h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It doesn't help either of us, since H2G2 is not a likely place for agents and publishers to be hanging around, but your description of the wannabe's fate is familiar, amusing and - may I say? - well written.

I'm a would-be/wannabe novelist (see [URL removed by moderator] if the powers that be will let you). The latest project is half finished, and the thought of packaging it up for agents and publishers is even more tiresome than it was last time. Is it really worth the energy?

Hi Mund
I liked the pic on your home page - v clever. Secret? It doesn't look like fonts to me.
I had trouble with them removing urls as well. I think you have to enter them on your front page. They seem to be paranoid about links appearing deep in conversations that lead to unsavoury places and then BBC getting a bad name.
Since I'm sure your web page or novel isn't an unsavoury place and I'd like to see it, it would be good if you could give the link up front. Or maybe it is a bit unsavoury - even better
Good luck with enticing the publishers.

Go to a reputable search engine. Look for "creative writing" and "manchester". You should locate the South Manchester Writers' Workshop. Go to Writings and look for Ed Wilson. I have a few samples there (I'm increasingly happy with my Ian Dury poem), and a few more will be added soon.

I think the worst thing a wannabe writer can do is join a writers group. I did this and I found the largest collection of psychotics and fake congratulations I have ever experienced. The main lecturer or letcherer was interested in sleazing up to whichever female writer he had his predatory eyes on, and would use indirect chat up lines like:
'I've met Ian Banks and we're great mates. He always puts a quote on my book. Are you impressed? I can see you are. Why don't we discuss some hard copy back at my poky dormitory of a bedsit, give us an hour to cancel a previous engagement and clear a space for you to sit.'

He was bad, but the fellow writers were even worse. Every review would start with 'I really liked it, but ... (or) I loved it, but ... (or) I thought it was really clever, but ... Some great themes, but ...'
Even I started to talk like that. There was no choice. No honesty was permitted like:
'Actually I didn't read it. I never read published authors when I did my English degree so I don't have to do yours'.
'You gave me a bad review last week and now it's my turn. Revenge is a dish best served hot.' Followed by evil maniacal laughter.
'God, this manuscript is brillaint. I hate your guts'.
'I've read more exiting biographies of ex-Prime Ministers'.
'If I'm nice about your poem, you'd better tell me I'm the next Martin Amis'.
And finally the one they (we) are all thinking:
'Wake me when it's my turn to get the superficial ego-massage'.

There must be worse things to do than join a writers' group. Cutting your hands off, for example.

I know I'm lucky that the group I'm a member of seems to work. The writing improves and people find their problems solved. The discussions in the pub afterwards are positive and stimulating. We've even had people getting published.

If we can just wake this thread up again...

Tuesday night is writers' group night for me, and this evening's meeting was sparsely attended:

A - with a dozen novels published but no deal at the moment

B - with a clutch of text books but no fiction published

C - a poet who asks for help and rejects it if he doesn't like it

D - with a great novel of psychological tension pouring out of her

E - working with a publisher to prepare her young adult book

F - the father of D, just visiting

G - me, and I'm saying nothing

It's summer in the UK, they tell me, and people have other things to do than turn up at church halls to insult each other... Sorry, that should have read "engage in constructive criticism".

A read a chapter which he expected to be torn to shreds, but unfortunately we liked it.

C read two poems. One he was happy with and we only savaged a couple of words. The other was a problem child and we agreed.

G read a chapter written entirely between 6pm and 7:15pm when he had to pick up A to go to the writers' group. This story is into chapter 30 and they still like it, though they are starting to dislike the "hero". That's reasonable, considering what he's doing, but unfortunate, considering the necessity of empathy to feed the pay cheque.

Another really useful meeting, followed by a session in the pub on digital cameras and samba music.