation versus going through the trouble of preparing (which hopefully takes you longer than ten minutes) your materials to send to them only to receive a rejection weeks or months later (or no response at all). 

Because this is a learning process it’s important to not get jaded. That’s easier to say than to do. I’ve encountered several authors who are so discouraged that I hear them lambasting the industry (within earshot of industry folks), or appear to be fixated on believing that their publishing dreams are only possible via one very narrow course of action. If you feel yourself feeling this similar dark spiral, I’d suggest allowing yourself a moment to write out the dark feelings, tell them to a trusted friend or fellow author, then go forth and support someone else. Be a part of the solution by helping a struggling author whose book came out during the pandemic, blurb someone’s book who might not be receiving the limelight you think they ought to, and be a beacon of light in the darkness. 

ADDITIONAL ADVICE ON UNHELPFUL ATTITUDES AFTER A CONFERENCE

  1. Saying “I already have a day job, I don’t have time to do x or y.” If you were given good advice by an agent, editor or other industry professional, it’s helpful if you take time to consider this advice, weigh how you can fold this advice into your daily practice as an artist and refine your journey, even if it’s only dedicating a certain amount of days/minutes a week to working on your book/stories. If you want your publishing dream to come true, you will have to make sacrifices.
  2. Arguing with an industry professional by pointing out places you’ve heard conflicting advice. We already know about the conflicting advice. However, if we’re taking the time to talk to you for free, it’s a safe assumption that we’re giving you the best information we have. Just listen and take notes. You can always disregard what you don’t like later. Just don’t waste that person’s time by arguing with them. It’s rude and it doesn’t allow you to absorb the important information you likely need. 
  3. Believing that because your work wasn’t accepted during a pitch, or didn’t win a contest that it doesn’t have merit. Your book can change so much during a really clear revision process. I know my books change radically from rough draft to final draft. (Hirana’s War is a perfect example. I submitted a very rough third draft to my editor and when it came back from him I had to scrap the first 13-15 chapters, if I’m remembering correctly). I was gutted, but I knew he was right. Following his advice and pushing back the publication date allowed a very different and far more solid book to evolve. The most important thing you could ever do for your work is to invest in it. Whether that’s doing a manuscript swap, joining a critique group, attending a workshop or paying for a professional critique, making some effort is better than burying that manuscript in a drawer.
  4. Never assume that because you’re a professor, content writer, lawyer, or other type of professional writer that it  automatically means you know how to write fiction. Of course, there are some translatable skills, but writing fiction means that you’re crafting a narrative in which you ultimately want the reader to care enough about your main character(s) to go on this journey with them through the entire length of your book. That requires a definite understanding of character intentions, point-of-view, and narrative structure that other domains of writing rarely utilize.

ACTIONS THAT WILL HELP YOU FEEL IN CONTROL AFTER A WRITING CONFERENCE

  1. Identify if you’re really at a good stage to query literary agents. You need to have at least 3-4 revisions of your manuscript completed and the manuscript’s story structure needs to be very clear, especially its POV! If you don’t feel like you understand story structure, take a class or get a professional critique or writing coaching to help you understand this, if you can.
  2. If all of the above feels really solid, get going on that query process. Get an impartial reader to look over your whole query package if you can’t afford a pro edit. Make certain that you’re personalizing your queries, following what is required by taking note of each individual literary agent’s requirements. Have a method of tracking what you send where so that you’re aware of who you’ve contacted and what they’ve requested from you, if applicable. If you want a bit more help in this process, you can use some online tools like Query Tracker or Duo Trope.
  3. Attend workshops by literary agents (at least once a year) where they give sage advice about the querying process. One of my favourite workshops this year was by Howard Yoon. 
  4. Join Jane Friedman’s mailing list. She has Electric Speed (free) and the Hot Sheet (first two issues free, but must pay after that) also. I subscribe to both and her advice and articles are completely invaluable!
  5. Have regular meetings with authors, at least once a month, if you can. This will keep you current, supported and feeling loved by people who know what it’s like to live this life. It’s a great life, but it can be taxing at times. As Misty Copeland, one of my favourite dancers says, “Be strong, be fearless, be beautiful. Believe that anything is possible when you have the right people there to support you.” 
  6. Have faith that your work will find the right home. If you have a flexible mindset about that home for your work, that will also mean that your chances for publication increase. It isn’t if you get published, but when. Though many less educated still sneer at indie publishing, if you are eager to still be published after querying for 18 months, it is worth pursuing, if you’re clear about your goals and budget for indie publishing. The beautiful thing about the modern age that we live in is that you have options. Embrace those options and be educated about them. 

I see a lot of authors walking away from conferences feeling inspired, but sometimes feeling despondent about everything they feel they have to do as a result. It saddens me when anyone walks away truly feeling horrible. I hope that the above are a combination of a balm for the soul and a loving kick in the pants. The most important thing is that I don’t want to undermine how hard this process is. However, it is totally worth it. It’s even more worthwhile because of the amazing friendships and community I’m so blessed to be a part of. I hope you’ll also soon feel the same way!

 

If you want to continue the conversation, please feel free to get in touch here.

How Do We Write When We Don’t Feel Like It?

By

 

There are days when I show up to the page- more of them lately- and it’s a grind. I know I have to do it, because I see that I’ve marked up my writing calendar with how many chapters I need to revise a day and I’ve been working on Orphan Pods for so long, I just have to do it. Like a runner’s high, or a dancer’s euphoria, once I get my stride, I’m there, and it’s no longer painful. (Just for the record, I’ve never had a runner’s high, but the dance euphoria I definitely know).

I recently had a dance workshop with Laura Dalava and Elias Travers that taught me a lot about pushing against what I think my natural boundaries are. I think it starts first with the heart, your feelings, breathing into the work, then with your body, your mind and everything that we think makes writing what it is.

Laura said something incredibly profound: “A lot of what we do in Brazilian Zouk works against your body’s natural processes. You have to train your body to do something that feels unnatural so it becomes natural to you.”

A lot of dance is just that: stretching and training the body to make it more resilient and pliable with what you need it to do. (Even if that means spinning with your head tilted sideways).

Writing to me often starts with pen to paper. It’s so rudimentary. Sometimes it’s even typewriter keys to paper. I have to let myself do things badly. (A lot of my early progress in dance involves this too: I have to do things badly so I can learn, make mistakes and break free of my desire for perfection.) I also have to take feedback frequently.

I often think that there aren’t any rules other than: feel, revise, feel again, revise again, seek outside input, and, you’ve got it, revise again. These can be rearranged in many different combinations, but those basics of embracing the art of revision have to be there. 

I also have to give myself the space to see my characters, even my future characters hovering on the periphery, asking me things, needing me to breathe life into them as they lurk by the lake while I dance under the stars. I have to give myself time to sit down, cobble down a few lines in my tiny notebook before being whisked out on the dance floor again.

A lot of the time, I’m drafting or revising when I’m dead tired in the morning, my eyes sandy, my brain foggy. However, I want to write a few lines because I want writers to know they’re not alone. I want them to embrace that they’re part of a larger community doing hard things and that they too can train their brains and bodies to do this important work.

Another fun note: just because you have a few books published, the process doesn’t get easier. If anything, it can feel muddier because each manuscript requires something different from you. A different stretching and flexibility.

You might ask, what if life gets really shitty and it feels like everything is standing in the way of writing?

Write anyway. Just three lines. Or three stanzas, if you’re a poet. Let the words that are in your brain seep into the paper. Don’t lose that connection with the page, even if it’s your thumb typing into your phone. Some of my best writing has happened when things truly fell apart. I was able to go somewhere with my characters that it was hard to access without the rock bottomness of life.

Lean into where you are and use it. I don’t mean this in an unhealthy way, but in a channeling, healing way. Trust that in revision you’ll sweep things where they need to go.

There is a trust that happens with your art. For me, there’s a triad that stabilizes my writing life: reading/writing, dancing, singing. I need to practice all three to feel in harmony. In different seasons of my life I’m doing more dancing/writing with my singing being reserved to when I’m driving. Sometimes I’m doing more reading and less writing, but the point is that I use what is in my life and let it swirl around me to fill the well.

Sometimes, when we don’t feel like writing it is resistance, fear, the oppressor telling us we can’t do it. At other times, it is that we’re depleted and our body is telling us to take care. At other times, it is simply something else holding us back that we need to write through, investigate and dig deep to investigate. (For more on this, check out Allie Pleiter’s blog.)

Often, I find that at the root of the act of resistance is a fear that we will dig so deep that we’ll be lost and can’t find our way back. There has to be a trust built around our writing practice, just like there’s a trust I have to have with each lead I follow. I have to breathe with him, let it flow and trust that we’ll come out the other end safe and more knowledgeable than when we started. Most of the time, that trust alone carries me through that initial panic that I won’t be able to move the way that lead needs me to move, needs me to trust, hopes that I will care enough to surrender.

Ultimately, I believe writing requires a type of surrender and trust, not only in ourselves, but in the characters forming under our fingertips. 

When I wrote Hirana’s War, I was under a lot of pressure. I had just left traditional employment for the first time in my life, had started The Writing Consultancy and had a massive publishing deadline looming over me. Hirana’s War also had more parallels to my real life than any other book I’d written and that scared me. It look me longer to write scenes with one of my characters, Gulnaz, because she just wouldn’t speak to me. I had to leave town, book into an Air BnB in the woods in East Texas where I heard gunshots throughout the day and found myself in very unfamiliar territory. But it was exactly what I needed to hear Gulnaz and her feelings of disorientation. Those six days were some of the most productive of my writing life.

They weren’t comfortable. I had many tearful moments of writing her scenes, but I also had other moments of walking in the woods, feeling some scary thing on my trail, only to turn and find nothing behind me. The further I walked toward Gulnaz, the less afraid I became, because I could see who she was instead of what I wanted her to be to fulfill my vision of the book. I had to let her take the reins and show me the hurt, the history, the joy, and why self destruction was a type of control, the only type she’d ever known.

I don’t write to be successful. I write to experiment and push my boundaries. I also don’t dance to look beautiful or elegant (though, sometimes I hope I am). I want to feel, to love, to express myself and to join in a beautiful dance with another person and feel that connection that is so real and visceral. I like feeling like I can push both my body and mind and it’s probably what keeps me writing and dancing. They are my two true loves, since I was probably four years old and I doubt much will change that, even incredibly rocky seasons of life.

If you’re still feeling like the writing is hard, find what you love, even if it’s making little swirls with coloured pencils on the paper. Seek the love, and go from there.

Ramadan (koor gui) in Senegal

By

Breaking the fast with my host family in 2018

Today’s blog post is brought to us by Jenifer Denison, a former Peace Corps volunteer and current Publicity & Marketing Assistant at Murasaki Press. Ramadan (koor gui) has started in Senegal, where she now lives permanently. Enjoy her incredible story and experiences.

Fasting for koor gui is fasting of the whole body; mouth, eyes, ears, etc, not just the abstinence of food and water.  

Koor gui has begun. The new crescent moon is visible signaling fasting will begin the next day. No more breakfast sandwich stands set up on nearly every corner. Walking through the sand-filled streets you don’t smell the omelets being made, the fresh café touba being poured or the fresh bread being delivered to the boutiques and breakfast stands. I miss the stand that sets up right next to where I’m staying, to the right of the palms and in front of a defunct dibiterie, with its stereo blasting Senegalese pop and 90’s American hits Monday thru Saturday. The beignet sellers come out in the evenings instead of the mornings now while most are fasting. The days are a bit sleepy and you can see lips become dry with the absence of consuming water. 

Just before 7pm there’s a long line of people waiting to buy fresh bread at the bakeries for their upcoming break-fast. The bakeries change their hours during the month so it can be difficult to find bread if you’re not Muslim, or not fasting. All the fruit sellers have dates now, the first morsel most fasters enjoy when they break their daily fast and replenish some energy. The supermarkets are promoting Ramadan baskets filled with powdered milk, coffee, dates, thiakry and other nourishment. 

The beach is less busy than usual with fewer tourists because of COVID-19 and the shrimp, fish and rice sellers aren’t selling during Ramadan. There’s always that light sea mist in the air and you can always see the shape of a few pirogues full of fishermen out at sea. Around 17:30 there are still plenty of people running, playing football, doing squats and pushups, getting in their exercise with a cool ocean breeze just before consuming their first calories since early dawn. It’s the best time to expend the decreased energy people have during the month. All the bustling of people out and about builds during the last stretch before the day’s fasting is over. But, things are easy here on the peninsula compared to most of the country inland.

During my Peace Corps service in northern Senegal many people gave up exercise for the month or only were active at night, after ndogou, because of the oppressive heat. I can remember sitting down outside on a colorful plastic mat laid out on the hot cement in front of the house. The whole family was spread out; the women preparing bissap (sweet hibiscus juice) and hot water for coffee and tea, the kids being sent to buy bread, the men tiredly waiting for the clock to hit that minute of relief, and me feeling the heat of the day start to soak through from the cement beneath, through my thin cotton dress and into my already exhausted body. 

It can feel a bit lonely when almost everyone around you is taking part in the holy month and you, the foreigner, are not. The only real expectation I’ve been aware of is to respect those who are fasting by not flaunting the things that they are abstaining from. I’ve tried fasting before as an act of solidarity, but it doesn’t equate to the real thing. 

In the first few days of Ramadan, I thought to myself, I need to make sure I have travel plans for next year. But then, I retracted, how can I be so negative when I love so many things about this time of year? Breaking the fast with my host family I had for two years in the hot and dusty north is one of my favorite memories. I love eating breakfast foods at dinner time. Seeing the spiritual dedication and solidarity of Senegalese Muslims is truly remarkable and I am grateful to be able to witness it. It makes me ask myself: what I am dedicated to? What part of my life do I act in this same diligence that so many people in the world do this every lunar year? 

As the sun goes down this evening, I’ll be able to take part in this short wave of energy before the hour of relief arrives. As my fasting partner and I return from our evening run, I’ll be able to greet all the familiar faces, buy some beignet if I want, and prepare for our own ndogou.

Jenifer Denison served as a Peace Corps volunteer in northern Senegal from 2018-2020. After completing her Master’s degree in Public Administration in Portland, OR she is back in Senegal drinking attaya and eating breakfast sandwiches. Email her at jeniferrdenison@gmail.com or check out more photos from her service on instagram @secondtrysenegal

Join the mailing list for updates and free stories