To take a slightly lateral approach to this, I feel that sometimes the difficulty we face as writers - in this case, to do with plot and structure - is rooted in a reluctance to change. Possibly more than any art form, a certain degree of skill can be reached in story-telling without any technical knowledge being required. Partly this is because we all practice telling stories from an early age - to our friends, parents, etc; so there is a certain generic acceptance of the basic, untutored, story form. By contrast, you can't get more than a couple of pencil strokes into drawing a picture without it being apparent just how much technique you still need to learn.

Yet this basic, untrained, writing ability can, and often does, take a writer a long way. You can win prizes at school; get an A level; even go on writing courses, and manage to avoid certain hard lessons in areas you're weak at. But, eventually, you'll be found out. Often, this is at the stage of trying to find an agent or publisher. The sudden brick wall of rejection is a huge shock, especially if the raw talent so far has met only with success - school prizes, Mum's enthusiastic support, etc.

So, the question becomes, can I learn and change in the ways I need to, if I want to succeed at this thing that I love to do? Many resist answering this, of course, and instead insist, for example, that technique can't be learned or defined. Which is rather like saying the structure of a suspension bridge can't be defined. Of course it can. Hollywood screenwriters, for example, often define their scripts in fifteen distinct stages, and know exactly what needs to happen at each stage. The anti-technique people throw their hands up at this, aghast at the idea that great art can be so cynically deconstructed. Great art just happens, they like to think. Which could be translated as, I want to be a great artist but I don't want to change.

Even if you don't want to write best-sellers - because you believe in the mystery and magic of stories which are driven by spirit and emotion and insight - you need to learn how to make your stories more effective than instinct alone can manage. It's no accident that the best singers in the world never stop working with voice coaches, who constantly break down the specifics of how best tell a story through song. Ditto the best sports people. Why should writing be any different?

Another part of this problem is, yet again, that when plot/structure is done well, it tends to be invisible, which can lead readers to believe it just happens by magic. I like Leila's point about when you feel all the scenes are pulling towards the same destination. This is when a story has an added-value feel: when, not only is each scene interesting in itself, but you sense it's also adding to every other scene - which is extremely difficult to pull off on instinct alone, and with no awareness of how structure and plot actually work.

Terry

Excellent points, Terry. All the more convincing because, three years ago, I was one of those writers who imagined she didn't need to change/learn. I know better now and, while it's daunting compared with the ignorant bliss of three years ago, I wouldn't swap back for anything. I'm all about the learning, these days.

Tiger

I think that Helen's suit analogy is spot on!

To answer your question, Rosy, the problem with my first novel originated in my failure to identify my target audience early on - total beginner's error. It started off as an offbeat adult curiostiy, then it became a serious adult novel, then I realised that most of the characters were children, so it became a kinda/sorta crossover novel...and by the time an agent said "I'd absolutely love this if it were strictly for children" I realised that the structure - which was quite a complex, three-way parallel narrative spanning three continents and five centuries - was all wrong.

One publisher said that they'd take it if I split it into a series of three stories, and I refused: in my mind, the book was all about moving back and forth, the connections between the characters from these vastly different time periods.

I'm sure that if I came up with a completely different connecting strand - ie. entirely new motivations for each character, a completely new impetus to justify them all coming together - it would be just possible to salvage the book. Thing is, I've grown so much as a writer since then, that I'd rather use what I learnt from it to create something new from the ground up. I've managed to salvage bits of the best writing from this first book, and have reused certain characters and themes in subsequent projects, so the writing itself wasn't completely wasted. But I've concluded that the three-way parallel narrative will need to stew in a drawer for a loooong time before the complexity of that particular structure can justify itself in terms of that particular story. It may never happen, so in the meantime I've moved on.

My, very limited, experience is that every single change my editor (at the agents who haven't yet taken me on!)has asked for has improved my book. Even the ones I kicked and screamed about (in private). They were right and I was wrong, every time. They just know more than me about the job. They are professionals with experience and I, currently, am an amateur. I think it's very helpful to have these 'problems' pointed out!

And they're obviously interested in you!

Thanks, pachelbel, I hope so. I'm finding it interesting just how many writers are being (or have been) quietly nurtured along the path by editors/agents in this way, all before any contract is signed. It's a process I never knew went on. How widely known is it, do we think, that a "rejection" from an agent that includes recommendations for editing may actually be the first step towards an acceptance? Before all this, I always assumed a rejection - no matter how nice - was a rejection and that you should strike that agent from the list and move on. Obviously, form rejections fall into this category, but when the agent has bothered to write a page(or a page and a half) of reasons why it's a rejection - was it only me who didn't previously think this might mean they wanted me to open negotations for editing/re-submitting? Even when there was no obvious invitation to do that, in the rejection letter??

Tiger

My first letter from the agents I'm dealing with now (on fifth version of MS) was a rejection! But with comments and with an invitation to send them my next book. I used the comments, changed the MS and sent it back! Only after the third version was I actually 'invited' to send it back.

Like you, I didn't know this went on but, when I reread the bumpf on their website, it actually clearly says that this is what they do: hone stuff until it's publication perfect before they take it on!

Nowadays it's incredibly rare for agents to spend as much time "nurturing" a new writer as they used to. Times were, there were even editors who did this (ie. took on a new author who wasn't quite ready for publication but would be groomed for it). The agent who spent the better part of a year working with me, unsigned, is the only one of her kind that I've come across so far (I've probably received standard and not-so-standard rejections from around 20 others). The prevailing wisdom now seems to be that most of these guys only have time to take on a polished product - which is why you're in a very fortunate position

Thanks, MF, I do feel very fortunate and hope I can make the most of this rare opportunity and not cock it up! With all the good advice I've been getting here, I'm sure I'll at least manage to ask intelligent questions and - most importantly - listen.

Tiger

Hi t_b, This is a great opportunity, as others have said. It's similar to how I was taken on by my current agent. He offered to meet me to talk about his reservations about the script in question, in the meantime I did some hard thinking and came to an independent conclusion about it. When we met, I told him what I had been thinking and he said that he thought it sounded just what the thing needed. I did the work, sent it back to him and he took me on. The less than happy ending is that, though he personally believed in the book in question, he was unable to persuade any publishers of its merits! I felt that I had done all I could on that particular book and moved on.

No writing we ever do is wasted. We learn from it all. So even if you do decide, or are forced, to put this one on one side, the next one will be better. It's a slow process. Although for many years I never had anything to show for my writing, in terms of getting a book published, I always felt that I was learning and improving. That I was getting somewhere, in other words.

One big breakthrough for me was actually deciding to work on my plots and storylines until I knew exactly what had to happen in every chapter. Until then, I had plotted things quite vaguely. I'd had ideas, and a place I wanted to get, and dived off with the hope that I would get there. Of course, I'm writing crime now, and for me that makes this planning thing essential. Other writers do it differently, I know.

Tiger, this is such a great chance. I haven't had a chance to read the whole thread so I may be repeating someone else, but I did just want to hop in and say that though it's a great chance, do bear in mind that though editors/agents/tutors etc. etc. are often right about what's not working (indeed, by definition they're right about what's not working for them), my experience is that they're not always right about what to do about it: it depends on how closely their reading of the book is aligned to yours.

So you may find that your listening needs to be directed at getting as clear an idea of their reaction as possible, rather than their solutions, so that you can then go away and find your own solution. I know that when I'm having this kind of conversation, the most fruitful thing they can do is say, 'I didn't think the X scene worked - it has to be so full of all those complicated travel details,' and then not 'Why don't you do Y instead?' but 'What were you trying to do?' and then I start gabbing about why the scene's there, and in returning the basic function of the scene, I start to see better ways of fulfilling the same function, or of doing something different which is just as interesting, or whatever.

Very best of luck, anyway. This is such an exciting opportunity.

Emma

Thanks, Roger, that's good to know. Did you find the transition to writing crime tough or easy? I've always felt plotting to be my weakest skill, which is why I hesitated for a long long time before trying my hand at this genre, but I'm slowly getting hooked, seeing such possibilities in it to write what I really want to write, what I feel matters, that I'm hoping I can overcome the issues, if not in this ms then the next, and make the necessary progress.

Thanks again for sharing your experience and advice.

Tiger

Thanks, Emma, yes I agree. I have a fairly firm idea of what I'm trying to achieve with this story - and where exactly it falls within the crime spectrum - so I need to find out if that's anywhere remotely close to where the agent sees it. Listening is going to be key, on both sides, I think. But it is a great ooportunity.

Tiger

Hi tiger, I was very wary about attempting a genre book of any kind, because I feel the challenges are a lot greater than people often assume. I don't want to get into an argument about genre versus literary. I have no particular beef or agenda there. But in general, if I could stick my neck out, I would say that literary fiction, by definition almost, allows anything to happen, in any way possible, provided the writer can make it work. There may be rules that we can draw up about what makes something work, but in general the writer is in command, and the pleasure for the reader is encountering that writer's mind, voice, imagination - the surprise and delight of a wholly *unexpected* approach to the task of storytelling... Something like that anyhow. With crime fiction, and possibly all genre fiction, there are very clear expectations that the reader has and the writer has to be mindful, if not respectful, of those expectations.

I put off attempting any kind of genre fiction for years and years because, to be honest, I didn't think I would be up to it, and I thought it would reveal my limitations as a writer. Then I realised that I wanted to take on the challenge. Crime was the genre I was most attracted to, historical crime in particular. I also had the idea of resurrecting Porfiry Petrovich from Crime and Punishment, so the time seemed to be right. But I was very nervous. I still am really. My main worry has been that the true crime fiction fans will see through my plotting! Because I was worried about this, I spent a long time working on the plot, constantly trying to identify and tie up any loose ends or plug the gaping holes.

Thanks for that candid insight, Roger. I think your books fall into a very well-defined category of Literary Crime. Not all genres have Literary prefixes, but crime definitely does. I've read very broadly in the genre recently, and I know just what you mean. I fear the Plot Monster, too. But I really want to tackle it, develop that skills set. Of the many many crime novels I read over the last 18 months, by the way, I can honestly say I only found one writer I really like. Jonathan Kellerman, who writes character-driven, psychological crime. That's the sort of crime I'd like to master. Nothing like aiming high!

Tiger

I'm so fascinated by this, Tiger and Roger, because I'm waiting for crime to claim me, as it were: detective fiction and thrillers are my genre reading of choice, and yet so far if I had to label myself I'd say I've written historical literary romance. I wrote four novels before history claimed me, but it's never let go, so maybe the same will happen with crime (though I too find plotting very daunting, which is maybe part of my resistance - it's reassuring to know that even someone who plots as well as you do, Roger, finds it daunting too)

Emma