I will let you be the judge. Check it out here.

I will let you be the judge. Check it out here.
Find out about my writing and publishing process for Gunfire Lullabies? Click here to hear my interview with Gavin Miller and The Empty Page podcast. Lots of fun.
Learn more about the origin of Gunfire Lullabies on this podcast interview I did with Claudine Tinellis on Taking Aussie Books. Great in depth questions.
Booktopia asked me Ten Terrifying Questions revealing more about the person behind the novel. Check it out here.
Read a different angle on Gunfire Lullabies and my writing process here.
I wrote a piece for the Fin Review charting my journey from diplomat to novelist. Read it here.
Just click here đ
I started writing a novel in 1993 after finally getting my Arts degree (and having two kids). I didnât believe in it or myself enough and gave up.
I went and lived: Got a job, worked overseas, witnessed revolution and war, got divorced and had a relationship with an abusive guy.
I wrote another book inspired by some of these events, this time fully supported by my new partner. I received publisher interest, but was rejected many times.
Each time I picked myself up off the floor and went back to the drawing board. I wrote three different versions of my story over 13 years. Thatâs around 4 years per book! (It doesn’t feel that long.)
Late last year a publisher finally said, âI love it. Letâs do it!â
My debut novel, Gunfire Lullabies, will be published in August 2019.
My message to my fellow writers and anyone doing something challenging is:
Now for the next novelâŚ(eek!)
I began writing Gunfire Lullabies, or rather a version of it, in 2005, and itâs being published later this year. I sold my old home in Canberra and used the proceeds to fund a year off work to write it. This writing year felt wickedly indulgent yet very right, and I absolutely loved it. Itâs often said that the first book has a radical creative freedom about it that no future one does because youâre truly writing for you, unhindered by publisher, editor or market constraints that come later on during the process of being, or trying to get published.
But how can one novel take so long to write? Am I just really, really slow?
First, I didnât write it full-time after the initial year. I either had to work, my book was being vetted by publishers while I waited, or I needed a break from the damn thing. A couple of times, when a publisher was interested, they would request rewrites before committing, which would take another six months to complete. These never came through for me, but they took a lot of time.
Second, Gunfire Lullabies is a bit of an epic at over 120,000 words long. Long novels take more time.
Third, I was learning to write, which meant I needed to do a lot of rewriting as I learned my craft. Itâs unusual for writers to get their first novel published. Often itâs their third of fourth story that succeeds.
Fourth, I wrote three different versions of Gunfire Lullabies. In other words, I wrote three novels in that time equating to each one taking around four years. Thatâs a normal amount of time for plenty of literary fiction writers.
Fifth and finally, my manuscript was rejected many times, meaning I had no choice but to go back, perfect my craft and try again. The only other options were to self publish, which I felt was too early to consider, or give up.
What does my prolonged writing process really point to? For me, the learning was that persistence and determination pay. Overnight success is a rare thing, no matter what people might claim or how the situation appears. Usually people spend years learning and perfecting their craft. So many times writing teachers talk about talent meaning little if thereâs no bum on the seat. I doggedly kept on writing an East Timor story until I got it right. I say simple, but honestly, it was really hard.
But, there was another key element in the process for me: the spiritual one. There were plenty of times when my bruised ego and I would have a discussion. Quit, youâre a rubbish writer, youâre a slow learner, youâre not a natural.
At these times, I would need to get really still with myself, delve deep and answer some questions with bare honesty. Is writing really it part of my purpose? Do I believe in my story? Do I want to do this story justice by writing it well?
Sometimes I would recall that when applying for my first posting, I had in mind to write a novel. It had been a long-term dream. So I wished for a posting where something momentous would happen that I could write about, and thatâs exactly what happened. First I witnessed the downfall of dictator President Soeharto, which then paved the way East Timorâs journey towards independence. But wishing for something and experiencing it are different things. The cost was horrendous in terms of human life and suffering, and the impact on others and me was profound.
So the answer to my questions about whether I should finish the story was always, and inevitably, yes. With this realisation, the need to pander to my bruised ego after repeated rejections would drop away, my fears of rejection and failure would fall back, and I would realise again that I was writing the story for what felt the right reasons for me: because it was my purpose, because I believed in it with all my heart and soul, because I felt it needed to be told, and because I couldnât not write it.
Recently I went from having no publishing offers to having to decide between two – I know, the irony! This is for a novel I wrote in two very different versions, and after deciding that the first one was best, going on to rewrite it many times.
My process over more than ten years included the following steps:
It’s often said that a writer’s first two novels are their learner books and that the third is publishable. Alternatively, people talk about writers needing to practice their craft for ten years before reaching a publishable standard. For me, redrafting the same story in various forms was how I progressed my craft. I didn’t want to let go of my story, focusing instead on improving it ad nauseam. And so ten years passed by…
Until finally, it paid off. (Although I’m well aware that having found a publisher, I haven’t achieved publishing success yet. But that’s a whole other journey.)
It would be easy to look back and say that it was worth it, or even that it was fun or easy. Ten years – nothing! But the truth is that like all writing, it was both wondrous and torturous, easy and impossible. For years there was rejection after rejection, no promise of publication (ever!) and no guarantee of any return for my hours of toil, the income I forewent or the money I spent on my book.
And yet writing and creating was and remains the only thing that makes me feel professionally fulfilled. I actually become restless and irritable if I don’t write creatively.
After I announced the two offers on a Facebook writing group, a couple of writing colleagues contacted me to ask how I found a publisher? Some had achieved agent interest, which after a time had waned.
While I’m no expert, I answered them because writers need the camaraderie of others to help pick them up when they’re feeling uncertain. These are the key things I told them. They’re simple and probably obvious, but nonetheless powerful, and sometimes we need to remind ourselves:
Are you ready to be published?
‘There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.’ Maya Angelou
The novel I’m trying to get published now is an Australian story, with universal themes and appeal of course, but there’s much in the subject matter that Australians will relate to. This means I’m touting it in Australia first before looking elsewhere.
But getting anything new published in Australia can be challenging. It has been for a long time, but with foreign competition, it’s even more difficult.
Should you tailor your fiction to what you think publishers want? Should you cut your text back to fit the word length, make your characters more mainstream, latch on to the latest trend and write in that genre?
Not unless that’s where your passion lies or it will improve your work. Your writing must be the best you can make it, which demands authenticity and tenacity. Writing is testing at the best of times, let alone if you’re not working on something that fires you up, even during the dark times. First and foremost, love what you’re doing.
Instead focus on making your manuscript the best it can be. Then continue to seek a publisher until you find someone who believes in your work. There are alternative publishing routes you might consider too, which I discuss here.
‘There has never been a tougher time to be a debut novelist.’
Kate Kellaway
‘Publishers seem enormously scared of too much originality. Many of the first novels we had to read this year appeared to be watered-down copies of something else.’Â
Kate Saunders on reading for the Orange Prize
So you’ve written a novel. What a feat! First, congratulate yourself. What do you do with it now?
Make sure it’s the best you can make it. Take it through a writing group, editor, beta readers and refine it ad nauseam. Writing is mostly rewriting. Remember that with agents or publishers you usually only get one chance per manuscript.
Then how do you get published in the current environment, which is saturated with good writing and where writing has been devalued (by Amazon – thanks!) many other forms of entertainment are on offer and publishers are by nature conservative?
As you ponder which method to try first, here are some questions to ask yourself:
1. Get an agent
Find an agent who’s interested in your genre and approach them. Some are on twitter and put call outs for specific kinds of work, some check writing groups on Facebook (so always behave professionally), and others can be found through website searches. Their websites will tell you if they’re looking and what they’re looking for. Don’t be restricted to your country if someone overseas specialises in your type of work.
Going down the agent route can be time consuming as they have lists to manage. The minimum wait to hear back is at least six months. But agents can work well for authors. I have two friends who write sci-fi and have been published this way.
2. Traditional publishing
Traditional publishing is for books aimed at a general audience. Often they’re published by multinational or larger independent publishers who have minimum sales targets. In Australia, a very small market, this means around 10,000 books. But with overseas and other rights, possibly more.
Publishing new authors is always a risk and publishers must be confident they’ll achieve commercial success now and in the future. Publishing a book takes around 18 months of work, so the decision to go with a new author isn’t taken lightly.
Check websites to see if a publisher accepts unsolicited manuscripts (meaning you haven’t been published before and don’t have an agent) and follow their submission guidelines to the letter. A few offer one day a week when they’ll look at a small sample of work and contact you if they want more. Sometimes approaching a publisher, even if they’re not accepting unsolicited manuscripts, can work too. But you’ll need to have a great hook to peak their interest so they read your synopsis. Make sure you’ve refined these along with your bio and similar books list to perfection. First impressions are everything.Â
3. Independent publishers
These publishers almost always specialise in certain kinds of books that appeal to niche audiences. Often, you can approach them directly, which is a bonus. But as a result, it can take a while for them to consider your work. Check writers’ centres websites and manuals of independent publishers in your country. Again, make sure you satisfy their submission requirements and your approach is professional.
Be aware that independent publishers have limited resources, which will mean more work for you in terms of building your brand on social media etc. to generate sales. ON the other hand, they go outside traditional boundaries and in Australia are wining major prizes.
4. Self-publishing
Some people are avoiding the long wait of traditional publishing routes and self publishing. The many advantages include that you have full control, enjoy direct access to your audience, earn a bigger chunk of the retail dollar of your book and you can publish fast. It can be especially useful if your novel falls outside the bounds of typical publishing because of its nice audience, regionality, it’s experimental, has an unusual theme and so on.
But you’ll need to be the type of person who’s happy to drive the process deciding everything from the cover, editing, branding, what format to use (online only, if so with whom, or print to order etc.). Remember, you won’t be able to submit your self-published work into established prizes, although smaller self-publishing awards exist.
Genre books tend to do better than literary novels with self publishing. I have a friend who makes a living this way. She’s a fast commercial writer, highly disciplined and writes in the urban fantasy and chick lit areas.
5. Hybrid publishing
This is the middle ground between traditional and self-publishing. Usually this means the author pays up front to some extent.
Partnership publishing models offer authors willing to pay access to expertise, distribution, review sites and selling into the marketplace under a publishing banner that has a good reputation with booksellers. The manuscript will be vetted before being accepted or rejected, and will be subjected to the usual processes such as editing. This model is financially risky as the author’s investment may not be recouped. Publishers mostly donât earn out their investments on books they acquire and partnership publishing is no different.
Alternatively, there’s vanity publishing, closely akin to self publishing, where an author pays a business to publish their work but not under their imprint. This won’t necessarily help your book succeed and is really about a business selling you a service for a profit. They usually don’t vet your work or care about editorial quality.
6. Form your own publishing company
This involves a lot of work, but if you’re an entrepreneur type and self-publishing doesn’t offer the kind of ‘legitimacy’ or recognition you desire, perhaps this is for you.
Going down this path means you’ll be responsible for choosing your genre and market, taking care of the registration aspects, creating a business and marketing plan, establishing distribution channels, knowing about bookshops and libraries, developing a network of reliable professionals such as cover designers, editors/proofreaders, getting on top of legal stuff like rights and options. Phew!
But this offers the opportunity to grow. Ask yourself, do you love the business of publishing? Will it allow you time to write?
7. Whatever you decide, network
Join your local writers’ centre, go to writers’ festivals, attend workshops and courses, and so on. In short, get to know the publishing industry and make valuable connections. From there you can decide what means suits you best. Having a name or being given a business card by an editor (a rare invitation to contact them) is a foot in the door.
So youâve completed your manuscript. Before you send it off to publishers, make sure itâs the best it can be. Not just the best it can be right now, but best FULL STOP. Often we get impatient and send our manuscripts out into the world too early when we should put them away for a couple of months before reviewing them again, send them off to a professional for an assessment or do yet another draft. But letâs say you’ve done all that and your book is the best it can be. You truly believe in it.
You compile a list of publishers and you send it to them. Youâve spent the time you need to write each personalised letter, hone your pitch, nail your marketing strategy, write gripping synopses of varying lengths and a fascinating author bio. Off your MS goes into the wilderness (with a touch of that true belief).
Now you wait. Perhaps you get bites for more of your MS. Perhaps you succeed quickly –Â someone wants to publish your book. Yay you. Congratulations! But if youâre one of the majority who either hear nothing back (âassume if you havenât heard from us within three months that weâre not interestedâ) or get outright rejections, then what?
The important thing is not to be beaten in the process of getting published. You may view not finding a traditional publisher as failure, but failure is simply another form of feedback. Use it wisely and keep moving ahead.