Farewell to Musa Publishing

Tomorrow marks the end of Musa Publishing. Although I’d had some short fiction in anthologies and on websites, Musa was the first publisher to put my work out as books. Initially I was hesitant because ebooks were a new venture for me, but what won me over was their warmth,  organisation and openness. It wasn’t just a business it was a also a thriving community of authors, sharing tips, support and experience.

The Silent Hills is a 5000 word suspense story and I was surprised when they took it on as a standalone work. In hindsight it may have been due to their generosity of spirit and desire to build a list than for any commercial potential because, although well-received  and reviewed, The Silent Hills failed to really establish an audience.

However, what TSH did do was get me involved in the Musa community. I met authors of genres I’ve never been near – LGBT, Regency Romance and Erotica, to name but three – and found that our similarities as writers are much greater than our differences. Whatever the genre, the requirements of good writing are the same – always have been and always will.

TSH also gave me the confidence to try something different. Next time I wrote Superhero Club, a children’s book for a mid-grade audience. If anything this book was even more of a challenge because it dealt with bullying, food issues and the value of friendship. It was, once again, a story that wrote itself. An added complication for the book was that it was firmly set in the UK, but Musa’s house style was US English.

SC came out about a year after TSH and, again, did not set the publishing world on fire. It could be that the subject matter was too close to home for the target readership. I did contact a variety of youth organisations, but either the timing was wrong or the staff had any pressures and priorities. I mention all this because I recognised (and still do!) that any publisher can only do so much. Every author must play their part in actively marketing their books and the more creative the approach the better.

I didn’t submit another book to Musa. I was thinking about a sequel to SC, but that would have been in the autumn. I didn’t part with any full-length novels because I thought the house style would make edits a nightmare. Editing was always a collaborative experience, so I had some idea of what I might be taking on!

All of which is a way of saying I had less to lose with Musa with my books, but I was fully committed to their cause. It was a virtual place of passion and enterprise with an online infrastructure that’s unmatched by anywhere else I’ve seen. Musa have been responsible for dozens of books and dozens of first-time authors. It’s to the credit of the team that they are ending Musa precisely because they have been unable to run it along commercial lines. In the meantime royalties have always been paid and everyone that I’ve spoken with in the Musa family has felt a genuine sense of loss and admiration for the dream that has now come to an end.

Thank you, Musa, for everything, and good luck to my fellow Musan authors out there.

“Nothing good is a miracle, nothing lovely is a dream.”

 ―  Richard Bach,   Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah

I wrote it my way...

For anyone who has ever submitted a manuscript by post and then waited in vain.

(With apologies to Frank Sinatra.)

And now, the post is here;
And so I face the mail uncertain.
That jiffy bag is mine,
I want to hide behind the curtain.

I sent a full typescript,
I edited, not in a shy way.
And still, I have to say,
I wrote it my way.

Rejects, I’ve had a few,
But then again, which writer hasn’t?
I did what I had to do,
And ploughed on through, it wasn’t pleasant

I planned each chapter well;
My characters along the byway.
But still, I have to say,
I wrote it my way.

Yes, there are some, I’m sure it’s true.
They got their book deals, from who they knew.
A relative who’s in the trade,
One dinner guest and they are made.
But that’s not me, and so you see,
I wrote it my way.

I’ve tried, I’ve done rewrites;
I’ve started new and different projects.
My bottom drawer is full,
Attempted all different subjects.

To think I wrote all that;
And may I say - not in a sly way,
No, oh no not me,
I wrote it my way.

For what is a scribe, what have they got?
If not their dreams, genre and plot?
Create the words they love so well.
Or sometimes crap, in case it sells.
I read the note, lump in my throat,
I wrote it my way.

My lost contract

To any would-be novelist, the sight of a book – your book – on the shelf is surely the Holy Grail of writing. And, like any true grail quest, the path is fraught with challenges, monsters and dead-ends. Here are two of my tales.

My novel Covenant is an unusual beast, a genre crossover that I’ve called Magical Fantasy Fiction. It draws on researched mythic symbolism and mysticism; not your general sword and sorcery epic.

So you can imagine my delight, after years in the wilderness, when a British publisher expressed an interest from my initial approach. After friendly emails they invited me to submit the complete manuscript – a first for me. Even better, they phoned me at home and quizzed me for half an hour about the structure and meanings within my work. It was going so well that I felt sure the 12-week evaluation period would fly by.

Then, like buses, another opportunity came along – a delayed response from an American e-publisher I had all but given up on. They asked to see the whole book too. Lightning had struck twice and I wasn’t in wellies. Positive feedback ensued and, when I’d been advised I was under consideration, I asked for and received a sample contract.

Meantime, in the British camp, my 12 weeks passed without a response. I left a polite telephone message and waited. No response. A week went by. I sent a polite email and ticked off the days. Silence. I then sent a recorded letter indicating that I’d had a favourable interest from another publisher and wondered if, now at week 15, they’d come to any decision. At the very least I’d appreciate an update. All I got back was a sense of disquiet. 

Keen to draw a line under the experience I emailed them again and, reminding them that I’d heard nothing in over 15 weeks and asked for my MS back. An email informed me it was with their editorial office and would be returned to me forthwith – this email made it to my inbox in under 24 hours. I never received an explanation and even with the assistance of the Society of Authors, I could not penetrate the castle.

But hey, there’s still Plan B, right? While waiting for the British publisher to get off the pot, I’d sent the sample US contract to the Society of Authors (I’d recently become a member). A wise investment. So, when the hallowed contract offer did come in, I already had amendments and clause deletions ready to discuss. The editor explained that she was also an author with the firm and she’d made changes to her contract, through the company lawyer, without incident. So, picture the scene; I’m looking at a 3 year e-book deal, for my original 160,000 MS split into two books, with hardcopy publication to follow. My first full vision of the grail!

I emailed the editor back and ask for the lawyer’s email address. No response. A day or so later I email again, explaining that I can’t find the lawyer’s details on the website and asking if she could refer on my comments and changes. Still no response. Now I’m starting to get a little paranoid. A day or so later I email for a third time, asking if I need to airmail my changes over. It’s as quiet as a foam covered pin factory.

A couple of days on from there I receive an email from the executive editor, apologising for contacting me this way and for the news that follows. My editor had died unexpectedly from a heart attack a few days before. Dreadful news from all angles. 

I’m sure you’re ahead of me now. As my contract wasn’t signed and as the only person in the company to see and approve my work is now deceased, I have no contractual relationship with the company. Regrettably I now need to resubmit my novel so that two new editors can evaluate it and make a decision. Oh yeah, and it will probably take several weeks. Fortunately it’s submission by email so that part’s quickly taken care of. I tell myself it’s a minor setback and prepare to bed in for a month or three. My luck starts to change. I get a response in less than three weeks. But my new luck quickly runs out. 

The two new editors do not enjoy Covenant at all (they’re forced by the executive editor to write an explanation). Consequently the contract offer is now null and void. Almost unbelievably I’m invited to submit something new in the future and the exec apologises once more, assuring me it’s not the quality experience they aim to give writers.

And so, like Bors and Percival, I do not attain the grail; I just get enough of a sniff to be able to go home and talk about it. Perhaps it’s all for the best, under the circumstances. In the first case, I did some research on the British firm and I couldn’t find a single book that they’ve published under their own imprint. And in the second case, with the American e-publisher, working with editors who do not appreciate my work doesn’t not sound like a match made in heaven. Imagine all the edits!

So I end my grail quest empty handed; older, wiser and frankly rather jaded. I’m sure not all publishers are charlatans, bullshitters and fantasists. I have to believe that as I set off in search of new publisher. In case you’re wondering, I did research the US company and yes, my editor was real and, tragically, she did die. And, if I’m being really honest - and not a little selfish - a little bit of me died with her.