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One year (and thirty-five rejections) on from my first experience of querying, here I am again. The last time it was a middle-grade fantasy, this time it’s a psychological thriller. How are things different this time around?

Firstly, this is my go-to genre as a reader. In an airport bookshop (or any bookshop), thrillers are the titles that leap out at me screaming ‘READ ME NOW!’ I don’t read middle-grade fantasy – and this fact was always a bit of a dampner when it came to doing agent research for my first book. If I’m completely honest with myself, that novel was the eight-year-old girl in me writing a story that she would have wanted to read herself. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that – after all, surely all writers are writing stories they’d want to read themselves?! But with my fantasy, that’s all it was. It’s where my eight-year-old heart used to be, it’s not where my heart is now.

Now, my heart lies firmly with adult mysteries, preferably involving complex twists, multiple POVs and some seriously complex psychological issues. Researching authors and agents has been an absolute pleasure as I’ve devoured title after title, trying to work out what each author has done and how they’ve achieved it … analysing hooks and premises, twists and cliffhangers, characters and motivations, voice and description.

Another difference is that I’ve got two more online writing courses under my belt, and a very encouraging manuscript assessment from Faber Academy that gave me lots of food for thought, and edits I could make to strengthen the novel. I made those edits immediately, bringing me to a complete and polished draft number six of my novel. And so back to the ‘querying trenches’ as they say.

I know I’m more invested this time, because a day before I sent off my first batch of six queries, I couldn’t even imagine pressing that ‘send’ button. How would I ever have read and reread and checked a double-checked the chapters, synopsis and cover letter enough times? My heart pounded just thinking about it. I pored over my cover letter so many times that I even began doubting the spelling of my own name, let alone the agents’. Like when you say a word over and over so many times it begins to lose its meaning and becomes an alien sound in your ear. That’s when I knew I just had to hit ‘send’. I’d done all the hard work, I’d crossed all the t’s and dotted all the i’s and now I just needed to let go.

One week on and I’m one rejection down, and desperately trying not to refresh my emails every thirty seconds. But this time I’m clinging to the fact that I know the genre I’m writing in backwards and inside out, and I know the hook and appeal of my book. This doesn’t mean an agent is going to like it (and certainly not enough to offer representation) … but it makes me feel better prepared.

I’m also taking heart from the fact that this first rejection asked me to send any future book to them, because ‘we loved your writing.’ So I’m interpreting that as a good sign (and really hoping that’s not just their form rejection), and keeping everything crossed for the queries still out there. And if they all turn into rejections, I suppose I’ll crack on with the next batch of queries, and make a start on book number three …

When do you write? Where do you write? Do you listen to music whilst you write, or does it have to be completely silent?

I see these questions frequently when I read writing magazines, books and blogs. My mum gave me a book last Christmas: The Art of Writing Fiction, by Andrew Cowan. There’s a fascinating section called ‘Writers’ routines’, which lists how, when and where certain famous writers liked to reach their daily word count. For example, Barbara Cartland dictated her novels to her secretary whilst reclining on a chaise longue. Novelist and biographer Margaret Forster only wrote until lunchtime, and always with a fountain pen. Ernest Hemingway wrote standing at a lecturn, often naked. He would use a pencil, and only sat down when typing dialogue.

But it’s not only famous writers who have rules and routines. I constantly read of writers saying ‘I like to write first thing in the morning until lunchtime,’ or ‘I have a special writing playlist that I listen to whilst I write, and I do that between 4 and 7pm.’ I understand the logic and comfort of this. Writing can seem a lonely and aimless pursuit when you don’t have an agent or editor setting deadlines or asking for corrections. I say ‘lonely and aimless’ when I actually mean ‘peaceful and liberating.’ But still, the need for self-motivation is huge, and routines and rituals help to provide structure and comfort.

I, however, have no such routines or rituals. And this isn’t out of choice – it’s because I’m a full-time mum with a part-time job. Since Covid, I don’t travel to an office for my one working day a week, but sneak in my work hours around nap-times, school-runs and episodes of Peppa Pig. And my writing gets the same treatment – it’s a thousand stolen moments where I’ve learnt I might get to write half a chapter, but more likely it’ll be fifty words. Often its nothing. So I read these wonderful, luxurious accounts of writers choosing when they get to sit down and create, and I think ‘one day, Ruth, all this will be yours.’ Perhaps not the writing naked or dictating to a secretary bit, but the uninterrupted time bit.

I’ve had a taste of this – my toddler recently started nursery three mornings a week, and in those glorious, silent two-and-a-half-hour stretches I can sometimes finish my paid work, and then get some writing done. It’s the beginning of a routine that I hope will grow and flourish, perhaps when my second child is in school and I can think about upping both work and writing. Or (dream of dreams), combine the two.

So I did it. Eight years after starting my middle-grade novel, I finally finished it and tapped that last full-stop button with a ceremonious flourish. Then I made a cup of tea, sat back down, and began ruthlessly hacking away at my manuscript for weeks on end until it made sense. I killed off my protagonist’s father, changed several characters names (too many of them began with ‘G’), sent a wet-lettuce character home instead of keeping him on the quest, and added a cat.

I’d been doing an online course with the Writers Bureau so I paid my tutor to critique my entire book, and then sent my submission package off to The Literary Consultancy for appraisal. Both these things brought useful editing suggestions, so I went back and polished some more. This was a pleasure because I’d also received encouraging feedback from both parties. My tutor actually wrote the heart-skipping words ‘I’ve no doubt you will find a publisher.’

So after I’d merrily skipped my way through my last round of edits, and when I’d reached the stage where I was only deleting and re-inserting commas (a sure sign you’ve polished enough, surely?) I decided it was time to (take a deep breath) … query.

That was eleven months ago and I’ve been enjoying a steady stream of rejections ever since. I still get that immediate stomach-drop when I see an agent’s name in my inbox (or sometimes my junk mail, which I check almost as frequently). I used to try to allow myself a couple of seconds of pause, just to imagine what possibilities might lie within the message, and how it would feel to read the words ‘I’d like to read your full manuscript.’ Then I’d try to make myself read the email slowly, so that the hope lingered within the words, letting me down gradually rather than slapping me in the face and running away.

But after the first few emails I found myself clicking straight into the message and scanning the whole thing, quickly picking out the words ‘thank you … not quite right … wish you the best …’ and putting myself out of my misery as quickly as possible. I realised that it’s easier to dampen the adrenalin before it’s had a chance to rise to epic levels … then you don’t feel too sick on the descent.

I have to admit though – for all the emotions, nerves, heart-pounding, nail-biting and waves of nausea that querying brings out … there’s something I find addictively satisfying about it. It’s similar to knowing you’ve got short story submissions out there for competitions, and waiting to have some good news ping into your inbox. I know it’s usually bad news, but I also know that once in a blue moon it’s good – and that those ‘blue moon moments’ make all the bad ones worthwhile.

I don’t know whether years of dragging myself to auditions as an actor and musician have hardened me to this process, but I just don’t seem to take rejection very seriously. Perhaps this is because I’m still at the beginning of my writing life, and I’ve only had one book rejected so I’m really just cutting my teeth. But I’m just about to start editing my second novel, and I’m really excited about getting on that querying roller-coaster ride again.
So maybe I’ll update these breezy, hopeful sentiments in six months time, when I’m crying into my inbox as the seventeenth rejection pings through. But in the meantime, buckle up, it’s going to be another bumpy ride on the blue moon express!

I started writing in earnest in 2019 after my second daughter was born, my previous writings being limited to several picture books written when I was seven, nineteen years’ worth of diary entries, and half a middle-grade novel. But whilst attempting to finish my novel I got bitten by the writing bug, and experienced the kind of ‘get me home now I need to write’ feeling that I’d only ever felt before when learning a new musical instrument.

Two years later and I decided it was time I started a blog. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m feeling my way. I don’t have a plan as to how it should look or what it should say, but I’m excited to begin!