The Fuches FUQ
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Reader Comments (4)
Your first book is awesome sofar (about a quarter through it)
It's a shame you aren't over the moon about publication, I hope that changes.
I do get invitations to literary events, at least monthly, due to being a Macmillan author - and it's hard to be blasť about that!
Thanks very much for reading (and, much more importantly, for buying).
Go to them! Surely every opportunity is a tiny bit more press, and one step further to finding your name in the NYT bestseller list? Ok, well, maybe not all of them, just the ones that offer free beer/wine/ale (delete as applicable).
Personally I'd be out there visiting every bookstore that might stock a copy. (thats kinda sad isn't it?)
Oh I noticed on your news that you have sold the film rights and started selling foreign print rights! many congrats, I hope there's loads more to come (I'm sure there is, I'm now half way through the book and it's still good stuff)
From: Moore, Mandy
Sent: 05 February 2007 20:50
To: Michael Fuchs
Subject: RE: Address
Have I read the Manuscript? Are you kidding? OF COURSE
I've read it. Though your comment just drove home the
point that I read it and never gave you feedback, which
it occurs to me is pretty lame. I loved it. I thought
it was excellent. Did I never really write to you about
how amused I was by the opposing qualities of your two
wonderfully stereotyped female leads? The gentle,
emotional, slightly needy one (taking a nap on the sofa
while the adults arm themselves) who worships Miles but
that he's just not that into, and the bad-ass, tough as
nails one Miles worships but he can't have because she's
too busy running around under cover in a floor length
leather jacket to notice him? Classic. And, dare I
say, perhaps more than a little autobiographical?
I also loved how real the descriptions of aiming and
firing a gun were. That shit is hard.
From: Michael Fuchs
Sent: 06 February 2007 10:40
To: Moore, Mandy
Subject: RE: Address
I never assume anyone has read it, anymore than I expect
anyone to read it. And you're certainly under no
obligation to provide feedback. But thanks very much for
the very kind words. This is actually my second such
experience of having something pointed out to me in the
book that I wasn't actually personally remotely aware of.
I'm sure it's apt, and it's certainly a very interesting
The next book is a lot less flawed. Though, I'm even
starting to get sick of this one, especially during a
copyediting process that's both annoying me and
testing my always-dodgy patience and professionalism.
Yesterday I was questioning whether I want to continue
doing this. What, really, am I getting out of it? At a
meeting last week, I had my first experience of getting
heat from my editor about how the next book is coming
along. Which, you know, is a nice problem to have, if
weird. Ten years of not being able to get people to look
at my shit if I fellated them, and now someone is
pressuring me to write
And but then again, why do I really have to write any
more books? I'm not really getting any pleasure out
being published. I found the whole launch process last
year basically stressful, and ended up depressed out of
my mind for most of the rest of the year. I haven't gone
out with one single female due to being a published
author. (Which is, let's face it, why men do anything
they do.) In fact, the stresses of launch week arguably
contributed generously to the death of my last relation-
ship. And come to consider it, I haven't slept with any-
one - zero sex! - since my date of publication in April
last year. How's that for the world's most crushing
correlation? And as for money, my first ten years of
writing netted me the same amount as working two weeks
at the investment bank. Why, then?
I don't know. For ten years I worked for something, and
now I've got it, and I don't like it very much. Rather
takes the legs out; leaves a bit of a void. I remember
walking around for many years thinking A) that there
were two kinds of people in the world - those who had
published novels, and those who had not; and B) that
it was vital to any success or happiness I was going
to have that I get into the first group. In retrospect,
maybe it's not very realistic to think that becoming a
published author would make me happy or make everything
okay. But, on the other hand, that has at least to be a
subtext, or one wouldn't carry on so long, in the face
of such blasting resistance and rejection.
I guess I at least expected that things would be
different, and that I would feel different. But they
aren't, and I don't.
I kind of feel like telling all the aspiring novelists
I meet: "Whatever you do, don't get published! You're
much better off having the dream to hang onto, to work
for, the lovely hope that achieving it will one day
make everything okay." As Neil Peart pointed out, a
dream is not only over if you give up on it; it's
also over when it comes true.
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