When you announce to the world you are writing a novel, there are three standard reactions. Those who read a lot (and, I suspect usually harbour dreams of becoming a novelist themselves one day) tend to smirk. “Good luck,” they’ll tell you through gritted teeth. “But you do realise only one percent of manuscripts ever get published. You’ll have to be very, very good if you hope to be one of them.”
Those who read a little bit, and who will ultimately decide how many books you’ll sell if you are fortunate enough to break into that one percent you are constantly warned about, tend to respond by asking you about plot. “What’s it about?” is the first question they’ll throw at you. Then they’ll be unable to contain their disappointment when, ten minutes and hundreds of intricate questions later you’re unable to provide them with an enthralling account of every single twist and turn in this as-yet-unfinished thing you have started.
