Phillipa Fioretti

It’s that time of the year again … yes, it’s time to get your manuscript into the QWC/Hachette Manuscript Development Program. The folks at the Queensland Writers Centre asked me, as an alumni, to whip up a few blog posts on the program, my experiences and reflections. And because I am a stalwart supporter of the Queensland Writers Centre, one of the best writers organisation anywhere, I said yes. And because it’s great to see big commercial publishing houses supporting local writers I said yes. So here is my first post, which originally appears on the QWC blog …

Almost five years ago I was selected for inclusion in the 2008 QWC/Hachette Manuscript Development program, along with seven other writers. These past five years have seen enormous changes to the writing/publishing world, and the dust has yet to settle. Five years ago Hachette was Hachette Livre, Kindles had only been released and Parallel Import Restrictions was the scary beast slouching toward Australian publishing.

I signed a two book contract in 2009 with no digital rights clauses. I was told by a publicist that as a fiction author no one would be interested in me, that I should stay out of the way and let them do the necessaries. Which they did, of course. How funny such advice seems now in this era of author platforms and tweeting every inane thought that passes through one’s allegedly fascinating head.

My book, released in 2010, was reviewed in actual newspapers – The Age, The Daily Telegraph, The Courier, The Sydney Morning Herald, and half a dozen paper magazines. I received a nice little advance, good sales, foreign rights sales and I thought, ‘Well, that wasn’t too hard. This publishing business is a bit of a lark!’

And now it is the autumn of 2013.

I look back at that naive and innocent creature with – on a good day- wistfulness. I can allow myself such emotions because I’m not a newspaper journalist, I’m not a bookshop owner who has put hours of work, plus huge chunks of their own soul, into selling books only to see their business struggling toward an uncertain future. I can allow myself to be wistful because I’m not employed in the publishing or printing industry, industries which have never looked greener around the gills than now.

But what did I learn back in 2008 that still stands as fundamental to a writing career, no matter what the state of the industry? I learned that the craft, of course, doesn’t change too much. Telling a good story is the bottom line and it is possible to learn the skills to do this. Then you bring your own Factor X or ‘voice’ to the craft, along with a huge capacity for hard work, dogged determination and whatever pills work best, and bingo, you have a manuscript.

Next, you take it to the roulette table, put your money on a number and hope to get lucky. If the blue moon is waxing and the rivers run dry you are offered a contract. Everybody at the publishing house then works feverishly hard on your manuscript, crosses their fingers, rubs their lucky rabbit’s foot, ritually sacrifices the last publishing assistant to the Gods and sends it out into the world wearing its prettiest dress. Some readers like it, some readers don’t, a few get sold, a lot get pulped and everyone goes home and has a lie down and swears never to do it again.

But what did I really learn?

I learned how rare and rich the experience of discovering somebody loves what you wrote, and not just ‘loves’ it as in ‘I love your work’, but finds a resonance or connection which, if handled gently, can really bear amazing fruit.

I learned how incredibly talented the other seven writers were, how warm their company was over the five days, how much I didn’t know and how thirsty I was to know more. To be with other creatives, talking about what we love, learning, listening and swapping stories, soaking up every drop of knowledge and having the time to go away and reflect on it all … well, I learned just how bloody lucky I was to be there.