Author David Edison joins us today to talk about his debut The Waking Engine and his story of how he got published.
Hello SciFiChick readers, and thank you for hosting my very first guest post ever. You may have read me at GayGamer.net in the past, or at Tor.com and TorForgeBlog.com, but never have I been hosted! The Chick herself suggested I share the story of my path to publishing, since the tale of my tale is an unusual one–here’s hoping that it’s also an interesting yarn.
THE WAKING ENGINE began, like many books and stories, with an upfront admission of failure. I wrote three chapters, shoved them in a drawer because I could not bear to look at them, and went right back to working as a video game journalist—a job a million girls might kill for, but not this one. Selling someone else’s hard work only served to remind me that my hard work was sleeping its life away in a drawer, and as I tired of rehashing press releases with an increasingly cynical eye, I began to wonder about the book that might have been.
Sometime in 2008, I found myself sitting in front of a fabulously intimidating literary agent, hoping against hope that she would share with me some kind of magic recipe that would turn me into a novelist. And so she did: she told me to finish the damn book. If book publishing has any magical advice at all, it’s that gem—three chapters can be horrible or wonderful, but they’re not a finished manuscript. Turns out, a finished manuscript is the secret ingredient. Whodathunk?
I scampered off, aware that I’d just been given an opportunity for which many writers would kill. Maybe I was Anne Hathaway in Devil Wears Prada, after all? The opportunity was mine to squander, and suddenly I spent my mornings juggling too many coffees (all mine) and throwing coats (mine) onto desks (also mine) where a wide-eyed, terrified young(ish) writer spent his time working feverishly but, largely, without a clue. I lost weight and soon fit into clothes that I could not enjoy because: pressure. My friends complained, and missed me, and wondered if I wasn’t becoming a little bit obsessed. They missed the smart, fat kid in the cerulean sweater.
A year passed, and I finished the manuscript. Timidly, I brought it back to my agency. After a few months of waiting, I received the feedback: cut a hundred pages and change the ending.