I'm going to ease back into things by sparing you all long-winded emotional explanations, much-justified spleen ventage, candid industry horror spillage and other self-indulgent unproductive prattle. We'll just say that it's been a very rough month both personally and professionally for me, and let the buzzkillers stew.
I know you all were worried, but it really was a good thing I stayed away. As an author who keeps an industry blog, I know I shouldn't post anything when all my ideas either start or end with suggestions on how, precisely, that Publishing should have intercourse with itself. And pretty much? That's all I had to offer.
Plus it's NaNoWriMo, my favorite writing month of the year, and hell if I'm going to rain on their parade. Welcome to all the NaNo'ers who might stop by here. I'll try to put together some posts and links that are useful for you folks.
A few series updates: both Omega Games (StarDoc book #8) and Twilight Fall (Darkyn book #6) are finished and in the hands of their respective editors. I'm not sure of release dates yet. Evermore (Darkyn book #5) according to my publisher will be a Rhapsody Book Club selection (mailing 1/7), a Doubleday Book Club selection (mailing 1/17), and a Science Fiction Book Club selection (mailing 2/15). I'm putting together a proposal for Darkyn book #7, and if all goes well it will be Robin's story.
My thanks to everyone who e-mailed, prayed, wrote poems, worried and kept stopping in to check on me and see if I was coming back. You are the reason that I did.
Showing posts with label industry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label industry. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Friday, June 01, 2007
Friday 20
I'm making a late start again today; sorry, folks. The Dragon does not like me congested, and this week has been interpreting nearly everything I say as something you could sing to the tune of Camptown Ladies: I'd aching a laid dart a gain do day, doodah, doodah.
A couple of RWA writers have e-mailed to ask if they can pass around my old post, Why PAN was the God of Sheep, in response to the latest RWA mess. (Note: Edited to clarify, as I am not part of the Creative Commons crowd) As with anything from the blog, you may e-mail my posts as long as it's not for profit and you give me byline credit or link love. Fair use excerpts are fine, too.
If you don't buy into it, elitism in the industry is always entertaining. Ranking systems are rarely objective, especially when competitive human beings looking for shortcuts are involved, but they play on the almost universal lack of self-esteem writers suffer, and then the pissing contests commence. Groups like the the Borg are particularly gifted at this sort of infighting, but the nature of publishing encourages group hostility and professional cannabalism.
Imagine that the industry is a bake sale, and this is all about who makes the prettiest cupcakes, and then you can see how trivial it is.
That's all from my sniffly corner of publishing this week. Anyone out there have any questions for me?
A couple of RWA writers have e-mailed to ask if they can pass around my old post, Why PAN was the God of Sheep, in response to the latest RWA mess. (Note: Edited to clarify, as I am not part of the Creative Commons crowd) As with anything from the blog, you may e-mail my posts as long as it's not for profit and you give me byline credit or link love. Fair use excerpts are fine, too.
If you don't buy into it, elitism in the industry is always entertaining. Ranking systems are rarely objective, especially when competitive human beings looking for shortcuts are involved, but they play on the almost universal lack of self-esteem writers suffer, and then the pissing contests commence. Groups like the the Borg are particularly gifted at this sort of infighting, but the nature of publishing encourages group hostility and professional cannabalism.
Imagine that the industry is a bake sale, and this is all about who makes the prettiest cupcakes, and then you can see how trivial it is.
That's all from my sniffly corner of publishing this week. Anyone out there have any questions for me?
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The S&S Flap
You've all likely heard about Simon & Schuster's contract rewording that will allow them to retain book rights for the length of the copyright, or in writer terms, basically forever. So it seems that my definition of out of print in the Devil's Publishing Dictionary was a little more accurate than I thought.
Hey, what can I say. Maybe I am psychic.
Everyone is busy sending out alerts to their memberships and writing strongly-worded protests against the proposed change, which amuses me to no end. This practice is not anything new; it's done on the writer-for-hire side of the industry every day. Would you be shocked to know that copyrights to ten of my published novels belong to the respective publishers, not me?
It's true. They will forever be my books, but the rights don't belong to me, nor will they ever revert back to me. I have no problem with that, either, as I clearly understood that condition when I signed the contracts.
That's the key here, folks. If you don't like what a contract says, don't sign it. If enough authors refuse to sign, the publisher will have no choice but to reword their contract.
Should it become a standard industry practice for publishers to retain book rights for the length of the copyright? I think it would be foolish in the long term. Aside from becoming yet another choke-collar authors have to wear (don't we have enough strangling us already?) I think it would eventually lead to publishers exiling 99% of authors to Print-on-Demand Land, which would in turn hurt the booksellers and further sabotage the industry's future.
What's your opinion on the kerfluffle? Should authors hand it over yet again without so much as a whimper? Should we stage sit-ins and chant "Hell, no, we won't sign!" Or is there a possible compromise that could be worked out?
Hey, what can I say. Maybe I am psychic.
Everyone is busy sending out alerts to their memberships and writing strongly-worded protests against the proposed change, which amuses me to no end. This practice is not anything new; it's done on the writer-for-hire side of the industry every day. Would you be shocked to know that copyrights to ten of my published novels belong to the respective publishers, not me?
It's true. They will forever be my books, but the rights don't belong to me, nor will they ever revert back to me. I have no problem with that, either, as I clearly understood that condition when I signed the contracts.
That's the key here, folks. If you don't like what a contract says, don't sign it. If enough authors refuse to sign, the publisher will have no choice but to reword their contract.
Should it become a standard industry practice for publishers to retain book rights for the length of the copyright? I think it would be foolish in the long term. Aside from becoming yet another choke-collar authors have to wear (don't we have enough strangling us already?) I think it would eventually lead to publishers exiling 99% of authors to Print-on-Demand Land, which would in turn hurt the booksellers and further sabotage the industry's future.
What's your opinion on the kerfluffle? Should authors hand it over yet again without so much as a whimper? Should we stage sit-ins and chant "Hell, no, we won't sign!" Or is there a possible compromise that could be worked out?
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Misfits
When I turned pro and started meeting other people in the business, I had big problems fitting in. I didn't have the clothes, the personality, the schmooze gene, the gossip addiction or the desire to get sloshed at every con. I had no writer aura or professional vocabulary. I never learned the correct posture or position. I also seemed to offend every other person I met (but that happened with non-writers too, so no big surprise there.)
It bothered me to feel inept at my new profession, so I made a real effort to fit in. I did what the established pros told me to. I shopped and I dressed up. I circulated, booksigned, bookmarked/postcarded/flyered and critiqued grouped. In one year, I did three different con circuits. I volunteered. I raised money for charity. I was a good industry person, and totally miserable.
There are things involved with publishing, things you don't know about until you're a part of it, that just flabbergasted me. One non-writer member of my writer organization had this hobby of calling new members at home and informing them of the dirt on everyone else in the organization. Not casual gossip, either -- this was vicious, gleefully delivered, utterly hateful stuff, all delivered with the sort of relish that turns your stomach. No matter how I tried to change the subject, the yoyo wouldn't stop. At the end of my rope, I asked my colleagues what I could do, but everyone said I had to put up with it or I'd offend the yoyo, which would have dire career consequences (and, being a rookie, I believed this bullshit.) So I put up with this for better part of a year, and to this day I am so sorry I didn't just tell the yoyo to piss off and change my phone number.
I wasted two years of my life doing things I usually hated, among people with whom for the most part I had absolutely nothing in common except a profession, for the sake of my career. I think I made every mistake a new writer can make. I'm also pretty sure that I invented a few new ones. Under the circumstances, I think folks in publishing made a truly heroic effort in putting up with me that long.
What I did learn is that trying to fit in when you can never fit in doesn't work, and it makes you hate yourself. I almost quit writing -- my dream profession, that I've worked toward my entire life -- because I failed so miserably at playing author. It was only when I stopped and got away from the industry glam-lovers that I realized that writing, not publishing, was the only career I wanted. Writing is everything. Publishing just bankrolls me.
One more thought for the misfits out there reading this: if you don't fit in, don't sweat it. It's easier to make your own place in publishing than to force yourself into someone else's concept of how it should be. It can be lonely, yes, but that's part of the real job. In time, you may find that you attract more like-minded people by standing apart from the herd rather than hiding yourself among them.
It bothered me to feel inept at my new profession, so I made a real effort to fit in. I did what the established pros told me to. I shopped and I dressed up. I circulated, booksigned, bookmarked/postcarded/flyered and critiqued grouped. In one year, I did three different con circuits. I volunteered. I raised money for charity. I was a good industry person, and totally miserable.
There are things involved with publishing, things you don't know about until you're a part of it, that just flabbergasted me. One non-writer member of my writer organization had this hobby of calling new members at home and informing them of the dirt on everyone else in the organization. Not casual gossip, either -- this was vicious, gleefully delivered, utterly hateful stuff, all delivered with the sort of relish that turns your stomach. No matter how I tried to change the subject, the yoyo wouldn't stop. At the end of my rope, I asked my colleagues what I could do, but everyone said I had to put up with it or I'd offend the yoyo, which would have dire career consequences (and, being a rookie, I believed this bullshit.) So I put up with this for better part of a year, and to this day I am so sorry I didn't just tell the yoyo to piss off and change my phone number.
I wasted two years of my life doing things I usually hated, among people with whom for the most part I had absolutely nothing in common except a profession, for the sake of my career. I think I made every mistake a new writer can make. I'm also pretty sure that I invented a few new ones. Under the circumstances, I think folks in publishing made a truly heroic effort in putting up with me that long.
What I did learn is that trying to fit in when you can never fit in doesn't work, and it makes you hate yourself. I almost quit writing -- my dream profession, that I've worked toward my entire life -- because I failed so miserably at playing author. It was only when I stopped and got away from the industry glam-lovers that I realized that writing, not publishing, was the only career I wanted. Writing is everything. Publishing just bankrolls me.
One more thought for the misfits out there reading this: if you don't fit in, don't sweat it. It's easier to make your own place in publishing than to force yourself into someone else's concept of how it should be. It can be lonely, yes, but that's part of the real job. In time, you may find that you attract more like-minded people by standing apart from the herd rather than hiding yourself among them.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
February: Database
This month's biz post is about creating a database of industry info for contact purposes. This is your index to everyone else in the business, something you need for queries, proposals and other types of submissions. It's also a great way to create your own who's who and get to know your colleagues.
What you put into this database can be custom-tailored to your needs, but you'll probably need to maintain contact lists for agents, editors, publishers, and other writers. Optional databases would be lists of who is approachable, whose marriage is in trouble, who's a quote slut, who could turn a chunk of coal into a diamond by sitting on it, etc.
Agents: There are all sorts of indexes and books you can buy on agents, but I find most of them are outdated within a year of publication. I recommend using The Association of Author's Representatives web site, because the agents are required to follow the AAR's canon of ethics, plus it's free. Here's a sample listing from their database:
Last Name: Anderson
First Name: Kathleen
Company: Anderson Literary Management, Inc.
Address 1: 12 W. 19th Street
Address 2:
City: New York
State: New York
Zip: 10011
Country: USA
URL: http://www.andersonliterary.com
Submission Guidlines: by mail: fiction: 50 pages plus bio and query
nonfiction: narrative proposal including overview and resume
by email: all email queries should be addressed to terry@andersongrinberg.com. queries sent to other addresses will be forwarded there.
Email address for queries: terry@andersongrinberg.com
Literary: TRUE
Dramatic: TRUE
Adults: TRUE
Children: TRUE
Photo: Not Available
Accepting e-mail queries: yes
Genre: African American Studies, Americana/Regional, Anthropology, Archeology, Asian Studies, Behavioral Services, Biography, Children's Books, Essays, Fiction, Fiction/African-American, Fiction/Asian-American, Fiction/Gay & Lesbian, Fiction/International, Fiction/Latino or Hispanic, Fiction/Literary, Fiction/Short Stories, Fiction/Thrillers, Fiction/Women's, Geography/Geology, Government/Political Science, Health/Nutrition, Historical Fiction, History, Human Relations, Humor, Journalism, Memoir, Native American Studies, Natural History, Non-fiction (general), Non-Fiction/Narrative, Philosophy, Politics, Pop-Culture, Psychology/Psychiatry, Religion, Science (general), Social Sciences/Sociology, Travel, Women's Studies, Young Adult Fiction
Accepting New Clients: TRUE
A lot of good, specific information there for Ms. Anderson. You may also want to start tracking how quickly agents respond to queries, what sort of feedback you receive from them, who their other clients are. We'd all like to know if they're easily swayed by gifts of gourmet chocolate, dinners at French restaurants, begging and pleading, tears, threats of suicide and the like, so feel free to share that information.
Editors: You'll find a few sites out there like this one that provide free lists of editor contacts, but remember that editors move around (Jennifer Heddle, for example, is listed as Roc's editor; she's actually working over at Pocket now. Ace editor Anne Sowards is doing most of the editing for Roc these days.) I recommend going to the publisher's web site and checking to see if they have a contact info and/or submission guidelines page. For example, Kensington Books has an excellent contact page; scroll down to see their submission guidelines and editorial staff listed by name with their specialty and e-mail addy.
Do not keep databases of editors whom you have surreptitiously photographed while they were intoxicated and trying to hit on the GoH in front of his wife. What happens at the con, stays at the con. Plus we'd like to use the pics for the Editors Gone Wild newsletter.
Publishers: We've talked before about who the major publishers are, but they all have different divisions, lines, categories and imprints. There are also plenty of smaller publishers, houses and presses out there. Because we write by genre, the most logical way to classify publishers is by the genre they publish (and many will publish much more than one.)
Writer's Digest puts out a doorstop-size Writer's Market every year if you want to invest in a copy; the information becomes quickly outdated, though (why else would they print a new edition every year?) It's rather pricey, so I recommend getting it from the library. One of my old tricks was to go to the bookstore and write down the names of imprints on the spines of books that were shelved in the genre I was interested in, then come home and look up their web site.
Some writers have already compiled genre publisher list and made them available them online (like the Passionate Pen's list of romance publishers or Overbooked.org's Crime Fiction publisher links.) Verify the contact info if you're not sure how up-to-date these lists are.
By the way, PBW's Database of Publisher Horror Stories As Told By Other Writers does not exist. It's an urban myth, like Bigfoot. Really.
Other writers: I think we all keep contact lists of writer friends, but you may want to create one for writers in your genre for things like making quote requests, meeting at cons, networking on promo, getting recommendations on specific editors/publishers and so forth. Most pro writers have a web site or weblog with an e-mail addy listed or a contact e-mail form you can fill out to request one. Don't feel snubbed if you don't get a response; some writers are a bit leery about giving out their contact info, or are so flooded with e-mail that they might not have the time/opportunity to respond.
Then there are writers whom you shouldn't contact because they're complete jackasses or raving maniacs, but you have to compile that list personally -- just like the rest of us did.
There are plenty of database, organizer and contact freewares out there, but I'd go with our blog pal Simon Haynes's Sonar submission tracking program to manage your agent, editor and publisher information. I also recommend regularly backing up your databases and, if you're as paranoid as I am, printing out a hard copy for your files at least once a year.
Other biz posts:
January: Plan
What you put into this database can be custom-tailored to your needs, but you'll probably need to maintain contact lists for agents, editors, publishers, and other writers. Optional databases would be lists of who is approachable, whose marriage is in trouble, who's a quote slut, who could turn a chunk of coal into a diamond by sitting on it, etc.
Agents: There are all sorts of indexes and books you can buy on agents, but I find most of them are outdated within a year of publication. I recommend using The Association of Author's Representatives web site, because the agents are required to follow the AAR's canon of ethics, plus it's free. Here's a sample listing from their database:
Last Name: Anderson
First Name: Kathleen
Company: Anderson Literary Management, Inc.
Address 1: 12 W. 19th Street
Address 2:
City: New York
State: New York
Zip: 10011
Country: USA
URL: http://www.andersonliterary.com
Submission Guidlines: by mail: fiction: 50 pages plus bio and query
nonfiction: narrative proposal including overview and resume
by email: all email queries should be addressed to terry@andersongrinberg.com. queries sent to other addresses will be forwarded there.
Email address for queries: terry@andersongrinberg.com
Literary: TRUE
Dramatic: TRUE
Adults: TRUE
Children: TRUE
Photo: Not Available
Accepting e-mail queries: yes
Genre: African American Studies, Americana/Regional, Anthropology, Archeology, Asian Studies, Behavioral Services, Biography, Children's Books, Essays, Fiction, Fiction/African-American, Fiction/Asian-American, Fiction/Gay & Lesbian, Fiction/International, Fiction/Latino or Hispanic, Fiction/Literary, Fiction/Short Stories, Fiction/Thrillers, Fiction/Women's, Geography/Geology, Government/Political Science, Health/Nutrition, Historical Fiction, History, Human Relations, Humor, Journalism, Memoir, Native American Studies, Natural History, Non-fiction (general), Non-Fiction/Narrative, Philosophy, Politics, Pop-Culture, Psychology/Psychiatry, Religion, Science (general), Social Sciences/Sociology, Travel, Women's Studies, Young Adult Fiction
Accepting New Clients: TRUE
A lot of good, specific information there for Ms. Anderson. You may also want to start tracking how quickly agents respond to queries, what sort of feedback you receive from them, who their other clients are. We'd all like to know if they're easily swayed by gifts of gourmet chocolate, dinners at French restaurants, begging and pleading, tears, threats of suicide and the like, so feel free to share that information.
Editors: You'll find a few sites out there like this one that provide free lists of editor contacts, but remember that editors move around (Jennifer Heddle, for example, is listed as Roc's editor; she's actually working over at Pocket now. Ace editor Anne Sowards is doing most of the editing for Roc these days.) I recommend going to the publisher's web site and checking to see if they have a contact info and/or submission guidelines page. For example, Kensington Books has an excellent contact page; scroll down to see their submission guidelines and editorial staff listed by name with their specialty and e-mail addy.
Do not keep databases of editors whom you have surreptitiously photographed while they were intoxicated and trying to hit on the GoH in front of his wife. What happens at the con, stays at the con. Plus we'd like to use the pics for the Editors Gone Wild newsletter.
Publishers: We've talked before about who the major publishers are, but they all have different divisions, lines, categories and imprints. There are also plenty of smaller publishers, houses and presses out there. Because we write by genre, the most logical way to classify publishers is by the genre they publish (and many will publish much more than one.)
Writer's Digest puts out a doorstop-size Writer's Market every year if you want to invest in a copy; the information becomes quickly outdated, though (why else would they print a new edition every year?) It's rather pricey, so I recommend getting it from the library. One of my old tricks was to go to the bookstore and write down the names of imprints on the spines of books that were shelved in the genre I was interested in, then come home and look up their web site.
Some writers have already compiled genre publisher list and made them available them online (like the Passionate Pen's list of romance publishers or Overbooked.org's Crime Fiction publisher links.) Verify the contact info if you're not sure how up-to-date these lists are.
By the way, PBW's Database of Publisher Horror Stories As Told By Other Writers does not exist. It's an urban myth, like Bigfoot. Really.
Other writers: I think we all keep contact lists of writer friends, but you may want to create one for writers in your genre for things like making quote requests, meeting at cons, networking on promo, getting recommendations on specific editors/publishers and so forth. Most pro writers have a web site or weblog with an e-mail addy listed or a contact e-mail form you can fill out to request one. Don't feel snubbed if you don't get a response; some writers are a bit leery about giving out their contact info, or are so flooded with e-mail that they might not have the time/opportunity to respond.
Then there are writers whom you shouldn't contact because they're complete jackasses or raving maniacs, but you have to compile that list personally -- just like the rest of us did.
There are plenty of database, organizer and contact freewares out there, but I'd go with our blog pal Simon Haynes's Sonar submission tracking program to manage your agent, editor and publisher information. I also recommend regularly backing up your databases and, if you're as paranoid as I am, printing out a hard copy for your files at least once a year.
Other biz posts:
January: Plan
Sunday, January 21, 2007
The Last Samurai Agent
"Ms. Hartlace," Janey said over the intercom. "There's an agent who would like to speak to you."
Senior Editor Agatha Hartlace chewed the last piece of her doughnut and swallowed before she punched the reply button. "Tell whoever it is that I'm not in today."
After a pause, Janey said, "Uh, Ms. Hartlace, he's standing right here with his assistant. In my cubicle." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "He's carrying, like, swords."
Takamori, of course. Only he would have the nerve to show up without an appointment. "That's why I said to tell him come in." Agatha switched off the intercom, turned off The Young and the Restless feed on her computer, and brushed away the powdered sugar that had fallen on the front of her blouse. "Idiot temp."
Takamori entered the office and came to stand before Agatha's desk. His gleaming black hair was pulled back in a perfect chomage. He wore navy blue kamishimo and hakama over his black kimono, and two swords and a dagger thrust through the left side of his black silk obi. Agatha smelled cherry blossom and oiled steel as he offered her a shallow bow.
"Takamori, what a nice surprise." Agatha shuffled a stack of rejection form letters that needed rubber-stamping. "How are you?"
He folded his hands inside the wide ends of his sleeves and regarded her without expression. A petite woman in a pink kimono embroidered with white cranes stepped out from behind him and bowed.
"I am Natsu," the woman said. "I will translate what my master says into English for you."
"Okay." Agatha found it highly annoying that Takamori understood English perfectly but refused to speak it. "What can I do for you and your boss today?"
Several minutes of silence passed.
He was just trying to psyche her out; Agatha knew that. But he never blinked, and she wasn't sure he was even breathing. "Or should I say, what can I do for your client?"
Takamori uttered a long string of sharp syllables.
"My master says that the perfect manuscript is a rare thing," Natsu translated. "He says that you could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life."
Agatha forced a smile. "He should talk to my mother sometime."
Takamori spoke again, with Natsu translating almost simultaneously. "My master says that his writer is an honorable author, with talent as endless as the stars. His writer wishes to write more novels for the House of Penguins, and offered you three most perfect proposals."
Takamori took a folded a contract from his sleeve, dropped it like a used tissue on the edge of her desk, and grunted.
Natsu gestured to the contract. "And you sent him this?"
"I did?" Agatha picked up the contract and skimmed the top page. "Oh, right, the one for the next three books. We're very pleased with how the last one sold." She checked through it. "Seems in order." She glanced up. "What's the problem?"
Natsu looked at Takamori, who drew his katana.
Agatha put down the contract. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work it out."
Takamori drove the tip of the katana into the worn carpet and drew his wakizashi sword.
"I don't understand," Agatha babbled, staring at the razor-sharp edge. "I thought our contract offer was very generous--"
Takamori placed the shorter sword across his palms and offered it to Agatha.
"As my master has no Kaishaku-nin," Natsu said, "he would be honored and grateful if you would behead him after he disembowels himself."
"Mr. Takamori!" Agatha jumped to her feet and backed away. "Natsu, tell him that there is no reason to commit hari-kari over an unsigned contract."
"Seppuku," Natsu corrected gently as Takamori placed the shorter sword on the desk. "For ninety years, the samurai of my master's agency have protected and fought for their writers. My master is the last, and now . . . he cannot stand the shame of defeat."
"This is a very nice offer," Agatha said firmly, and faced the samurai. "Takamori, I know you understand me. You also know how hard things are for the publishing industry now. Your author should feel grateful to have the work."
Takamori opened his upper garments and slipped out of them until he was naked to the waist. He dropped down and tucked his sleeves under his knees.
"Why is he doing that?" Agatha demanded.
"To prevent himself from falling backwards," Natsu said as Takamori removed a long dagger and contemplated it. "A samurai agent should die falling forward."
"Tell Mr. Takamori--"
Natsu gestured as Takamori took the hilt of the dagger in both hands. "If you would please stand behind my master, Miss Hartlace? You must cut off his head as soon as he slices open his stomach."
"Wait," Agatha begged as she saw him invert the dagger. "I know we can work this out. It's the advance, isn't it? I could do a little better for him. Maybe . . . two thousand more on signing?"
The tip of the dagger stopped an inch from Takamori's navel. The agent did not look at her.
"Three thousand," Agatha said, and gasped as he drew back the dagger for the final thrust. "Five thousand!"
"Ten thousand would restore my master's honor," Natsu said as Takamori closed his eyes.
"Seven. It's the best I can do. I swear."
Time crystallized as Takamori breathed in deeply. Agatha didn't exhale until she saw him lower the dagger and mutter something.
"My master says his writer will be displeased with him," Natsu said, her black eyes filled with delicate sorrow. "But he believes he can persuade him to accept such terms. You will issue a revised contract by Friday?" When she nodded, Takamori rose to his feet, sheathed his dagger and swords in his obi, and bowed.
Natsu did the same. "We are most humbly grateful for your understanding and generosity, Miss Hartlace."
"You're welcome. Have a nice day." She watched the pair leave her office as silently as they had entered before she collapsed in her chair. She groped, found the intercom button, and pressed it. "Janey?"
"Yes, Ms. Hartlace?"
"Get legal to issue a new contract for Takamori's author. Increase the advance on signing by seven thousand." Agatha opened a desk drawer and took out a roll of TUMs. "Then call that ninja agent I was not supposed to see at two and reschedule. I'm taking the rest of the day off."
Senior Editor Agatha Hartlace chewed the last piece of her doughnut and swallowed before she punched the reply button. "Tell whoever it is that I'm not in today."
After a pause, Janey said, "Uh, Ms. Hartlace, he's standing right here with his assistant. In my cubicle." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "He's carrying, like, swords."
Takamori, of course. Only he would have the nerve to show up without an appointment. "That's why I said to tell him come in." Agatha switched off the intercom, turned off The Young and the Restless feed on her computer, and brushed away the powdered sugar that had fallen on the front of her blouse. "Idiot temp."
Takamori entered the office and came to stand before Agatha's desk. His gleaming black hair was pulled back in a perfect chomage. He wore navy blue kamishimo and hakama over his black kimono, and two swords and a dagger thrust through the left side of his black silk obi. Agatha smelled cherry blossom and oiled steel as he offered her a shallow bow.
"Takamori, what a nice surprise." Agatha shuffled a stack of rejection form letters that needed rubber-stamping. "How are you?"
He folded his hands inside the wide ends of his sleeves and regarded her without expression. A petite woman in a pink kimono embroidered with white cranes stepped out from behind him and bowed.
"I am Natsu," the woman said. "I will translate what my master says into English for you."
"Okay." Agatha found it highly annoying that Takamori understood English perfectly but refused to speak it. "What can I do for you and your boss today?"
Several minutes of silence passed.
He was just trying to psyche her out; Agatha knew that. But he never blinked, and she wasn't sure he was even breathing. "Or should I say, what can I do for your client?"
Takamori uttered a long string of sharp syllables.
"My master says that the perfect manuscript is a rare thing," Natsu translated. "He says that you could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life."
Agatha forced a smile. "He should talk to my mother sometime."
Takamori spoke again, with Natsu translating almost simultaneously. "My master says that his writer is an honorable author, with talent as endless as the stars. His writer wishes to write more novels for the House of Penguins, and offered you three most perfect proposals."
Takamori took a folded a contract from his sleeve, dropped it like a used tissue on the edge of her desk, and grunted.
Natsu gestured to the contract. "And you sent him this?"
"I did?" Agatha picked up the contract and skimmed the top page. "Oh, right, the one for the next three books. We're very pleased with how the last one sold." She checked through it. "Seems in order." She glanced up. "What's the problem?"
Natsu looked at Takamori, who drew his katana.
Agatha put down the contract. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work it out."
Takamori drove the tip of the katana into the worn carpet and drew his wakizashi sword.
"I don't understand," Agatha babbled, staring at the razor-sharp edge. "I thought our contract offer was very generous--"
Takamori placed the shorter sword across his palms and offered it to Agatha.
"As my master has no Kaishaku-nin," Natsu said, "he would be honored and grateful if you would behead him after he disembowels himself."
"Mr. Takamori!" Agatha jumped to her feet and backed away. "Natsu, tell him that there is no reason to commit hari-kari over an unsigned contract."
"Seppuku," Natsu corrected gently as Takamori placed the shorter sword on the desk. "For ninety years, the samurai of my master's agency have protected and fought for their writers. My master is the last, and now . . . he cannot stand the shame of defeat."
"This is a very nice offer," Agatha said firmly, and faced the samurai. "Takamori, I know you understand me. You also know how hard things are for the publishing industry now. Your author should feel grateful to have the work."
Takamori opened his upper garments and slipped out of them until he was naked to the waist. He dropped down and tucked his sleeves under his knees.
"Why is he doing that?" Agatha demanded.
"To prevent himself from falling backwards," Natsu said as Takamori removed a long dagger and contemplated it. "A samurai agent should die falling forward."
"Tell Mr. Takamori--"
Natsu gestured as Takamori took the hilt of the dagger in both hands. "If you would please stand behind my master, Miss Hartlace? You must cut off his head as soon as he slices open his stomach."
"Wait," Agatha begged as she saw him invert the dagger. "I know we can work this out. It's the advance, isn't it? I could do a little better for him. Maybe . . . two thousand more on signing?"
The tip of the dagger stopped an inch from Takamori's navel. The agent did not look at her.
"Three thousand," Agatha said, and gasped as he drew back the dagger for the final thrust. "Five thousand!"
"Ten thousand would restore my master's honor," Natsu said as Takamori closed his eyes.
"Seven. It's the best I can do. I swear."
Time crystallized as Takamori breathed in deeply. Agatha didn't exhale until she saw him lower the dagger and mutter something.
"My master says his writer will be displeased with him," Natsu said, her black eyes filled with delicate sorrow. "But he believes he can persuade him to accept such terms. You will issue a revised contract by Friday?" When she nodded, Takamori rose to his feet, sheathed his dagger and swords in his obi, and bowed.
Natsu did the same. "We are most humbly grateful for your understanding and generosity, Miss Hartlace."
"You're welcome. Have a nice day." She watched the pair leave her office as silently as they had entered before she collapsed in her chair. She groped, found the intercom button, and pressed it. "Janey?"
"Yes, Ms. Hartlace?"
"Get legal to issue a new contract for Takamori's author. Increase the advance on signing by seven thousand." Agatha opened a desk drawer and took out a roll of TUMs. "Then call that ninja agent I was not supposed to see at two and reschedule. I'm taking the rest of the day off."
Friday, January 12, 2007
Friday 20
It's been like a Chinese curse around here this week, hasn't it? Next thing you know they'll be featuring our decapitated heads stacked on the cover of Publishers Weekly.
One thing that made me laugh: a day after I posted my Reality Novelists spoof, the New York Times ran this article about Simon & Schuster's Touchstone imprint holding an online reality novelist competition. First prize appears to be publication of "a book by a first-time author who wins a contest on Gather.com, a social-networking site that might be described as MySpace for grown-ups."
A MySpace for grown-ups. Check.
Despite my rather excellent timing, I am not psychic, nor do I have an inside source at S&S or the Times. I've probably spoofed the Times too often to have any friends there. Shame, too, as I think Dave Itzkoff is kinda hot, mainly because the Borg haven't been able to assimilate him.
One more treasure I unearthed from the bookmark cellar during an interesting discussion in comments over at Robert Gregory Browne's place: Lakshmi Chaudhry's article on the various theories about why most readers are female versus male.
For the benefit of our newest visitors, Fridays are usually Q&A day here at PBW. This is how it works: you post any writing- or publishing-related question in comments, and I do my best to answer it, or point you to a better source of opinion and/or information, from midnight EST Thursday to midnight EST on Friday.
Ready? Ask away.
One thing that made me laugh: a day after I posted my Reality Novelists spoof, the New York Times ran this article about Simon & Schuster's Touchstone imprint holding an online reality novelist competition. First prize appears to be publication of "a book by a first-time author who wins a contest on Gather.com, a social-networking site that might be described as MySpace for grown-ups."
A MySpace for grown-ups. Check.
Despite my rather excellent timing, I am not psychic, nor do I have an inside source at S&S or the Times. I've probably spoofed the Times too often to have any friends there. Shame, too, as I think Dave Itzkoff is kinda hot, mainly because the Borg haven't been able to assimilate him.
One more treasure I unearthed from the bookmark cellar during an interesting discussion in comments over at Robert Gregory Browne's place: Lakshmi Chaudhry's article on the various theories about why most readers are female versus male.
For the benefit of our newest visitors, Fridays are usually Q&A day here at PBW. This is how it works: you post any writing- or publishing-related question in comments, and I do my best to answer it, or point you to a better source of opinion and/or information, from midnight EST Thursday to midnight EST on Friday.
Ready? Ask away.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Signed and Filtered
The winner of the Twelve Reasons giveaway is Cora Zane, who should e-mail me at LynnViehl@aol.com with your full name and ship-to info so I can get these books out to you. Thanks again to everyone who joined in to help me celebrate the twelve very cool books of December.
While we were having fun here, I got a few e-mails on some of the hullabaloo regarding Thomas Nelson Publishers and their new "content filter" for their authors (Thomas Nelson CEO Michael Hyatt blogs his side of the story here.)
Let's see, I'm a writer of Christian fiction. If I understand Mr. Hyatt correctly, and I really lived according to biblical standards, I wouldn't be a writer -- women generally didn't hold down jobs in the Bible. They did walk around swaddled in a veil and robes made of homespun wool while being stuck in an arranged marriage raising twenty-one kids (if they hadn't already died in childbirth.) Or, if their family had kicked them out for not agreeing to the arranged marriage or whatever, they became hookers, enslaved, or died of starvation.
Sure, I'm going to do that for a publishing contract.
I do find this story ironic, as just last month I finished reading Nathaniel Philbrick's excellent book, Mayflower, in which he describes the enormous struggle and many deprivations our ancestors suffered in order to get away from people in England who imprisoned, ostracized and otherwise discriminated against them for their religious beliefs. Religious freedom is one of the fundamental reasons we founded, you know, America.
Assuming that Thomas Nelson Publishing will start a new content filter trend among publishers, and we'll all be forced to sign papers, what will other publishers require us to swear that we believe in or will adhere to in order to work for them?
Five Genre Content Filter Agreements of Tomorrow
Romance: I swear that I believe in true love, marriage, and happily ever afters. I will wait for my true love, and save myself for the honeymoon, unless: 1) I am coerced into having sex by a boy in high school or college, in which case it will be date rape or a fumbling quickie, during which I will not orgasm; 2) I find myself in serious financial trouble involving a beloved parent with no medical insurance but in desperate need of an organ transplant, which will force me to marry for money, in which case I will only marry a much older man who is unable to consummate our marriage due to closet homosexuality, an unspecified health problem, or a kindly paternal, protective nature (if possible, all three); or 3) I have sex with my true love before we are wed, in which case I will assure that I hit my head and develop sudden, total amnesia about the event that will only clear up after we are married. If I have babies with my true love before marriage, I will runaway and assure that the first is kept secret from him until baby is out of diapers and I get my figure back. If I have difficulties in my relationship with my true love, I will not dump him, but treat our problems as mere black moment preludes to our pending, unending happiness.
Science Fiction: I attest to these facts : I am an atheist and I believe in nothing but technology, logic, intelligence, physics, or anything else that highlights the sterile perfection of pure science. If I must have gods, they will be Heinlein and Vinge. I will write at least one novel about the singularity. I will have no meaningful personal relationships, and will not kiss, fall in love, have sex or do any of that mushy stuff with chicks. I will worship talking computers, NASA missions, outer space vistas, planets my species could never travel to, much less live on, and other cool futuristic things that make me feel as suave and powerful as Captain Kirk from Star Trek. I will never actually admit that I watched Star Trek.
Fantasy: I vow I shall do what'ere I can to emulate those fine manly lords of science fiction, only I shall substitute magic, dragons, Middle Earth, Tolkien and Lord of the Rings for technology, chastity, NASA, Kirk and Star Trek. Instead of tattered garments, I shall dress in period costumes which I shall purchase from the nearest SFCA merchant. I shall, as often as possible, be manly among many men of my ilk, but I shall elevate fine women to the status of faerie queens on pedestals, where they cannot meddle in my manly business. I shall hang at least one blunted, scale replica sword on the wall in every hall of my castle. I shall refer to my castle by a grand name with "dragon" in the title, even if it be only a single-wide trailer.
Erotica: I promise that when I'm not writing, I will personally test all the positions, partners and playthings that I write in my novel. I agree that I'll be too tired and happy to do anything else.
Mystery: I am signing this document as proof of my agreement to write the truth and nothing but the truth, at least before I tweak it. I will name my protagonist after an obscure 13th century Dutch painter, an obscure 13th century English poet, or an 80's porn star. No character of mine will ever have a successful or happy personal relationship, although they will frequently get laid offstage. I will write in every story at least one threatening ethnic sidekick with excellent underworld connections and a heart of gold whose main purpose will be to serve as a walking deus ex machina. (Male author) At cons I will sport an interesting beard, wear an interesting hat, or walk around in a cloud of Lagerfeld. (Female author) At cons I will maintain perfectly groomed helmet hair, wear navy or black suits that disguise my breasts, and never be seen without my thick red lipstick.
What do you guys think about this? Would you sign any sort of content filter agreement to land a publishing contract? Would you be okay with signing one even if you were lying about what you believed?
While we were having fun here, I got a few e-mails on some of the hullabaloo regarding Thomas Nelson Publishers and their new "content filter" for their authors (Thomas Nelson CEO Michael Hyatt blogs his side of the story here.)
Let's see, I'm a writer of Christian fiction. If I understand Mr. Hyatt correctly, and I really lived according to biblical standards, I wouldn't be a writer -- women generally didn't hold down jobs in the Bible. They did walk around swaddled in a veil and robes made of homespun wool while being stuck in an arranged marriage raising twenty-one kids (if they hadn't already died in childbirth.) Or, if their family had kicked them out for not agreeing to the arranged marriage or whatever, they became hookers, enslaved, or died of starvation.
Sure, I'm going to do that for a publishing contract.
I do find this story ironic, as just last month I finished reading Nathaniel Philbrick's excellent book, Mayflower, in which he describes the enormous struggle and many deprivations our ancestors suffered in order to get away from people in England who imprisoned, ostracized and otherwise discriminated against them for their religious beliefs. Religious freedom is one of the fundamental reasons we founded, you know, America.
Assuming that Thomas Nelson Publishing will start a new content filter trend among publishers, and we'll all be forced to sign papers, what will other publishers require us to swear that we believe in or will adhere to in order to work for them?
Five Genre Content Filter Agreements of Tomorrow
Romance: I swear that I believe in true love, marriage, and happily ever afters. I will wait for my true love, and save myself for the honeymoon, unless: 1) I am coerced into having sex by a boy in high school or college, in which case it will be date rape or a fumbling quickie, during which I will not orgasm; 2) I find myself in serious financial trouble involving a beloved parent with no medical insurance but in desperate need of an organ transplant, which will force me to marry for money, in which case I will only marry a much older man who is unable to consummate our marriage due to closet homosexuality, an unspecified health problem, or a kindly paternal, protective nature (if possible, all three); or 3) I have sex with my true love before we are wed, in which case I will assure that I hit my head and develop sudden, total amnesia about the event that will only clear up after we are married. If I have babies with my true love before marriage, I will runaway and assure that the first is kept secret from him until baby is out of diapers and I get my figure back. If I have difficulties in my relationship with my true love, I will not dump him, but treat our problems as mere black moment preludes to our pending, unending happiness.
Science Fiction: I attest to these facts : I am an atheist and I believe in nothing but technology, logic, intelligence, physics, or anything else that highlights the sterile perfection of pure science. If I must have gods, they will be Heinlein and Vinge. I will write at least one novel about the singularity. I will have no meaningful personal relationships, and will not kiss, fall in love, have sex or do any of that mushy stuff with chicks. I will worship talking computers, NASA missions, outer space vistas, planets my species could never travel to, much less live on, and other cool futuristic things that make me feel as suave and powerful as Captain Kirk from Star Trek. I will never actually admit that I watched Star Trek.
Fantasy: I vow I shall do what'ere I can to emulate those fine manly lords of science fiction, only I shall substitute magic, dragons, Middle Earth, Tolkien and Lord of the Rings for technology, chastity, NASA, Kirk and Star Trek. Instead of tattered garments, I shall dress in period costumes which I shall purchase from the nearest SFCA merchant. I shall, as often as possible, be manly among many men of my ilk, but I shall elevate fine women to the status of faerie queens on pedestals, where they cannot meddle in my manly business. I shall hang at least one blunted, scale replica sword on the wall in every hall of my castle. I shall refer to my castle by a grand name with "dragon" in the title, even if it be only a single-wide trailer.
Erotica: I promise that when I'm not writing, I will personally test all the positions, partners and playthings that I write in my novel. I agree that I'll be too tired and happy to do anything else.
Mystery: I am signing this document as proof of my agreement to write the truth and nothing but the truth, at least before I tweak it. I will name my protagonist after an obscure 13th century Dutch painter, an obscure 13th century English poet, or an 80's porn star. No character of mine will ever have a successful or happy personal relationship, although they will frequently get laid offstage. I will write in every story at least one threatening ethnic sidekick with excellent underworld connections and a heart of gold whose main purpose will be to serve as a walking deus ex machina. (Male author) At cons I will sport an interesting beard, wear an interesting hat, or walk around in a cloud of Lagerfeld. (Female author) At cons I will maintain perfectly groomed helmet hair, wear navy or black suits that disguise my breasts, and never be seen without my thick red lipstick.
What do you guys think about this? Would you sign any sort of content filter agreement to land a publishing contract? Would you be okay with signing one even if you were lying about what you believed?
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Need Not Apply
CareerBuilder.com's Laura Morsch lists librarian as one of the Five Unpopular Jobs You Should Have. Apparently massive coming retirements, low pay and waning interest from workforce youngsters are the reasons libraries of the future will be severely understaffed.
I could handle being a librarian, as long as I could work with sane people, and I didn't have to deal with the obnoxious patrons, their shrieking offspring, folks who use libraries as hotels, or clean up the myriad nasty stuff left in the books and the rest rooms. Which probably means I couldn't be a librarian.
Still, the article got me to thinking about the jobs I would or wouldn't do in Publishing. I already know I couldn't be an editor from friends of mine who are; that's absolutely the worst job of all. I haven't the saleswoman mentality, so agent, publicist, and marketing rep are out. I've been a comptroller for a big company, so I'd do okay in accounting, until they discovered that I was paying all the writers, and then I'd be fired.
Novelist seems to be the only publishing job that I'm suited for (since they won't let me run Purchasing & Acquisitions anywhere), and I'm happy to write pretty much anything as long as I'm paid for it. Convenient when writer-for-hire job offers come around, too. Although there are some projects I might pass on, such as:
1. Ghost-writing Hey, I Was Only Joshing Wi' Ya, the official and honest James Frey autobiography -- I'd have to meet him, and smile at him, and be nice to him, and not bitch-slap him. And then Oprah would pick it for her book club.
2. Writing SFWA and NASA: Partners in the Future -- It's really hard to write when you're laughing uncontrollably, have you ever noticed that?
3. Editing Love Sonnets by John Rickards -- No. Wait, let me think. Oh, God. No.
3a. That goes for you, too, MacBride.
4. Compiling address lists for Vanity Publishers, the Writer's Best Friend -- without committing arson?
5. Writing The Idiot's Guide to Wonderful, Fun, Career-Boosting Romance Writer Conferences -- you don't really want me to lie that much to you.
6. Conducting membership survey for HWA: Bunnies and Hearts and Kisses for Everyone! -- only if Douglas Clegg co-writes it with me, and he has to drive and carry the weapons.
7. Collecting and editing personal essays for Cherishing the Book of Your Heart -- having heard these sob stories so often, I could actually write this, but there are credibility problems (for example, I shouldn't have already threatened to write Piss on the Book of Your Heart.)
So what are the publishing or writing jobs you wouldn't touch with a twenty-foot cattle prod?
I could handle being a librarian, as long as I could work with sane people, and I didn't have to deal with the obnoxious patrons, their shrieking offspring, folks who use libraries as hotels, or clean up the myriad nasty stuff left in the books and the rest rooms. Which probably means I couldn't be a librarian.
Still, the article got me to thinking about the jobs I would or wouldn't do in Publishing. I already know I couldn't be an editor from friends of mine who are; that's absolutely the worst job of all. I haven't the saleswoman mentality, so agent, publicist, and marketing rep are out. I've been a comptroller for a big company, so I'd do okay in accounting, until they discovered that I was paying all the writers, and then I'd be fired.
Novelist seems to be the only publishing job that I'm suited for (since they won't let me run Purchasing & Acquisitions anywhere), and I'm happy to write pretty much anything as long as I'm paid for it. Convenient when writer-for-hire job offers come around, too. Although there are some projects I might pass on, such as:
1. Ghost-writing Hey, I Was Only Joshing Wi' Ya, the official and honest James Frey autobiography -- I'd have to meet him, and smile at him, and be nice to him, and not bitch-slap him. And then Oprah would pick it for her book club.
2. Writing SFWA and NASA: Partners in the Future -- It's really hard to write when you're laughing uncontrollably, have you ever noticed that?
3. Editing Love Sonnets by John Rickards -- No. Wait, let me think. Oh, God. No.
3a. That goes for you, too, MacBride.
4. Compiling address lists for Vanity Publishers, the Writer's Best Friend -- without committing arson?
5. Writing The Idiot's Guide to Wonderful, Fun, Career-Boosting Romance Writer Conferences -- you don't really want me to lie that much to you.
6. Conducting membership survey for HWA: Bunnies and Hearts and Kisses for Everyone! -- only if Douglas Clegg co-writes it with me, and he has to drive and carry the weapons.
7. Collecting and editing personal essays for Cherishing the Book of Your Heart -- having heard these sob stories so often, I could actually write this, but there are credibility problems (for example, I shouldn't have already threatened to write Piss on the Book of Your Heart.)
So what are the publishing or writing jobs you wouldn't touch with a twenty-foot cattle prod?
Monday, May 16, 2005
Whitebread
It only took forty days, and endless columns about themselves, but the powers that be over at the Lit-Blog Coop have offered up their first read-this book. (Drum roll, please.)
Case Histories by Kate Atkinson.
Now, I'm a little slow, and kinda confused, so maybe one of you nice people will explain this to me. We're supposed to be getting the skinny on struggling writers, books and presses from the LBC, correct?
Um, how is Kate Atkinson struggling, exactly? Did she like blow all her Whitbread prize money?
Update: To be fair and balanced -- quit laughing -- and present the other side's perspective, one of the LBC folks has offered justification for the pick. Here are his top two reasons:
"1. Kate Atkinson has not received a smidgen of coverage in the New York Reveiw (sic) of Books. 2. While Salon selected CASE HISTORIES for its Best Books of 2004, it never thought to review the book separately."
Right. Please adjust your definition of "struggling" accordingly.
Case Histories by Kate Atkinson.
Now, I'm a little slow, and kinda confused, so maybe one of you nice people will explain this to me. We're supposed to be getting the skinny on struggling writers, books and presses from the LBC, correct?
Um, how is Kate Atkinson struggling, exactly? Did she like blow all her Whitbread prize money?
Update: To be fair and balanced -- quit laughing -- and present the other side's perspective, one of the LBC folks has offered justification for the pick. Here are his top two reasons:
"1. Kate Atkinson has not received a smidgen of coverage in the New York Reveiw (sic) of Books. 2. While Salon selected CASE HISTORIES for its Best Books of 2004, it never thought to review the book separately."
Right. Please adjust your definition of "struggling" accordingly.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Pride & Publishing
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a publisher in possession of a large house must be in want of a writer.
I'm channeling Jane Austen this morning because the marriage mart story from her novel Pride and Prejudice is an excellent analogy for the people and processes in the publishing industry. Maybe it was all the P's that brought it to mind.
Consider that most writers are the Bennet sisters, with little but our charms to recommend us.
We all know Jane Bennet writers, who are beautiful artists. They're in love with the craft and are incapable of saying a bad word about it. They're inevitably talented and the beauty comes through in their work. We admire the Janes, even if we do sometimes want to shake them until their teeth rattle.
Then there are the Mary Bennet writers. You know, the rule makers, busy dotting all the i's and crossing all the t's, grimly determined to do Right and Proper. So uptight about the craft that they could swallow a lump of coal and pass a diamond.
Kitty Bennet writers suffer for their art: I Agonize Over Everything Therefore I am a Great Artist. They're forever petulant and whining because they think it makes them legit.
The Lydia Bennets are easy to spot because they angle to be the center of attention. They believe being a writer should be nonstop fun, glam, all play, no work. They don't care, don't listen and careen about demanding a good time and throwing tantrums when they don't get one.
If you're not a Jane, and you want to make it in the industry, you could do worse than emulate Lizzie Bennet. Having a sense of humor never hurts. Neither does being realistic. Holding out for the real deal versus settling what you can get is never a bad thing.
If writers are the Bennet sisters, then naturally publishers are the Mr. Collinses, Mr. Bingleys, Mr. Wickhams and Mr. Darcys. Publication is a dance. If you want to waltz with them, you'd better put on your finest and wrangle an invitation to the ball. Looking good might catch their attention, but remember, you only have your charms to recommend you.
Mr. Collins publishers will get you into print, all right, but you may not like what you have to put up with in the process. If you're a Charlotte Lucas, maybe you can deal with it. The Mr. Wickhams will con you, use you and toss you aside the second you don't serve their purpose. The Mr. Bingleys are nice, solid publishers who will give you a comfortable career.
If we're going to be honest, though, we all want a shot at Mr. Darcy.
The Mr. Darcy publishers are as elusive as they are affluent. They generally behave as if you're beneath their notice. They might offend you to the point of vowing never to dance with them. But if you keep showing up at the assemblies and balls, something you do may intrigue the Mr. Darcy publisher. He may start to see your better qualities. He may casually ask you to dance. (Whatever he's done to insult you, this is not the time to tell him to piss off. This is when you politely say I thank you yes.)
Whatever Bennet you are as a writer, in publishing none of us ever get to marry Mr. Darcy and go live at Pemberly. It's a new dance every time you pitch an idea, write a novel and/or see it published. There are a thousand other prospective partners at the dance, hoping and actively trying to catch Mr. Darcy's eye.
Hopefully all of the above doesn't make me sound like Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hearst. I'd much rather be your Aunt Gardner.
I'm channeling Jane Austen this morning because the marriage mart story from her novel Pride and Prejudice is an excellent analogy for the people and processes in the publishing industry. Maybe it was all the P's that brought it to mind.
Consider that most writers are the Bennet sisters, with little but our charms to recommend us.
We all know Jane Bennet writers, who are beautiful artists. They're in love with the craft and are incapable of saying a bad word about it. They're inevitably talented and the beauty comes through in their work. We admire the Janes, even if we do sometimes want to shake them until their teeth rattle.
Then there are the Mary Bennet writers. You know, the rule makers, busy dotting all the i's and crossing all the t's, grimly determined to do Right and Proper. So uptight about the craft that they could swallow a lump of coal and pass a diamond.
Kitty Bennet writers suffer for their art: I Agonize Over Everything Therefore I am a Great Artist. They're forever petulant and whining because they think it makes them legit.
The Lydia Bennets are easy to spot because they angle to be the center of attention. They believe being a writer should be nonstop fun, glam, all play, no work. They don't care, don't listen and careen about demanding a good time and throwing tantrums when they don't get one.
If you're not a Jane, and you want to make it in the industry, you could do worse than emulate Lizzie Bennet. Having a sense of humor never hurts. Neither does being realistic. Holding out for the real deal versus settling what you can get is never a bad thing.
If writers are the Bennet sisters, then naturally publishers are the Mr. Collinses, Mr. Bingleys, Mr. Wickhams and Mr. Darcys. Publication is a dance. If you want to waltz with them, you'd better put on your finest and wrangle an invitation to the ball. Looking good might catch their attention, but remember, you only have your charms to recommend you.
Mr. Collins publishers will get you into print, all right, but you may not like what you have to put up with in the process. If you're a Charlotte Lucas, maybe you can deal with it. The Mr. Wickhams will con you, use you and toss you aside the second you don't serve their purpose. The Mr. Bingleys are nice, solid publishers who will give you a comfortable career.
If we're going to be honest, though, we all want a shot at Mr. Darcy.
The Mr. Darcy publishers are as elusive as they are affluent. They generally behave as if you're beneath their notice. They might offend you to the point of vowing never to dance with them. But if you keep showing up at the assemblies and balls, something you do may intrigue the Mr. Darcy publisher. He may start to see your better qualities. He may casually ask you to dance. (Whatever he's done to insult you, this is not the time to tell him to piss off. This is when you politely say I thank you yes.)
Whatever Bennet you are as a writer, in publishing none of us ever get to marry Mr. Darcy and go live at Pemberly. It's a new dance every time you pitch an idea, write a novel and/or see it published. There are a thousand other prospective partners at the dance, hoping and actively trying to catch Mr. Darcy's eye.
Hopefully all of the above doesn't make me sound like Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hearst. I'd much rather be your Aunt Gardner.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
The Maxed Man
Over the weekend I gave an interview to Mad Max Perkins, the blogger who has been creating a stir with his weblog, BookAngst 101. The interview was the result of an interesting exchange I've been having via e-mail with this guy since answering a survey for authors on his weblog back in November.
To give you what lowdown there is on Max, he uses a pseudonym to protect his identity and invites other industry pros to comment anonymously on the blog. All we know about Max is what he tells us, which is this:
"Mad Max Perkins has worked in the book trade in a variety of capacities for over 20 years and is currently a senior executive for a major New York publisher."
I like that variety of capacities in particular. Reminds me of some of the excellent dodges I saw on resumes when I was a comptroller and tried to hire a decent secretary. Note to aspiring secretaries: do not put "typing on various equipment" if the only thing you can operate is a telephone key pad.
Anyway, Max's survey asked fairly standard questions like "What (if anything) did publisher #1 do especially well as pertains to the positioning/marketing of you/your book(s)?" and "Why did you switch publishers?" but he was also interested in changes in sales and marketing effort, and whether or not the publisher delivered on their promises.
I thought Max might be an author posing as an editor (or marketing director, "executive" can mean a lot of things, but I'm going with editor.) Trusting soul that I am, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and sent in my answers. His first personal e-mail to me opened with this line (and please note, Max has given me his permission to post these excerpts):
"I'm digging into the survey responses, and I think you for your honesty & specificity."
Okay, so Max forgets to hit his spell check, but hey, you know I can relate to that. :) He was also careful not to squash my toes:
"I know this is terribly inappropriate of me--but it sounds like you make a pretty good living, no?"
Sounds a little French, doesn't he? And he admitted he didn't know everything about publishing, and thus earned another gold star in my book:
"I'd have to consider you one of the real success stories of this survey--and it comes from a realm I didn't even know existed! (I don't mean the genres, but that you get paid a flat fee etc.)"
I like people who don't pretend they know everything; they're less likely to piss me off. I responded with my usual candor, and he appreciated it:
"This is PRECISELY the reason I started this site in the first place--in hopes of discovering these avenues to which you allude, and giving writers--and publishers--something else to try."
Nice motive, and I mean that sincerely. I suspected he also wanted to get some fresh angles on marketing for his own career purposes, as he wanted to know more:
"Can you be more specific? Even if you don't want me to talk about it in the survey, and/or want to withhold certain details, I'd DYING to know how YOUR plan is different from what I've heard--and even said, myself..."
I have no problem with this, either. Shared information is the only way we can improve the industry. Quote me on that.
After I gave Max the information he requested, I didn't see any results from the survey posted (it never occurred to me that he might not be getting enough response to the survey to post useful results.) The only communication he sent me after the survey was a reminder to read at particular post at BookAngst in which he had other industry pros endorse him.
Frankly the endorsements annoyed me. I have little patience with coyness to begin with, and this read like another dodge. Also, I'd been very up front with this guy, but now he seemed more worried about his credibility than posting the survey results and following through on his promises.
After reading that endorsement post, this was my unsolicited advice to him:
"...the whole justifying the anonymous thing is getting old. If you're so afraid for your job or your reputation that you have to hide who you are, you shouldn't be doing this. If you're not, and you truly want to change things, just be honest. Hiding behind your industry buddies while they vouch for you only makes you look foolish. As does continuing to contact me when I don't know who you are."
He didn't tell me who he was -- and I still have no idea who he is -- but he came back with a quick response:
"I'm afraid I don't agree--I think there's utility in what's going on there, and frankly I won't be able to continue doing it if I go public, for a variety of reasons. If you want me not to send you updates, I certainly understand, and I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope it's still OK to use your story in this writer-survey I'm working on--please advise if not."
Up until this point I thought Max might be bullshit, but I work for a lot of editors, and the above paragraph has "editor" written all over it. If I'm wrong and he isn't an editor? The guy should be one.
I happen to like editors, so I sat down and thought about it. I'd been honest; he was still wearing a mask. He was actively working on the survey, something I hadn't known, and he sounded more legit than ever. I don't like being scammed, but what I'd told him was pretty much what I'd tell anyone who asked.
I decided to trust my instincts and regard Max as a genuine person with good intentions. Our exchange continued from there to an interview, which Max will be posting on Book Angst sometime after the holidays. The interview is under my name -- well, one of them -- because I do share information, and I don't have anything to hide.
Who knows, maybe if enough authors follow my example, maybe we can eventually unMax Max.
To give you what lowdown there is on Max, he uses a pseudonym to protect his identity and invites other industry pros to comment anonymously on the blog. All we know about Max is what he tells us, which is this:
"Mad Max Perkins has worked in the book trade in a variety of capacities for over 20 years and is currently a senior executive for a major New York publisher."
I like that variety of capacities in particular. Reminds me of some of the excellent dodges I saw on resumes when I was a comptroller and tried to hire a decent secretary. Note to aspiring secretaries: do not put "typing on various equipment" if the only thing you can operate is a telephone key pad.
Anyway, Max's survey asked fairly standard questions like "What (if anything) did publisher #1 do especially well as pertains to the positioning/marketing of you/your book(s)?" and "Why did you switch publishers?" but he was also interested in changes in sales and marketing effort, and whether or not the publisher delivered on their promises.
I thought Max might be an author posing as an editor (or marketing director, "executive" can mean a lot of things, but I'm going with editor.) Trusting soul that I am, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and sent in my answers. His first personal e-mail to me opened with this line (and please note, Max has given me his permission to post these excerpts):
"I'm digging into the survey responses, and I think you for your honesty & specificity."
Okay, so Max forgets to hit his spell check, but hey, you know I can relate to that. :) He was also careful not to squash my toes:
"I know this is terribly inappropriate of me--but it sounds like you make a pretty good living, no?"
Sounds a little French, doesn't he? And he admitted he didn't know everything about publishing, and thus earned another gold star in my book:
"I'd have to consider you one of the real success stories of this survey--and it comes from a realm I didn't even know existed! (I don't mean the genres, but that you get paid a flat fee etc.)"
I like people who don't pretend they know everything; they're less likely to piss me off. I responded with my usual candor, and he appreciated it:
"This is PRECISELY the reason I started this site in the first place--in hopes of discovering these avenues to which you allude, and giving writers--and publishers--something else to try."
Nice motive, and I mean that sincerely. I suspected he also wanted to get some fresh angles on marketing for his own career purposes, as he wanted to know more:
"Can you be more specific? Even if you don't want me to talk about it in the survey, and/or want to withhold certain details, I'd DYING to know how YOUR plan is different from what I've heard--and even said, myself..."
I have no problem with this, either. Shared information is the only way we can improve the industry. Quote me on that.
After I gave Max the information he requested, I didn't see any results from the survey posted (it never occurred to me that he might not be getting enough response to the survey to post useful results.) The only communication he sent me after the survey was a reminder to read at particular post at BookAngst in which he had other industry pros endorse him.
Frankly the endorsements annoyed me. I have little patience with coyness to begin with, and this read like another dodge. Also, I'd been very up front with this guy, but now he seemed more worried about his credibility than posting the survey results and following through on his promises.
After reading that endorsement post, this was my unsolicited advice to him:
"...the whole justifying the anonymous thing is getting old. If you're so afraid for your job or your reputation that you have to hide who you are, you shouldn't be doing this. If you're not, and you truly want to change things, just be honest. Hiding behind your industry buddies while they vouch for you only makes you look foolish. As does continuing to contact me when I don't know who you are."
He didn't tell me who he was -- and I still have no idea who he is -- but he came back with a quick response:
"I'm afraid I don't agree--I think there's utility in what's going on there, and frankly I won't be able to continue doing it if I go public, for a variety of reasons. If you want me not to send you updates, I certainly understand, and I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope it's still OK to use your story in this writer-survey I'm working on--please advise if not."
Up until this point I thought Max might be bullshit, but I work for a lot of editors, and the above paragraph has "editor" written all over it. If I'm wrong and he isn't an editor? The guy should be one.
I happen to like editors, so I sat down and thought about it. I'd been honest; he was still wearing a mask. He was actively working on the survey, something I hadn't known, and he sounded more legit than ever. I don't like being scammed, but what I'd told him was pretty much what I'd tell anyone who asked.
I decided to trust my instincts and regard Max as a genuine person with good intentions. Our exchange continued from there to an interview, which Max will be posting on Book Angst sometime after the holidays. The interview is under my name -- well, one of them -- because I do share information, and I don't have anything to hide.
Who knows, maybe if enough authors follow my example, maybe we can eventually unMax Max.
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