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Today we are joined by the internationally bestselling author Kerry Fisher to hear her insights into this tricky business of publishing, how to get your foot in the door and make it stay there. Read on for her six top tips...

Believe in yourself.

You’re going to have to back yourself long before anyone else does. That means you have to take your writing seriously because, at first, no one else will. (I’ve been published for 12 years, and people are still puzzled that I’m not free to meet up during the day because I have a book to write…) Stop waiting for the perfect moment to begin – you really don’t need a new notebook, desk or summerhouse. Give yourself a word target – two, three, five hundred words a day. Set a timer for twenty-five minutes and write without stopping to check anything. Opinions differ but, for me, a detailed plan saves a lot of time in the long run. If you’re not a plotter, at least write a list of fifteen things that have to happen in your book to give yourself a framework.

Learn to accept and listen to feedback.

It’s human nature to want to hear, ‘Work of brilliance, nothing needs doing’ but feedback doesn’t stop once you get published – if anything it increases as your editor/copyeditor will work with you to make the book the best it can be. That doesn’t mean you have to accept every comment from your mum, friend, writing group or even manuscript critique, agent or editor. But you do need to be open to listening to suggestions. Ask yourself if there’s any merit in what they’re saying. Your gut will probably recognise when a criticism is valid even if your brain is saying, NOOOOO, that’s so much work to put right!

Don’t panic if you hate your book around the 30,000-word mark.

The initial enthusiasm has worn off, the end seems a long way away, doubts start to crowd in. Write the scenes further along the line that you’re excited about and fill in the gaps later. Brainstorm with other writers. Read what you’ve written from the beginning – sometimes you’ll be surprised by how good some of it is! Make notes about what needs to change, expand or improve. Often the writing goes flat because there’s not enough conflict. What can you do to increase the stakes for your characters?

Be professional.

Be punctual, hit your deadlines, be polite, say thank you but don’t be a pushover. Opinions vary on this but I think it’s perfectly reasonable to ask an agent who’s requested a full manuscript for a likely timeframe for a response. If you are offered a publishing contract, try to pin down key dates for the editorial schedule up front. I’m published by Bookouture - my editor and I agree everything from first manuscript delivery to proofread dates before I write a word. It’s not pushy, it’s professional – no book is going to benefit from the stress of edits turning up out of the blue the day before you go on holiday.

Investigate digital-first publishers.

There’s nothing quite like seeing your book in on the shelves in a supermarket or bookshop – glorious feeling! But do not dismiss digital-first (ebook) publishers such as Bookouture, Boldwood, Storm, Canelo and Joffe. You can submit directly without an agent and although most don’t pay advances, the royalties are usually much higher than a traditional deal. It’s a great option if you write quickly because the time between manuscript delivery to publication tends to be much shorter than in traditional publishing. And if you do exceptionally well, some digital-first publishers will also do a print run and try to get physical copies into shops (not guaranteed for anyone, even traditionally published authors).

And finally…

The publishing world is unpredictable. The bit you can control is continuing to learn and improve your craft in order to write (and finish) the best book you can. Enter competitions. I won the best opening line competition at the Festival of Writing in 2011 for my novel, The Island Escape – ‘I was wearing the wrong bra for sitting in a police cell’. It was a boost that gave me the confidence to persevere, and also something to include in my letters to agents. Follow industry social media accounts so that you know when agents open their submissions, when publishing houses are open to direct pitches, when there’s an opportunity to get your work in front of someone who could be the yes you need.

First:

Last week I spoke these words: “I shall grow a monstrous, ‘Come on now chaps’, airman’s moustache and I shall be seen at all times to be smoking a briar pipe, even in bed.”

I spoke them, and I meant them, and I begged forgiveness for past failures.

But –

I had not quite realised the issues that would arise when I joined Briar pipe + large moustache + flammable bed clothes.

I have been forced to give up both pipe and moustache by my family. We are, for now camping in the garden, while the blaze dies down.

And –

Look, I’m quite a commercially oriented writer. I’ve written in multiple different genres (including different types of non-fiction) and I’ve always wanted to get published and get paid a decent crust for doing so. Partly, yes, that’s because I want to earn money and support my family … and to do so without having a Proper Job. (I had one of those once. Shudder.)

But also, if you’re a writer, you want readers and you’re a lot more likely to have those if you have a good publisher properly behind your book and throwing some proper spondulicks at its success.

There are plenty of self-publishers who look at these things quite analytically. They use tools like Publisher Rocket to discover the niches where buyers are most greedily buying and where authors have not yet properly caught up. They look for tropes that are popular in one genre and import them over to a neighbouring genre, in the hope of getting the same kind of success there.

And, OK. I don’t have a quarrel with anyone who writes books and sells them, but I also just don’t believe that most writers ought to take that kind of approach.

So really, my own rules for choosing a writing project are twofold.

The first is: write with your heart.

If I’m not genuinely impelled by a project, I won’t do it. (I’ve had one partial exception to that rule, when I had to write a book to fulfil a contract. The publisher wanted a book that I wasn’t keen on, but I wrote it anyway. The book was OK, ruined by bad editing, steamrollered by bad publishing, and died horribly.)

Writers are generally a little nuts, so the things we want to write about are generally a little nuts. I’ve written a (modern) police procedural about relics of King Arthur. I wrote another about medieval religious practices. I wrote a romance that stretched from the Russian Revolution to the Berlin Airlift.

And – nuts is good. You just have to love the stuff you’re writing about.

Partly that’s because you’re going to be spending a lot of time there. But also there are qualities which won’t get into your book except through love. The best books (mostly, not always) are infused with a kind of humanity and love. One of the reasons why JK Rowling has done so well is that her writing is funny and her voice is warm. Of course, kids want to read about wizards. But of course, they want to spend time with a funny, warm, loving human. You don’t get that feel from a book unless it’s written with love.

At the same time, I take plenty of care with my second rule: write for the industry.

If a book isn’t going to make any money, I won’t write it. (Again with one exception, currently not published, twenty-five years in the writing, which I wrote just because I loved doing it. I may yet seek a publisher for it.)

Mostly though, I understand what the industry wants and tamp the things that I want to write about into the kind of shape that will work for a publisher.

That sounds like a compromise, but it isn’t really. I can’t think of any time I’ve done that where the commercial pull on the book hasn’t improved it. Books get better for being propulsively readable – and what the industry calls for above all is a book that demands to be read.

And, because my moods and tastes vary, the kind of writing I’ve done has varied too. (Little teaser: I have a book in front of an agent now that’s in a totally different genre to anything I’ve written before. I’ll tell you more some other time.)

Personally, I’ve found a genre-wandering approach to a career both natural and positive. I doubt if any really good writer can only write one sort of book well. Quite the opposite: writing is writing. A good crime writer can probably write good rom-coms, or kids’ book, or a memoir.

So be free. Go where the wind blows. Write with your heart, and be ruthlessly commercial, both at the same time.

FEEDBACK FRIDAY / The Ultimate Start Lesson Two / Why do you write?

Two FFs this week. For those of you following the Ultimate Start course, it’s:

Identify what the hook of your novel is and share in the forum along with your 500 word opening taking into account what you have learned so far. Before posting check for any energy or intrigue drops. Post to the forum, then read and comment on the thoughts of at least two of your fellow writers. Can you learn anything from their observations? When your ready post to the forum here.

And for the rest of us, a different sort of FF.

Just: why do you write what you write? What drew you to your current project? Where’s the passion in it?

But also, a niggly question that I do want an answer to: would your current project be better if it was more commercial? Are there things you’re doing which you know a publisher would be likely to object to? Or are you genuinely trying to write something that you think a publisher could love?

We do often see manuscripts that are clearly passion projects, but also clearly not quite doing what a publisher would want. Is yours one? Tell me. When your ready post to the forum here.

Til soon.

Harry

It’s something which is horribly familiar to all us writers: the empty laptop screen, the blank notebook page, the grim sensation that after keeping a day free especially for writing, nothing is coming out… 

What causes writer’s block, and how do we get through it? 

Here are some tried and tested techniques. 

1. Try freewriting

This is described by psychologytoday.com as ‘a technique in which writers generate spontaneous, unstructured content’. I’d translate this as: write for the joy of it.  

Freewriting isn’t like automatic writing, where you let stream-of-consciousness prose flow from your fingertips in an unstructured tide of words. You can link freewriting to the project you’ve stalled on.  

Invent a random scene in which you choose a character and write for fun, just to see what happens. No rules, no pre-imposed structure, no tailored conclusion. It doesn’t matter if your character doesn’t yet have a role in the novel or short story you’re working on. It doesn’t matter if the scene is set in a random place you’ve selected for its novelty value. Writing for the joy of it will reconnect you with why you started all this in the first place.  

Does it work? Yes! While working on my debut novel, I had regular blockages when the story just wouldn’t come out. So, I experimented with freewriting in a series of ‘test scenes’. The characters and scenarios I chose for freewriting didn’t all make the final cut of my novel, but I had so much fun crafting a dark futuristic environment, with its gothic basement clubs and its hybrid characters, that it put me back on the rails again. A couple of pages in, and I was reminded why I love doing what I do. Eventually, I was back on track, writing scenes that did make the final cut.  

2. Reconsider your writing environment 

A study by Kaempfer & Vos (2019) revealed that if you have a familiar place and a regular habit attached to your writing, it does indeed boost creativity. The brain recognises cues indicating that it’s now time to work.  

Whether it’s a coffee at your kitchen table, or a walk in the park before you sit down to write, any routine or ritual can help. My first two novels were written and edited in children’s soft play areas surrounded by noisy kids and piped music. I look back now and don’t know how I did it, but my brain knew that my best opportunity to write was when the kids were occupied. Noisy soft play areas built themselves into my own writing ritual for several years. Now my kids are teens, that landscape has changed – and I couldn’t write in a play-zone if I tried!  

Today, I have different writing rituals: making a cup of herbal tea, taking out a specific notebook and a specific ink pen filled with bottle ink, and then sitting in peace and quiet for five minutes before opening my laptop. Making sure the cats are fed (so that I don’t get harassed) is an essential part of the ritual.  

I have a friend who does yoga on her writing mornings, and another who does a park run first. It can literally be anything which gives you a sense of routine and prepares the brain for the creative work to follow.  

3. Focus on plot  

If you hit a brick wall and feel you can’t progress, this might relate to plot. Sometimes, our creative mind knows before our conscious mind that something isn’t quite right, and it stalls us. Perhaps you need to revisit the backbone of your story.  

Take a break and think about it. Are you writing a random genre mash which instinct tells you is a bit too off-the-wall to be truly viable? Is your novel heavily influenced by film and TV, and have you realised this might not be the best way forward? Is your antagonist not powerful enough yet? Does your protagonist not yet have a proper quest? Any of these things can create a mental brick wall.  

So, what to do about it? Fortunately, there’s plenty of advice at Jericho to help you tease out these concerns and look at your project from a multitude of angles. Once you’ve recognised the problem, everything starts to make sense. Why not put your novel in a nutshell by writing a one or two sentence premise, to consolidate the core heartbeat of the story?  

4. Create a work plan  

With no work plan, writing a novel can seem like a huge task. This can lead to stalling, as you wonder where to start and how you’re ever going to conquer it.  

Minimize the overwhelm by creating a work plan. The maths suggests that a novel of 80,000 words equates to around 1,500 words a week if your goal is to finish a draft in a year. If you want to write a draft over two years, the weekly wordcount reduces to 770 words.  

A novel for younger readers (say, 50,000 words) equates to 960 words a week in a year, or 480 words a week over two years. It’s a pacing trick that works a treat because suddenly, the wordcount looks a little bit less daunting. 

5. Read!   

Take a reading break. It’s amazing how reading (or listening to) any genre of novel can bubble away in your creative subconscious and inspire you to add a new facet to your own story.  

The bonus is that for us writers, reading is a ‘working break’ rather than an excuse not to get started. Read outside your comfort zone, too. It’s amazing where this might lead in terms of ideas, word choices and prose style.  

6. Be kind to yourself  

It’s as normal for us writers to work in fits and starts as it is to write religiously for a set time every day. It’s also normal to swap between the two.  

Just because you’ve created a work schedule doesn’t mean to say you aren’t allowed to shift it around, or take time out if life gets in the way. It happens. Just know you aren’t alone.  

Happy writing!

Want more from Liz? Apply now for a place in her tutor group on the next Ultimate Novel Writing Programme intake or book a 20 minute one-to-one mentoring session with her for just £20. These are the perfect way to sense-check your story idea, ensure it’s worth investing in and road-test whether working with Liz for a longer period is right for you. If you go on to study or book more mentoring with us, the cost of this session will be credited back to you. 

Want to find out more about the Ultimate Novel Writing Programme or apply for the next course? Let us know and we’ll send some helpful information direct to your inbox.

First:

I’ve been thinking about my moustachelessness and my notable failures in the matter of pipe-smoking. I have resolved to do better.

I shall grow a monstrous, ‘Come on now chaps’, airman’s moustache and I shall be seen at all times to be smoking a briar pipe, even in bed.

Please forgive my earlier failures.

And –

Envy.

I’m sure we all of us sometimes read other people’s books with a kind of envy. You did that. You brought that off. You imagined that. Your sentences always sound like that.

With any really terrific text, it feels like the author wrote without effort. We know that not to be true, of course, but the feeling remains.

You’ll have your list of authors. I’ll have mine. But, enjoy them though we do, there’s also that pinprick of envy. You genius, damn you.

And –

Well, I suppose the conventional advice is that we should learn from those genii, even the pallid, feeble ones who HAVE NO MOUSTACHE. (Glowers over spectacles at Austen, Brontë, Wharton, Woolf, et al.)

And yes, so we should. In my crime writing, I’ve found Chandler and Gillian Flynn to be especially inspirational when it comes to prose style. Who says you can’t aspire to really strong, original prose, if you’re a mere crime writer? Flynn and Chandler say otherwise.

Patricia Highsmith inspires for her willingness to jump waist-deep into psychological complexity.

Stieg Larsson has an audacious scale of vision.

And Sherlock Holmes – well, he’s Holmes, right? The one, the only. That whole world of foggy streets and hansom carriages and people scattering clues with the exact colour of mud on their trousers – pure, enviable heaven.

Knowing that these things are possible makes us (I think) reach for them too. We stretch further, because they’re there.

But –

We don’t get there. I don’t write as well as either Flynn or Chandler, (though dammit, dammit, dammit – I’d like to.) My world’s not as richly knitted together as Holmes’s. There are any number of writers who do more than I can and more than I will.

But only part of the issue here is ability.

I think it also comes down to authenticity.

With every sentence we write, we have to make a choice: say it this way, or say it that way? Or say it some other way altogether?

In the end, I’m always going to choose sentences that come out of me, not ones that are simply Flynn-Chandler-Conan-Doyle pastiches.

That limits us in one way. (Flynn will always write better than me.) But it also releases the personality that readers want from a writer. If Gillian Flynn were to read some of my books, might she not think, ‘Dammit, Harry does X, Y and Z things that I don’t really do in my books. I wish I could get some of that magic juice and put it in mine.’?

Chandler’s writing is sensational – but his character lacks any complex, reflective interiority.

Highsmith’s psychology is uncompromising – but her books can get boggy and slow.

Conan Doyle is Conan Doyle – he’s the king – but no one ever said that his books were masterpieces of either prose or psychology.

So –

Envy. Yes, envy others.

And steal. Whatever you can, whenever you can. Just make it yours.

And in the end: your books will be good in your ways; their books can be good in theirs.

Twirl your moustache. Add some golden Virginian tobacco to your rosewood pipe. And write your way, without apology.

FEEDBACK FRIDAY /

We are relaunching our much-beloved The Ultimate Start course. So, for the next few weeks, we’ll focus again on the assignments there. First up:

Look at your opening 500 words and post in the forum. Ask if your peers can guess your genre from this opening. Post to the forum, then read and comment on the thoughts of at least two of your fellow writers.

Because this email has had an envy & moustache theme, please feel free to add a comment on (a) which author most directly inspired the book you’re now writing and (b) which great author would look best with which sort of moustache. Me, I’d want to see Jane Austen with bushy Hungarian whiskers. Upload your work here.

Til soon.

Harry