What to Find in the Room of an Unemployed Writer who has Never had Anything Published (a true story)

The room was a mess. There were books, papers, folders, notebooks, pens and tissues strewn everywhere. There were bills and second notices piled upon boxes upon tables. Empty, half full and mouldy coffee cups sat around the room along with empty yoghurt containers and chocolate wrappers.1

A computer stood on one desk and a laptop sat on another. The computer was open to a page about the Irish pagan calendar and the tabs at the top of the internet browser showed pages on Lammas, Candlemas, Beltane and Samhain. The laptop was open to a document of 80,000 words or so and a diary – to the right of the laptop – was open to the 3rd April. Written in the diary were notes on a story and how far the author had got. At the top of the page was a count of words done that day; 5,682 words had been written. Written on the opposite page – to the left – was a big note in red texta saying that a manuscript had been sent off to an agent and when a reply should be expected.2

Reference books sat in a pile to the left of the laptop. Such headings included “Book of Poisons: A guide for Writers”, “Juicy Writing: Inspiration and Techniques for Young Writers”, “The Australian Writer’s Marketplace: 2009/2010” and “The Writer’s Complete Fantasy Reference”. A pile of South Australian Writers’ Centre newsletters was sitting on the floor; each one was open at a page with helpful tips. The calendar on the wall held lots of notes for writing workshops. Such were “Writing commercial fiction and getting it published”, “The ‘business’ of writing seminar”, “Writing an outstanding book proposal”, “How to structure a fantasy novel”, “Science Fiction and Fantasy world building” and “The art of the short story”.3

A folder sat on the chair. On the front of it was a label saying “Letters from publishers/agents”. Inside were rejection letters. They varied from standard to hand written, but all said the same thing: “Thanks, but no thanks.”4

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The screen on the laptop changed; a proposal letter which needed a few finishing touches. The screen on the computer changed; a website for a publishing company's submission guidelines.6

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Hope stirs in the room. Uncertainty washes through it. Disbelief that this is going to be 'it' mingles with the two. But then, that's what you get when you step into my room; the room of the hopeful, unpublished author.8