Selling - House or Manuscript?

What I'm reading: Rain Storm, by Barry Eisler

Thanks to Susan Wiggs for sharing this - what writer hasn't been there?



I'm now officially in the 'submission' phase with my mystery. I've queried a few agents, and have sent off a submissions package to a publisher that said they'd be willing to look at a partial. And yes, I made sure that I followed their submission guidelines, one of which was a 750 word (maximum) synopsis. Given that my shortest synopsis to that point was hitting the 1200 word mark, I had some tightening to do.

To reach that length (I don't think 'shorth' is a word), I had to evaluate which plot points were vital, what character motivation was important, all the while hoping a little of my voice trickled through. And to make sure all 3 POV characters were represented, and there was nothing where a reader would say, "Well, that was a stupid thing to do; why not just do XX?"

So now, it's a waiting game. They say allow 90 days. They also say, "Do NOT approach us in any form of communication before that time is up." Of course, they say it much more nicely, but it's clearly a "Don't call us, we'll call you" scenario.

Selling a House, Selling a Manuscript - What's the Difference?

Life is almost normal again. At least the routines are settling in. I enjoyed a leisurely second cup of coffee while I did some blog-hopping, catching up on all the sites I hadn't visited while I was away. Of course, as Murphy's Law would have it, I was about to shower and get back to reading the galleys for Nowhere to Hide when I got a call from a Realtor who wanted to show the house. In an hour.

Now, things weren't horrendous, since we'd cleaned thoroughly before we left, but other than laundry, I hadn't done much actually cleaning. The showing instructions say we prefer a day's notice, our cleaning service was scheduled for the next day, and we've gotten so few calls to see the house, we've become lax about getting everything in shape before doing anything else for the day.

Hubby had left early to go off on his research project on the coast. Had he left "his" areas in showcase shape? Not hardly. So, I'm frantically trying to get everything done in the allotted time so I can be out the door. Not perfect, but acceptable. The lawn could use a mowing, but I don't know that hubby would have cut the grass on such short notice. I know I certainly can't do it and everything else.

I pack up my galleys and go to Panera to have more coffee and get some work done. So far, most of what I'm finding are places where I'm not sure if I need a hyphen or not. Part of me feels good that with all our edits, we have a very clean manuscript. Another part thinks I'm not reading carefully enough, and there are plenty of glitches sneaking past.

Keep Reading...

Overall, reading galleys is more suited to these interrupted days than writing. What I'm looking for isn't plot anymore. Strictly typos. It's a different kind of reading. As a matter of fact, I've started at the end of the manuscript. This way, I'm not distracted by the story. And unlike my read for major edits, revisions, and continuity, I don't want to do this all at once. Small intervals seem to work better for me, so a half hour here, and hour there, or even a page or two at a time is acceptable. That way, I can concentrate of looking at each sentence for words and punctuation, rather than how they're moving the story forward, or revealing characterization.

I get home, pleased to see the Realtor was actually there. I deal with a few more household issues (like has the part for the dryer arrived yet? They don't know, they'll check and call me back.) Then, I got another call, this from a local Realtor who wanted to preview the house. He'd be here "shortly."

An hour later, he still hasn't shown, and I'm doing my chores in bits and pieces. Finally, he arrives, looks over the house, makes a few comments, and is gone. Will he bring clients? Who knows? He's not the first to comment that our natural vegetation out in front hides the house. However, that's exactly what we wanted. It provides privacy as well as keeps the need for high maintenance down. If that's going to be the deterrent to a sale, should we pay big bucks to have it pulled out and re-landscaped with "pretty" stuff? Or do we hope that if it's the only problem for a potential buyer, that they'll know they can do what they please after they buy the house?


That's sort of like deciding if you should change a manuscript every time you get feedback that suggests you do something different. When my agent was submitting the sequel to When Danger Calls, she'd pass along the reasons for rejection. They were as varied as the places she submitted it to, so there wasn't a common denominator. It never got to the point where I had to decide if I was willing to change the story to make the sale, and I wonder what I would have done. The genre is 'romantic suspense' but my books are 'romantic mystery.' Would I have uprooted my plot and replanted it with a villain's point of view, so the reader could be nervous about what was going to happen if an editor asked? I don't know. That wasn't really the kind of book I wanted to write.

Meanwhile, the manuscript is sitting on an editor's desk, and I'm waiting to hear if they'll like it with all the natural vegetation. And if not, will they simply reject it, or will they ask me to re-landscape?

Selling is Selling – And you can win a book

What I'm reading: Second Chance Pass by Robyn Carr

I've got a giveaway today. Be sure to leave a comment.

Today's the day. Is it the beginning or the end? The house is freshly painted. Most of the inside repairs are finished. The window man hasn't called back, and we still have to find the right hinges for the guest bathroom cabinets, but we've met the goal of having it ready to list. The POD is going away this afternoon.

I started thinking about how much getting the house ready for market is like getting a book ready to sell.

In my case, I'll write the initial manuscript, which will undoubtedly be long, and there will be a lot of precious words that aren't really vital to moving the story forward. Much like the 'before' picture of hubby's office.



When it's finished, it's going to need a lot of editing. Each scene has to be considered. Is it needed? Is it in the right place? Should I save it and put it in my 'cuts' file to be used another time?
Keep Reading...


The realtor had us remove almost everything personal. My dining room wall that used to display memorabilia from all our travels? Bare. No family pictures. And, of course, no more skulls. Even my silk plants are gone (okay, they were on the dusty side, but they did brighten up the place).

The edits begin, and continue. The process is different for every writer. Just as hubby and I approached the "house editing" differently, one author might try to have a polished chapter before moving onto the next, while another might write straight through from page one to the end without going back. I think in the long run, it takes about the same time from start to finish.

But what happens when you finally have that manuscript as gorgeous as it can be? It needs to find that special buyer. That one editor who's going to fall in love with it, accept that it might have flaws, but be willing to work with it. So, you start sending it out. And then, it's out of your hands. You wait.

Our realtor is the "agent." His job is to find that one buyer who will love our house. So, although our goal has been met, and our house is ready, we're really just beginning the journey.

How will we deal with the pressure of waiting, not being able to do anything? It's kind of like waiting for the mail each day. Will there be a request for a partial? A full? Or a rejection?

And then there's the down-and-dirty reality. Or, should I say, the 'down-and-clean' reality? The house has to be ready to show. Maybe for months and months. No leaving dishes in the sink, or clutter on the counters. Wastebaskets empty.

I'll confess here. When I went to work full time years ago, the contingency was that we hired someone to do the cleaning. Up until now, I've managed to keep that in the budget. However, given our new financial circumstances, I've cut back to every other week. Of course, we've always done the laundry, made beds (although hubby wonders why, since we have to unmake them to get into bed every night), wash dishes, etc. all on our own—but the vacuuming, mopping, and serious cleaning was left for the service. It's been a long time since I did some of those basics myself.

And, just as the technology my characters use in my books has changed, so, apparently, has the housecleaning variety. And, since we figure we're going to have to keep things spiffy on a more frequent basis, I thought I'd try one of those gizmos I'd seen on tv that looked faster and easier than a vacuum cleaner for our wood and tile floors. (Not to mention it took me a while to find the 'on' switch for the vacuum cleaner).

So, after the carpet cleaners left, I had the humbling experience of trying to assemble a Swiffer. No words, just pictures on the box in lieu of instructions. It took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to attach the pads to the base unit.

What are the little tricks that keep you from going crazy with having to become neat-freaks? And the bits of magic that make the house irresistible to buyers? I don't think I'm going to be baking cookies every day so the house smells like a bakery. It's hot, and I hate turning on the oven (and besides, using it will get it dirty!)

Any advice? Share a suggestion in the comments section. It can be a hint for making the house look good, or a hint for keeping the marriage intact during the process! I'll give an autographed copy of What's in a Name? to one commenter.