Feedback Deciphered

By any other name...

For those who think sequentially, feel free to consider this post a direct descendant of something I put on Strictly Writing, not so long ago, just for fun.

Rejection can be a bitter pill to take, not least because it isn't always clear what to do next. Oh, sure, you can dive into the Handbook or the Yearbook, but have you ever received a note back from an agent or publisher and wondered exactly what they're trying to say?

Grab a comforting drink and find yourself a comfy space - it's time to break the code...

1. Not one for me this time (because hell hasn't frozen over and we want to stay solvent).

2. Your work shows great promise, however. (Many of the words are spelt correctly and appear in the right order. Well done, you.)

3. Unfortunately I'm unable to give you any feedback (because it's difficult to laugh this much and type at the same time).

4. Our schedule is full for the next year (with real books). (And the year after that I'll do whatever it takes...)

5. However, I'd be interested in seeing your next book. (Go away for a year or so and try to forget about me.)

6. We have a special scheme for new authors. (Do you have any money? We could really use a sponsor.)

7. It's an unusual premise. (Your ideas scare me, or confuse me, or revolt me.)

8. Unfortunately we've recently taken on something similar (only with better ideas and better execution).

9. After careful consideration...(we let the intern decide).

10. It still needs some work. (You've cut corners and it shows.)

11. I hope you won't feel too disappointed by this letter. (I have no concept of how important this is to you.)

12. I wish you every success in finding the right agent or publisher. (Next!)

13. The story failed to come alive on the page. (I want magical pages that sing and dance.)

14. There was insufficient narrative tension and the characterisation wasn't fully realised. (I have an MA and you can't disprove my opinions.)

15. It's not our policy to reconsider previously rejected material. (You again? You may be desperate, but we're not.)

16. This is only my opinion and you may find another agent or publisher who sees your book differently. (I didn't like it - end of story. Someone else might dislike it less.)

About the author
Derek Thompson is a humorist and purveyor of words. Some people mistake that for being an embittered cynic, which is a shame. Especially if they are potential clients. However, if his brand of wit doesn't put you off and you need a writer, drop him a line - he wants to buy more shiny things.

Then there was music...

Hello? Police? I want to report a crime against music...

So, the story of the band...

I'm guessing most people start a band because they want to be cool or they want the chicks (or guys) or, best of all, because they idolise a band so much that they learn to play an instrument. I wanted a band so that I could hear what my songs sounded like outside of my head for a change. For my two schoolfriends - let's call them Ringo and Paul, for the purposes of satire - it was a combination of cool and chicks.

First off, we needed a name. That was easy - Bad Timing. More than a band name, it summed up my angst-ridden adolescence at the time!

We had one song to rehearse, Coffin Nails, and I had a notebook of lyrics (many of which still survive) to follow. Somehow I found rehearsal rooms only a bus ride away. I still had my Casio VL-1 (I'd eventually graduate to a Yamaha CS-01 Micro Mono-synth - and by graduate, I mean that I'd buy one - not learn to play it properly).

On the big day we arrived at the railway arches, paid at the desk and went inside. It was like entering another world. The walls seemed to hum with the distant throbbing of other bands making music. The atmosphere reeked of sweat and ozone and leather jackets. 

"Room six - door's open," the musico at the desk told us, pausing to sneer like a rock star. Either that or he had a naturally sneery face. Or he thought my Casio VL-1 wasn't harsh enough. Or all three.

Room six was an Aladdin's Cave, with instruments. As promised, there was a keyboard, microphones and a drumkit. Brilliant. I handed out lyrics sheets (they'd forgotten to bring copies, much as I'd anticipated) and attempted to explain how the song went. Which is no easy thing when you can't write music or play to any discernible degree. 

There was but one rule: no swearing. I intended to record the session. The plan was to nail Coffin Nails, if you see what I mean, and then go through my notebook to see which songs worked for us. I could also tweak the lyrics if need be. I hoped it would transform my writing ability. 

We set up and our vocalist (John, remember?) approached the mic. He tried testing one, two, three, blushed scarlet and then declared sheepishly that he couldn't sing. Not because of a lack of talent - we never got that far to form an opinion. He meant that he was too self-conscious to sing. Not a brilliant trait in a lead vocalist and something I'd have thought he would have encountered before.

So, singer and drummer swapped places - John on drums and Ringo now on lead vocals. Which actually wasn't that bad because the drummer couldn't really play either. And, let's not forget, my rudimentary keyboard skills were unlikely to give Richard Clayderman or Jeff Lynne a run for their money.

And so we began. After an hour of hammering Coffin Nails to death, pardon the pun, we took a break. Machine coffee and chocolate bars in hand, we checked out the grafitti strewn across every inch of wall and ceiling, and John added our name. A 'real' band next door, who sounded like a punk version of Pink Floyd (Punk Floyd?) reignited our enthusiasm.

"Let's do this!" someone might have said.

I returned to the large keyboard in situ - the one with a few dead keys, and struck up what had become the opening chords.

"Okay guys, one run through and then we'll get a perfect take. And then we'll move on."

We were mid song and I was thinking about how great this all was, and wondering why the rooms were so affordable, when a train passed overhead. I say overhead, but it sounded like it was about to come through the walls. It was an immersive locomotive experience. I think the lights dimmed too. Rock and rolling stock, as you might say.

Back to the grind. There was too much laughing and joking around, so we took a quick break. I came back from the loo to find our vocalist-turned-drummer lighting up a joint - for his nerves - and slumping in the corner. Clearly, he'd started the rock and roll life early.

As if to balance the mood, I started ranting. If someone is mellow there is no point ranting, but that wasn't going to stop me.

Somehow we made it through to the end of a three-hour session, with our friendship and my aspirations intact. We had one song on tape. The same song. Over and over in a variety of hideous takes. It turned out that making music was harder than I thought.

I still had hope though. Along with a clutch of other songs that I was determined to get on tape come hell or high water. We made plans to return in a couple of weeks, and retured to the pub. Where our drummer turned vocalist (Ringo, not John) reclaimed his drumsticks and posed them out of his back pocket at the bar, in case any passing groupie was looking for a musician to worship.

I made copies of the tape for each of them and gave them another copy of the lyric sheet to learn. Three weeks on, when no one had bothered (yes, of course I tested them - I was and am that fixated), I gave them an ultimatum. Which of course they ignored. And thus ended Bad Timing.

There was an aftermath, of sorts. We were offered a gig at a pub in Hackney, but that's another story. And I went on to write more lyrics - some of them passable and some merely dire. I sent material off to Safari Records, for Toyah Wilcox to consider, and they sent it back. I joined the International Songwriters Association and bought tapes of drum tracks. I bought a Yamaha CS-01, like I said, and I once (literally, once) rehearsed with a real musician playing background keyboards for him to tweak his own songs. In a sense it was a teeny tiny rock & roll story of a dream that, unnurtured, died. But it was never forgotten. I'm pleased to say that the music world struggled on without me. 

Bang Bang Bang Bang

Another nail in your coffin.

Bang Bang Bang Bang

Not long to go.

Bang Bang Bang Bang

Gone too far for stopping

But just remember,

It's the way you chose.

Guest spot - Ben Hatch - ARE WE NEARLY THERE YET?

I know what you're thinking - don't tell me Derek's ranting on again about trying to get one of his novels published. You can relax - that rant is coming, but it's for another time. Today, my blog guest is writer and humorist Ben Hatch. Comments in blue are mine.

1. When did you first realise you were writing a book like this?

I am very slow-witted really. Incredibly thick. It wasn't actually my idea to write a book about our trip. Basically I’d been commissioned to write a guidebook for an American publisher called Frommers. I’d never written one before. My background was in novels. The impulse to tell a story was difficult to shake though. There was so much that had happened to us during the five months we were on the road - physically and emotionally - I kept trying to crowbar it into the guidebook. I’d be reviewing Lincoln Castle say as a family friendly attraction and suddenly I'd slip in a reference to my having a kidney stone diagnosed the week before. Basically I wanted to write this unique guidebook that could be read also as a sort of travelogue. I had this fantasy that people wouldn't just use it as a guidebook but would read it from cover to cover as a story as well. Of course nobody would have done and my editor quite rightly cut out a lot of the personal stories. It was a bit heartbreaking and he didn't like doing this either because he liked the personal bits too. So in the end, after firing me from writing guidebooks (he did it very nicely) he put me on touch with my current editor at Summersdale. She liked the idea of a travelogue/memoir about our 8000 mile journey round Britain. So that’s how it came about.

2. Did you experience any difficulties with writing something so personal?

Yes. There was a terrible moment just before I handed it over to my editor. I couldn’t sleep the night before. In a way, throughout writing the book, I’d sort of seen myself as a character, someone apart from me. That had allowed me to be completely honest about my feelings about my dad who is sick during the course of the book and about what had happened to us; all the trails and tribulations. But that night I woke up in this terrible cold sweat about it. I’d never written non-fiction before and I was very worried because it was about my family and I. I’d given so much away. I had no idea what people would make of us all, and of me. They might hate us, or think I was a complete arsehole.

3. Describe your book for us if you would.

Tim Brooke-Taylor described it as “Outnumbered on wheels.” Although a lovely twitter follower summed it up better than I ever could. It's a memoir, disguised as a travelogue that reads like a novel. The book’s about an 8000 mile road-trip round Britain that I went on with my family. Our kids were 1 and 4 at the time and the title has a double meaning – it’s what they say all the time, but it’s also a statement about like in general. Basically it’s a book about being in a family. Being a kid in a family and being a parent in a family. Hopefully it's moving but also funny. The book’s available in Waterstones, on Amazon, and on Kindle for £1.99. 

4. Are you affected by negative reviews?

No, not really. I don’t think too much about it. Not at all, no. It is a little upsetting to get a bad review, of course, especially from someone you admire or respect. I’ve been very lucky not to get too many bad ones. When you do, which is inevitable, it helps to imagine the person who’s written it is either a bitter, jealous rival or someone with warped and malign hang ups that have made them incapable of seeing the true worth of your writing. Perhaps they might even be classed as mentally ill. I also secretly hope that one day those who give me bad reviews, having been magically restored and righted as human beings by some religious miracle or touch of love, suddenly become hugely regretful for what they’ve done. They might then track me down, and humbly apologise in tears for having been so crass and disturbed. They could give me gifts. Presents. Cheese hampers. Crackers in tins, and wine. Like I say, I don’t think about it that much

5. Do you plan to write more directly autobiographical material?

Yes, I am working on a sequel to the next book called Road to Rouen. It’s about a 10,000 road-trip around France. Let’s just say there are quite a few tortoises in France.

6. What are your social tips for writers?

Social media tips or social tips? (Curse my typing skills!)

My social tips would mainly be to be pleasant wherever possible, try and bathe every now and again, don’t be late for appointments and if you’re meeting literary types wear a lot of bottle green and sleeves with leather patches.* Social media tips? Who knows! Facebook people, get on twitter, start up a blog. If you’re on twitter try not to boast too much about your book. Some writers go on and on about their books with links to Amazon etc. It’s very boring for others. I, of course, almost never do this as anyone who follows me on twitter knows. Right, guys!

(I first 'met' Ben on Twitter and I can vouch for his painful shyness. His handle is @BenHatch )

7. Are there any books or writers that have had a profound impact upon you?

Lots of books. Mainly Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger. Growing up, I wanted to be Holden Caulfield so much. It was the book that made me want to become a writer. Other books that have influenced me: Adrian Mole (genius), Lucky Jim, Billy Liar, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Everything by Bret Easton Ellis, Douglas Coupland. Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, Patrick Hamilton, Dave Eggers, Anne Tyler, Barbara Trapido. I’m also a big fan of Geoff Dyer and Richard Yates.

8. Is there anything you dislike about being a writer?

Lots of things. In particular the looks you get in the early days when you tell your friends you've given up your job to write a book. It’s like telling someone you've quit a promising career to try and turn mature cheddar** into gold. Also I am quite a sociable person, but being a writer is largely anti-social which is why twitter is so great. It’s like having an office where you can chat to people by the coffee machine, only you have an incredibly frightening boss who’ll only allow you to do this in very short sentences of 140 characters.

9. Are there any questions you did not want to be asked?

I'm very glad you didn’t ask me about that embarrassing incident involving the toothbrush in the book that I included at the last minute when my editor wasn’t looking and which still causes me lots of problems with relatives who can’t understand, WHAT I THOUGHT I WAS DOING.

Many thanks for the interview Derek. It’s been fun!

* So that's where I've been going wrong! 

** Second cheese reference. Just thought I'd mention it.