I've been keeping shtum these past few weeks, out of nerves and out of that dreaded condition Mr Darcy suffered from, pride. Lovely Imogen Cooper, after lots of suggested additions, edits and tweaks, told me my manuscript was ready to submit to Barry at Chicken House. I pretended to go with the flow. Yeah, no big deal. It's ready so I'm ready. But inside I kind of shrivelled up. This was it. Judgement time.

I know, from having paintings not accepted in exhibitions or nor sold, that rejection is a part of creating something. Not everyone is going to rate it or like it or want to part with their money to have it. But knowing and experiencing that is one thing, having immunity from the gut-wrenching feeling is quite another. And I have thin skin. Tissue thin. Part of what's been so brilliant about The Golden Egg Academy has been protection, delaying sending out to an agent until someone as in the know as Imogen tells you to submit. But it can't last forever.

So, as well as submitting to Chicken House (which is part of the deal with GEA, CH have first refusal) I submitted to agent Kate Shaw. Two weeks of waiting felt like two years. It's been awful. I've never minded too much waiting for Imogen's feedback, or Abi's, or my wonderful writing group. A little nervous but excited too. This wait had zero excitement. It was all angst. I kept planning how I'd react to different outcomes. Generally, they resulted in me sobbing into rather too many packs of biscuits.

Then... an email from Imogen popped up reading URGENT. My hands buzzed as I clicked the mouse. Oh God, oh God, oh God. And there was the most dream-like positive email from Kate. She mentioned being willing to 'walk through fire' for this book. My book. OMG.

I met Kate the following week, last week, in London which all felt terribly grown-up. Half of me felt like weeping, half of me felt like whooping. I generally stuck to talking about the book - which was probably a good thing because she said she'd like to represent my writing and be my agent. I actually held off having a little cry until I left the café. I was in shock.

So now almost a week has gone by and I've signed on The Viney Agency's dotted line. Kate had lots of ideas about a certain area in the book and I've been diving back in to, yes, rewrite a little. She's also created this great little blurb. It was strange reading something I know so well in someone else's words. But all quite exciting, like I'm singing in my head. Not because having an agent is the be-all and end-all - I think some really great writers have difficulty getting one and some don't have one at all. But because someone as lovely, bright and creative as Kate believes in my story. That's making me sing.

Yesterday, two things happened: I watched an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer before heading to London to the Golden Egg Academy's 3rd birthday bash, The Big Honk, at the Savile Club. Overnight, my brain seems to have merged these two things and now I'm itching to write a blog about how being in the Golden Egg Academy is just like being in the marvellous Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Bear with.

If you've never seen or heard of Buffy the Vampire Slayer rectify it immediately! It was a TV show created by the genius Joss Whedon about a girl chosen to be the slayer of demons. The story has since continued in comic book form with Dark Horse Comics. It is excellent.

So, imagine being part of the GEA is like living in Buffy's Sunnydale, a town on top of the Hellmouth. Only we're not living above a Hellmouth. We are on the precipice of the Publishing, er, mouth. Now imagine we are those people who walk the streets at night, clueless that demons are all around us; you know, the ones who blindly walk down dark allies, too busy writing to look up until...

Eek, a demon! Only not vampires (thank goodness) but Plot Tangle Blood Suckers, Evil Characterisation Demons, Howlingly Bad Voice Werewolves, Fiery Setting Monsters. Argh, you cry. You try to fight off these nasties but they are strong. Your own inner demon tells you to give up, this is a battle you can't win. Why even try? But then...

Tired of this analogy? Well I'm not finished! Even the gang on Buffy the Vampire Slayer have bad times. In the best episode EVER, Once More With Feeling (a musical that makes life worth living), all the gang, like all us Eggs - and even mentors - have times of terrible, awful, gut-wrenching self-doubt. In this particular episode, Spike (one of the demons who is in fact the key to everything good - like, for me, the Plot Tangle Blood Sucker) sings to Buffy. Yes, the singing's pretty shaky but the words are fab and apply to all of us too. I've replaced the words 'life' with 'writing' and the words 'living' with 'persisting':

'Writing's not a song,
Writing's not bliss, writing's just this,
It's persisting.
You'll get along,
The pain that you feel, only can heal
By persisting.'

Slay those writing demons (or make them your very best friend). Sometimes you'll have a scary episode, like Hush, or a very upsetting episode where only a really good cry will help, The Body, or a massively uplifting, joyous episode, Once More With Feeling. Just know you're not alone. You're in the gang.

PS If you need convincing, watch this youtube video and then you'll see why you should watch Buffy and Angel!

Being part of the Golden Egg Academy is so great because you get to hear from other writers all the things you've been fretting over. It makes the whole writing process less lonely and stops you throwing the manuscript into a drawer to never be looked at again.
Writing is hard. Getting that first nugget of an idea on to paper is exciting then quickly exhausting. If you're a writer, the process becomes obsessive. You think about scenes whilst cooking tea, you stop mid-walk with the triumph of a fresh solution to a writing dilemma. You basically start living your story. And then that glorious day arrives when you have that story down, the whole thing, and you think, with a sigh of self-congratulations and relief, that you've done it.
Ah. But then you re-read it, or you ask some encouraging friend or relative to read it, and then comes the blast of truth: what you've written is a mess. My first draft was overloaded with adjectives and adverbs. What do you mean I shouldn't use words ending in -ly? It was also full of plot lulls and holes. And the whole thing was written in third person when first would be much better.
So, I began systematically rewriting. I took out a few darlings (though not many) and worked and reworked scenes, changing characters as I went, adding in new ones. As with my paintings, I'm not terribly precious about my writing. I can be quite cavalier. I horrify my family with how easily I can tear apart a seemingly finished painting because it's not quite right. I take the same approach with my writing, tearing out parts that haven't worked and not worrying too much, trusting my instinct.
Rewrites done. And again, that wonderful sense that I've finished.
Ah. But, another read through, some more trusted opinion and no, of course it isn't finished. More rewrites. So having spent countless hours rewriting the first draft, you're doing it again, cutting out the sections you'd not long ago added in, taking out a character you'd though would add a fresh dimension but hasn't. So what was the point of those first lot of rewrites when all you're doing now is rewriting again? Were all of those hours a waste of valuable writing time? Short answer, no.

When we rewrite, we are polishing, honing the story, clarifying scenes, perfecting dialogue, editing out plot holes. When we rewrite the rewrite, we're doing the same thing but this time (and this is important to remember when you're pressing delete on swathes of polished, unworkable writing) you're GROWING your writing. 
Imagine the first draft as the shoot from the seed of an idea. Second draft, leaves unfurl, third draft, some hard pruning but the shoot grows thicker, stronger, taller. Fourth, fifth, hundredth draft (the number of drafts all depends on how you work - it's not a reflection on how 'good' you are as a writer) your story is a confident, resilient tree.
You simply can't grow a tree from a seed in one draft - however much we'd like to hope we can. Rewrites are the rings inside the trunk of the tree. They become invisible to the reader of your final draft, but they're in there, in your writing, making it strong.
Lots of successful writers tell new writers to be fearless. I think that's especially true when rewriting. Never keep something just because you've spent hours writing and polishing it if it's not working or is no longer relevant to the story. Never mind that you're deleting hours of painstaking work. You've not wasted your time. You've spent those hours creating, nurturing, growing, the final draft. The final, euphoric, ah.

A couple of weeks ago, I attended my first SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) event: a talk and one-to-one session with Amber Caravéo and Joanna Moult from the newly created Skylark Literary Agency. I'd already sent them my first three chapters and synopsis and was very curious about their reaction, having not had an agent read Not Even Myself before.
The event was held in Foyles in Bristol. It was lovely to meet Jo Thomas, SCBWI co-ordinator for the SouthWest, and many other SCBWI members. Children's writers really do seem to be the friendliest, most supportive people around! The talk began with Amber and Joanna explaining their background (as editors in various big publishing houses) and why they had created the Skylark Literary Agency - chiming with Imogen's Cooper's desire to nurture good writers and create the very best books.
They went on to talk about their role as agents and I sat there thinking how lovely they are and how nice it would be to have them as agents - their passion, kindness and professionalism added up to me in the same way that Imogen's does.

I grew increasingly nervous about the one-to-one, caring about what these people would think of my novel - the novel I've been working on for over five years now. Chatting to the other writers was comforting but my palms were sweaty and I kept thinking how lovely it would be if Amber (who I was to have my one-to-one feedback with) liked my writing enough to take me on. Yes, I was dreaming, but I couldn't help myself.

For starters, Amber was really encouraging. She made every effort to compliment my writing style and put great emphasis on how she couldn't find fault with what she'd read. BUT, and it was a humdinger of a but, she thought my main character, Millie, was unlikable (oh) but that could be rectified with her engaging more to her friends and family, at least in the beginning, and - here it comes - the whole premise of the novel was "too dark."
In the moments that followed, I could have cried but managed to vaguely hold my nerve. This is a novel about psychosis, it is not ever going to be a breezy walk in the park. But too dark? My novel whizzed through my head. Is it too dark? Are there enough lighter moments within it?

Amber sensitively reminded me that my writing is great but my head echoed with the idea that I may well have spent five years writing a story that is unpublishable. I thanked her, because opinion, no matter how unexpected, from a professional (or from anyone you have faith in) should always be listened to, considered. Writing, no matter how it often feels, is not a solitary occupation. It is a team sport. Opinions, like Amber's, shouldn't make you defensive (or crushed, as is my first reaction) because it's just that, opinion.

Having promptly sent my novel out to my excellent writing group friends, and my more excellent mother, to read through entirely and decide whether it is too dark, I've had two weeks to let the feedback process in the background. My heart believes my story isn't too dark but perhaps there is a need for some further editing, to ensure Millie's preoccupation with the water isn't overdone to the point of irritation.

I am happy she thinks I can write, an opinion that's much nicer to hold on to. But I can't just ignore her other, less complimentary thoughts on my story. Sometimes, opinions confirm what we thought already but hoped no one else would notice. And sometimes an opinion can be like a hit from behind, unexpected and painful. Whatever, it should always be considered, bearing in mind the story is your own and what may be one person's opinion, may not be someone else's.

Which is, after all, what all artists have to do: learn the basics of drawing, the rules of tone, of perspective. Only then can you break them. So this plot board is me, understanding the rules. Yes, most of it's instinctive, but being consciously aware is a revelation.
I'll never be a planner but maybe, once a free-flowing first draft is written, I can use the plot board to tighten up and clarify the story, the themes, the crisis point before I move onto the next draft. I wonder whether this is the final element I needed to understand to become a writer. But I've a feeling there's still more to learn!