On the road to publication – my journey

Where do I do I start – when I first started penning this story or when I started dreaming of getting published? I don’t think I can type fast enough or have enough time to go back there, but all I can tell you is that this has been a long, lonely and very expensive journey for me. And it has not finished as yet.

As I am nearer to the end of that road- the one to publication of Force Ripe, I feel I can now share a bit of that journey with you- where it has taken me, who I have met along the way and where I am now.

When I completed the first draft of this book, I christened it Celestial Shades. I chose this name because of the many evenings I spent sitting on our veranda with my mammy and papa, watching the sun gown and the brilliant shades of every colour you can imagine, painted in the clouds. I wrote with no experience, no guidance, except for that burning need and that voice which kept jooking me to write this story.

I started writing what came to me in my journal, as it came to me. Then I took a basic computer class, and started my two finger- attack on the keyboard. I tried to impress, using the thesaurus with maximum regularity, in search of words I didn’t even understand myself. I wrote the way I though it should be written. And when I finished the first draft, I felt so pleased with myself for this huge accomplishment, I printed my hundred and something pages and made a journey to The Bench, to see my friend Marcelle Toussaint and entrusted her with my baby. Then I proceeded to look for a publisher. I googled Caribbean publishers and clicked on Ian Randle publishing, in Jamaica. I printed two copies, copyrighted one by registering it and mailing it to myself and mailed the other, to Mr Randle. Well to cut this very long story short, Mr Randle gave me some very helpful comments and by the time I heard from him, I knew exactly what he meant by going “back to the drawing board”.

And that’s exactly what I had to do because in 2005 (well I told you this has been long in the making) a house fire melted my computer to a heap of plastic and though I had a copy on a CD, I lost all my revisions! So back it was really back to the drawing board for me. And that was when I decided to take my first writing course and a few followed. But the rest is most definitely not history. I have learnt so much and I am still learning lessons- self teaching, creeping, stumbling, falling and pulling myself up again, discovering, developing and spending.

It’s very ironic, how I started spending at same time I signed up with a publisher! But that piece of history I rather not go into (in case it is used against me in the court of law). In fact I have already been threatened with a law suit. But back to the spending- I paid for the book jacket design (done by a Grenadian) the first few hundred dollars dent in my savings, a trip to the UK for proposed editing purposes, with promise of reimbursement (hubby paid, no reimbursement received). Lessons learned, especially the one that says everything with time, so I remained patient. But is one lesson I did not learn, because I kept paying. Because as a writer, especially a first time inexperienced one, who wants to fulfil that goal of being read, seeing your work on the shelves of book stores. Ursula K Le Guin said, “The unread story is not a story. It is little black marks on a wood pulp. The reader reading it makes it live; a live thing, a story.” And so one is prepared to do almost anything it take, make big sacrifices. Well I did.

The submitting and getting rejected came next. But I can’t boast of any JK Rolling experience, because I only submitted to a handful of select publishers and literary agencies, Peepal Tree being one of them, after very regular recommendations. But the next sacrifice was almost an entire month’s salary (in pounds sterling) to Conerstones Litarary Agency to have my work read, assessed and a written report. I must say that this report was very thorough and very helpful with the subsequent revisions.
Yet even after several revisions, long breaks and life happening in between, that niggling doubt that my writing was not good enough still remained. So against my principles and common sense I paid a creative writing teacher more than I even made in a month- even after working every extra hour I can grab- to have my work assessed once again, help me improve my manuscript. And a trip I will never forget.

This editor did not do written reports, so it took a trip to London, getting lost on my drive to Peterborough train station, (luckily my son was with me for company) almost missing my train to Kings Cross, six hours, at Waterloo Station, going through the manuscript and taking notes. Then, emotionally drained and head full to the brim with more doubts than ever, that I would ever get this manuscript right; I somehow managed to make my way from Waterloo Station to Peterborough station without too much hassle. But my drive from the train station to Morton, the little village where I lived, was a very stressful and tense one.
I was alone. It was dark. And I had never driven that route in darkness before. That thirty five minutes drive took all my concentration, focus, keeping my eyes on the busy dual carriage way, reading road signs, counting the exits- careful not to take the wrong one, like I once did when one wrong turn pelted this little small island, country girl into a four-lane dual carriage way with traffic zooming pass me at lightning speed!! So I focused on the road. I even had to switch off the radio. And listening Heart FM in the car was one of my special treats, something that relaxed me. But no radio could relax me that night! With iron grip on the steering wheel, my foot of the ex, and I held all the anxieties of getting lost, the writing stuff, the challenges of revising, all the doubts about me thinking I was a writer and could actually publish a book, I tensed up in my neck. So by the time I pulled up safely in front of #5 Primrose Close, I could barely turn my head. My neck was locked stiff! I had never been more thankful for a safe journey home.

Later that night, I eased into bed, although it was warm under the duvet, I felt cold with a little bit of anger as I looked at hubby, nice and cosy in bed, while I was stressing!
But the spending did not stop there. Because after several phases of revisions, I felt confident and brave enough to employ the use of the Creole language, inject some pure dialect into my text, for authenticity. But another few hundred pounds later, I was back to square one, because of my lack of confidence in myself as a writer.
And I could go on, because it still did not stop there. Especially since I took the decision to self publish! But that is Part II, for another blog. And am sure get the picture, right. And you will understand why I will not be able to give away, for free, several years of hard work, investments and sacrifices.

And of course I want to be best seller, reach an international market, but if Force Ripe is able to reach just the local audience and our Caribbean Diaspora, that would fulfil one of my goals.