The last year I have made a concerted effort to get my novel published. Firstly I had to ensure it was as perfect as possible. To do this I joined a couple of writing groups for feedback on extracts I was a little unsure of. It was the best thing I’ve ever done and really made me think about characters, dialogue and structure. So get out the garret fellow writers, the air is breathable and you don’t need a mask.

I then read some work in public, most recently at a performance workshop held by local storyteller Pete Davis at the Nottingham Writers’ Studio. People can’t hide their emotions and so this was an attempt to get honest feedback from published authors. The feedback was excellent. Then I submitted the first 50 pages to the Literacy Consultancy whose advice was fantastic. I made the necessary adjustments and then submitted for a ‘mentor’ via a scheme put forward by Writing East Midlands. Unfortunately my application wasn’t successful, largely because I underplayed how important it would be to my development as a writer. I should know better really, seeing as this is the kind of advice I spout out regularly in this blog but now serves as a curt reminder never to presume anything and that every piece of work you submit represents everything about you.

Unperturbed (you need broad shoulders as well as hardened fingertips in this trade) I was successful in winning a half-an-hour pitching slot with an agent at the Writing Industries Conference and was allocated Ollie Munson of Blake Friedmann. He was, to quote my girlfriend, ‘an absolute darling’. A soft calming demeanour, slightly shy and most importantly, someone I felt instantly at ease with. We had a chat for ten minutes about the state of literature and what writers we liked and I figured that he was delaying the inevitable rejection by avoiding discussing the three chapters and synopsis I’d submitted. But he didn’t. He liked the book and wanted to read the whole thing. We agreed a submission of the whole novel for two weeks later and I went home and read the novel for the 10,000 time and emailed it over. He promised to get back to me in May and finally got back in July. Not bad really for an agent, especially considering this period is busy with various publishing exhibitions.

I’d like to say that I sat around the house nervously biting my nails and checking my email every day, but I didn’t. Having previously had my book accepted for publication twice and then dropped on both occasions I’ve learnt it is best not to dwell on such things. You’ll know when you need to know.

An email came through from Ollie on the 6th July. I knew it was a rejection straight away because I think he’d have rung up if he was interested. An email can’t quite express excitement like a verbal conversation, not yet anyway. Naturally I was really disappointed. Not just because it meant I had to drag my body off the floor and start all over again but because I genuinely warmed to him. The world of literature doesn’t often deliver people who have a solid grounding in reality and a genuine human touch, so he’s someone I’d have loved to have worked with. He’s kindly agreed to do an online interview so that I can make LeftLion readers aware of his service, so if you’re one of the lucky b*stards that gets a publishing deal. Spare a thought…

The email read ‘I really found THIS IS ALL I KNOW to be a charming book and there was so much there I like. The writing is great, I like your central character, all things that I know are crucial to a book’s success… it also has an interesting historical value since it really does sum up what England was like at the turn of the millennium. I just wonder if we need a few more years before that era really comes back into fashion.’ . He went on to recommend an agent and publisher who he thought would like the book and reassured that ‘I really felt there was a lot to admire here and honestly, if I hadn’t enjoyed it, I certainly wouldn’t have given this reply so much thought.’ (I would have published this in full but he requested otherwise.)

I wanted to share this rejection with other writers as a reminder that you’re not alone and most importantly never to give up. It will happen, I think. Take Maria Allen, she came out of the same NTU Creative Writing Course as Niki Monaghan and has just had her book published by Tindal Street Press which has been picked as one of the Guardian’s top reads for the summer. Good things happen.

Talking of which, a few days later my girlfriend mentioned what had happened to a local publisher called Ross Bradshaw (Five Leaves) who said he’d take a look at the book. Now the waiting game starts all over again. As a publisher of Jewish culture, crime and young adult fiction it’s highly unlikely the book will be for him, but you never know. So I’m raising a glass tonight for Maria Allen’s beautiful story, to the warmth of Oli Munson, to Writing East Midlands and the Literacy Consultancy for their advice and help and to all of you writers locked away in the garret sharing this awkward meandering path. Then I’ll be turning to the gospel of Luke Brown et al.

Be direct and to the point. They want to know the genesis of your idea not every single detail. This can be done in 3-5 lines. Remember they have to trawl through hundreds of these enquiries a day.

News desks are run off their feet and poorly staffed. If you can make their job any easier, do it. Tell them you can provide hyperlinks and photographs if possible and explain exactly where you see the article fitting into the publication. Suggest a particular word count and the date you can get the copy in for. Be realistic. False promises do not bode well.

Have a unique angle, something that sets your idea apart from others. In my experience this comes from finding unique correlations and juxtaposing them together. This is an impossible trait to teach people and comes only with being well read and informed, a skill which inevitably improves with age. No wonder the government have put up the age of retirement…

A brief biog under the pitch reassures the Editor that you are competent and reliable. Alternatively this can be done in your email signature, with contact details and links to your work. If you are starting out then stating why you are so passionate about this feature and perfectly suited to write it may be enough to lure them in. Never underestimate enthusiasm because it tells an Editor that you’ll deliver the goods.

Picking up the phone is far more effective because you get to talk to someone directly which means you don’t become an anonymous email clogging up an inbox that will probably get erased due to time constraints. But you need broad shoulders for this. You may well encounter a gruff almost monosyllabic response simply because you are the hundredth call they’ve taken on the bounce. Remain calm, polite, enthusiastic and articulate. It works every time. With this in mind, print out your pitch and rehearse it.

When you ring up, mention your name in the first sentence. ‘Hi. I’m Arthur Seaton, a freelance journalist based in Nottingham’. Even if they don’t take the bait, at least your name has been stored for future reference. On a similar note, try to find out the name of the person you want to talk to before ringing up. And it goes without saying to check you’ve been put through to the right department before delivering your spiel. A lot of publications are owned by larger organisations and so numbers can occasionally be generic.

Whether email or phone, timing is pivotal. Make sure that a UFO has not landed or a madman has gone on a shooting spree because this will take up most of their attention. For example, this can account for up to 50% of all news feeds on a website as they have to keep up with developments.

I imagine email is still the favoured form of enquiry for most hacks, despite warnings to the contrary. If this is the case, bear in mind that more esteemed publications are likely to go for established writers. So if you know ‘one’ that likes your work, get them to pitch on your behalf. This may not be feasible for everyone but if you have contacts, use them.

There is of course the distinct possibility that an Editor will steal your idea and get one of his staff to follow up the article. Get over it. You probably stole your idea from a mix of articles you’d read online. But rest assured if you keep ringing up with great ideas, eventually they’ll cave in and you’ll experience that wonderful feeling that comes with seeing your name in print.

To hear the most recent Write Lion podcast featuring Alt Fiction, graphically illustrated poetry, Robin Hood and up-coming festivals see our latest Write Lion 6 podcast

The Sun focussed on Rebecca Warren’s ‘display of litter’ that ‘was picked up from the floor of her studio’ suggesting a flippant, casual uneducated piece, subtly rubbishing modern art in the process and telling us what we all like to think – it’s a load of pish made by workshy middle-class dropouts. The quote they pulled from Rebecca made her sound completely incompetent ‘for somebody it could mean one thing and for somebody else it could mean something else’. As much as I detest Murdoch’s runt of a child, you can’t help but admire the Oxbridge journos that pen these words. Absolute genius. Allowed the artist to hang herself whilst opening up the high/low culture debate without a sniffle of pomposity.

The Mail managed to hype things up to boiling point by focussing in on the ‘ripped paintings’ and ‘serial killers’, using the coveted art prize as yet another vehicle through which to scare the living shit out of the population and demand the return of the birch to restore order. But boy do they do condescension well. They managed to make Susan Philipz sound like a cross between an escaped X-Factor convict and a troll. ‘A woman known for singing through a PA system at a branch of Tesco… and under bridges’. Hilarious. And not a mention of her art.

The Guardian offering was as liberal as ever, promoting ‘culture from below’ by asking ‘Wot, no Bansky?’ and giving a more balanced appraisal. It was great fun deconstructing language and reminded me how easily you can build up a profile of someone through just a couple of carefully constructed sentences. Odd that in teaching this it suddenly hit home.

In preparation for writing their own pieces, the class wandered around the building taking notes. The corrugated panels to the exterior of the building (or the Anderson Shelter as locals refer to it) is partially covered in lace. It made me think of an old tart pissed up around town, necking back her WKD in ripped tights and mini-skirt. Then when you realise that the gallery is next door to the Pitch ‘N’ Piano, a church converted into a pub, it suddenly becomes a place where everything is trying to be something it’s not. Nottingham could be accused of a similar form of deception, thinking it can accommodate this cultural behemoth into the landscape. Whatever our interpretations, the point is there is detail everywhere. The key is finding the correlations and then putting it in a style that will appeal to a particular readership.

I should note here that the reason I am so fascinated by detail at the moment is because last week I attended the Stanley Middleton Celebration, the Booker winning Notts author who died recently. The former teacher was a master at small detail who would often ask students to look out the window and describe what they could see. ‘Look at the wind, what direction is it moving in, what’s it doing to the tress, what noise does it make, look how it’s blown that woman’s hat into a puddle, look at her reaction etc. Gawd bless him.

The main function of this blog though is not to give away free journalism workshop ideas to them that can do me out of work. It’s a test. After discussing the importance of writing a blog to gain an online presence and to discipline yourself to write, I wonder how many have checked this out – to see if I’m good to my word or simply to do a bit of prying. If you are one of my students reading this then you can successfully tick off ‘intrigue’ as one of your essential journalistic traits.

But sadly this isn’t the case anymore as I have moved house too many times and am yet to afford myself the pleasure of this obsessive Hornbyesque type ordering. But it will happen. It always does. It’s just a matter of time. And the problem will get worse because the more I read the more I create new categories and realise that some books fall into at least three of these. Does this mean I need to start purchasing multiple copies? Oh dear, that’s a bad thought.

The photograph I’ve attached is from my dining room and has two symmetrical shelves. Who knows what the future will hold, perhaps American literature on the left and European on the right. Time will tell. But for now there is no logical order. I’m learning to let go. I do still require some order and have a ‘review’ section scattered on my bedside table to remind me they’re important and need immediate love and attention. Talking of love…

Selecting five books from these shelves is a difficult task, like asking a parent to name their favourite child. You may know the answer to this in your heart but it’s something you’d never publicly admit to. If you asked me this question in a week or so the list would no doubt change again. In fact I’ve realised I haven’t included The Life of Pi, Betty Blue, The Outsider, Papillion, The Secret River and the ultimate pulp anti-narrative, England Stories by Tim Etchells. I‘m sorry. I love you all the same. Honestly…

Defying Hitler by Sebastian Haffner
‘The first country to be invaded by the Nazis was Germany’ and so begins an alternative cultural and historical analysis of the rise of Fascism. I’ve read all perspectives of the Great Wars from Primo Levi to Antony Beevor but this one really hit home because it showed how everyone was implicit, right down to the office workers who were too afraid to refuse to produce the legal paperwork that made the horrendous atrocities legal.

Dirk Gentley’s Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adams
Each girlfriend that I’ve been serious about has been presented with a copy of this book and warned, if you don’t like it, we simply won’t get on. An absurd surreal quantum detective novel, it’s quite simply the finest example of how to produce perfectly balanced sentences. It’s also very funny. I cried when Douglas Adams died. I still think of him a lot now. No-one captures the wonderful absurd beauty of life as he. My favourite character invents a time machine so that he can go back in time to watch programmes he’s missed on TV – as he can’t figure out how to programme his video recorder. Genius.

A Man of his Time by Alan Sillitoe
In the tyrannical figure of Ernest Burton, Sillitoe has created arguably the most powerful despotic figure ever to grace the pages of literature. ‘Burton’ – as he is known by all – is a hard grafting Blacksmith who reigns over his eight legitimate children with an iron fist, demanding loyalty and obedience through a mixture of fear and hatred. If you want to know why Arthur Seaton (Saturday Night and Sunday Morning) turned out like he did and why kids these days ‘don’t know they’re born’ read on.

Captain Corellis’ Mandolin by Louis de Bernières
When I split up with my previous girlfriend – soon after she confessed to not liking Dirk Gently – I went to Kefalonia to read the novel in its natural setting. I couldn’t put it down and was gripped by the amazing, complex love story and the innocence of people thrown into awful circumstances. It also taught me about writing and how important it is to layer a plot to keep the reader intrigued about the resolutions of many characters.

Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier
Yet another historical, romantic novel. Maybe I should start giving this to girlfriend’s instead? My friends had been begging me to read this and like any stubborn male worth his salt I ignorantly argued it was soppy romantic trite. How completely wrong I was. Set to the backdrop of the American Civil war it follows a soldier returning home to his love who in his absence, has built up an amazing friendship with another woman. A tale of endurance and coping in difficult times that will make you cry. Thelma and Louise for those with a historical fetish.

I guess one thing which unites all of my choices is how our environment shapes us and the relationships we have with each other. My environment is one of books and always has been. There are a million friends and situations stacked up and down the three floors to my house, all offering advice and a vast range of emotions. Like writing they open up worlds and offer refuge. Mine is a warm welcoming environment which always finds space for new friends. Megan Taylor and Rod Maddocks are the most recent. Listen to them tell their story on my literary podcast WriteLion 5# or better still, come down and have a chat yourself.

The following blog entry was published with Un: Bound, a great feature where they get writers to discuss their books and the shelves that home them. My suggestion for future book loving bonding is: Your five favourite characters from literature and books you need to read in the country in which they were set. Hmm.

I’ve spent the last three months on a futile project, trying to get a pair of eccentric greengrocers to agree to me making a documentary about their ‘marvellous’ world. I’d saved up ten thousand pounds to film the project but that now will be coming off my mortgage, which in time will please my son and heir. As I began researching this project it soon became clear that many others had also had similar ideas and had approached the Brothers Grimm direct. I guess I always knew that they wouldn’t go for it, but it was worth the risk. And I think I admire them more for retaining their dignity. One of the brothers said that his girlfriend would leave him if he agreed to the documentary and so I can only hope that she dumps him in the next few months, enabling me to renegotiate.

I love these crazy bastards but I think this is the end of my life as an auteur. There are other characters in the city who would make interesting case studies but it just wouldn’t be the same. With this in mind, and so that I can get back to writing, I declare the project closed and leave my initial letter of enquiry as a footnote to what could have been. 

Dear Sirs,

When the xylophone man passed away, Nottingham united in a collective mourning. Strangers in shops would eagerly recollect when they first came across him and their favourite memories. To be honest these only ever boiled down to two things; a toothless grin of utter delight and what can only be described as contempt for melody. Although the British are renowned for taking hopeless losers to their hearts, there appeared to be a more sociological reason for the respect; something we at LeftLion were quick to capitalise on and has since become the guiding principle of our style.

The xylophone man represented continuation, predictability and routine. Just like the lions in the square and the Cloughy statue, you knew he would always be in the same place banging out the same wrong notes. Seeing his toothless grinning face on a daily basis was comfort, partly because we were glad to see he hadn’t frozen to death and also because he represented a knowable member of the community.

I see you as following on in this long and important tradition of local cultural mythology. Like the Xylophone man you represent continuation, individuality and community. For this reason your story needs to be told and I would like to tell in the form of a documentary.

The reason people come into your shop, quite frankly, is because you politely harass them. The fruit and veg is just a front for this social indulgence. You are odd, eccentric and certainly far more interesting than the mass-produced celebrities we naively worship on television. To me you display defiance and individuality in an increasingly bland and homogenous world. You espouse traditional values that are mocked by today’s standards: You are Christians, Royalists, patriotic and perhaps most uniquely of all, a solid family unit. In an era which has seen the nuclear family implode and create a multitude of complex patterns, you are twins who have remained lovingly and loyally together at each other’s side. I find this quite beautiful and inspiring and am convinced would enthral people. I see you as a living breathing Ealing comedy, the ‘little man’ politely sticking two fingers up at a bland bureaucratic rationality, retaining impeccable manners throughout.

In a strange twist of fate I see you more often than my own father and this is something I would like to allude to in the documentary, should you agree. I see this as a comment on society as well as the tale of two absolute rascals. If you agree I’ve got a lot of issues to look into. I may even have to fund this out of my own pocket. It would be the best money I’ve ever spent.

I have excellent links through the Nottingham Writers’ Studio and my capacity as Literature Editor at Leftlion so I think we could produce something special with expert guidance (e.g. Michael Eaton MBE would be one such figure.) Of course the documentary could potentially change your life or give you publicity which you may not want. The documentary would also require me to enter your life. This could be; at home, out on a date, at the theatre watching ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’, on an infamous sojourn to the Cornish coast, at suppliers, family, those fine restaurants you frequent and of course at that posh naff Broadway cinema to see Mash re-runs. This would be a necessary sacrifice if I was to tell your story but at the same time, I wouldn’t push you to do things you didn’t want. This would be a democratic project, with all proceeds split between everyone involved.

I write for free for LeftLion because I love my city and I’m a proud citizen. I hope this is vindication of my good intentions.
In the spirit of what I perceive to be your personality I have included a stamped addressed envelope for your reply and whatever your decision, I look forward to future conversations whilst weighing out bananas (‘freshly plucked from Woodthorpe Park’)

To read a previous interview with the Thompson Brothers