by Sara Foster
Revisiting my debut novel fifteen years later, as it’s republished in a new format and for the first time in the US, has been a fascinating chance to reflect on how far I’ve come, and what I’ve learned along the way.
Debuts are special. They are truly the stories of our hearts, capturing us before any other. For many authors they are written from a pure love of reading and storytelling, and with less of a strategic eye for pleasing the publishing market. And while this might make some super-niche debuts run into issues, it also often brings freshness and originality to those who persist in honing their craft – which is why publishers love them so much.
My debut, Come Back to Me, was first published in 2010 in Australia and it did well for a debut at the time, reaching a couple of bestseller lists and providing the springboard for my career. Ever since, it has consistently been one of my highest rated novels.
I worked on the story for four years on my own – and for another year with my agent – the longest I’ve worked on any book (except for The Hush, which was written for my PhD). Back then, with a yearning to be published, I didn’t realise what a gift this was – that the freedom from publishing deadlines was an opportunity to ensure this book went out in its best shape. As a result, by the time my savvy agent put it on submission, there were multiple bids for the book and I got to fly to Sydney and choose my publisher. A dream start – but one that I’d earned through those years of hard work and honing my craft and voice.
During the writing process, I didn’t share the story with too many people – and I think this helped me refine the story. Workshopping with a trusted friend can be useful – but there can also be a nervous temptation in the early days to share your work widely. Writing is a solitary, vulnerable endeavour that requires you to dig in and constantly back yourself, so it’s natural to have a longing to want some encouragement and recognition. But sharing too early – especially amongst people with a broad range of reading tastes – can also lead to confusion and trying to edit to please everyone.
Listening to lots of writing tips can also muddle your narrative authority and voice. I would find just a few books or courses from those who write in genres you enjoy – and go deep on analysing their advice and how it might fit with your work – rather than reading too broadly. It’s far too easy to become addicted to the fun of courses and for the hard work of writing to stall as a result.
Nowadays, writers have the tools and temptations of AI to deal with as well: the possibility of instant feedback. My advice there is to tread warily: the system is trained on already published work and writing conventions: it is far more likely to imitate and parody than to add true freshness to your work.
I have been lucky because my background in editing meant I could easily switch hats. Before I switched to writing, I was a book editor for eight years working in-house and freelance across Big Five and indie publishers. However, if you don’t have editorial experience, then truly two of the easiest ways to do a strong editing pass on your book are 1) to leave your book alone for a few weeks and come back to it – the problems tend to be much more apparent than when you’re lost in it. Or, 2) to read the story out loud – and then perhaps listen to an audiobook of a similar genre. Mediocre writing finds it harder to get past the spoken word!
Fifteen years after Come Back to Me was first published, it was fascinating to do another proofread of my debut as we readied the book for republication. I wondered whether it would now be obvious to me – nine books later – that it was an early work. I was surprised that there was little I would change, and I was instead returned to the passion and intensity I felt as I wrote it – for both my themes and the characters. There were a couple of outdated references picked up and changed by my editor, but in general it has stood up to this test of time. And as I think through the debut novels of my peers, I can see it’s the same for most of them too. What tends to change is that our interests in theme or genre develop, pushing our work into new spaces, honing the different niches we want to explore. But it seems that debuts retain something special. If you’re a reader, I highly suggest picking up a debut of an author you love to see where they began. And if you’re a published writer who hasn’t reread their first novel in a while, then it’s a fascinating exercise. And if you’re working on a debut right now, then you are in the middle of a truly special and irreplaceable time – work hard, but please don’t forget to enjoy it, as you nurture that story of your heart.
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