Bottom Drawer 'Open House'

On writing (and shelving) a not-quite-there novel

It’s Thursday after lunch and it’s been a busy day. School holidays are still in play, and today, I’m questioning some of my choices. Specifically, I’m wondering why I reserved Thursdays AFTER lunch for this newsletter? The time slot has ‘siesta’ written all over it.

But here we are, so on we go. And since we’re still getting to know each other, I thought I’d pull open my bottom drawer and show you around.

Writers often have manuscripts they’ve shelved or filed or put away en route to the eventual publication of something else. In my case, there are short stories I gave up on, lyrics I will never sing, and plenty of openings that fizzled out before they took hold. And then there’s this manuscript that never found its way into the light.

If this picture looks familiar, it’s because I shared it on Instagram back in September 2022, just before ‘The Ghost of Gracie Flynn’ came out. I shared it then because when debut novels hit the stage, their misfit predecessors usually stay in the wings, and I didn’t want that for ‘As Though Floating’. I wanted to give a little love to this apprenticeship work, in all its problematic glory.

I wrote As Though Floating as part of my Creative Writing PhD, which I completed in 2014, after eight long years. During those years, I had my two kids, built a house, moved twice, travelled overseas for conferences and family catch-ups, and taught at the uni where I was studying. It was a hectic time, so I was thrilled when the writing was done. As thrilled as you can be when you’re shattered and limping across the finish line.

Weirdly, I didn’t have publication in mind while I was writing ATF—my only goal was to finish and flee. But after a some months had passed, I started thinking about the possibility. I pitched the book to a panel of publishers at a festival, and two of them wanted to see it. I was elated!

Quick plot summary: There’s this Australian understudy living in London, and she can never seem to land a lead role on a West End stage. Meanwhile, she’s nursing an obsession with a former boyfriend, who has the opposite problem. He’s now a famous Hollywood actor, resenting fame and dodging paparazzi stalkers. When he’s found dead in his bath back home in Australia, our protagonist is devastated, so she flies home for his funeral. There, she’s forced to face her role in the breakup, and the best friend she betrayed. She also confronts the father who abandoned her, learns the truth about her old flame, and has a brush with the kind of fame that brought him undone.

I submitted, and then I waited.

Months passed. I agonised, nudged, waited, and waited some more.

Eventually, both publishers declined. Of course, I kept trying. I entered ATF in some competitions, approached some agents, and slid it into some slush piles.

Again, I waited. Again: no thanks.

The rejections were crushing, but they showed me what I was up against. Before that litany of ‘thank you’s and ‘unfortunately’s, I’d simply had no idea how many other people were out there writing full-length manuscripts, many of which were brilliant. Somehow I’d imagined much better odds; a mountain so hard to climb surely couldn’t have that many people standing at the top, could it? Ha!

Photo by Jonathan Bell on Unsplash

In the end, I told myself I could walk away from ATF if I could craft one publishable short story out of it. I wanted something to show for those eight long years. So I took my favourite subplot and crafted it into a much smaller work, which to my relief was shortlisted in a competition and published in an anthology. And that was enough. (Which, let’s face it, it had to be.)

Putting ATF in the drawer set me free. At last, I could say goodbye to those characters, and to an arc which no amount of wrangling could make brilliant. I started something new: a manuscript that went on to be shortlisted in the 2020 Hungerford Award and published as The Ghost of Gracie Flynn in 2022.

So, a happy ending, even if ATF-in-the-drawer might disagree.

When I look back at ATF, I'm reminded of the slow-burn trauma of an extended PhD process, followed by disappointment as the rejections trickled in. But I see something else, too. I see an apprenticeship that taught me about writing, rewriting, and when to walk away. I see tenacity, resilience, and the work that needed to happen to prepare me for what came next.

I know The Ghost of Gracie Flynn is a much stronger debut than ATF would’ve been. I wrote and rewrote Gracie several times before the Hungerford shortlisting, and after that there was still work to be done. It was hard, but I got through it because ATF had taught me how. How to take editorial advice with both hands and use it.

The Ghost of Gracie Flynn simply wouldn't exist if I hadn't first written, then shelved, As Though Floating.

So, here's a little nod to my "one that got (put) away". And if you're a writer staring down the barrel of rejection at the moment, watching other writers being shortlisted or published and feeling that despair well up, please take heart. Just keep writing. And rewriting. And seeing feedback for the gold that it is. Talent will get us some of the way, but tenacity is what really counts.

Do you have one that got (put) away? Please tell us about it!