A lot has happened.

I don’t even know where to start.

Due to Covid, my husband was put on furlough, so I could no longer afford to attend the masterclass, and I made the partially difficult decision to drop out.

I say “partially” because I was increasingly concerned by the provided advice. It wasn’t anything bigoted or unfair, but I realised that the facilitator and I were on different pages. The red flag came when she suggested that doing a book on race and class was too ambitious, and I should perhaps split the story into two books. TWENTY-NINETEEN (new title for DOMINO) is a novel about two working class Black people. One of the major lessons in the story is how problematic it is to separate and dichotomise “race” and “class”, because racial discussions are uncomfortable. So I was a little disappointed my facilitator said this, because it appeared she missed the point.

She also repeatedly said that the racism discussed in my novel would never happen in real life without a national backlash, and she told me I would have to work hard to “convince the reader” that the nation would “allow” it. Then she told me several times to watch the first episode of The Handmaid’s Tale, because it slowly takes the viewer on a journey of as to how women could be abused. The Handmaid’s Tale has been heavily criticised for its lack of intersectional writing, and appears to suggest that Black women and white women would be treated the same in Gilead. I wasn’t enthusiastic with the suggestion to watch it (I have read the book though, and very much feel that TWENTY-NINETEEN is in a similar category).

I decided that, money being low and all, the masterclass just wasn’t worth it any more.

So, I decided to set up my own Black writing club, providing a space for Black women to receive feedback and advice on their works in progress from Black professionals in the industry. Two weeks ago, I made the twitter account and the website for BLACK GIRL WRITERS, tagged as many agents and agencies I could find, and now, I have bestselling authors, celebrity agents, and Big 4 publishing houses signing up and offering mentors and assistance. I’m so happy. We now have a list of women, predominantly from African/Caribbean backgrounds, who will mentor Black writers over four months to get their projects polished; top literary agents who will do standalone 1:1 sessions and/or submission package assessments, and even more agents who will host group seminars and Q&A sessions.

I wanted 2020 to be the year I changed my life, and suddenly liaising with all these publishing professionals has opened doors for me, doors that I was still tentatively knocking on. Someone who works for one of the Big 4 publishers asked me to send her the full manuscript of TWENTY-NINETEEN. She said the synopsis alone has her so excited, and she will get back to me at the end of this month about it. I’m anxiously daring to dream, but I’ve become accustomed to the rejections so far, so I’m not expecting a book deal, but something will come out of this.

Another great thing that happened towards the end of June is that I was shortlisted for Penguin’s Write Now programme, where an editor from Penguin will look over the first 5000 words of TWENTY-NINETEEN, and decide whether or not to mentor me for a year. I get to attend an online seminar with the other shortlisted applicants in about a fortnight’s time. I have to say, these two events have been a major boost for my confidence. I was wandering around, thinking I was doing everything wrong with this novel, but it was just the wrong people looking at it. Knowing that I got through to one of the final stages of Write Now, despite it being a record year for applicants (so many people applied, they had to extend the deadline to allow more time to read through the applications), means that I have potential, and that my story is interesting to someone.

Also, an agent that I really admire (and who has agreed to offer her time to BLACK GIRL WRITERS! Gasp!) recently rejected the novel, but she actually gave good feedback. It appears my story annoyingly falls into two categories: it is both literary, but not literary enough, and science fiction, but not science fiction enough. So this might also be a reason for the brick wall I’ve been hitting. But she told me I have talent and she’d be happy to read any of my future projects, so that’s a plus.

I really hope that despite all the madness of this year, that 2020 will be the start of my dream…