Tuesday, November 27, 2007
New Writing Material
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Author hostage takeover
Evil Editor was having a bad day, and it was about to get worse. She had just hit the Send button on yet another form rejection letter when office door blew open. Angry shouts filled the room as rough hands tied down Evil Editor with confusing points of view and a string of dangling modifiers. She struggled against her restraints.
Evil Editor: What is the meaning of this? I have work to do, dammit. Who are you?
Bandit Author #1: We’re a splinter faction of the Militant Manuscript Scribes, and we’re taking you hostage.
Evil Editor: (glaring at them because she really didn’t have time for this)Why?
Bandit Author #2: We don’t like what publishers are doing to us.
Evil Editor: (sighing and folding her arms) Right. I always worried this day would come. Fine, what are your demands?
Bandit #3: We demand to be heard!
Evil Editor: And if I refuse?
Bandit #4: Then we’ll wear black turtlenecks and berets and read you bad poetry while snapping our fingers. Bandit 1, here, even brought a bongo drum.
Evil Editor: Gah! Torture! You bastards. Anything but that. Fine. I’m all ears. You, the one holding the split infinitive, put that down and talk to me.
All the bandits grab chairs and make a circle around Evil Editor.
Bandit #1: I want to write about crochet toilet paper doilies. Why can’t I do that?
Evil Editor: (looking at Bandit 1) Are you licensed to be using that present participle? If not, put it down – you could hurt someone. (he complies) Okay, you want to write about crocheting toilet paper doilies. Odd choice, but whatever. I assume you’ve submitted all over the place and have a nice collection of rejection slips lining your bathroom.
The idea with any book is the ratio between market appeal and relevance – you’re looking for the biggest share. While it’s true that there are all sorts of niche books on the market that are selling very well, the author is normally tied into that niche and knows how to promote to that narrow marketplace. You must, must, must know your market.
How many toilet paper doily crocheters are there? If this runs in the thousands, this could be a good niche book. But it’s also going to require the right publisher and a strong PR plan. Random House may not think this a wise choice, but a publisher who specializes in hobbies may love your book. Submit a bang-up pitch to the right publishers, and you may see a contract in your future.
Bandit #2: My book keeps coming up on Amazon.com with a delivery date of 4-6 weeks. Why is this? I have people writing to me that they don’t want to wait that long. What’s wrong with my stupid publisher?
Evil Editor: I can’t vouch for your publisher, but I’ll tell you how sales take place. And, for crying out loud, put down that participle phrase. I’m tied up, stupid, so I’m hardly a threat. Besides, you could put an eye out with that.
First off, your title is coming up with a 4-6 week fulfillment time because Ingram is out of your title. Stores, both physical and online, order their books through Ingram, who is the largest wholesaler/distributor in the publishing industry. Their purpose is to provide one-stop shopping for stores. Otherwise, stores would have to call a bazillion different publishers to order books.
But Ingram is smart; they only pay for books that actually sell. If a publisher sends a ton of books into Ingram and they sit on their shelves for three months, they bundle them back up and send them to the publisher. The publisher then incurs two sets of shipping costs – to and from. Mind you, it’s common for Ingram to turn around and issue a P.O. for the same book the very next day.
This circus happens every 90 days, like clockwork, and it gets expensive because we’re basically paying for books to rot on Ingram’s shelves. No one wants to pay for that. As a result, publishers send in a smaller amount in hopes that those numbers sell within that 90 day period.
An author’s sales track record is important. For instance, our distributor gets a sales record from Ingram every week, and they look for sales trends. If they see a title is picking up in demand for a number of weeks, they’ll ask Ingram to issue a P.O. for a larger number. Once the books are back on Ingram’s shelves, that 4-6 week delivery will disappear from Amazon.com. In short, as sales increase, the books your publisher supplies to Ingram will increase as well. Does this answer your question?
Bandit #2: (appearing mollified) I’m trying so hard to still hate you. But it’s hard because you’ve been so helpful.
Evil Editor: If it makes you feel any better, I’ll send you a form rejection letter tomorrow.
Bandit #2: Yes, yes, this would be helpful. Thank you.
Bandit #3: Yeah? Well, I hate all editors, mine wants me to change my story, and I hate my cover art.
Evil Editor: (sitting back and regarding Bandit #3) Anyone ever tell you that those commas clash horribly with your hair color? (E.E. shakes head) Nevermind. I know quite a few authors who feel the same way as you. They want the contract, but they don’t want the edits. You can’t have it both ways. Editors/publishers have bought the rights to publish your book. They did so because they felt you had something marketable. Ostensibly, they know the marketplace better than you and understand what changes need to be made to improve the quality of your work.
It might be that you need developmental work – changing the story arc around or removing your beloved backstory. Whatever the elements are, you need to trust them. That’s not to say there can’t be a dialog between you and your editor. Keep in mind, however, that they have the final say because they paid for that right. Argue too much, and you may find your butt and your book on the street.
Editing is a very emotional issue because we’re dealing with someone’s soul, so to speak. Most of us are very sensitive to this. But we also have a business to run, and we aren’t sentimentally attached to your five minor characters who you love more than life itself. If they don’t fit in the story, they’ll be shown the door.
The best advice I can offer you is to act like a professional at all times. It’s fine to have creative discussions, but do it with respect.
Bandit #4: My book is being remaindered. What does this mean to me?
Evil Editor: It means that your book either tanked or the publisher printed more copies than the market was willing to buy. Remaindered books are usually sold by weight, and the publisher makes squat diddly on them. These are invariably the books you see in the dollar bin at your local bookstore or at the swap meets. Your title is usually listed as ‘out of print’ and disappears from existence.
Bandit #4: I’ll get my rights returned to me, right?
Evil Editor: I can’t say. Check your contract. There are plenty cases where the publisher will keep the title for the full term of the contract. They go ahead and take it out of print, dump the titles, and wait. If whatever you’ve written about comes back into vogue, they whip your book out, dust off the cover, add a new copyright page and re-release it as "new" before anyone else. They do this to beat the market and make a killing. All I can suggest is that it doesn’t hurt to ask your publisher if they’d be willing to give your book back to you.
All the bandits stare at each other. The wind has vacated their sails.
Bandit #1: Guess the old broad wasn’t as bad as we thought. Let’s go.
The group gets up from their chairs and vacate E.E.’s office.
Evil Editor: Hey, wait. Untie me, dammit! (she felt a verb jab her ribs as she shifted in her chair.) Come back here! (EE picks up a question mark off the floor, dropped by Bandit #3, and begins sawing at her restraints.) Bastards. Wait ‘til I get my red pen…
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Punctuation Beerfest
Comma: (slams down a half-full mug in a seedy bar that's inside an equally seedy manuscript) Yessiree, now that I think about it, and that’s only because I’m half-tanked, this beer, even though it’s too warm, is the best I’ve had in a long time.
Exclamation Point: Oh! I love this beer! I haven’t had this since I was in college! We drank too much and got thrown out of the bar for dancing on the tables!
Ellipsis thought about the last time he’d had beer…and thought some more…realizing he was allergic to beer…made him turn green around his dots.
Adverb: This beer is so astoundingly horrible. It tastes amazingly like dirty sock water. How can you drink this achingly awful swill?
Em Dash: When I hold my glass—like so—I swear I can see tiny grains of sand floating around—
Cliché: You all are so, like, five minutes ago. You’re all three sheets to the wind, so I’m gonna make like a tree and leave.
Evil Editor: (bursting through the door) STOP! You’re all leaving. Now.
Em Dash: Why—don’t you love us anymore? I though we were friends—
Evil Editor: You all serve a purpose, but you need to be put on a serious diet. Punctuation sucks writers into taking shortcuts rather than relying on their writing. This results in dry or overwritten prose. Comma, four of you in one sentence is too much. They need to broken up into smaller sentences, and you need to make like Houdini and disappear.
Cliché: I heard that!
Evil Editor: Exclamation Point, you are a buzz kill because I see you all the time. We rely on you to signify excitement. But just like my box of Twinkies, if I see too much of you, I get sick of you because you’ve lost your importance. Adverb, you are a modifier on crack and the root of all overwriting. Whenever I see you and your best friend, Exclamation Point, in the same manuscript, I want to scream. You’re over the top. (Evil Editor casts a warning glance at Em Dash and Ellipsis, who are holding hands and trying to sneak out of the bar) Not so fast, you two.
Em Dash: Ahhh—
Ellipsis: We weren’t trying to sneak…
Evil Editor: You two are equally guilty in ruining good writing because of the tendency to overuse yourselves. Sure, sometimes dialog does need to be cut off or indicate two characters interrupting each other. When I see too much of you, then I know the writer is relying on you rather than writing a complete sentence. So gather up your things and hit the gym, you overweight punctuation nightmares. You are meant to make reading easier and clearer. You were never meant to take the place of writing.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Why I Love Publicists
I spent a wonderful weekend at a writer’s conference where creative minds blended together in numerous fun-packed seminars. Our heads were packed to the breaking point with useful tips and great advice.
One of the highlights for me was hearing a whirl wind of a publicist talk about publicity. This clever woman is a lot like trying to lasso a tornado, and I watched her in action as she, within a matter of minutes (or seconds) whirled up effective pitches for the roughly 35 authors in the room. I came away exhausted watching her brain buzz. But what she solidified for me is my love of publicists.
I’ve blogged before about publicists before, but I wanted to expand on this a bit so writers can better understand a publisher’s perspective – much like my post about agents.
Publicists are task masters at pulling the very best out of authors and their books. This is especially helpful because one of the first questions that pop out of a genre buyer’s mouth is, “What is the author doing to create demand?”
Publicists bring a tremendous amount of creative energy to a project, and I routinely discuss PR strategy with them. We become the support system and driving force for the author. TV and print media, elite bookstores, and reviewers are used to dealing with publicists and they actually prefer it because they have developed established relationships with each other. For that reason, whenever a publicist asks for more ARCs, I send them. Always.
Publicists have a marvelous way of making the author think about their books and themselves in very innovative ways. I watched one particularly clever woman pitch an author of a fantasy whose main characters are two surfer dudes as an expert on how to keep teens in shape. He speaks to schools, does radio interviews, and does the occasional gym book signing. The author would have never thought of this on his own – and neither would his publisher (which wasn’t me, btw). He went from the bottom of the list to a very respectable mid-list seller. Helped that he was a total surfer dude himself and utterly adorable.
In my first post about publicists, I wrote the following:
- Consider the genre. Is your genre mainstream enough to warrant the expense and energy of a publicist? I’ve known authors who hired publicists, and their books sold very poorly. They received terrific reviews, but their genres were so obscure that there was a very narrow field of interest.
This is me eating my words – sort of. What this publicist at the conference showed me is that obscure isn’t necessarily an issue, but rather what can be extracted from your book that is mainstream and of national interest. This is huge because it opens a much wider door to the seemingly obscure book. This makes me look at submissions with a whole different perspective.
To be sure, publicists aren’t free, but you don’t need to break the bank. Consult with one first. I know of several who will do a paid consult. They’ll discuss the book and author’s pluses and minuses and outline a viable PR plan for the author. These are invaluable because they not only help with the book, but they also teach the author a bucket load about how PR works and what the TV, radio, and print media are looking for.
Before an author does anything, however, they need to define their intent for their book. I mention this because a publicist will ask. Don’t look silly and say, “I wanna be like J.K. Rowlings.” Give it some serious consideration that is appropriate to you and your book.
Here are some tips to consider when looking for a publicist.
- Ask questions – working with a growing number of publicists, I’ve seen that many have specialties. Some are fabulous at getting the reviews and others are great at booking TV and radio interviews. Ask if they have a particular strength. This makes a huge difference. If you’re looking to get on Oprah and you’ve signed with someone who’s intent on getting you reviews, there’s going to be a problem. On your dime.
- Personality – Make sure you two gel well together. Remember, they have their fingers on the heartbeat of your PR plan, and it’s important that your personalities don’t clash. Seems elementary, but I’ve seen this happen a number of times, and it’s disastrous and expensive.
- Be a Girl Scout – Be Prepared – The first thing you’re going to do is pitch your book to a publicist. This is how they determine whether they’ll want to accept you as a client. The better prepared you are, the more they’ll want to work with you.
- Be available – I’ve spoken with many publicists who tell the same story about the author who won’t do what they’ve been asked them to do. A publicist earns their money by sitting on the phone, sending emails, stroking frightfully young producers. The last thing they need to hear is that the author doesn’t want to do the event or interview, but would rather stay home and write. As a publisher, if I’d hired the publicist, that author would be sporting gaping holes in their back forties, made by my six-inch heels.
Finally, the ten million dollar question: will a publicist sell a ton of books? If anyone could guarantee that, they’d own
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Yikes
Monday, November 05, 2007
And I thought writing gave me a high...
Check this out:
Biertijd.com // Media » Mountain Wingsuit
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Submission Feng Shui
I have a small rejoinder to another post I wrote regarding following submission guidelines. This blunder is even more heinous because of its blatant desire to have a work reviewed. I’m talking about the writer who contacts me asking if they can submit. It’s like a query to query. The answer is always the same; abso-freaking-lutely, provided…PROVIDED…you read those pesky submission guidelines. We discussed whether we take historical fiction (yes, but it has to have big aspects of current socially relevant themes). I couldn’t have been clearer than if I’d rinsed my mouth out with Windex.
“Yes, yes,” sez wanna-be author, “I’ve read your guidelines to the letter and am ready to proceed.” No word count, no bio, and in a genre we don’t publish. In fact, he omitted his bio on purpose. Said he’d send it later if I wanted it, and, oh by the by, he has just the most wonderful writing history. A tease, this one.
No matter how much a writer wants to slam that square peg into that round hole, it isn’t going to fit. Not now. Not ever. So why waste everyone’s time by hoping that “just this once” I’ll change my mind. Truth is, I can’t. We’re known for socially relevant works. If I suddenly pop out a historical fiction suspense/murder, then one of two things happens: 1) The book dies because I don’t have those kinds of marketing contacts or 2) The book dies because my editing team isn’t proficient in developing a bang up murder mystery. And face it, you want the very best for your book, right? Then be certain that you query a publisher who pubs your genre.
Yes, I can hear it now, “Geez, Price, why you so cranky?” Ah, I don’t know. Maybe it was the guy I got earlier today that said, “I read your submission guidelines and decided to largely ignore them.” Sometimes it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed…
No Man is an Island

I used to roll my eyes at my mother when she quoted this little diddy. She normally whipped it out after busting me for watching too much Felix the Cat (Lordy, I’m dating myself), and forced me outside. Funny how she has no problem with my being holed up in my office for twelve hours a day – so much so that everyone calls it The Batcave – but I digress.
Like other lessons my mother taught me, this one has come back to haunt me, but for different reasons. Instead of saying “no Man is an island,” I’ve changed that to “no Writer is an island.” Sure, it goes against the grain of everything we know, which is that writing is a very solitary endeavor. But if we don’t get out of the Batcave and get among our fellow writers, we risk becoming stale.
Case in point: I have this friend who’s written five books. None of them have seen the light of day. She caught me at a vulnerable time when I had the flu and handed me all her manuscripts. “What’s wrong with my writing?” she wailed. So I checked her work out and critiqued each one. The most puzzling thing to me was that her fifth manuscript was as stale as the first. It’s not that she can’t write – she can. It's just that her writing is filled with same problems in every story.
She appreciated the critiques and went home to begin rewrites. Had no one ever done this for her before? Does she not belong to critique/writing groups? No. Argh! We all need feedback. Read my lips…WE ALL NEED FEEDBACK. I’m not talking about anyone’s mother in law or second cousin, but a fellow writer who understands POV issues and can recognize fluff at ten paces. If we don’t have solid critiques, we are free to commit the same newbie writer errors over and over again and it doesn’t matter if you’ve written one or twenty stories – they’ll all be fatally flawed.
Join a good writers’ group, be it in person or online - there are some very good ones. Nothing is more challenging than having the feedback of five, six, seven fellow writers to help you see your mistakes. It doesn’t guarantee that your writing will be perfect, but it will help you learn about whether your characters are believable, whether you’re writing in the right POV, your dialog makes sense, you’re telling vs. showing, and a whole host of other aberrations. We can’t be islands. At some point we need to reach out and allow others to see our work in order to make us better writers.
Oh, and Mom? You were right about mixing checks with stripes.






