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Written by Gillian Polack
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Friday, 18 April 2008 |
Many of us have a vision of what it means to be a writer. These visions are based on tales we've read of writers in newspapers and in novels. What I didn't realise until I was too far in to go back, was that the story is one we tell ourselves to make us happy.
The story we tell is like a Medieval saint's tale. It has some challenge at the beginning, a bit of luck or serendipity, a contract and an agent (not necessarily in that order), a decent amount of money, a big breakthrough, an indecent amount of money, invitations to festivals, being asked "What do you do?" and being able to say modestly "Oh, I'm a writer" and being told “I read your books!” or seeing someone reading your book on the train and shyly offering to sign it.
It's as if we write our own words and stories, then look to other people's tales to tell us what has to happen to those stories and what has to happen in our lives. It's a very sexy story. It makes every third person I meet want to be a writer, preferably of fiction. The big question is, how true is the tale?
There is some truth in it. All of these elements have happened to writers. I'm not sure that the equivalent is true of the elements of Medieval saints' tales, but for writers, each episode has its own truth. I've seen serendipity three times now, for instance.
The whole sequence escapes most of us, though. I've just been invited to guest at a particularly cool science fiction convention, and my first publisher fell in love with my fiction before I ever knew she was a publisher. However, agents (so far) won't touch me, because I'm not a mainstream writer. My voice is strong and my novels are not what people expect. One reader complained at me that the story made her turn the pages, but it wasn't the sort of book she would normally read.
What about the fame and glory and the squillions of dollars? It happens for some of us (though, like an agent, not so far for me) but only to a very lucky few. Some of them are brilliant writers. Some are competent and have a special knack of hooking the reader.
There's no pattern in it that I can discern. Except one that Garth Nix explained to a group of us once (at an earlier incarnation of that same particularly cool science fiction convention). Garth explained publication as a rocket launch. We all try to get into orbit. Some of us are shooting stars, some are comets, some are squibs, some of us cruise steadily at a low altitude and some, the lucky few, become planetary bodies. Terry Pratchett is a planetary body and so is JK Rowling, Garth is a comet that might well settle into a planetary body and me, well I'm cruising at a very low altitude. Fame and glory and squillions of dollars come to planetary bodies and the biggest comets. Cruising at a low altitude requires a day job.
We all have different trajectories. We all have different lives. And, let's face it, we're all different writers. |
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Last Updated ( Friday, 18 April 2008 )
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