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Non-agented writers - how does that work?

Just last week, a great writing chum of mine, who knows his way around a bit of PR, commented that I'd done well to get as much visibility for my new book, Waters and the Wild, (you have bought ten, right? You should because it's getting the most awesome reviews) without being agented.

Let me very clear, right from the start. I wanted to be agented. I'd still quite like to be agented. This is not an agent-bashing blog, far from it. I am not anti-agents: it seems they're rather more anti-me. This is frustrating - my books have all done well, for being with indie publishers/self-published but, more to the point, the reviews are stellar. People, when they find the books like them and recommend them. But still the agented world and I are not linked, probably for the simple reason that my books and a big publisher are not seen to be a good match.  

Let's go back a couple of years. I was, as is quite common, agented for my second novel. I then received a publisher's…

inspiration

I remembered this today. The original 300 word story that became Waters and the Wild

Song of the faerie.




There's a boat on the beach and it’s not of this world. 

“Do you see anything?” I ask.

Gary’s the most grounded person I know; he holds me where I’m safe. “Yeah,” he says. “Beautiful.”

I hadn’t expected that. “Why here?”

He shrugs. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Yes. A faerie boat from the underworld. My breathing tightens. Prickles cover my skin, great welts that itch and fade a moment later. “Why now?” 

He puts his hand on my arm. “Amy, what do you see?” 

I point at the ark and it sings a faerie song to me. Gary holds me so tight that it hurts. “Amy, what is it?”

I shake him off. Amy, amy, amy; a dangerous lullaby. I reach out and touch the ship, run my fingers over its rusted edges, take comfort in its solid form. 

“Amy!” He takes me in his arms and smells of coffee and orange. He kisses me, even though he knows I’m bad. “What do you see?” 

His voice, heavy with fear, rips through me and brings me…

The Last Seer - chapter two: Space Princess

CHAPTER TWO – KERRA
The planet hung below, a shimmering cast of sea and cloud. This was an old planet: Kerra could feel it in the bones of her body, in the dry aged knowledge of them. Silence hung around her, waiting her decision. “Anything from the planet?” she asked. “An old distress signal,” Rana said. He flashed her a smile, one that she knew the promise within, but she ignored him. A mission was not the time to indulge, no matter how pleasant that indulgement was. Especially a mission that she hadn’t filed a flight-plan for, had taken out of the mesh, and which had taken her far beyond the Seven-Stars. A mission she hadn’t, truly, expected to succeed in. Excitement bubbled. She’d spent the last weeks imagining returning to her father and telling him what she had achieved. This was his mission, although he did not know of it, carried out on the back of their last meeting, on a planet deep in the outer zone. Her father was so different to the one she’d known as a child. He ma…

The last seer

This, then, is my experiment. It follows on from my blog of last week about new models of writing, about how the current model does nothing to support writers anyhow. 
The process:  I have no idea where this story is going. It's certainly not going to happen quickly but in between other stuff I'm writing. But, every so often, I'm going to be popping up chapters of this book, The Last Seer (read into that what you will. At some point my sub-conscious might even explain it). They will be early drafts, so don't expect sparkling prose, and any comments about where things are going, what is or isn't working, will be more than welcome.
It's designed to be read by people new to the Abendau series, as well as those familiar with the original trilogy (although reading this first will give spoilers to the trilogy https://www.amazon.co.uk/Abendaus-Heir-Inheritance-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00VF6C1Q4, be warned). 

CHAPTER ONE
Baelan stretched in the early-morning sun, hea…