Breaking In, Breaking Out, Dropping Out |
November 21, 2011 - 10:28 pm
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I’m routinely asked “How do I break into writing?” by hopeful, starry eyed new writers. It is remarkably hard to answer — partly because the field has changed so much since I first broke in, and partly because it is in the midst of a change, from one state to the other and, like all things in flux, one can only guess at its final shape.
However, because I was once a hopeful, starry eyed new writer, I decided to attempt an answer. The result looks a lot like one of those pick-an-adventure books from the seventies.
There are a few things you must understand about publishing right now and which are non-debatable:
- No one knows anything.
- Publishers and Agents are in trouble, mostly because they’re avoiding making necessary changes.
- The old model of “it’s not so much what you write but what you are that will determine your success” is still very much in place.
- Most publishers are not most writers’ friends.
Given this, this is the best advice I can give:
1- In most cases, don’t get an agent. They don’t have the power they used to in the field, and they’re getting desperate and a little insane.
1.a. – I have a good friend who is an agent, and I MIGHT still sign with him if I were a newbie. I can’t imagine him doing anything business-insane. OTOH I don’t believe he has that much pull. No agent does. Even the “powerhouses.”
1. b. – If you’re writing nonfiction this might be different. I don’t know that it is (and feel free to chime in any of you who do) but I’ve had the impression it might be. If your agent is THE field expert on eighteenth century furniture and represents every author who writes about it, and you’re writing about it, it might be a good thing to have him represent you. It will give publishers an assurance you are the real article and know what you’re talking about.
2 – If you think you have a property and/or you’re the type of person who thinks he/she can do well in traditional publishing, send queries out to publishing houses. Yes, the old “no unsolicited submissions” is still in place, but I understand it’s honored more in the breach. At any rate, if you go to a writers conference or a small sf con in, say, NYC, and pitch to the editor who then says to send it in, your submission is no longer unsolicited.
2.a. If you sell read that contract like a hawk. You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff being done.
2.b. Make them cross your palm with silver. When I broke in I heard the lowest advance for which they promote was 25k. G-d knows what it is now. (This is not always true, though, if you’ve become friends with an editor, even a minor one, you might get promotion for your 4k book.)
2.c. Be prepared to promote, and be aware this only REALLY works if you have a “platform” that’s at least tangentially related to your book. Also, if you don’t have kids or a real life. Even my “blog tour” for DST ate most of a year and was responsible for how late the second book in that is in coming out. Not complaining. Without it, there might NOT be a second book. OTOH it still ate a whole year.
This is sound, properly qualified advice for the aspirant or the new initiate. But those of us who already know the trials and sorrows of the writer’s life are equally hungry for complementary wisdom: How do I stop being a writer?
I got caught in this trap before I realized how terrible it is. One day, with an idea in mind and nothing more pressing to do, I sat down and wrote a story. That led to another story, and another, longer one, and then a novel, and another novel…and I realized with sudden, sickening clarity that I was “hooked.”
They always say “the first one is on the house.” I should have listened. You see, I never wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a lumberjack! Leaping from tree to tree! As they float down the rivers of British Columbia! The larch! The fir! The mighty Scotch Pine!…
Well, anyway.
Oy, Francis. I wish I KNEW.
Write a 7 part series, each novel 1100 pages, and without ever having tried a short story. Then publish a Kindle version with covers you collaged from old Life magazines. Then, spam Amazon.
Don’t forget to write a fake blurb/synopsis like from the back of an old paperback that sounds like you were born in a stereotype factory.
And? No, seriously. AND????
I looked at this comment for several minutes, but I couldn’t figure out what you meant or why I should care beyond “AND?”
1- Are you assuming that all the books put out by publishers are worth reading? Really? I challenge you to go into a bookstore and read everything, or even everything in a subsection that interests you. And not gag at most of them. And not just because they’re not your thing, but because almost every book put out will have at least one major issue. And a lot of them are… well, bilge. They just are. In recent years most aren’t even assured of decent copyediting.
2 – 1100 pages? REALLY? Have you ever written a novel? Have you EVER TRIED to write a novel? Have you ever tried to write 1100 coherent pages of ANYTHING? Let me give you some insight. I’ve now PUBLISHED — traditional publishing, so you know, you have all that great quality assurance — twenty one books. I’ve never MANAGED an 1100 page novel, not even after all that practice. The mind boggles at the idea of trying it, much less seven in a row. Most novels of that length are done by multi published traditional writers who have secretaries, research assistants and six years to write each book. I type around 180 words per minute, and just TYPING that in would take forever. TRY it. Can people achieve that? Sure. One or three, in a lifetime.
3- I suppose your idea was to allude to the so called tsunami of bilge which will drown us if we let “just anyone” publish. Again, this assumes we aren’t already drowning in a tsunami of bilge, which is a naive and almost charming illusion. You remind me of my poor mother when she visited from Portugal and stood transfixed in front of the toothpaste isle. “There’s too much choice. There should be only one or two brands.” Right. Except most people either have a favored brand, or are looking for something specific. “I want GEL, CINNAMON flavored, STAIN REMOVING” and that does bring it to two or three. Same thing with books. Even I, who read EVERYTHING, normally confine my reading appetite any given evening to “I want to read a cozy mystery” or “I’m in the mood for hard sf.” And after that I can download samples and decide. Something that’s incoherent or simply fails to attach me will not get read. No tsunami. But I do enjoy the fact I can now, as a reader, find what I want when I want it.
4 – This is like saying “We must have some gatekeepers for blogs, because if we let just anyone blog, most of it will be cr*p, which, of course, is true, but which, of course, is nonsensical. Good bloggers still attract readers.
5 – This is actually a manifestation of a universal (seems like) human desire to control others. “They must not be allowed to do it that way. They must do it the way I say is good. Ahhhhhh. Stop them doing unauthorized things.” Weirdly, this impulse NEVER applies to one’s own actions. “Stop me before I post irrelevant things.” “Stop me before I write novels no one wants to read.” “Stop me before I say things people shouldn’t say in public.” No, it’s always “stop the other from doing what I don’t want done.”
And all of this brings us back to “And?” So, someone uploads seven 1100 page novels. And? What harm are they doing you? (Which is what I asked my toddler when he complained his brother was… oh, painting the picture in the wrong colors. Or playing some game “wrong.”) Are you upset because they sell? Fine, then go and write your own 1100 word novel and sell them. Why should I care for either your aesthetic opinions OR your envy? Or are you upset because they don’t sell? Why? Are they using your electrons?
(And on the blurb — you do know most writers write the blurb for their traditionally published books, right? It is either taken right out of the cover letter or query, or the house outright asks the writer to sell it. And again, WHY do you care what it sounds like? It either sells or doesn’t, and either case I fail to see how it affects you.)
I’m sorry, I usually try not to answer in an irked manner to comments on my blogs, but I REALLY fail to get your point. Unless your point is a desire to control others, in which case I tell you in the kindest and firmest manner: Go control yourself!
I think he was just trying to answer the question, “How do I stop being a writer?”.
Probably the biggest obstacle to self-publishing is editing. Writing is fun, editing it not. And if you hire someone to do it, well, it costs more than most e-books will make in their life.
And if you do edit it yourself, there’s always the temptation to just add a little on to it here and there as you edit.
Depends on what you mean by “editing”. It is a much abused term, you know?
If you mean REAL editing, of the sort where the editor (or agent, as was more common until recently) goes over the manuscript and tells you “um… you do realize you lost track of the direction of the book on chapter three?” Or “Should you give equal weight to the demolishing of the pyramids and the choosing of breakfast cereal?” Or even “Your main character comes across as a sociopath, is this what you intended?” good luck getting it ANYWHERE, including traditional publishing. These days publishers expect you to have self-edited (or got beta readers who help, which is what I do) to optimize your book to the point you don’t need that. One of my editors is very good at slightly smaller stuff of the “You forgot to tie this up” category. The only other editing of this type I got was when an editor desperately wanted the — already bought — book to be about something else. This is not even a valid form of editing. Well, not for sane people.
So, if this type of very thorough and insightful editing (which was “normal” in the pulp era, at least for Heinlein according to his bio) is the form of editing you want — well, good luck. And if you find someone who does it, tell me who, because I WANT it. I’ve wanted it for ten years.
Copy editing is something else again. It can be got ranging from free to very expensive, you just have to know where to look. Free — find another self-publisher. Trade. Or if you don’t trust other self-publishers (!) find a friend who likes you enough to tell you that your too should be to and you’ve transposed an entire sentence (both things I do and then don’t notice when reading over.) Even I have friends who will do this. Surely you do too? If you must pay, it can be had depending on quality starting at a few hundred dollars and all the way up to 1500 or so. And the upper ranges might make it difficult for you to pay back in a reasonable time.
Note that “in a reasonable time” — few of us will make 100k off an ebook the first year (though it could happen. It’s happened to non-names already, even with the tiny sample out.) But let me tell you a secret — ebooks aren’t produce. They don’t go bad after a week. Or a month. Or a year. They can stay in print forever. This lets word of mouth act. Maybe 10k people don’t find your book the first year it’s out. But suppose 10 find it. And they tell ten other people how great it is. And they tell ten other people. Who tell ten other people. Sooner or later, you’ll hit the 10k people and keep going.
Is good editing worth the upfront investment? Well… yes. It gives you a chance at that multiplier. Will it happen every time? No. so, stop watching your numbers already, and write the next novel.
But you don’t have the money upfront? Yeah, I hear you. So, look at alternatives. How much does your English teacher from fifth grade love you? Can you talk her into copy editing you? (This is only half joking and not in a mean way — my younger son probably could get his third grade teacher to copy edit him. Or walk through broken glass for him. It’s weird.) Right now we’re in the very beginning of this. I KNOW it sounds like everyone is self-publishing, but it’s a tiny subset. I suggest that anyone starting a craigslist for indie writers would be at the beginning of what could be a lucrative trend. You know, a place where editing/formatting/cover design etc services can be sold or traded. (And I’m lousy at formatting. I know that. I’m learning, but it’s a slow curve.) There are little niches for these, but nothing as easy to use and “integrated” as Craigslist.
Well, in the science end of non-fiction, no one uses agents. You sell the idea to the publisher, submit the manuscript after getting a contract, and often promote the book yourself. I’m not sure what the 90% of the price they keep gets me but no one has yet done a major science text via Amazon alone yet.
Pretty much the same with history. I sell to Osprey and a few other history publishers. Write a book proposal. Sell the book. Write it. But since they hook me up to an artist, I get value from going though Osprey. Could self-publish, maybe, but at heart I am a writer not a salesman.
Weirdly, in fiction, they more and more expect you to be a marketer too. To me actually the big difference, talking to indies is that they do LESS marketing and rely on word of mouth more.
I don’t foresee writing a non-fic book (well maybe a few on how to write, but those I’ll indie, anyway. They’re very short.)but I appreciate the insight.
I wrote a pop non-fiction book (“Writers Gone Wild”) and went through an agent who sold it to Penguin. I’ll be trying it again with the sequel, but I also published an annotation to a public-domain novel (Dorothy L. Sayers’ “Whose Body?”) through Amazon’s CreateSpace and for the e-Readers. No big money there, but my cash investment was small (about $300) so it should make it back in a year or two.
That said, I think I still went about it the right way.
One thing to add: while good editing is hard to find, I think it’s still worth pursuing, either by hiring someone or developing good rewriting skills. In fact, developing that final ten to twenty percent will do the most to set you apart from the hordes of other writers.
Here’s what I mean: I have this theory that a lot of stories by new writers start out the same. They all seem to speak with the same, amateurish voice. Over time, with luck and practice, the writer’s unique personality starts to come through: in the word choice, in the pacing of sentences and clauses, in the details that one writer might see and not another.
This can show up in the polishing process, where a passage is rewritten several times until what the writer wants has been achieved. This includes — and this is especially important for self-published writers — the ad copy, the backcover copy, the cover art and lines.
Sarah, who I esteem very highly and is full of pungent and sensible advice on writing and other matters, left out two rules:
1. Write the book *before* you sell it.
2. The probability that your manuscript will be accepted varies directly with the size of the pre-existing fanbase the editor knows you have.
OK, this might just be me. But I’m a successful writer of nonfiction, with four solo books and two collaborations under my belt – all of which have done well. One of the four solo books cracked the NYT bestsellers’ list, and all but the very first of the solo books are still in print. So there’s reason to believe I’ve been doing something right.
1. Write the book *before* you sell it.
When editors don’t have to deal with the risk that you’ll blow a deadline or not deliver at all, they become amazingly compliant (well, for editors).
And it puts you in a power position come contract time. When we’re talking terms, I never have to speak the possibility that I might take the *completed* manuscript down the street to another publisher, but it’s there. Pulling me extra royalty points, and the ability to cross out any clause in the contract that claims rights other than “you get to print and sell this edition of this book” without fuss from the editor.
(In particular, *never* sign away the copyright. Nor “ancillary” rights like electronic publication. And if they tell you “standard practice”, your proper reply is “Fuck that noise!”)
2. The probability that your manuscript will be accepted varies directly with the size of the pre-existing fanbase the editor has reason to believe you have.
It is possible that the most powerful words a writer can say in today’s market is “Look at these site stats! My blog has X thousand readers”, for X high enough that at a 10% or so nibble rate the publisher can count on selling out a normal print run.
The most effective way of becoming a famous writer is to be famous for something else, first. Even if it’s just Internet fame – that can be enough.
Eric,
Good to see your phosphors :)And you’re right, of course.
I don’t know if I made that clear on my blog, from which this is excerpted (I think I did.) That’s the whole thing with being asked if you have a “platform” and it’s much, much easier for non fiction than fiction. Because, again, how are you going to sell yourself to say talk shows when you write, say, a mystery about the musketeers? Unless there’s a big movie out, of course (and I don’t think the latest movie rises to that.)
The thing I’m hearing from indie publishers is that this isn’t so. The only type of advertising that seems to work is “the giveaway” and you do have to be patient because, again, the build tends to be slow. But if the product is good and hits with an audience (and the second is not controllable, so you have to have multiple products out) eventually it will find its legs and sell. And you know, its up forever, pretty much.
Sarah,
All good points, and they’ve gotten me thinking about alternative avenues. I’ve written three novels, one of which I started querying four months ago, and another I’ll start querying in two or so months.
(Please don’t think these were overnight pumped out monsters – each took a year or more, but I haven’t had a lot of time to edit/make them more readable, and then send them out)
That said, my first few queries(few? Who am I kidding? Hitting 20 and counting up) have gotten me a little frustrated. The standard line seems to be – “Gee, that’s great. But you’re a nobody and I’m not sure you’re worthy of my company/representation.” It reminds me of the old line that you can’t get a loan unless you don’t need one, or you can’t get a job without experience but need the job to get that experience.
Yes, I’m arrogant to a point, but I look in bookstores and see some of what is passing for published literature, and it makes my skin crawl. I can write better than most of what I see on a bad day. I told you I was arrogant.
Why am I vomiting so much angst? Honestly, I don’t know. At the very least it made me feel better to get the words out. I will continue to query, but I have also looked into what might be involved in self publishing(both traditional books and e-books) in a few years.
Thanks for the column. It gives a small ray of sunshine to the rest of us current nobodies out there.
I went the usual rounds with my first two MS novels, and got about as far as Russ did … well, actually a couple of agents read the entire first novel and said all sorts of nice things about it, but sadly admitted that they just couldn’t sell it to a big publisher – It wasn’t “marketable”. I got to the point when I would look at all the dreck in the bookstores and I’d want to scream. Eventually I partnered with a local boutique publisher who is also a crackerjack editor (and loves my writing!) to publish my books: my sixth historical novel is just coming out now, and I’m beginning to be pretty well known as a writer locally.
Russ – if you’re really committed and determined, hie thee to a good editor, reasearch the market for your books, and either work with a POD house or set up an account with Lightning Source as your own mini-publisher. You’ll never look back.
I might yet, on the basis of sales, get a nibble from a traditional big-publishing house. I’m not at all sure that I’d accept an offer. I’d much rather hire people to work on my books, knowing that they worked for me (editor, lay-out, cover design, publicity) and have my interests in mind, than someone who worked for the company, with the company interests foremost.
My mom just sent me this post because she has been watching me and my writing partner learn this lesson the hard way. How I wish I had read this before signing with anyone. Though, after thinking about this for half a minute, I realize that I probably wouldn’t have heeded the advice. So, if you’re thinking that your situation is different, stop it. It’s not.
We’re not fiction writers, but I think that our experience is relevent: My partner (a long established author with a great platform) and I signed on with a “powerhouse” agent with a stellar repuation from an established firm. If you research her online, you’ll find nothing but kudos. My partner’s previous agent died, so we thought our first order of business was to find representation. When this new agent courted us, we dove in immediately, despite misgivings that we should not have ignored or justified.
First, we both thought she was a jerk (condescending and imperious, doesn’t listen, doesn’t stop talking, doesn’t as questions or question herself under any circumstances), but we justified that by saying, “She may be a jerk, but she’s our jerk, and that will come in handy when it’s time for her to make us a deal.” As the saying goes: When people show you who they are, believe them.
Second, she has no experience in our genre, let alone our specific field. We told ourselves that didn’t matter: She’d guide us through her field and we’d guide her through ours. That didn’t happen. She refused to familiarize herself with us in any way, and couldn’t be bothered to even peruse my partner’s previous book. She was in over her head, and had no idea how to sell our book. Being a jerk, she wouldn’t bite the bullet and ask a few questions. Instead, she got ugly. Here’s a microcosmic example: If she encountered a word in our proposal that was unfamiliar to her, she’d assume the word was wrong. I’m talking intermediate-level English, not even professional jargon. Rather than look it up, she’d leave asinine notes in the margins of our proposal, like, “Huh?!?!? What does this even mean?!” When I used the word “jibe,” for instance, and she commented, “Huh??? Don’t you mean ‘jive’?” Ironically (or tellingly) she even took me to task over the word “agency.” I was referring to the reader’s “sense of agency,” (it’s a psychology book: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sense_of_agency) and she had no idea what that meant. Of course, she didn’t ask or look it up, she just told me that it made no sense and to change the word, in her “OMGWTF is wrong with you?!!” style.
Third, we signed our contract without having it checked by a publishing lawyer. We trusted her reputation and her firm, and assumed we were just signing some boilerplate (we even, embarrassingly, ignored the typos in the document!). When everything went to hell on a greased pole, we found ourselves dog-in-the-mangered for 18 months. The upshot is that she has no obligation to sell our work, but we are not allowed to sell our work, either. Every publishing lawyer and agent we have since contacted has been outraged by the contract and, rightly, appalled at us for signing it. In the end, she made an intellectual property claim on our proposal, encumbering us indefinitely on this project.
So, as Sarah says:
* Even established agents can be insane: Publishers and agents are wary of making changes, which was also our experience. It’s maddening, because no one in this business will ever admit to wanting to toe the line. No one will actually say, “I want you to do exactly what that other guy did.” But they really, really want to. Our agent was adamant that we be more clear about how our book is similar to the popular books in our field than about how our book challenges them. And she was very concerned about my contribution in particular, because, as she put it, my writing is “skanky” and will scare publishers off. But, if you asked her, she’d say she wants to represent fresh material. Who wouldn’t?
* Don’t go with someone who does not thoroughly understand your field or genre.
* Don’t sign anything without having a publishing lawyer read your contract first. Not a lawyer you know (it happens that both my writing partner and my father are lawyers), not your friend in law school, not another writer. A publishing lawyer. It should cost you a couple hundred dollars for that. If you can’t afford it, join the author’s guild (don’t be that pennywise). They will review your contract. At the very least, do not sign anything that, 1. is weighted in favor of the agency (it’s all about what they get and nothing about what you get – negotiate fr yourself); 2. has typos or vague terms that you do not fully understand (be clear about what your agent is going to do for you; for instance, what does “I will represent you to the best of my ability” mean? Bupkus. Ask.); 3. has anything other than a standard 30 day termination clause.
I think our biggest mistake was in believing that we were lucky to even have an agent. My partner compared our situation to an abusive relationship, in which we gladly absorbed so much outrageous crap because we felt beholden. (I never told her that “jibe” was the correct word. I just changed it, because I was afraid to trip her trigger.)
In case you’re wondering how we got mixed up with her in the first place – why she courted us when we were so far out of her element – it’s clear to me now that she had reasons. In brief, she thought that we were already under contract with a publisher (we weren’t, but she didn’t check up on the status), and she was trying to get into the good graces of the author who introduced her to us, a writer she dearly wanted to represent. She thought she had a win-win scenario, which speaks to Sarah’s point about agents’ and publishers’ desperation.
Do not be afraid of offending anyone by advocating for yourself. Do not believe that — or act as if — someone’s doing you a favor by agreeing to represent you.
Sarah, thank you for writing this. I thought that our situation was uniquely fubared, but your advise would have saved us a world of mess – if we’d had the good sense to take it, which, as I said, we might not have. I hope my experience reinforces your point.
I should have added this to my point about the contract: Don’t just ask what they’re going to do for you, memorialize it. A phone call isn’t good enough. Have them spell it out in an email and include it in the contract. If your contract says, as mine did, “I will represent you to the best of my ability,” ask for clarity on that point. It took me several months to realize that my agent’s best ability fell far short of my expectations, but I couldn’t argue in court that my expectations were reasonable. I have no point of reference. She could argue that the edges of her geranium petals are browning and the stress compromised her ability to act like a human being and that she did the best she could under the circumstances. This meets her contractual obligation.
Make sure your contract is clear about what your agent will do for you. How many publishers will she contact? In what time frame? What terms will she advocate for? What terms will you accept? How much time does she have to make a sale that meets your terms? At what point can you cut bait without further obligation to your contract?
Get it in writing.
I have watched enough Judge Judy to know better.