In his book On Writing, Stephen King says: ‘Write with the door closed; rewrite with the door open.’ Be forewarned: I’m about to exhaust the hell out of that metaphor.
The Nowhere Child is my debut novel, but it’s the fifth manuscript I’ve started, second I’ve finished and first I had the guts to show anyone. I spent years behind the closed door. The truth is, I was happy there. I yearned for an audience and fantasied about a publishing deal, but the trouble is, it’s warm and safe back there behind the door. It’s familiar and comfortable. It’s womb-like (sorry – that sounds more disgusting than intended). But as time passed, all those unread words started to feel like the tree that falls in the forest with nobody around to hear it. So I got off my arse and opened the door.
The first person I gave my manuscript to was my wife, Summer. It’s not always a good idea to seek feedback from a loved one. You need someone you trust, but who can be straight with you, someone unafraid to crush your hopes and dreams. Luckily, my wife is not only a born storyteller, but brutally honest as well. It felt appropriate to let her in first, because showing someone your work is not unlike getting naked in front of someone for the first time. All those little moles and scars and bad tattoos and fat deposits you’ve worked so hard to hide beneath your clothing are exposed. You’re stripped bare and forced to say, ‘Look, I know it’s not perfect, but it’s what I have to work with.’
After listening to Summer’s feedback and killing the appropriate number of darlings, I entered the Victorian Premier’s Literary Award for an Unpublished Manuscript. Oddly enough, after letting someone I love and respect read my stuff, sharing it with a stranger on the other end of a competition entry form was easy. It still felt a bit like getting naked, but this time it was more like stripping down for a doctor. Sure, they might be silently judging your little paunch or that strange birthmark on your back, but you never have to see them again if you don’t want to.
Showing someone your work is not unlike getting naked in front of someone for the first time… You’re stripped bare and forced to say, ‘I know it’s not perfect, but it’s what I have to work with.’
Then something unexpected happened. My manuscript won the competition, I got a publishing deal with Affirm Press, and my novel was sold into a bunch of countries around the world. The door wasn’t just open now. It had been removed from its hinges and cast aside.
After a decade and change spent behind that door, I wasn’t mentally prepared for the editorial process and was worried they’d come in asking difficult questions, make challenging suggestions and expose the flaws in my writing. And of course, that’s exactly what happened.
Working with editors is one of the most important cogs in the machine, and also one of the most enjoyable. With an open door, mind and heart, you quickly discover that these grammatically gifted creatives are working to make your book better, to make your writing stronger, your characters more believable. They’re working – and working hard – to bring to life what you first put down on paper months or years earlier, back when it was just you and your MacBook. Editors work to achieve your vision. And the crazy thing is, they were there all along. All I had to do was open that goddamn door.
I guess my point is: I share your pain. The idea of emailing a friend your manuscript, entering a writing competition or sending a few chapters off to a publisher is scary and crippling and nauseating…but it’s also pretty damn exciting. So do it. Open the door. Click send. You can’t stay in there forever.
