★ Making a Proper Job of It

When I wrote Déjà Vu, I wasn’t sure if it was any good. Certainly, it was 120,000 of sus­tained nar­rat­ive and kept me enter­tained, but I couldn’t be sure about the effect on oth­er people. Turns out they liked it.

The nov­el I wrote after Déjà Vu was a very dif­fer­ent one: a com­ing-of-age com­edy based on my exper­i­ences of being an ice-cream man, which I did to help pay for my uni­ver­sity stud­ies. I laughed a great deal when I wrote it. I thought it was good. I sent it to agents and pub­lish­ers, and instead of the form rejec­tions I’d received for Déjà Vu, I got hand-writ­ten replies. More than half those agents and pub­lish­ers enjoyed read­ing it. However, because of the demands of mod­ern pub­lish­ing, full lists, and so on, they could not pro­ceed with it.

I wasn’t quite ready to give up. Since 2005, I’ve returned to the manu­script, tweaked the gags, added col­our, and gen­er­ally improved it. I wrote a film script of the story in 2009.

When I first got togeth­er with my agent, I sent him the manu­script for Proper Job (along with Déjà Vu and Flashback). I knew that most of the people in the industry who had read the book enjoyed it, so I was more con­fid­ent in Proper Job find­ing a pub­lish­er than my two sci­ence fic­tion nov­els.

A year passed, dur­ing which Déjà Vu almost, but not quite, got picked up. I asked my agent how he was get­ting on with Proper Job. He told me he had nev­er received it. This puzzled me because I’d been care­ful in nam­ing it in the body of the email. Anyway, my heart sank. If I’m hon­est with myself, this is one of the reas­ons I thought my agent and I should part ways.

Over the years, whenev­er I came back to the nov­el, it sucked me in. It made me laugh. No mean feat when I’ve read some of the gags more than twenty times. Plus, the mar­ket­ing part of my brain — you know, the bit that nev­er kicks in until I’m months into a pro­ject and real­ise its poten­tial read­er­ship is, like, five — that mar­ket­ing part told me this is the kind of book that any­body might pick up. It won’t eli­cit pre­ju­dice in quite the same way as a sci­ence fic­tion work. It’s a boy-meets-girl com­edy set in Cornwall dur­ing the eclipse of 1999, that’s all.

Now, of course, I’m in a pos­i­tion to say the hell with it and pub­lish the thing myself on the Kindle.

On Monday of this week, I went to The Grand, a well-pre­served Victorian hotel over­look­ing the Leas in Folkestone. I spent every morn­ing, after­noon and even­ing work­ing on a final draft. Next week, I’ll send the thing off to my favour­ite freel­ance edit­or, Clare Christian, and get her take.

I’ve just real­ised that one of the major changes I’ve made in this latest drive is to intro­duce an ele­ment of faith — not reli­gion, exactly, but faith — in the main char­ac­ter. I won­der if this is my uncon­scious mind telling me to have faith in the story. If so, it needn’t have bothered. I’ve always had faith in it.

Author: Ian Hocking

Writer and psychologist.

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