Sometimes I get prose blind. I write something that pleases me, then it sets as concrete, and I no longer even see it when I'm editing. It's as if my eyes just skim past it, because in my head it's beyond improvement.
My opening paragraphs were like that.
We all know the importance of a punchy opening. I'd sweated to find a good one, then followed it with some strong, intriguing paragraphs. I tightened, tinkered and polished. Laid it aside. Tighened, tinkered and polished some more. Then thought I was done.
When it was finally time to prepare my submission pack, I re-edited my first three chapters. Made lots of changes. A tweak here, a change there. Looked at every word and every line to see if it could be improved. All except the opening half page. That was already perfect, right? No need to waste time trying to improve on perfection. Slid my gaze right over.
Five weeks in, and I have four rejections. I sent my first page to Will Dean for a critique - he was as complimentary as I could wish have wished. I gave myself a pat on the back, and took heart from his feedback.
So why the four rejections, and silence from the other seven agents I submitted to?
A couple of days passed, and a thought struck me. Is my opening sufficiently hooky? Does it leap off the page and grab those busy, bored agents by the throat? Does it stand out from the crowd?
So I took a look - a proper, putting-myself-in-the-agent's-shoes look. And guess what? My opening isn't especially hooky. It's competent, but it won't set hearts racing. God forbid, it was even a bit meh.
So I took the mutt for a walk. Pondered a little. Played around with a few ideas. Came at it from different angles. And voila. A different, snappier, bolder opening peeped out from the wings. Elbowed its way to centre stage and staked its place in the limelight.
And I thought shit, if I missed so much room for improvement in the most important few paragraphs in the book (from the querying perspective), what else have I missed?
Roll on draft number three.
And that, I guess, is why my favourite debut author, who writes seemingly effortless sparkling prose, says that it took 12 drafts to nail that debut, and it still isn't perfect.