Hey, There's A Dead Guy in the Living Room

Cozy vs Traditional

Kim Malo

You know how sometimes the same topic pops up out of the blue in a bunch of different places, as if there’s a subject flu on the loose, infecting conversations all over. Genre has been the theme of late, with cozy vs traditional mystery the popular variant that's right up my alley.

The "what is a cozy vs traditional mystery" question first came up from someone complaining that they couldn’t find any consensus about the answer. The reason for this would be that there really isn’t any.

Some use the terms interchangeably, and some of those you  can virtually hear spit out the cozy label as a sort of pejorative indicating insubstantial, painfully sugary fluff—the cotton candy of the mystery world. It clearly makes their teeth ache and gives them mental indigestion just to think about it. What consensus there might once have been has been hurt by a broadbased shift in where the dividing line belongs, with cozy edging closer to the stereotype behind the pejorative, only without the spitting.  Agatha Christie was once considered the epitome of cozy, and some still think that, but for many others she's now the classic traditional mystery author.

Me, I’m a certifiable mystery wimp, someone who has as little interest in getting into the cracked head and black heart of a psycho killer as I do in dodging bullets and spurting blood through the shadows of darkly dangerous mean streets. In other words, I’m the cozy / traditional target audience, one of those who cares about the difference. While as a reviewer I think one of my jobs is to flag the things that help a reader fit the book I'm talking about into their personal genre universe. Which means having some grasp of what those things are likely to be.

I usually save the cozy label for books closest to the pejorative stereotype, or those in a subcategory that has all but taken over the modern cozy. The former are the books too light and fluffy even for me, like Nancy Atherton’s Aunt Dimity series. The latter includes things like Laura Childs' Tea Shop and Scrapbooking books—series “packaged” around a cozy hobby / craft, cozy profession such as pet sitter, or cozy specialty shop. The writing and storytelling are't always notably fluffy or cutesy,  but having the cozy hook at their core keeps them compartmentalized there. I'll admit to not being crazy about the way these sorts of series dominate the genre. It creates an impression that having such a marketing package is at least as important to the publisher as the things I care about—good writing telling an interesting story.

Traditional mysteries, like cozies, sit at the limited gore and violence end of the spectrum, with people and relationships still central to the story, but the feel is more real world. There’s an idealized, almost fantasy world element to the real cozies, based in a secure feeling that even though the stories involve a murder or two, it really is a good world where bad things are pretty much limited to bad people and things will always come out right in the end for the good ones. That real world vs "cozy world" feel is probably the key difference between the two genres for me. Traditional mysteries don’t dwell on grim and gore much more than cozies do, but it’s still generally recognized as part of the world they live in. They can still be funny and even light in some ways, but they're never actively cutesy or fluffy.

Traditional mysteries have one gray area that cozies generally don't, involving the sort of sleuth. I used to think that both meant an amateur, since professional detectives had their own genres. But authors like Louise Penny, whose protagonist is a police officer, tell stories built around events and relationships outside the precinct that just have more in common with traditional mysteries than classic police procedurals. So traditional she is.

Fortunately I have her latest, The Brutal Telling, here to read in case I want to think some more about that. It's a tough job, but as they say, someone has to do it.

A Pleasant Sunday Afternoon

Robin Agnew

Usually, I don't schedule signings on Sundays (except Mother's Day - go figure.  My kids think what Mothers do on Mother's Day is set up & run an event and then go out with a bunch of authors for a beer.)  But really, Sunday signings have a whole different ambience.  There's something more languid and relaxed about them, for some reason.

This past Sunday, we hosted two of my favorite Chicagoans, Libby Hellman and Sharon Fiffer, both (coincidentally) on book 6.  We had to finagle the date as both women are busy, but finally settled on Sunday, November 8.  There was some confusion over the time as I was a little too relaxed, and posted different times in the newsletter and on the postcards I mail out.  However - it was a Sunday.  Relax.

I got to the store around 12:15 or so, to find our loyal employee busily vacuuming (my husband has recently cleared a few fresh inches of floor space, which is always exciting and won't last, so we have to gather our rosebuds etc.  Hence the vacuum).  I hastily re-lettered our outdoor easel sign with Libby & Sharon's names and the time (was it the right one? who can say) and set it out on the sidewalk.  Then Marty (loyal employee) and I got to work moving our handy bookshelves on wheels.  I love the wheels, but anything full of books is heavy...

Anyway we cleared some more floor space for the event in this manner (more vacuuming required) and I set out the books, or product, as I call the things when I'm cranky.  (Like when Loren Estleman signs and I'm trying to squeeze many of the 60+ titles he has written on one friggin' table).

I hustled (well, I didn't hustle - it was Sunday!) across the street to buy a couple of bottles of water for the ladies and ran into Libby parking her car, so we were able to chit chat and have tea at the same time, while she told me about her next book, which sounds terrific.  Libby and I - I have to say it - lingered, but we finally ambled back across the street, to find a slightly annoyed reporter from the Ann Arbor Journal who figured that the event had started at 1:30.  But as it worked out - Sunday mojo - she was able to sit and interview the authors before their talk.  And said reporter, the lovely Lisa Allmendinger, wrote up a great story and even took photos.

And did I mention the nice thing about Sharon Fiffer, aside from her general niceness and intelligence?  She has a HUGE family in the area, many of whom attended.  So they hung on her every word and bought books.  I love people with big families (Marcus Sakey is another such wonder).  All told we had a lovely afternoon - Libby and Sharon were more than entertaining, we sold a respectable number of books, and everyone seemed pleased.

After Marty & I moved back the shelves filled with heavy "product" I was free to leave.  As I was walking out the door, a customer asked, "Where are you going?"  Why, to enjoy my Sunday, of course...there were some leaves in the backyard with my name on them.

This milk is SPOILED!

So: spoilers. What do you think of them?

No, not the car kind. The tv, movie, and book kind. The kind where you're standing around waiting for a bus, and the couple next to you is talking about last night's episode of Battlestar Galactica, and you slam your hands over your ears and start screaming "LA LA LA LA" at the top of your lungs because you haven't seen it yet and you can't possibly be anywhere near a place where you might accidentally overhear something which will subsequently ruin one of the moments of big surprise in the show where the music gets all percussive and then it cuts to commercial.

I'm asking because I've recently read three different viewpoints on spoilers, specifically with regard to television (specifically with regard to Mad Men, in fact). This one says that the airing of an episode means that spoilers no longer exist -- that spoilers only count as spoilers pre-broadcast. This one argues that it's best to label discussion and articles with "spoiler alert" so that readers can choose to avoid the article if they're behind. This one says labeling every spoiler is impossible, because the die hard definition of spoilers would mean articles would contain no real content discussion, just paragraphs upon paragraphs of vague warnings.

This discussion is focused pretty solely on television, but like with all things, it made me think about books.

Obviously, books don't have an "air date." There really isn't a given time (Thursdays at 8EST!) when everyone is sitting at home reading the latest Laura Lippman. (With the notable exception of the 8-12 hours immediately following the release of a Harry Potter book.) Book clubs *kindof* do that, in that they are a group of people reading a book simultaneously, weekly or monthly. But still, throughout the course of a month, every member of a single book club will likely be on a different page of the book at any given moment. Reading is a singular activity (unless you're reading out loud to someone), and tv and movies are communal activities (um, usually).

Wow, there were a lot of conditionals in that paragraph.

So anyway, how does the book world treat spoilers? It seems unfair to choose an arbitrary expiration date, after which readers can assume that everyone has read a certain book, and therefore loud discussions of the book's ending are acceptable in public settings. On the other hand, there has to be an allowance for discourse -- I mean, do we need to watch what we say about Of Mice And Men? Because Loony Tunes cartoons pretty heavily imply the course of that book, if you ask me.

Is it assumed we can talk about it, because it's assigned in so many high school lit classes?

I once made a joke en route to see a show called Topdog/Underdog by Suzan Lori-Parks, and my best friend, who was attending the show with me but hadn't read the script beforehand (I had to, for class), took umbrage. Here's what I said:

"Ok, we're going to see a play called Topdog/Underdog. There are two characters. They're named Lincoln and Booth. GUESS WHAT HAPPENS!"

Obviously, I am hilarious. And my bff appreciated that -- and she's smart enough that she would have come to the same conclusion herself, once she was seated and saw the program -- but she was excited to be on her way to the theater to see something she knew nothing about. And I spoiled it!

(There are some more tales of this-should-not-have-been-a-spoiler hilarity in the comments section on Jezebel, which is where this issue first came to my attention. Romeo and Juliet? Really?)

I don't envy crime fiction reviewers, who are tasked with giving their opinion of a novel. It can be hard to talk about why you loved or hated a book without giving away a particularly juicy twist or flat bit of character development. Even as a flap copy/web copy/catalog copy/etc writer, I face that challenge. How do I get you to want to read the book without giving too much away?

Another interesting viewpoint is that some folks find spoilers comforting. Like in this kindof way: I will be TOO ANXIOUS reading these TENSE SCENES unless I know that the heroine survives! I can understand that, though I mostly prefer to be surprised. An offshoot of this viewpoint is the trigger warning, where if I see a friend who I know has recently lost a dog reading Old Yeller for the first time, I will probably try to tactfully ask her if she knows what she's in for.

As a general rule, I try to avoid spoiling things for people. It can be difficult. (For instance, I just found out that my bf has not seen The Sixth Sense. I found this out while attempting to explain why I was laughing so hard at a joke on 30 Rock, which is only funny if you've seen the movie. Rest assured, TSS is now on my Netflix queue for him.)

I also prefer that things not be spoiled for me. I'm willing to take on a lot of the burden, there, and avoid reading anything about a show until I'm caught up. I tend to trust my friends and family implicitly, and so when given a book or movie recommendation, I don't need them to tell me much about it to inspire me to see for myself, so I rarely encounter friends and family spoilers. (See: my recent viewing of The Incident at Loch Ness, about which my bff said, "Don't read ANYTHING about it, just trust me, put it on your Netflix, watch it, and then watch it again right after with the comments turned on, and then call me. You'll love it." [She was right.]) However, I do expect some courtesy and consideration from news sources and strangers when it comes to big-twist, popular stuff. I don't want *all* the burden to be on me to sequester myself until I'm caught up on whatever it is that everyone is talking about. I don't want implied spoilers in headlines, or in articles about different shows/movies/books.

But where do you stand? Do you find our culture has moved to be too spoiler-heavy? When do you think that we can start talking about a book as if we assume everyone is familiar with it? Once it's been out for a year? Once the author has been on Craig Ferguson? Once it's taught in at least 7 freshman-level college courses?

What's a plot twist's expiration date?

Trusting the nanny

I’ve probably said this before; in fact, I know I said it last Tuesday evening and the previous Thursday, because it was written into the notes I made when I went to give a couple of talks. But it’s a neat little soundbite, not to mention as true a description as I can offer, so I’ll say it again.

 

An editor’s job is to ensure that the book that gets published is the one the author thought s/he had written.

 

(Hey, guess how I’ve spent the past few days! If anyone had time or inclination, they could draw a map of my working life from these blog posts…)

 

Yes, folks, I’ve been nose-to-keyboard at work on our first 2010 title, and I’ve just come up for air. And I’m not grumbling one little bit about all the hours I’ve put in, or misplaced apostrophes, or any of the other little niggles that mar my perfect days. Some books are up there with good coffee ice cream and Green & Black’s chocolate in my great scheme of things: among life’s pleasures.

 

Shameless plug coming right up: It’s called The Broken Token; the author is Chris Nickson, a Yorkshireman who came back to the UK a few years ago after 30+ years in Seattle, so he has connections both sides of the pond. It’s another foray into the darker side of the 18^th century, which seems to be becoming a historical speciality of ours, though not by conscious design – and I love it to bits. When I first read it I was put in mind of C J Sansom’s gloriously rich evocation of Tudor England in his Shardlake series – and that guy has won awards and made the top ten best sellers, and is regarded as one of the UK’s top historical crime writers; my fingers are firmly crossed, and if there’s any justice... You’ll have wait till next year, but feel free to wait with bated breath. It’s worth it.

 

The best thing was that it was a dream to edit. The guy even used double inverted commas for his dialogue – our choice for house style, but not exactly common these days – and put the apostrophes the right way round when they indicated an abbreviated word.

 

Don’t laugh. Don’t even sigh. These things matter, and they don’t happen by magic or technology. And it’s the editor’s job to make sure everything conforms to house style, however fiddly and time-consuming the manuscript amendments are.

 

But best of all, we found we were on the same wavelength when it came to the little tweaks and adjustments which turn a good manuscript into a superb novel. There was, as there always is, a certain amount of this doesn’t quite link up, and what was he actually feeling at this point? (sorry to appear sexist, but I find male crime writers have a tendency to be economical with emotion!), and a handful of words which came up too often, and the odd viewpoint glitch, a particular bugbear of mine.

 

The problem is that the author gets too close, too involved; it’s kind of an extension of the old chestnut that you never see your own typos – and like clichés, old chestnuts only live to be old because they’re true.

 

The secret of good author/editor relations lies mainly with the author. I’ve encountered one or two who are so protective of their babies that the most tactful suggestion is interpreted as a suggestion that the little brat is as ugly as sin, and if they hand it over to the nanny to be freshened up, she'll teach it all kinds of bad habit.

 

But if you can’t trust your nanny, it’s maybe better not to have kids in the first place.

 

The other reaction, the one the nanny – OK, enough with the metaphors: editor – hopes for, is the slapped forehead and why on earth didn’t I see that?  Fortunately that’s what I got this time. Chris not only accepted my suggestions; he picked them up and used them to mend the small flaws so that good as new became better than ever.

 

The result was a novel Crème de la Crime will be proud to invest money and effort in. And that has to be the best reason in the world for becoming a publisher.

Where is the On Switch on a Vacuum?

by Barbara Poelle

So Husband is coming home after doing whatever it is that he does for the last five weeks. Maybe it’s venture capital investing. Maybe it’s another family. Who knows? The fact remains is that unfortunately, whenever he leaves on these extended jaunts, he takes the carpenter, the contractor, the maid, the cook, the laundress, the pastry chef and the plumber with him, so the apartment looks like it has been home to several weeks of bacchanalian revelry.

Umm, which it has.

Top that off with the fact the toilet overflowed late Friday night (and I really and truly had a moment where I considered just shutting the door and having Husband deal with it this week. I mean seriously, it was heinous. Like, what, did the entire building meet up for chimichangas that night?)  and throw in about 5 weeks of takeout containers, and I got myself one heckuva barn burner on my hands.

And perhaps the last few times we’ve spoken I have been less than straightforward about the standard of living around the old abode. There is a slight possibility that Husband is under the impression that the bed has been made once while he’s been gone or that I used the kitchen for more than just blender drinks and shoe storage. But in my defense, our communication has been a bit opaque in our last few exchanges, as one of the last few times we spoke I was also screaming into the phone, “The toilet is overflowing….DO SOMETHING!”

So now I have to spend most of the evening preparing for the return of His Nibs, and by preparing I mean drinking this chardonnay while gazing languidly around the room and then when he calls from the taxi on his way from JFK, I panic and shove a whole bunch of stuff in the oven and under the mattress on my side of the bed.

Listen, he married it.

Anyway, so it is entirely possible that this entry may be a bit shorter than previous ones. But! Many good things happen in shorter versions. For example, I have this client we’ll call Matthew Q. Martin, because that’s his name. MQM pitched to me at Crime Bake last year (awww! It’s our anniversary this weekend!) and although I didn’t sign him out right, for whatever odd reason, we hit it off and became friends. And to add some fangs to the kitten, HE is friends with an editor whom we’ll call Hottie McModelface because, please. Look at her. Anyway, the three of us somehow formed this bizarre triumvirate where we would meet up every few months for booze and bickering. Nobody had signed or sold to anyone, but we still managed to maintain this bastardized version of a functional author team.

 Anyway, MQM has this fabulous 6 word story page on his site (check it out: http://www.matthewquinnmartin.com/SixWordStoriesTestPage.html) and Hottie McModelface and MQM and I spent our last outing spouting our six word stories at each other. Now, Hottie kept counting syllables, like a Haiku, (look at her, she’s so adorable you don’t even CARE) and I was well into martini number 2, but good ol’ MQM came up with my favorite six word story of all time. (It’s kinda cheat-y when you use the title this way, but hey! It’s the title.)

Ahem:
An Editor, An Agent and An Author walk into a Bar

The Bartender says, “This a joke?”

Wheeeeeeee! Isn’t it fun? Can you please oh please write me a 6 word story today?  For inspiration, go take a peek at MQM’s site.

*The final note is I have thrown a curve at our precarious trio by signing Matt, but please. You would have almost hurt yourself getting to the phone after reading the latest. We seem to be doing fine, and my next goal is to sell something to Hottie McModelface just to even out the playing field. And by even out, I mean I win everything.

Have fun! Can’t wait to read!

It Should Happen to You. But Can It?

Jeff Cohen

In 1954, Garson Kanin (Born Yesterday, Adam's Rib) felt that his wife, the actress Ruth Gordon, needed some cheering up (hang on; the relevance will become apparent shortly). And spying an empty billboard in Manhattan, he conceived the notion of having "Ruth Gordon" painted on it, and actually investigated the plan, finally deciding that despite it being relatively affordable, it wasn't a great idea. When told of the plan, Ms. Gordon was emphatic in confirming that her husband had made the correct decision.

But Kanin couldn't let the idea die, so he wrote and directed a film called It Should Happen to You, in which an out-of-work model played by Judy Holliday gets her name painted on billboards around Manhattan, attracting both Jack Lemmon (in his first film) and Peter Lawford (in not). And merry mix-ups ensue from there.

I couldn't help but think of that premise on my weekly drive into Philadelphia last week (sorry, Phillies fans, but the Yankees were just the better team, and by the way, what is a "Phillie"?), as I passed an eye-catching billboard advertising a book by Philadelphia-based author Sara Segal and her mystery novel 

Murder at the Mikvah (if you have to ask, you might not be the target audience for this book, and then again, you might), which was published by iUniverse in February.

Intrigued (because I'd never seen a book billboard before, except maybe one for a "brand name" author like Stephen King or James Patterson, and hardly ever even them. A mystery by an unknown author? A giant outdoor advertising campaign? How did it work? How much did it cost? How effective was it?

(In other words, could I do it?)

I got in touch with Ms. Segal, and asked those questions in a somewhat less self-absorbed fashion. She said that she had a certain advantage, since she has family in the billboard business, but "I have to tell you, the billboard campaign has been instrumental in getting my book publicized. I don't know how I could have generated the interest that I did any other way. Magazine/Newspaper subscriptions are down, the options for advertising online are numerous and hard to sift through; but billboards... hey, most people still get in their cars and drive, right?

"I've been doing book talks for several months now, and without fail, the billboard campaign is always mentioned.  One of the questions I am asked is why more writers (or publishers) don't use the outdoor advertising medium, and the only answer I can give is that their brains are simply used to thinking a certain way, doing business a certain way, and promoting their titles via specific strategies which do not include the use of billboards."

Now, what's affordable to one author with connections in outdoor advertising might not be so affordable to the rest of us. Sara reports that a billboard like hers, on a highway into a major city that she estimates will see 100,000 sightings per day, would be about $2000 a month based on a four-month contract. Not all of us can devote $8,000 to a plan, no matter how successful it might be. 

But the idea of seeing your book advertised in that public a forum (and, let's face it, on that scale) can be irresistible to an aspiring midlist author. "And keep in mind," Sara adds, "unlike a newspaper ad which a reader is not guaranteed to actually see, billboards cannot be missed. Even if you happen to be fiddling with your phone one day on your drive in to work and do miss the ad, no problem-- that 20 x 60 foot message will be waiting for you the next day and the next and the next. To me, it's a no brainer."

It is certainly something to think about. Anybody got an extra eight grand they're not doing anything with?

But enough about me

Kim Malo

Hello, my name is Kim and I (ducks head shyly and scuffs toe in the sand—note to self: MUST vacuum more often) am a mystery fan.

 

It started small, when I was young. Entry books? Oh the usual things for the time. Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Alfred Hitchcock’s Three Investigators… even, yes, Cherry Ames. I liked it, maybe a little too much, but I was sure I could handle it; I could stop anytime.

 

But then someone introduced me to the hard stuff: Ellery Queen, Dorothy L Sayers, Margery Allingham, Delano Ames, Elliot Paul, and more, much more. I was young, we weren’t in Kansas anymore and this was heady stuff, not meant just for kids. In fact, there was a little contretemps with my mother over Ellery Queen, whose paperback covers at the time featured scantily clad women draped around things in mildly suggestive poses. My mother didn’t read mysteries, so there was no convincing her exactly how misleading they were, and I wasn’t going to admit to not being quite sure what the suggestions were supposed to be about (I really was pretty young). But I digress…

 

Anyway, I was in deep, and that was before I started to touch real hardcore stuff… Mickey Spillane, Shell Scott, Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett (The Glass Key remains one of the best books I've ever read), John D. and Ross McDonald. This wasn’t just a different world from the one around me, it was a different universe, and I was lost forever exploring it.

 

The really fun part came as I got older and discovered that there were more and more of these mystery universes out there, with more and more people populating them all the time. Historicals are my favorite. I was born with a gypsy’s wanderlust and love the combination they offer of mystery puzzle paired with vicarious travel in place and time. The best give you a real "you are there" feel as they use both the mindset and tools of a different time to tell an intense story.

 

Then I discovered a new kind of fun telling people about the mysteries—what makes this one under-rated, why do you remember this writer days later or only wish you could forget that one within 20 minutes of closing the covers. Why do I recommend this one, while saying it's really not to my taste, or say I like that one but still refer to it as mind candy… not to be despised, but not really very satisfying when you want more.

 

And so I became (scuffs toe again—where DID all this sand come from anyway?—while gulping bravely) a mystery fan AND a reviewer. OK, the dark secret’s out and I look forward to sharing more about it with you. Sharon set quite a standard for me to live up to (Nope, sorry Sharon, not a rugby fan, but LOVE basketball which has its own oddly shaped balls), and I hope you have fun reading while I try.

Dinner Out

Robin Agnew

 

The publishing industry is trying all kinds of new ways to market authors.  One of them, apparently, is to take an as yet unpublished author (book comes out in March) around to meet store owners in different parts of the country.  I was happy to be included in a group that included other strong local and regional independents at a dinner Minotaur threw for newcomer Paul Doiron.

 

The guest list was chosen by the publicist in New York I guess – interesting that neither large chain with a presence here in town was invited.  I was surprised to be included as we are a much smaller operation than either Nicola’s (local independent) or Schuler’s (regional independent).  However, we are the only mystery specific store in the state and the book is a mystery. The author was a very nice guy, very excited and somewhat overwhelmed by the whole thing.

 

It was interesting to talk a bit to the other booksellers.  They have different people that handle each part of their operations – instead of us, where I handle events, publicity, accounts, the book club, the newsletter and web, while my husband does the all buying and most of the day to day operations.  Without his used book expertise we’d be toast.

 

A lot of what they were talking about was much more large scale.  We deal with a couple of publisher’s reps but order much of our stock from Baker & Taylor.  And like a couple other mystery booksellers I can think of, I’ve had a recent epiphany.  And that is: used books and events.

 

The Nicola’s buyer said Agatha Christie doesn’t sell well for them – I said she does for us, used.  I also said we didn’t carry new James Patterson books, again, we only sell them used.  The mark up on used books is much better than the mark up on new books, and they really carry the day. Think about it:  you buy a used book for $.25 or $.50, sell it for $3.50 or $5.50.  Good markup.  A new, $6.99 paperback costs us roughly $4.20.  And we have to sell it twice, really, to make a profit. 

 

And the other part of the equation, which we all shared, are events.  Events can really boost the bottom line but they have to be planned and chosen carefully. Everyone has a story of an odd author pairing or the use of a keg or a pot of coffee or bottle of wine to stimulate sales.  However, you just can’t escape events – nor would I want to.  They’re a part of the business I truly enjoy.

 

Because we are so small, we are bottom feeders (used books) and guerilla marketers.  If my mother happens to meet a famous author at a dog show and convinces him to come to

Ann Arbor

, I’ll take it.  Meeting authors and reaching out to them is both the most and the least I can do.  Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.  But it keeps us in the book biz, and that’s the big thing.  Not only that, but it gets us a free night out.  Thanks, Minotaur!

Goodbye to all this . . .

Sharon Wheeler

It's an appropriate day to be going out with a bang, as it's Fireworks Night in the UK. Knowing me, it'll be more like a damp squib …

You know, I was never going to blog. I'd got too many better things to do, and anyway, why would anyone care about my train being late, or the row I'd had with an annoying colleague, or the fact I'd pitched the latest willy-waving thriller against a wall? But then along came the silver-tongued Jeff Cohen, and I found myself one of the Dead Guy gang.

Over the course of almost three years (erk!), I've tried to stand up for the poor beleaguered reviewer. We're not all mean, nasty creatures who kick defenceless moggies or nick choccie from small children. Most of us care deeply about the genre and review for the love of it.

And I've had a ball ranting about the art of reviewing, self-publishing, BSP, religion, the state of GLBT writing, religion, self-publishing, trains, BSP, genre clichés, religion, sloppy grammar, religion, men with funny-shaped balls …

I did talk about crime fiction some of the time, honest! And I detect a thread in my blogs when it comes to my affection for European crime fic, small indie presses and my guilty pleasure in the form of a pristine Dick Francis novel just waiting for me to wallow.

It's time now, though, for me to take a break and concentrate on my new adventures – a PhD in modern British drama, a playwriting course and a new journalism book for Routledge. And I'll still be reviewing and acting as editor-in-chief for RTE. So I won't be giving up writing any time soon …

It's time now for me to hand over to the lovely Kim Malo, who a lot of you will know through her reviews and the excellent Crime Thru Time site. I know I'm leaving you in good hands, even if I don't think she's a rugby fan! Thanks to all my fabulous Dead Guy blog mates, past and present, and to everyone who's read my ramblings and taken the trouble to comment. I've promised Jeff that I'll still be available for weddings, bar mitzvahs and when someone sneaks off on their hols ('blogger emeritus' sounds sooooo sophisticated!), so it won't be goodbye for good …

Ten reasons publishers don't offer feedback on submissions

That should read MOST publishers, since at the moment we offer a pretty substantial report, if the author asks for it and pays us a very modest fee. To my knowledge, we’re the only publisher in the UK who offers a paid-for feedback service.

 

And probably MOST submissions too, since one which is currently lying on my desk came with copies of half-page rejection letters from three editors. Creative writing tutors are keen to point out the different ‘levels’ of rejection: printed rejection slip, printed rejection slip with brief note from editor, individual letter from editor, individual letter from editor inviting further submissions, individual letter from editor with feedback (always brief) explaining why manuscript almost made it but still is being rejected. I don’t count exchange of letters with editor culminating in ‘sorry, I lost the vote in the commissioning meeting’ – that one’s too heartbreaking.

 

But mostly publishers don’t give feedback. Here’s why Crème de la Crime is giving some serious thought to dropping its unique paid-for service.

 

1.  The guy who disagreed with the feedback and phoned three times to bend my ear about it.

 

2.  The (other) guy who disagreed with the feedback and sent four (badly spelled) e-mails demanding his money back ‘or else!’.

 

3.  The various people who rewrite the extract and resubmit it, having completely ignored (or missed) the main point the feedback was making.

 

4.  The several people a year who resubmit an extract two or three times, asking for new feedback every time. See 10 below if it’s not obvious why this is unacceptable.

 

5.  The people who phone ahead, and tell me the tragic story of their life as a way of convincing me that their novel deserves feedback for no fee. I’m deeply sympathetic, but hey, we’re running a business here.

 

6.  The suspicious people who demand to know the credentials of the editor who will provide the feedback. Isn’t it enough that she’s an editor working for a publishing company?

 

 7.  The other suspicious people who demand, a week after the date on the submission, to know why their cheque has been banked and they haven’t received their feedback yet.

 

8.  The people whose manuscripts are single-spaced in faded ink and 10-point typeface. This is not a good way to persuade an editor to read your manuscript, even if you’ve paid for feedback.

 

9. The people who ask for feedback on manuscripts which don’t fit our criteria at all – showing that either they haven’t read the guidelines, or they are cynically using us as a cheap appraisal service.

 

But mainly  10 -  because it rarely takes less than an hour and a half to read, think about and write a 500-word report on a 10,000-word extract, and we only charge £25. Some professional appraisal services charge £200 or more for feedback on the first 10,000 words of a novel, and provide no more than a couple of hundred words; in one case I came across, a three-line paragraph.

To give it another perspective: the mechanic who serviced my car a few weeks ago charges an hourly rate of £48, and the accountant who prepares our annual profit and loss account costs us close to double that.

To a small publisher who has to be marketing and production departments as well as editorial, an hour and a half is thirty pages of copy-editing or proofreading, three press releases, planning a book launch, or an awful lot of e-mail answering and general admin.

 

So even though most authors accept the constructive criticism with good grace, or at least dignified silence, I have to ask myself if it’s time well spent.