Falling into Place

I love it when a plan comes together.

That, of course, assumes I had a plan, which I didn’t, so I guess it would be more appropriate to report that things are randomly falling into place through no fault of my own. But it still feels good.

It started when my son invited me to go to ComiCon with him during our recent pilgrimage to the US. As I noted in that post, I met a Fantasy/Adventure publisher there who I introduced my Fantasy/Adventure series to, and though the results of that serendipitous meeting have not yet resulted in a contract, it is looking good.

Being a real publisher, he’s planning to start over with the series, meaning changes to the manuscripts, new covers, etc. I’m on board with all of this, even if it’s going to mean more work for me because, due to his market being aimed at people who read those sorts of books, I have little doubt The Talisman will shift at least a few copies, which is more than I managed.

That’s the same reason Finding Rachel Davenport sold well when it first came out. The publisher had a large following of readers looking for that sort of book. So, they bought it, by the hundreds, until their next catalogue came out, after which they began buying those books instead.

Unrelated to all this, I pushed Finding Rachel Davenport on my Book Club as our December book. I did it as a joke, and to make my life easier, figuring that, having written the book, I didn’t need to read it. But when I began thinking about the plot, I realised I had no inkling what it was. So, I read it, and enjoyed it, which had me looking forward to the Book Club meeting in December because I had so much to ask, and to say, and, I hoped, to hear from them. As it turned out, December’s meeting was a meal in a pub and we never got around to talking about the book, which was a huge disappointment, but ultimately didn’t matter a great deal.

What did matter was, I had found a publisher for The Talisman, so I had every reason to believe I could find a new publisher for Finding Rachel Davenport.

This also encouraged me to re-evaluate my writing journey. I had, in loose terms, spent my 20s, 30s, and 40s writing humour. In my 50s, I got serious about writing book-length material and managed to publish two—the aforementioned Rachel and the original Postcards book. I was, I thought, on my way, but then my 60s saw me inexplicably detour into self-publishing and, while it was gratifying, in retrospect I see it brought me no closer to my original goal of being a published novelist.

To put it into perspective: Rachel, in the first year of my three-year contract with the publisher, sold nearly 2,000 copies. In the 11 years since, it has sold less than 200. The Talisman, on the other hand, totally self-published, has sold zero.

And none of those books, in their current forms, will sell any more because I have removed them all from Amazon, and my website (as well as my sidebar, if you noticed). This is something I expect the publisher of The Talisman to ask (or demand), so I pre-empted him. Rachel I removed because, if I am going to begin submitting again, it would be best to say it is no longer published anywhere.

On top of that, I am within spitting-distance of the finish-line for the gruelling ultra-marathon that is The Exodus Connection manuscript, which means I can tell any prospective Publisher/Agent that I have another book ready (ish). It also means that I can begin seriously planning my next book, which I can also mention, along with The Brighton Virgins, a manuscript that has long been languishing, unloved and unpublished, on my hard-drive due to it being a rubbish story, but I’m a bit better at writing these days so I could, in theory, revisit that steaming pile of words with the intent of making something out of it.

Who knows if that will work? And who knows if I can really place Rachel, or Exodus, or any future efforts? All I do know is, I am back on the road I set out on, and if I don’t reach my designated waypoint (you’re never at the end; there is always the next book), at least no one can say I didn’t try.