As many of you know, my most recent novel just came out in France last week, under the title “Les Poissons de Caracas” (literal translation: Caracas’ Fish/The Fish of Caracas).
“Why did you publish it in French?” is a question I get a lot. Well, because nadie es profeta en su tierra, as Venezuelans say. Here’s a brief timeline of how this project came to be:
2015: I started gathering information and thinking about writing a Detective novel based in Venezuela. I can’t remember how many Crime novels I read - too many, I’d say, but I drew inspiration from 3 major sources: James Church’s Inspector O series, Phillip Kerr’s Berlin Trilogy and Jean-Claude Izzo’s Marseille Trilogy.
2016: In the first months of 2016, I finally came up with two rhetorical structures I liked: a Spanish journalist and a young girl from a barrio in Venezuela. My poor friends started getting bombarded with bits and pieces of manuscript, looking for validation, since all writers are self-loathing animals with the worst self-esteem possible.
2017: About a year and a half later, I had completed my manuscript in Spanish, called “Perico Express”, about a drug trafficking ring in Venezuela discovered by a Spanish journalist. I was pretty happy with the end result, but my novel was highly experimental, pushing the limits of writing with whole chapters written like this (my translation):
Before, we thought [my uncle] be (sic) dumb. Well, not me, I was little, but I remember peeps saying my uncle was stupid. ‘Cause like, before, only the rich people could be untelligent, not the poor. And then Chávez came: he be like (sic) “everyone can be untelligent”. And me uncle go see (sic) a guy from the gloverment who come to the slum and he come back with a paper, says he untelligent. Nobody
fuckmess with him after that. Whenbrothers be trippinguys laugh at him ‘cause he mess up counting the points on the Domino table, uncle goes get the paper. He takes it from the wall and shows ‘em. Erryone shut up then, you damn right.
End of 2017: (Nobody seemed to understand the novel, especially the part above, even though it was my favorite. Sad face emoji).
2018: I decided it was time to send the manuscript out and aimed for publishing houses in Spain. I created an Excel file and started e-mailing all the editors I could find. I also signed up for contests and whatnot.
End of 2018: Nothing has happened. I haven’t even gotten rejection letters! I might as well have chucked the manuscript into the Seine, the result would have been the same. I try to keep my spirits up by drinking alcohol. Surprisingly, this doesn’t work.
2019: Because God loves his children, I end up as a Content Manager for a huge Consulting Agency (Why God, oh why?). Things go as expected: everyone is doing blow and banging top-tier call girls while I’m slouching in a corner, reading William Blake, with a T-Shirt that says, “Touch me and your first Jiujitsu class is for free”. In order to avoid completely selling my soul to Satan, I decide to translate the whole darn novel into English and send it to people over there. So, after sending a stupid email about operational performance optimization, I open my document and translate a couple of pages.
By the end of 2019, I’ve got a whole manuscript in English, called “Yayo Express” and I’ve created a new Excel sheet with agents and editors in the US and the UK. I get the help of some of my best friends, who can’t stand me spiraling down a dark hole of “financial optimization” with a beer and a shot of tequila, and they offer help. They send dozens of emails. We keep at it, for months.
Nothing happens.
2020: I get an answer from an agent! He’s read the first chapters and wants to have a look at the whole manuscript. I’m ecstatic: I finally got one person interested! Then they read the manuscript… And run into the wall of my stream-of-consciouness, foul-mouthed little girl.
I start working on something else, with new ideas, developing one of the characters in Yayo Express I really like. I find new information and follow other Venezuelan scandals, coming up with the backdrop for “Fish Food!”. Since I had one answer in English (compared to zero in Spanish), I think about publishing in the US instead of Spain.
2021: An agent in the USA likes my new book proposal, “Fish Food!”. He wants to read the whole thing. I’m stoked: I send him the manuscript, cross my fingers and cover my face, because there’s a Chinese virus etc. More lockdowns occur; the agent disappears. He’s not answering my e-mails, I become convinced he died of COVID.
2022: It’s back to square one, now with a different manuscript. It’s called “Los peces del Guaire” and it’s a straightforward crime novel. I’m really happy with the result, so I start sending it out to Spanish publishers.
Nobody answers. My Excel sheet is too long now, so I add another tab and calmly start doing the rounds, once again.
2023: At the start of 2023 (maybe end of 2022) I’ve pretty much given up. I start rage-sending my book proposal e-mail to editors (WHY WON’T YOU ANSWER ME?) and find comfort in the idea that at least one thing is moving forward in my life: my alcoholism has progressed pretty well, thanks to all the practicing. Apart from that, everything else is in a shambles.
Some of my French friends really like the idea when I tell them about the book and ask me why I don’t publish it in France. Really? Another round of e-mails? This is worse than the PSG trying to win the Champions League Cup… Whatever: given my previous experience, I plow through the manuscript page by page, translating and fixing stuff.
I’ve lost so much energy with this project. Who should I send it to? At least in the States I can spam email 10 agents at once, in France it’s different… My friend A.D., who works in publishing, tell me, “Here are four editors that do read manuscripts. You’re worried they’re not even reading you? These guys will”.
Spring 2023: I get an email. One of the editors says he read the book? And liked it??? Where’s the catch? We set up a meeting and I show up, convinced he wants money, or wants to steal my book or something: this just doesn’t happen.
Well, what do you know: the editor is sincere, he really read the darn thing and has a good idea for the book. I read the contract, re-read the contract, send it to lawyers; it’s all good. He’s one of the good guys. I can’t believe it!
“It’s great that you like the book -I tell him-, but here’s the thing: it’s a trilogy. This is the first tome. The second one, “Yayo Express” is in manuscript stage. I’m calling it, “The Caracas Colors Trilogy”: Fish food!, is red Caracas (the blood!), Yayo Express is white Caracas (the coke) and the third one will be black Caracas”.
The editor loved the idea. So here we are. I’m so lucky to have been signed to a small but serious publishing house, willing to back my project. I’m only hoping the book does well enough so we can publish Yayo Express, but I’m so not looking forward to it being a smash hit. I know writer friends signed to big houses, and it’s a circus I want no part of.
We’ll see what happens: so far, so good.
A final note: Let this be a lesson on perseverance and stubbornness. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the unwavering support of my friends (D.P., S.W., H.W., J.N., M.F., S.C., and all the others I forget) so for me, it’s been a blessing and a life lesson on friendship. That’s the most important thing, to me. But I really want people to realize they can get their projects done, too. Keep your head down. Work on your craft. Concentrate on the only thing that matters: the art. The chips will fall where they may, don’t worry about that.
If you’re a writer, you write. I managed to get through the tough times there by writing (and whiskey). You rejected me? No hard feelings, I’m going to write an even better paragraph, today.
That’s how I went about it.
V.
P.S.: I’ll be posting some excerpts of “Fish food!” in English here, next week, so my loyal readers can get a taste ;-)