The Effects of Feedback

One way or another, I haven't had the largest amount of feedback on my work. I've had plenty of rejections, but barely any of them have given me any substantial advice about how to improve my writing. This is due to the sheer volume of submissions received by agents these days being too large to give individual feedback unless it's accepted.

My first genuine feedback was several years ago from the novelist Francis Hardinge. She was an acquaintance of my sister Elinor, and I'd been introduced to her to help polish my writing. This was when I was in my mid teens, and very very green. She gave me some important pointers about word usage, and made me more conscious of homonyms, and their terrible and comedic effect on prose. I'll always remember my giggles when I realised the impact of my use of the words "past" and "passed". I've been very conscious of that ever since.

My second example is from a query response for an adventure novel I wrote around two years ago. It was my first attempt at both a first-person narrative and a novel with no fantastical elements. Everything was either grounded in real history or plausible in its execution and evolution. The agent wasn't interested in actually taking it on, but did tell me that while intriguing it had some issues with wordage and pacing. They also felt the novel was too personal. The latter point was valid, but that's how I wrote the book. I wanted my heroine to break the fourth wall and speak directly to the reader as if she were in the room with them. But it was a valid point.

My next piece of feedback is the most recent. It was for a science fiction novel, and I'd sent off the first ten pages. The agent replied with a rejection, but she offered me a considerable amount of feedback. She called my writing "clear and crisp" and praised the overall setting, but found my opening info dump distracting and the story too complex. She has a point. I wrote the story to be quite complicated, which can be rectified somewhat without destroying the product. And her words about the intro are well founded. I was able to make some constructive edits to the manuscript, and other WIPs I'm writing at the moment, and I didn't feel like I was betraying my work. Rather, I thought it was being improved by the more natural and taut flow.

I've even got some beta readers for my latest WIP, as my use of comedy is reliant on a fusion of often-incompatible cultures, and I didn't want it to be as unfunny as most comedy films seem to be these days.

All of this proves something. No matter how experienced I think I am, I'm still learning., This feedback is an obvious example, but I'm also learning for myself through the gradual process of writing, reading, submitting, learning, and writing again. An eternal spiral, which helps improve my skills. And one day, hopefully, it'll all pay off.

Writing about Disability

There's a story I experienced when I was very young. A historical novel set during the Romano-British period about a young man's quest to discover his father's fate across Hadrian's Wall. The story is The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff. While it's a fascinating and entertaining historical adventure, it's also features something that's still quite rare; a protagonist with a disability.

Main character Marcus goes through the entire quest coping with a old break in his leg from his time as a Roman cohort leader. He is left with a permanent limp, and during the long trek across Caledonia he must contend at times with near-constant pain. Even with the help of his slave-turned-freedman Esca, his journey isn't easy. But he succeeds in finding out the fate of the Ninth Legion -- commanded by his father -- and returns their desecrated eagle to Roman territory.

This story has something that's still rare in mainstream fiction; a disabled protagonist. Sutcliff herself had to cope with Still's Disease throughout her life, and consequently many of her leads have to similarly cope with injury or disability. But why should more authors with sound bodies create characters with unsound bodies? True, there are books who use protagonists with unsound minds, but they tend to be part-satire or deliberately taking a dark or even comedic approach to a genre. It's not played straight as often in the mainstream as it is in fringe material.

A few days ago, I was struck by this. The concept was formed a few months before when I saw a press image of actress Selma Blair; she was in a stunning dress, and walked with a cane, being unafraid to show the world her life with multiple sclerosis. That made me remember; someone who makes a life for themselves with a disability of some kind can be more empowering than any full-bodied figment of fiction. So my fantasy novella began to take shape. The protagonist is a young man, suffering (you guessed) from a form of sclerosis that leaves him weak; unable to walk with a cane, and for long journeys needing a brace on his weak leg.

Basically, I'm using a novella with a simple story and small cast to create something compelling with a lead character who isn't a strong young man archetype. He's weak, he's vulnerable, he's forced on a mission that may prove his downfall. And through all of it, he'll succeed. He'll accept what comes, regardless.

Of course, my experience may well be limited or my view prejudiced. If you have any good mainstream books that have lead characters who succeed with their disabilities, please tell me. I'll be interested.