My day of worship in the hallowed halls of HarperCollins

On Saturday I did what many aspiring novelists dream of doing, and spent the day in the hallowed halls of HarperCollins in London (if any other publishers are reading this, which I strongly suspect not, I think all publishers halls are hallowed. Just for the record).

Unfortunately I was not there to sign a book deal. Shocking I know. I was there to attend a writing workshop run by the folks from Authonomy, a HarperCollins website where aspiring authors can upload their latest pages of fictional gold for the review of other writers/readers. I haven’t actually posted anything to this site as yet because:

1.  I still subscribe to the Stephen King model of Writing with the Door Shut (very firmly and sealed with super glue).
2. The site has this rating system, so the thinking would be that you want to get into the top 100 or so in order to get noticed and offered a Big Book Deal. Therefore, I’ve noticed that a lot of the reviews go something like this: Hello Sharon, just read your first chapter of 'The Mystery of the Missing Kitchen Aid', I think it’s amazing, you are such a talented writer. Definite thumbs up. Now if you wouldn’t mind just popping over to my book called 'The Night the Light Bulb Blew and other Mysteries' and giving me a good rating, that would be brilliant!”
3.  I fail to see the benefit for my writing in that, although I’m sure it’s a good gee up for the ego.

Since I haven’t uploaded anything, I really shouldn’t pass judgement (she says while passing judgement). I did after all meet Miranda Dickinson who got a publishing deal when her book was plucked from obscurity on the site. So it does happen.

Anyway, the day started off well, with a brilliant talk by Simon Toyne on his experience writing his first novel and getting published. Three years ago Simon quit his job and took seven months off work to move to France and write his book (and is now being touted as the next Dan Brown, so no pressure there eh Simon). He, like me, thought that six/seven months would just about be enough to pump out a quick manuscript and polish it up, ready to fall into the hands of some grateful agent or publisher.

Seems not.

After seven months, Simon had written one third of his novel. And by 5pm that day I realised that I was on a fast track to joining him in the “Shit that wasn’t nearly enough time” camp. Because I realised that I have a tad bit of work to do on my novel. You know, just change the plot and the characters really. So nothing too drastic at all.

But better that I figure out now that I need to make a major manuscript overhaul than six months down the track. Right? I can say that now, after two days of staring out the window and drinking straight vodka. It’s all good.

But there was some positive to come out of it all. Apart from working out my novel needs more work than the solution to climate change, I met a lot of other aspiring writers. Which was certainly interesting. Writing novels means you sit by yourself in a room for hours and hours on end, with no one to talk to but cats and sheep, as I have discovered, and I guess it’s only natural therefore that this type of profession attracts a few odd bods. Like the woman who wasn’t afraid to admit that she hadn’t read a book since she was 16 because she’s too busy. Which was about 40 years ago. I’m sure HarperCollins is looking to sign her up straight away.

It was also interesting to find out what floats other writers boats. I met one lady who writes young adult fiction with a Greek mythology theme.  Which sounds absolutely torturous to me. The only Greek I’m interested in is of the souvlaki, ouzo and feta cheese variety. Just like I'm sure that every time a bloke asked me what I write and I said romantic comedy, his eyes glazed over faster than the crust on a crème brule.  

So thanks HarperCollins for letting me come and kneel at the alter of the publishing Gods for a day. Although I hope next time I see you it’s to receive a big fat cheque. Or even a very small one would do.