Just over a year ago, I committed to writing an additional four novellas in the five book Ghost Assassins of Bijou collection by year’s end. That meant committing to writing a novella, of around 25,000 words, every three months. I’m an inherently lazy human being and a slow writer, so the task I’d set was daunting.

Then, by the delightfulness and serendipity that is fate, I was invited to join a critique group with two local speculative fiction authors – both of whom are vastly more experienced, lauded and awarded than I am. We meet for two hours every fortnight to critique and offer feedback on each other’s work. When we can’t meet in person, we meet online and once or twice we’ve relied on electronic feedback only.

Despite our early decision to limit our submissions to 4000 words, or a short story, that didn’t last past our first get together. I’ve routinely bombarded them with over 10,000 new or rewritten words each session. They never complain (well not to me anyway!) and at times were disappointed when I didn’t give them the next chapter.
It’s been amazing! I’ve learnt so much.

When I look back at their comments from the beginning of last year, the pages of my manuscripts are littered with corrections to grammar and sentence structure, and comments pointing out inconsistencies and problems with my plotting. The most recent feedback was much less grammatical, and more about tweaks to the storyline aimed at keeping the reader satisfied. I still can’t quite get my head around run-on sentences but I’m much better at comma placement.

My critique crones have gifted me ideas for literary devices to keep dry details out of the prose and others that weave poetry into the prose in ways that I never would have had the courage to attempt on my own. They’ve kept my characters’ voices true and the plot holes tiny. Best of all though, they’ve littered my pages with ticks and scrawled love-hearts in the margins when they find a phrase or section that they enjoy.

For the first few months I was terrified I was bringing very little to the group. I’m neither an expert in grammar nor spotting plot-holes and need time to chew over new ideas – but I have other skills. I’m good at world-building and character development, I possess a strong aversion to the overuse of -ly adverbs, and I know when a story needs more tension. I also do my best to be generous with ticks and love-hearts in the margins.

So – did I meet my goal of writing four novellas in a year?

Not quite.

With rewrites for consistency through the collection, it took an extra month. I’m now in the process of doing final edits and lay-out and writing the synopses for each novella and one for the collection.

Could I have done it without my critique crones?

Maybe.

But, without them, it would have been a set of pretty stones rather than a collection of polished jewels.

I know what it’s like. You have a book inside you. It’s burning to get out. So, you write it. Your family and your best friend love it. It’s the best story ever written. It’ll be a best-seller and made into a film. A famous actor will play the lead and become your new best friend. You’ll buy a mansion and travel first class. The world will be your oyster…

If only publishers and agents would stop ignoring your emails.
If only publishers and agents would stop rejecting your 185,000-word manuscript.
If only you could afford another $5,000, so the hybrid publisher, who approached you, can publicise it.
If only someone would buy your self-published book with the home-made cover.
 
Where did it all go wrong? You cry.

Probably at the very beginning!
Here’s some lessons I've learned during my writing practice - some the hard way, others through the generous advice of fellow authors.

1. Join an organisation dedicated to writers. It might be a regional or national group, like Writers Victoria in Australia or New Zealand’s Society of Authors (NZSA). Or maybe a specialised group like SpecFicNZ, for writers of speculative fiction, or HWA, for those who write horror. If that’s too much, see if you can find a local group of writers who meet in person. All of these will provide various levels of support, advice and training to assist you on your writing journey.
2. Take advantage of in-person and online workshops and seminars to learn about craft and the publishing world. These are also opportunities to make connections with like-minded authors.
3. Find a critique group. Friends and family don’t want to hurt your feelings or crush your dreams. Other writers will give you honest feedback on all aspects of your writing (grammar, plot, characters, voice etc). This should be a two-way exchange; you help them, they help you. Everyone learns and grows.
4. Pay for a professional editor. Unless you have mad editing skills, it’s almost impossible to pick up your own mistakes. If you can’t afford to pay, then at the very least, buy a great self-editing guide and work your way through it with rigour. My suggestions are: Mark My Words by Lee Murray and Angela Yuriko Smith, and; Self-Editing For Fiction Writers by Browne and King.
5. Do your research. This applies to every aspect of your writing life. Research your genre - understand the tropes, expected length, style of cover. Research your market - who’s your audience (age, sex), what makes your story stand out from the crowd. Research agents and publishers who might be interested in your work - read their requirements carefully and follow them to the letter.

 
If you can’t find answers or still have questions, then ask for help from the contacts you’ve made. But and this is important, be respectful of their time. If they say no, be gracious and move on. It’s hard when you don’t know what you don’t know, and we all make mistakes. The trick is to know when to take a pause, set your ego aside and learn.

​I talk a lot about being fuelled by coffee but it’s a bit of a lie really. Coffee is my kickstart to the day. Before that morning shot of caffeine, I’m almost incapable of speech or pleasantness. If I don’t have my daily coffee, I get a stinking headache later in the day. But it doesn’t keep me going during the day, through the afternoon and into the evening. No. That job belongs to tea.

I still remember the best cup of tea of my life. It was in Sri Lanka. The late Mr Jacqui and I had scaled Sigiriya, an ancient fortress which sits atop a 180m high column of granite. Not only a famous historical and geological site, Sigiriya is also home to enormous hives of giant honeybees.

The day we visited something, or someone, disturbed the bees and they swarmed. A man screaming in total panic a ran towards us ‘Help. I’m allergic.’ We grabbed him and lay on top of him as thousands of angry bees buzzed all around us. None of us got stung, we were filthy though.

From Sigiriya we went straight to an immaculate white, and uncomfortably colonial, tea house. There, smelly, sweaty, and covered in dirt, I had my first ever taste of orange pekoe tea. This was not the dusty tea of a teabag. It was sweet and nutty and bloody delicious.

I’ve had thousands of cups of tea since that day. None have been as good.

My tea is not always tea. As I write this, I’m drinking a pomegranate tisane. It’s a deep russet with a tangy flavour that delights my taste buds. A couple of days ago, I mixed delicate pink rosebuds with a sprinkle of orange pekoe and enjoyed a lovely, perfumed light golden beverage. In summer, I like a gorgeous green tea with hints of strawberry, and in winter a heady, smoky Russian caravan or a lapsang souchong do the trick.

My writing critique group meets at my place at 3pm, once a fortnight. Our rule no cake--just tea. For these precious women, I have bought a bag of orange pekoe tea. Only the best for my writing champions!

So, while I can’t start the day without my morning coffee—it’s tea that fuels my writing.

Lovely [insert satisfied sigh here!].