In less than a fortnight, I will complete my first year of focussing professionally on writing. Shortly, I hope to send my novel off to seek representation, so my days are currently filled with stalking literary agents on social media and agonising over condensing a 108,186 word book into a two page synopsis. Since completing the first draft, it has been both pruned and expanded, words have been slashed and detail added, until, in the words of my surprised mother, it reads like an actual book.
I do feel a huge sense of achievement for completing it; whatever happens now, I have written a novel. I’m also distracted with excitement about the next instalment – yes, I’m already losing myself in book two; I just couldn’t wait. But I’m also consumed with terror about sending it off for professional consideration. Even whilst seeking clients, agents seem universally determined to prepare writers for a slew of rejections, which is far from comforting. I’m hoping to find a well of gritty determination to draw on; it seems weirdly taboo to confess that rejection is unpleasant, rather than merely character-building, but I’m comfortable to admit it’s not really something I look forward to. Nonetheless, as the anniversary approaches, the main thing I have learned this year is that I love being a writer. And that is what will give me the motivation to keep plugging away; I’ve finally found what I want to be when I grow up!
Louise Austin 