Rags to Riches

In the words of those old poets, the Backstreet Boys – “Oh my god, I’m back again!”

That’s right, friends. I am back from my hiatus – and a little earlier than expected, no less. Thank you for bearing with me during these busier-than-usual weeks. I’m very happy to be back!

Actually, there’s a reason I came back early. See, there’s been a rash of self-publishing stories recently and for the most part, I don’t really have much to say about them except, “Hey, good for them.” But then I read something that made me want to respond in more than 140 characters, and I didn’t think I should wait to post it for the sake of waiting.

Future (current?) publishing superstar, Meredith Barnes, recently wrote in a blog post (which you should read), “Agents today, if they have one forward-thinking bone in their body, consider self-publishing a viable option.” Very, very true.

Much like online dating, self-publishing is no longer attached to the stigma that it should be only considered as a last resort. There are many reasons why I’d suggest taking the traditional publishing route. Self-publishing means you will be unedited, unmarketed, and generally only sold via a few retail outlets – among other problems. If you’re fine with this or you are willing to put in a LOT of work in addition to writing the actual book, then who am I to stop you?

Like I said, there have been a lot of self-publishing success stories lately, especially in this past month. I think this is a great boon to this often chastised method of publication. But it’s also dangerous to writers who may not have the same resources or popularity to make their self-published book rank up there with Amanda Hocking and J.A. Konrath.

That’s why when I read this post on Mr. Konrath’s blog last week, I felt that the self-publishing rags-to-riches stories needed to be addressed. (I had been letting others, who are much smarter than I, handle this ’til now.) Like I mentioned above, there are TONS of blog posts about how self-publishing is hard and that you probably won’t be as successful as the authors who are benefiting from it. Most writers know this and will still turn to self-publishing because they just want to see their book in print.

This is perfectly acceptable, writers. And it is especially fine for the writer who wanted to thank J.A. Konrath for “saving her life.” Sometimes all we need is to retain our creativity in order to feel we still have self worth. This writer was frustrated with rejection and became depressed because she did not see a point to keep writing if it could not be her career.

I feel for this writer. I do. And I’m happy she found peace again by releasing her book on her own terms. But there is more to this story. Or at least, there is more to this blog post.

More than the writer’s own feeling of rejection, what’s referenced several times here is the lack of money in traditional publishing. She laments that with “rock-bottom advances,” she saw no point to keep writing. Mr. Konrath also admits that he had been counting on his next advance to “feed his family.”

Now, writers. I don’t mean to cheapen anyone’s financial concerns here, but… seriously?

I will elaborate.

No one – I will repeat: no one (not agents, not editors, not publicists, and not booksellers) – goes into the book business for the cash. Writers are a huge part of this business; they are not excluded from this list. All books, even ones destined to be bestsellers, are passion projects. We do this because we love it. We love writers and we love the written word and we love stories. Despite our four-walled offices and health care, we are all just starving artists who believe you can’t place monetary value on what we do. Hence the lack of money being passed around.

But on a less idealized level, we already know about the notoriously low wages in publishing and the dwindling advances that have only gotten lower since 2008. The fact that our cups do not exactly runneth over is not news, which is why published author, J.A. Konrath should not have relied on an advance to avoid malnourishment.

If publishing is a business, which we constantly remind people that it is, then debut writers are our entry-level employees. For those of you with day jobs, try to remember what your entry-level salary was. Sucked, right? Well, whatever that salary was will probably be more than your debut advance. People like Amanda Hocking exist, of course, but if you are expecting publishers to play tug-of-war with two million dollars over you, you might as well just play the lottery.

I will take this opportunity to pause once again and say I’m sorry if this comes off harsh. I hate playing the role of the realist because rags-to-riches stories are supposedly what “the American dream” is all about. Crushing dreams is not fun for me. Plus, I like you.

Moving on.

If you are a writer waiting for your advance to “save you,” remember that publishing takes forever (as we learned in more detail from Jennifer Laughran). If you sold a book (yay!), you might receive half of your advance upon signing the contract. This comes relatively quickly. When the advances are split like this, the rest of your money could come after the publisher receives the full manuscript (most common with sequels in a series or nonfiction projects) or upon publication. Friends, publication might not happen until two years after you sign the agreement.

Ask yourselves if you’re financially secure enough to wait that long in between paychecks. If you have a day job, you may want to keep it until you no longer need to worry about when your next royalty check is coming. If you don’t have a day job, and are impatiently waiting for an advance, it probably wouldn’t hurt to call a temp agency. 

The reality of this situation is sad for those who want writing to be their career. That’s why I get self-publishing. It’s a way to avoid inevitable disappointment. Plus, it is awesome to see your book in print. I get that too.

But I guess my point is this – why be disappointed in something you already know to be true? Most jobs won’t pay you enough in your first year. You’re expected to prove yourself and work up the ladder and break ceilings. Then, usually, you’re able to get a raise, some extra perks, and eventually a summer home. So why should your first year in your new career as “writer” be any different?

Restless employees can go on to do great things. Biz Stone left a sweet gig at Google to help create a silly little start-up called Twitter. Pretty much everyone drops out of Harvard and becomes gazillionaires. And Barry Eisler can walk away from half a million dollars in traditional publishing to go rogue.

When these things happen, they are newsworthy. And the reason they become news stories are because they are rare and they provide hope. The millions of writers who continue to do their jobs well and stay loyal to their companies (i.e. publishers and agents) aren’t reported on so much because, well, they are the norm. Likewise, the millions of writers who go directly to self-publishing and don’t make a million dollars by far outweigh the writers who do make millions, so they tend to go unnoticed in the media too.

Like in any career, you want to get paid for what your work is worth, but rarely is that reflected in your paychecks (aka: royalty checks) when you are new to the game. Just because a system should change doesn’t mean it will change. At least not any time soon. Publishing is not Wall Street. Most of us (writers included) won’t be able to retire after our rookie year. If you were expecting to, then maybe you are in the wrong business. But if you’re willing to accept the realities of most new employees, advance on your own merits, and continue to be awesome at what you do, then we’d love to have you.

In Virtual Reality, What Can’t We Do?

Social networking continues to prove just how powerful it is, more so now in the past few months than ever. When people aren’t using it to oust dictators or organize movements, they are using it simply to connect. I have said before that people who scoff at Twitter, or think online-only friends can’t have real value, clearly have no idea what social media is, and should therefore not talk about it.

Since I just can’t stop talking about Joss Whedon lately, I thought I’d use the latest utilization of the Internet to segue into my topic today. God-among-nerds, Nathan Fillion, recently said in an interview that if won $300 million from the California lottery, then he’d buy the rights to Firefly and distribute it online. Well, the geek world went nuts and a few devoted Browncoats launched this website to “Help Nathan Buy Firefly.” Firefly‘s cancellation is hardly akin to Middle Eastern oppression, but hey, some of us need to create our own problems.

This bit of nerd news does have a point. Cult favorite TV shows like Firefly and Arrested Development have been off the air for over five years, but these shows in particular never seem to have died. This is arguably because of the Internet. Getting canceled these days is not what it used to be. Fans have voices now, and they can mobilize. These are the people who got Family Guy back on the air. Even though I don’t watch Family Guy, the impact that had is not lost on me. A network listened and maybe it’ll happen again with other cult shows…

… But what about cult books?

Have you ever wondered what would happen if your favorite book goes out of print? Probably not – we live in the age of Espresso Book Machines and ebooks, after all. But what about those pulpy noir paperbacks with the awesome covers that, try as they might, just can’t get reprinted. Or what if (heaven forbid!) an agent can’t seem to give away those darn ebook rights? There are so many titles that have fallen by the wayside for either being too old, not frontlist-worthy, or the estates are holding them back. What’s a reader to do?

What would happen if the social media savvy decided to save books the same way they do for canceled beloved TV shows? Do you think they’d stand a chance? If Margaret Atwood or David Foster Wallace were suddenly pulled from the shelves, would publishers notice a public outcry?

Rejecting the Rejections

I mentioned via The Twitter today that I wished my standard form rejection could read “Sorry, but your agent is in another castle.” Obviously, I was joking (even though that would be sweet), but a number of followers responded that it would certainly soften the blow. This got me wondering about form rejections in general.

They are designed to be as impartial, encouraging, and non-threatening as possible, despite the fact that they are completely impersonal. As writers who are publishing-savvy, you are no doubt aware that no agent likes giving such a reply, but the sheer volume of queries we receive sometimes make it impossible to personally respond to those we need to pass on.

So, a bit of a project for all of you who have either experienced the dreaded form rejection or are still living in fear of it. How can we agents “soften the blow” without resorting to lines from late ’80s video games?

Welcome to the fake-agenting world, writers! Leave your one-to-two sentence professional form rejection in the comments. Maybe we’ll learn a thing or two.

Pitches and Strikes

If you don’t read agent Jennifer Laughran’s blog, 1) why not?! and 2) you are currently missing out on some great advice if you are planning to attend a conference. While I have no overall conference-attending advice, I thought I’d talk about pitching in person because this past Saturday I participated in the Writer’s Digest Conference Pitch Slam, and it was my first experience with writers pitching to me. Basically, every writer got three minutes to pitch their project to an agent, and once those three minutes were up, a bell rang and then they were sent to be killed. OK, not really. They just had to move on to another agent. In the two-hour, non-stop pitch sessions, the writers I met ranged from all-business to nervous wreck to deer-in-headlights. It made me wonder, what must they be like on job interviews?

There were, of course, a few gems who, even if I didn’t always request their manuscripts, maintained the ideal level of professionalism while still being natural and personable. In case you’re attending another conference that requires pitching to an agent, here are some of the extreme cases I encountered to help you remain the one thing agents want you to be: yourself.

The Overachiever: This writer is ALL business. They are Tracy Flick-meets-Hermione Granger. What’s that? You want to exchange a handshake and a hello? No such luck. Not even a smile. This writer wants to sell, sell, sell. To them, a handshake wastes precious “getting out my binder and carefully typed notes” time and a hello is just another word for “I will now read you my entire query letter, including bio, in under three minutes.” An agent will respond positively to this only if the book sounds like something he or she wants to read. But, overall, it’s daunting and a little scary.

The Walking Nerve Ending: Writers, agents are people too. More importantly, we’re usually the socially awkward bookish people. No need to fear us! Besides, when your voice shakes, we can’t hear what your project is about. All we want to do is hug you instead. Ssh… we’re all just people, and agents need you as much as you need them. If one of us doesn’t particularly want what you’ve written, well then on to the next one! It’ll be OK.

The BFF: This is the opposite of The Overachiever. They might have come prepared with a binder, but you’d never know it because they are just so excited to meet you and are such a fan of [something agent’s done]. This writer might use the phrase “I feel like I know you!” and you wonder for a moment if they will give you a hug or invite you out for a drink after, neither of which are appropriate. It is always a good idea to be approachable and pleasant, especially if you follow an agent on Twitter, read their blog, or have met them before. But you do not want to appear so familiar that you lose your sense of professional boundaries.

The Lost Puppy: Another label for deer-in-headlights. This writer is adorably nervous, but not in a debilitating way like the The Walking Nerve Ending. Instead, this writer stammers and stares until, finally, they’re able to get out their one-sentence pitch just under three minutes. They just need a little love and encouragement, and maybe a gentle shove to keep moving, lest they get hit by a car (or, in this case, a bell signifying their time is up).

The Fast Talker: As someone who fears public speaking more than death, I can relate to The Fast Talker. I know what it’s like to think oh god if I just get through this as quickly as possible it’ll all be over and I’ll never have to speak again! It’s a form of anxiety that I have trouble calling others out on, in case I am labeled a hypocrite. However, I’ll offer some tips on what got me through the few times I wasn’t able to feign illness to get out of speaking (which, yes, I’ve done). 1) Know what you’re talking about. In this case, it’s easy because what you’re talking about is your book. If you can speak confidently and with authority on something, there’s no reason to be nervous. 2) Before it’s your turn to speak, take a break and count to three. It’s pretty textbook, I know, but it tends to work.

The Mumbles McMumbleson: This is the writer who lacks confidence and just wants to disappear. They know finding an agent is important, so they have to do this, but by god, do they really need to do this in person? The answer of course is no. No one is forcing writers to attend conferences and meet agents in person. But conferences are important for writers and they chose to be there, so speak up and speak clearly!

Like I said, there were definitely some gems and I’m very excited to read the manuscripts I requested. The Pitch Slam was intense, but fun, which is how many of the writers involved saw it too. See, agents are just like you! No need to fear. When all is said and done, just be yourself. We only want you for your books anyway…

Crossing Over with YA

I often get queries that state plainly, “I’m writing to you because I know you enjoy crossover YA and I think my story is perfect for you.” Yes, it is true I prefer my YA to be more enjoyed by more than just teens, but I noticed that many of the eager writers are missing the point when submitting their crossover manuscripts. Like with most things, there is no “one ultimate rule” when defining what makes crossover YA. There are, however, many traps writers set for themselves when trying to write in this style. As a fan of the genre when it’s done right, I’m hoping to debunk the spiral of lies that writers often fall into so that the wide definition of Crossover becomes a little more narrow.

Crossover YA Means Older Teen/Younger Adult Characters:
Having a college-aged main character or a senior in high school who find him-or-herself in “adult situations” can mean that older readers will latch onto your story. Though, for the most part, having an older character, in my opinion, can do your YA a disservice. By focusing too much on having the age of the characters match that of your intended audience, you not only risk alienating a wider audience, but you could also lose focus on the story you want to tell vs. the story you think you should tell. Writing what you want should always take precedent. Worry about where characters’ ages fall later.(This is also true in deciding on Middle Grade vs. Young Adult.)

But Adults Won’t Read Books With Narrators/MCs Under 14:
Tell that to J.K. Rowling, Harper Lee, Jonathan Safran Foer, and Orson Scott Card – to name a few. While J.K. is the only one on that list to have a “true YA premise,” the others have proven that just because a character’s voice hasn’t yet changed doesn’t mean it can’t still resonate with the big kids.

OK, but back to this “true YA premise” – Won’t that alienate adult readers?
Fair point. I’ll return to the Harry Potter example from above. Tell the average grown-up that you’re reading a book about eleven-year-old wizards who attend a magic school and regularly encounter giants, unicorns, and dragons, and they will probably say, “That’s nice, Junior; now go run along and play.” Tell the same person you’re reading a book about three friends who work together to battle a force of evil responsible for the deaths of the main character’s parents, and they might be more inclined to take you seriously. Adjust the general plot for the more fantasy-minded reader, and you have a book they won’t want to put down, regardless of age. In other words, a great story is a great story. What a reader chooses to take from isn’t always what the author writes intentionally.

My Main Characters Takes a Bunch of Illegal Drugs, Has Sex With Four Different People, and then Murders Someone Within the 1st Thirty Pages. Not exactly the stuff YA is made of.
How old is this drug-taking nympho murderer? Who was murdered and why? Does another teen have to solve the case? Is there a lengthy and potentially boring-for-teens trial? Will the main character learn something about him-or-herself by the end?

The answers to these questions will help you decide which age group this falls under, but never assume that something can’t be YA just because of content. There are always contributing factors that make it go one way or another.

A Book Without an Target Reader in Mind Won’t Sell
According to my query pile, writers seem very concerned about which section of a bookstore their work will be displayed. I completely understand why writers of crossover YA would be concerned about this. That said, it should in no way effect how you approach writing your novel. Sometimes you will find that given then story you created, the only logical age your characters can be is around nineteen, twenty, or twenty-one. Where they end up in a bookstore, in these cases, is dependent on the nature of the writing and the plot.

So that means I should, like, make my characters talk all YA, even though the plot is epic and totally more appealing and appropriate for people, like, way older?
No. Your characters need to make sense given the situations they are in and the tone you are trying to master. If a teenager is in an adult situation that can only be an adult situation, write their character accordingly.

Fine. But what if my freshman-in-college protagonist and her senior-in-college boyfriend go on a road trip in search of the mother she thought she lost in Katrina, but when they arrive in New Orleans, the only thing they find is… themselves.
Other than having an overly sentimental cliche on your hands, I’d say you have a perfect example of “either/or.” In this case, use your instincts. I’ve given advice to make a character younger or older based on the plot and writing style. Likewise, I’ve had writers tweak their plot to better suit a younger audience. These minor changes are inevitable when you have this type of novel. But, for the most part, the minor changes are never deal-breakers.

So, what you’re saying is I should just write my story and stop freaking out that it’s not YA enough or too YA?
Right. Be mindful of a potential audience, keep your story in keeping with the characters, and let the characters adapt to the plot in a way their ages and life experiences would realistically allow. But don’t get wrapped up in who’s going to read it. Just focus on the story you want to tell.

This, of course, is all easier said than done. The best way to avoid the spiral is to remember to trust your reader while writing, and then trust your agent and editor while trying to publish. Mostly though – trust yourself as a writer to get across what you want to say to the people you want to say it without even trying 🙂

Read. Prey. Exploit.

By now you have probably heard of the ghastly “James Frey Fiction Factory” news that broke over the weekend. In case you were away, this paragraph from the NY Magazine article sums it up:

“This is the essence of the terms being offered by Frey’s company Full Fathom Five: In exchange for delivering a finished book within a set number of months, the writer would receive $250 (some contracts allowed for another $250 upon completion), along with a percentage of all revenue generated by the project, including television, film, and merchandise rights—30 percent if the idea was originally Frey’s, 40 percent if it was originally the writer’s. The writer would be financially responsible for any legal action brought against the book but would not own its copyright. Full Fathom Five could use the writer’s name or a pseudonym without his or her permission, even if the writer was no longer involved with the series, and the company could substitute the writer’s full name for a pseudonym at any point in the future. The writer was forbidden from signing contracts that would “conflict” with the project; what that might be wasn’t specified. The writer would not have approval over his or her publicity, pictures, or biographical materials. There was a $50,000 penalty if the writer publicly admitted to working with Full Fathom Five without permission.”

Gross, right? The always brilliant Maureen Johnson had an equally brilliant blog post about it as well.

Writers, if this is not evidence of the importance of agents, I don’t know what is. Desperation to get published is never an excuse to settle for anything less than what you deserve. What’s more, Mr. Frey is going into my old stomping grounds – the MFA classroom – to prey on his victims. What strikes me as odd about this is that the average MFA candidate is not taught “high concept,” or even knows what it means, and they usually scoff at genre fiction, but it seems as if that is all James is looking for.

The desire to get published and work with “super famous author” can make a person compromise their style, and I am not above advocating “commercializing” a novel for the sake of publication. But! You should never, ever compromise your ideals – whether it’s in your writing or in your own self-worth. You are worth more than $250. Much, much more.

Speaking from an industry professional’s point of view, this is appalling on many levels. It is an agent’s job to protect the writer from contracts like this. Not only would the writer not get paid nearly enough for their work, but Frey makes it so his company can decide not to pay you at all. Add in a little stripping of rights, final say, and ability to protest and you have a nicely packaged fascist agreement. Writers, this is not the future of publishing. And while I know all of my loyal readers are too smart to fall for a contract like Frey’s, there are others out there who hide behind larger advances and prey on the un-agented, feasting on their unprotected, and often uninformed, flesh.

My anger toward this is not motivated by selfishness. Yes, the very essence of my job is being tossed aside and put into question by this “other option,” but there’s a reason agents become agents. And it’s not fame or fortune, trust me. It’s also not to force writers into a bureaucracy and reap so-called benefits from them, like some writers (usually the rejected ones) sometimes believe. We get into this business because we love books and writers and want to see them succeed. And yes, the more money you make, the more money we make. This is our job, after all. While I can’t speak for all agents, I’ll say that a huge commission check is just an added bonus. Most of us do this because we honestly love it. We’re your advocates and protectors who speak on your behalf because too many people like Frey exist.

Now, there’s that other side of me. The one who is now going to speak as an MFA graduate. What makes me afraid of this Fiction Factory is that I know how many people will be tempted to take Frey up on his offer of doom. I have many opinions about my MFA, not all of them positive and most of which having to due with it being an expensive and useless degree. But, I entered a “NY literary scene” I was desperate to be a part of and it did, truly, make me a better writer.

That said, all I “learned” at The New School was how to be a better writer. My writing seminars and literature courses only had one educational motive – craft, craft, craft. No one ever bothered to prepare us for actual publication, or even how to go about getting an agent. If I wasn’t already interning at an agency at the time, I probably wouldn’t have even thought about the actual logistics of getting published. In fact, hardly anyone mentioned the word “published” at all, but we were all forced to attend a three-week seminar on teaching. I guess for when we all failed and needed a fall-back career. No one went to this seminar after the first meeting, myself included.

Writers, as followers of blogs you know this, but as a reminder: getting published is not just (finally!) seeing your book in print. It’s, ideally, your new career, and like any job, you are guaranteed protection for your contributions to “the company.” We’re like your boss, but instead of enforcing a dress code or making you attend awkward office parties, we just pay you. While it’s a fun and rewarding business, it’s also a business, and to think otherwise is irresponsible. This is one of my biggest problems with MFA programs. Writing for the sake of writing is all well and good, but if you want to turn it into a career, writing students are discouraged more than encouraged, and are rarely, if ever, given the facts.

If all you want is to just see your book in print, then self-publishing or Frey-style rip-offs probably would suit you just fine. But if you want to be an author, then hard work, perseverance, and having “the system” give you your due is what will make you successful. The easy way out is very tempting, especially in a business that makes you wait for every little thing, but giving in to a Frey contract is against your best interest and just plain heartbreaking for those of us who know better. You deserve more, writers.

Confessions of a (Former?) Snob

A few months ago, my sister asked if I’d be interested in a guy who read Tom Robbins. I told her I hadn’t really thought about it before (truth). Then I thought (to myself), what does that even mean? Are Tom Robbins fans certain types of people, the way Tucker Max boys are? I didn’t think so. Then I thought that maybe she was asking me about Tom Robbins because, simply, he’s popular. This, to me, was a sad thought.

I admit there was a period in my life where I judged people based on the type of music they listened to and genres of books they read. I’m happy to report that these days of complete and utter superficiality are now behind me. (Well, for the most part: I’m still pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to marry someone who listens to Nickelback. But that’s just common sense.)

As far as books are concerned though, basically I’m just happy if the person reads at all. You only read Carl Hiaasen? Fine by me. Dante in Latin? Excellent. Candace Bushnell fan? Little weird, but sure, I’ll take it. And yet. There was a time when I was a snob, and this time wasn’t too long ago. Studying creative writing during Da Vinci mania and James Frey controversy made it easy to turn up my nose at those who read mere commercial fiction. Mostly because everyone around me was turning up their noses too. Just the word – commercial – I mean, ugh. Right? The word was dirty to my liberal arts educated writing community.

Then I made the jump to an even more exclusive literary circle – the MFA program. In New York City. In Greenwich Village. I was doomed.

I was recently out to dinner with two other former MFAers (one from my alma mater, The New School; the other from Sarah Lawrence). We, of course, had a long chat about books and agreed that our MFAs have ruined us, but possibly in a good way. Explanation:

You see, in writing programs, the last thing writers are ever taught is how to get published. It’s all about craft, craft, craft. And in order to hone that skill, we must read, read, read. But again, we are not told to read New York Times bestsellers. We are told to read the few masterpieces of literary fiction that publishers were kind enough to took a chance on. Most of these authors are dead. Or insane. Or reclusive. Or have been long since considered “classic” or “genius,” two titles that the average student will probably not be able to attain upon graduation.

Literary fiction remains a go-to choice for when I read for fun (that is, when I have time for such things!). However, the David Foster Wallaces, Italo Calvinos, Marcel Prousts, and the Thomas Pynchons are hardly beach reading. Yet writers in MFA programs are told that this is the only form of writing worth doing. To me, there is accessible literary fiction (Lorrie Moore, Jonathan Lethem, Michael Chabon…) and there’s the authors I mentioned I above (let’s call them the Uberliterary).

The Uberliterary, to me, are the writing equivalent of fashion designers. There are those who design clothes you buy at the Gap and there are those who design clothes strictly for the runway. Walking art projects made by designers for designers, saying “looky what I can do!” There is nothing wrong with this, by the way. But sadly, since I’m not in the fashion club, it all just looks like a mess to me. I am, however, in the literary club. So when the Uberliteraries write for other writers, I smile and wink back.

So, why has my MFA “ruined” me, as I said? Well, remember I also said “in a good way.” I can be as snobby as I want because I was practically trained to be. Yet, I couldn’t choose not to be pretentious if I didn’t have this training. (Make sense?) Working in publishing has de-MFAed me. Not only because high concept literary fiction isn’t exactly a moneymaker, but because it’s surrounded me with book lovers who love the written word. No matter what it is. So, I left my snobbery at the door and didn’t look back. I can choose to pick it up again, but why would I want to?

What do you all think? Any former or current writing students care to share your experiences?

Soccer = Publishing (Because it’s the Only Way I’ll Care)

The World Cup ended yesterday. Once again, Gryffindor beat Slytherin by 150 points after the snitch was caught in the final thirty seconds. Very exciting!

While this past month has had my very European neighborhood of Astoria, NY quite literally buzzing with excitement, I felt mostly bored. That is, until, I came up with this analogy. Soccer = Publishing!

Both have…

– Winners. You know, those teams that will obviously make it far. (I’m told Brazil is one of these teams. And now apparently Spain.) In publishing, these teams are called the Big 6 (the top six publishing houses). Or they are stores like Barnes & Noble and Amazon.com, or agents like Andrew Wylie. (If you don’t know who he is, read this or this. Then feel free to be terrified.)

– Underdogs. The United States, for example, which is probably the only time we will ever be the underdog in anything, other than a “Can You Speak Two Languages?” contest. Publishing’s underdogs are the indies. The locals. The ones you root for and support even when it’s hard to do so. 

– Competition. Publishing is insanely competitive (agents vying for clients, editors vying for projects, price wars, etc.). But, at its core, it’s really just all for the love of the game. I don’t think there is another sport as unifying as soccer. 

– Divas. We call them “writers.” (But we still love you.)

– A Tiny Fan Base (if you are in America). While publishing appears to be our whole lives – with blogs and tweets and personalities who become like celebrities to us – it is still a very small, very specific world that most other people don’t know anything about, and care about even less. I’m pretty sure other countries still refer to us as the publishing industry though, rather than, say, football.

So, writers, when you get that request or sign that contract, sound your vuvuzelas because even though most people don’t understand the things that we do or the words that we say (query? recoverable? galley?), there ARE people who care! And we want you to win.

Dear Sir or Madam

And so begins The Beatles’ writer’s anthem, “Paperback Writer,” whose lyrics are quite possibly the best example of what not to do in a query letter. (You may also remember my former colleague’s brilliant dramatic interpretation of these lyrics, here.) Generally, if you begin your query with the above-mentioned salutation, the agent you are querying will either a) groan, b) make fun of you via Twitter, or c) delete your query unread (this is a worst-case-scenario). 

There was a really great blog post today on Write It Sideways called Will Literary Agents Really Read Your Query Letter? that I think basically every writer who’s querying needs to read. Among their reasons why YOUR query might be getting deleted without even being read are:

1. The manuscript is incomplete (if fiction)
2. The agent doesn’t represent the author’s genre
3. The letter isn’t personalized, but is part of a mass query (Dear agent…)
4. The author hasn’t taken the time to research how to write a proper query letter
5. The author hasn’t followed that agent’s submission guidelines
6. The query or sample pages (if requested in the guidelines) are sent as an attachment

As a newer agent, and a writer myself, the term “instantly deleted” is terrifying, even if I’m the one doing the deleting. I try to be fair and give writers the benefit of the doubt. I’m aware that querying is hard. That said, agents, myself included, get easily frustrated when people don’t query “correctly” because there are a bazillion resources online on how to write a proper query, not to mention the agent-specific guidelines. (I’ve also heard writers complain that “it’s confusing because every agent has different guidelines.” This is true, but the differences aren’t usually that vast. If a writer can’t take the time to make minor adjustments, it’s not that unfair of a stretch to think, “Geesh, what’ll it be like if I ask for a revision?”)

Of the above examples of “potential instant deletion,” I’m guilty of #3 and #6. I delete mass queries and queries sent as attachments for what I hope are obvious reasons. (This includes “click this link for my query” emails.) I assume it is spam, and therefore it is dead to me. 

I also instantly delete “pre-queries” because they are so incredibly stupid. In case you don’t know (which I hope you, dear blog readers, don’t), pre-queries are emails that basically just ask if the writer can send a query. The answer is always, “YES! JUST SEND IT! WHY ARE YOU WASTING MY TIME WITH SUCH A DUMB QUESTION!?” So, instead of getting an all-caps rant, they just get deleted.

There are agents out there, usually the more seasoned ones, who will delete your query for lesser reasons than the ones I mentioned above. You don’t want to fall victim to an instant deletion, so while it is a lot to remember and can be frustrating to accommodate to, pay attention to agent-specific guidelines and pet peeves; read articles and blog posts like the one on Write It Sideways; and stop sending things as attachments. Almost NO agent ever accepts attachments unless he or she asks for it. It might be the one guideline every agent agrees on. 

One last note: there is no such person as Curtis Brown. I am not Mr. or Ms. Brown. Thanks 🙂

Bologna is the New Vampire!

Today officially ends the 2010 Bologna Children’s Book Fair and in case you have not been checking the #BBF10 page on Twitter as often as I have, here are two trends I’ve noticed that I think are worth discussing.

Trend, the 1st – Death to Vampire Romances!

Every year, agents, publishers, and writers try to come up with the new “it” trend that will finally put vampires back in their coffins (at least for a while). It’s true, vampires have been “so five minutes ago” for a couple years now, and yet the industry just can’t shake ’em. However, given the responses from Bologna this year, it looks as if publishers finally have had enough. Once the last Twilight movie is released, I think everyone will take a much-needed breather, and in the meantime, some of contenders as “New Reigning Supernatural Thingy” are werewolves, zombies. angels, clones, and mermaids.

Truthfully, I don’t think anything is ever going to be the “new vampire” because no matter what comes next, vampires will find their way back. They will always be sexy, mysterious, and the most human-like for writers to show ranges of emotion and acceptance into society (or a high school). But I agree that writers and publishers need to give it a rest. Just not eternally. 

Now, you all know I love me some science fiction and fantasy, but personally, I’d love to see more realistic young adult fiction make a comeback. This overwhelming amount of YA fantasy, as huge as it is, is a relatively new concept. YA as its own genre in general is pretty new, and I remember the few books that were available to me as a YA-er had a huge impact on my life. They were about teens like me going through everyday situations at home and at school just like me. The supernatural is fun and can draw heavy parallels to real life, but there’s something about reality that, in my humble opinion, just can’t be beat.

Trend , the 2nd – Middle Grade is the new YA

Something else I was very excited to see come out of Bologna was that a lot of publishers are looking for middle grade fiction. I don’t remember any book that called itself a middle grade when I was ten or twelve. Instead, I just went straight to the “Teen” or “Young Adult” section at my local Borders and called it a day. Looking back, some of those R.L. Stines could have been called MG, but that term just didn’t exist yet. Neither did the word “tween.”

Middle grade is not my favorite genre. Those tween, and slightly younger than tween, years are tricky and mysterious to me, so I tend to stay away. However, I am excited about this potential rise in MG because I think it is a very important genre. There are about 8 bazillion children’s books to choose from and about the same amount of YA. Tween years don’t get as much love, and with nothing to read that speaks to you, what do you read? (The answer: video games.)

Another reason I think MG is so important is that, even more than the YA crowd, the target audience for MG are of more impressionable ages. Young enough to still believe everything the adults tell them, but old enough to think that being around said adults is, like, the least cool thing in the world. Simultaneously independent and dependent, they are pre-pubescent children without the luxury of being young enough to act like a child. 

At twelve, I was an angsty little thing, wearing all black and pretending to be depressed. By fourteen, I was pretty much cured of this. Is it a coincidence that I was cured the very year I was old enough to read books written for me again? Think about it…

The point is, books matter. With each year of teenhood being different from the last, there need to be books written for all possible age groups. Otherwise the terrorists win.

Post-wrap up question: What trend, supernatural or otherwise, would you like to see take over MG & YA lit this year? 

By the way, Hemingway Heroine has a really great Bologna round-up that’s worth checking out too!