I wrote Southern Gods in late 2007 and early 2008. The following year, I workshopped it heavily, both online and in real-world workshops. At some point – after maybe the seventh rewrite and pass – I realized I had to stop futzing with the manuscript and do something with it. I’d had very encouraging words from beta-readers and workshoppers. So I spent a month crafting a pitch that went like this:
When Lewis “Bull” Ingram returns to the states after World War II, he finds himself working as muscle for a Memphis mob boss, performing collections. But when a man hires him to find a pirated radio station broadcasting music that may or may not cause insanity, impregnate women, and raise the dead, Ingram ventures into the strange and backward Arkansas of 1951 on a course to discover old gods warring to re-enter the world.
SOUTHERN GODS is a 94k word horror novel.
I did my research and found 23 agents that had sold horror/supernatural/dark fantasy titles in the last year. I submitted that block of copy, with a small blurb of personal bio copy after it. I laboriously sent it out.
I received 12 nays and 11 abstains. In law, silence indicates assent. Unfortunately, the opposite is true for publishing. I’m still waiting to hear from those 11 agents who never deigned to respond.
So, I started on the small press route – a story that I outlined here. I found much more acceptance that way.
If I have any word of advice to give to young authors it is this: Be yourself.
When I was shopping SG to small presses, I was a denizen of a horror writers board on Zoetrope.com. It was an unmoderated board so it was kinda survival of the fittest. There were sharks in those waters. One guy on the board was just a tremendous, unmitigated prick. He was sarcastic and bitter and dismissive. And these n00bs would come on the board asking admittedly stupid questions and this guy, going under the name DX Williams, would be such a prick that no one would dare argue with him. But DX was smart and I agreed with 90% of what he said. Just not the mean-spirited way he said it.
So, I got tired of it and argued with him. As far as arguments go, I was far outclassed. But fuck that guy. He can’t just bully a whole board and not have someone stand up to him.
I got trounced. And the longer the flame war went on, the more I realized, this asshole would never ever stop arguing. So I did. It was honestly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, stop arguing with that guy.
Months passed. I came to an uneasy truce with him. If I didn’t prod him with a stick he wouldn’t rip my head off and crap down my neck. In the interim, he actually started acting like a human being on the boards and wasn’t such a tremendous twat. But damn, some of the personal insults he slung during the flame war still stung. I learned from various sources that DX was actually John Rector. And that John Rector had a book deal with Tor/Forge. So this guy is an asshole AND he’s a better writer than me? Fuck him.
Then, one day, I get this Facebook friend request and it’s Rector. I send back a message: “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” But accept him anyway.
More time passed. More rejections from small presses and from agents. I posted an excerpt of my work in progress on my blog. I got a DM from Rector saying, “Imagine that. You can actually write. Send me the novel.”
I did. Gotta admit, I feared at any moment he’d start a thread on the Zoetrope board where he’d quote choice passages from my novel and make fun of them. But he read it, liked it enough to send a letter of introduction to my agent, Stacia Decker, whom he’d met at Bouchercon or some other crime writerly convention. She said, “Have him email me.”
I did. It wasn’t a pitch letter, just a rambling scrawl about my books. In typical Stacia economy, she replied, “Great! Send the manuscripts!”
Three nerve-wracking months later, she accepted me as a client.
Morals of the story: Be honest. Stay true to yourself. You never know who will turn out to be an ally.
In the acknowledgements for Southern Gods will be this: My thanks to John Rector. At first I hated you. Now, I hate you like a brother.