I have been meaning to update for a while, but other things seem to have gotten in the way so this morning I have forced myself to sit down and just write.
A couple of weeks ago I was granted what I class as quite a bit more responsibility by Inspired Quill’s MD. I suppose I should henceforth call her my boss, although I have also classed her as a good friend since we met as fellow members of Leicester University’s theatre society four years ago. For those who haven’t read my previous posts about this internship, I am currently doing some unpaid work for a small independent publishing house. Until recently, I have been chiefly editing two-chapter submissions that writers have sent in to try and negotiate a publishing deal. As these submissions have all been rejections thus far, their quality has been a little questionable. With the advent of the internet that has facilitated the growth of independent publishers such as Inspired Quill, I think it has become easier and easier to get published. Actually, that may be a short-sighted comment on my part. And that in itself is perhaps the problem, so let me rephrase. With the advent of the internet, and the growth of said independent publishers, writers believe it has become easier and easier to get published. Suddenly, everyone thinks they are the next J. K. Rowling (I use her as an arbitrary example of a successful author). There seems to be little quality control on the part of the writers themselves. As a result, I have had to read some pretty dire offerings. My belief is that a piece with potential can always be made better, but without the initial ‘spark’ of talent- something altogether unquantifiable in my opinion- there is nowhere to go. For more on this debate, I encourage you to watch the Kauffman brothers’ Adaptation, which deals primarily with screenplay writing but ultimately makes the same point.
In any case, my latest assignment was a pleasant breath of fresh air. I was charged with editing a piece that had already passed the initial submission stage. That meant that somebody had already seen the first two chapters, liked them, and asked the author to send the whole manuscript for approval. I now had the final decision (along with one or two others) as to whether or not we published it. I say the piece was a breath of fresh air because it was, technically at least, really quite good. When I had finished editing the first two chapters, there were significantly fewer changes than I was used to making. The author had clearly spent some time and taken some pride in his work, which I both admired and appreciated.
Unfortunately, I think this appreciation masked any criticism I would normally have about the content of the piece. Discussing the manuscript with my boss over Skype the following week, I actually found that she shared some of the reservations I had felt fleetingly whilst reading, but had dismissed as overly critical. It brought nothing new to the genre, rather reusing a tired formula to create a virtual carbon copy of what had gone long before.
Eventually, we decided to reject it, but I learnt a lot along the way. There is no such thing as invalid criticism. The books that eventually end up on the shelves of Waterstone’s are (usually) technically flawless, and reviewers still pan them. If I can find a fault with it, then they sure as hell will.
The Slush Pile 