Killing the Good Girl Novel Serialization: Intro & Ground Rules
Serialization and my editorial critique of my undergrad thesis novel 25 years later (and why did I say I would do this?!)
This morning I put a big dose of turmeric in my oatmeal instead of cinnamon so perhaps I am still jetlagged after the trip from 2022 to 2023. I also jammed my little toe on some five-pound weights lurking under a chair as I put away the pile of laundry on said chair, which I am interpreting as a reason not to use said weights.
This isn’t the novel part by the way, but it is related.
Why I Agreed To This Creative Lunacy Nudity Exercise
On New Year’s Eve I shared a post called Death Lodge Ceremony for Writers, (which you haven’t missed the opportunity to do if you’d like to. You can do this ritual at any time important to you—birthday, anniversary, solstices, equinoxes—not just the turning of a new year. And with partners, friends, family, pets. It’s up to you).
Go read about it as I think it’s pretty cool. The result of my ritual was a message from my Inner Real Writer, I have not believed in myself. She meant these last few years and she was right. Read The Great Realization and Let’s Have Writing Adventures for more about that.
In the death lodge post I announced that I’ll be going paid in the next few months to honor the writing I would be sharing (novels, poems, essays); my knowledge, education, and experience; and the decades I’ve built these (1-2 posts per month will be free). I thought that was the step toward believing in myself but—oh no, cheeky little thing—my Inner Real Writer had much bigger plans for me.
Late last night, I posted a greeting and my intentions for my newsletter this year in a writers chat forum on Substack and found myself promising something that came out of nowhere. It wasn’t the plan but once I typed it out I knew it had to be.
I screenshot it to hold myself accountable.
The important bit:
This year, I’ll serialize my first novel in my Substack newsletter, which I wrote as an undergrad 25 years ago in all its shimmering vulnerable, hopeful “glory” and critique each chapter as an editor. It’s going to be painful and wonderful. :)
Inner Real Writer is not wrong—it will be painful and wonderful. When is writing not? Hence the turmeric and jammed toe. The wonderful is on its way, I’m sure.
A Little History of Killing the Good Girl
I was an older college undergrad when I wrote this novel—31 years old in 1997. I took the long way round getting my BA in English through four different colleges as I moved around, taking classes at night while I worked full time. I finally landed at Goucher College in Baltimore, where I wrote short stories in a prose workshop (with the amazing Madison Smartt Bell (read everything and start with his latest book Behind the Moon) and poems in a poetry workshop with Beth Spires (married to Madison and a fabulous poet. Her latest book of poems is Memory of the Future and she also writes enchanting books for children—poems and biographies).
Madison and Beth took me in as a writer and poet and have been unfailing cheerleaders of me and my work (and friends) for 25 years. I won a Ruth Lilly Poetry Fellowship from The Poetry Foundation (now the Ruth Lilly and Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Fellowships) because Beth nominated me (nomination only). I got my first agent through Madison, the legendary Jane Gelfman for Killing the Good Girl, the novel we are going to experience together.
The problem with my short stories back then is that they weren’t short. I was sharing them in 10-20 page increments over 2-3 weeks in class, thinking I’d get feedback and edit them down. But at the end of my “junior” year, Madison suggested I come by his office to discuss another idea: writing a novel for a thesis project and independent study with him for my senior year.
My stomach did about 100 backflips as I digested this idea. I’m not sure I heard everything he said. I don’t remember it. I was terrified and thrilled (kind of like how I feel now about sharing the novel here). I agreed to do it. I could not say no because I was worried I’d fail. If Madison thought I could do it I had to try.
I was so terrified I went home and wrote 1-5 pages every day all summer, finishing the novel in 2 1/2 months. And I mean every day. I thought if I skipped a day I’d never go back to it. When I emailed Madison in late August to share pages for our first session, I confessed what I’d done and sent the whole thing.
I couldn’t believe I’d actually done it. It was the biggest commitment I’d ever made to my writing or myself as a writer so it was a big deal to me. Now 9-year-old kids are writing novels, but it was different then (or we didn’t hear about the 9-year-olds because there wasn’t social media).
He was surprised but not shocked. We spent the year reviewing it and I revised it before he sent it to Jane Gelfman (his agent), and she called me in her smoky voice to tell me it was good and she wanted to send it out.
Back in 1998, manuscripts were sent out in hard copy, and editors at publishing houses sometimes responded in real paper letters (what?!), which Jane sent to me when the novel didn’t find a home and we parted company a year or so later. All were very detailed in their compliments (not at all like it is now with vague rejections. And these were the big houses. They could have called Jane; it was a testament to their respect for her).
I got very close to publication (oh Algonquin Books; the one that got away), but what it boils down to is that there weren’t enough stories/voices like mine to create a market. I have no idea where those letters are. Either I hid them from myself or threw them out. I should have saved them but was a bit dazed by how fast it all happened and wanted to move on to graduate school and work on my second novel.
I don’t regret the experience. Looking back, it was exciting and educational. I haven’t looked at the novel in 15 years, since I took it to the The New York Pitch Conference in 2007 and had full manuscript asks from places like Random House but these didn’t pan out. It happens. (Go to this conference, by the way. It bypasses all the bullshit.)
I’ll share up to 50 pages of the novel/editorial comments before it becomes for subscribers only. This project is a mixture of sharing my first book, my editing process/knowledge as a development editor, and offering a workshop, and I need to honor their value. More of my writing will be shared with subscribers after this project.
The Ground Rules
There will be zero editing. I share the book as is. No changes. Not even formatting or typos.
As an editor, I’ll break down my comments into key craft elements as they apply to each section.
I’ll share what’s true in that section (first novels usually have some truth/autobiographical info). As much as I dare.
I’m sure I’ll also have something to say about how this process feels and its perks and pitfalls.
Other ground rules added as needed.
Right now I feel excited! I feel sick too, but mostly excited. The first five pages will be shared tomorrow afternoon.
Happy writing,
Chris