Why Publishing is Like a Trip to Paris

Janet Reid

 

Bonjour! Ca va? Avez-vous eu un bon week-end? Avez-vous manger trop? Ce que la vache sauter par-dessus la lune?

 

If, like me, you've squandered away some hours in French classes you can probably piece your way through the first four sentences above.  Hello! How are you? Did you have a nice weekend? Did you eat too much?

 

It's that fifth sentence. You recognize the words, but suddenly, you're not on firm ground about what they mean: The something sauteed the moon?  What the hell does that mean?

 

I was recently reminded of what it's like to parse out meaning in an unfamiliar language when I found myself explaining "publication date" does not mean the date the books come off the printing press.  "Pub date" is used among us Book Language speakers to mean the day the book is available for sale in stores. In other words, off the press, out of the warehouse, out of receiving and on the shelves.  You can intuit there might be a gap of four to six weeks between "published" off the press and "published and available for sale."

 

Mais, sacre bleu, how would anyone know that? Until you learn Book Language publishing is a foreign country. Like France. And like planning a trip to Paris, becoming acquainted with the publishing industry has stages. 

 

The first stage is you fall in love and want to go there. You love to read. You love to write, you want to be a writer.  Everything about writing and reading sounds great. Then you find out that people might actually pay you to do this, and sacre bleu, the vache saute sur la lune! (the cow jumps over the moon!)

 

Then you save up money for a ticket.  If you're a writer this means you spend some time learning how to write. High school, college, critique groups.  Some people are born knowing how to do this; some people have trust funds to pay for a ticket. Not many, not most. Probably not you. 

 

 

Then you decide where to go. You get a map.  This is when you write a novel.  You decide what you're going to write, and get it all down. An itinerary.

 

Then you book the plane tickets.  You query an agent. It helps if you know the difference between "business class" and "economy red eye" and "multiple stops" and "non stop" when you talk to the travel agent, but a good agent helps you sort out all that stuff, and helps you figure out what you can afford. And helps you get there.

 

 

And then you arrive, and you're published.  And you're standing there at Charles DeGaulle airport, valise in hand, and Sacre Bleu, what the HELL just happened here!  They're all speaking French! They're speaking French very FAST! And they are annoyed as hell that you are blocking the sidewalk, taking up space, speaking English, and looking clueless.

 

Even the French who work in tourist dependent industries are known to loathe the people who make their industry possible. Particularly if they don't speak the language. And more so if they don't even try.  As you might imagine, there are days I feel their pain. Why don't these people know what pub date means? How can you possibly think we will be doing just one more revision on a book that's been sent to the printer?

 

So, how do you learn about France before you go?  How do you learn Book Language before you're there?  Immersion. And one of the best ways to immerse yourself these days is simply read the blogs of people in the industry. There is an extraordinary wealth of information on the web about how publishing works. What pub date means. What SASE means. What "returns" mean.  What "literary agent from hell" means. 

 

I'm re-learning to sew right now.  I haven't had a class in sewing since 8th grade Home Ec, and that was more years ago than I care to reveal thank you.  Fabrics, machines, styles have ALL changed.  Yes I can sew a straight seam, and I know what a pattern is but after that, I count myself a novice.

 

It's been a bountiful education to discover sewing blogs. People who sew and write about what they made, what worked, what didn't, what patterns had instructions that made no sense, and what they did instead.  Those blogs are an extraordinary resource as I start out not knowing much other than "I want to sew a dress."

 

The only thing that makes it possible to read these blogs rather then keep thinking "I should be reading these blogs but I don't ever remember to" is GoogleReader.  I mentioned GoogleReader last week, and I'm back on the soapbox about it again.  

GoogleReader keeps track of all the blogs I've subscribed to. It tells me when the blogs have new posts. It lets me mark ones I want to re-read, ones I'm done reading, and best of all it has a suggestion feature. Based on what I've subscribed to already, it suggests other blogs.  If you're  starting out and just learning the lay of the land, this is invaluable. It's how I found at least six of my favorite sewing blogs (and I've found some amazing book blogs and reconnected with some old favorites as well.)

 

To get to google reader, go to google and type "google reader" in the search box. If you don't have a google account it will prompt you to create one. Once you're at the google reader site, there's a button that says "add subscription".  You can start by adding this blog. And my blog at jetreidliterary.blogspot.com

 

I subscribe to 117 blogs right now.  I don't read 117 every day. I don't have to remember to click on 117 every day. But when one of my favorite new friends The Abbeville Manual of Style has a rousing new battle with their formidably orange opponent The Chicago Manual of Style, I'm there! 

 

Or as they say in France: Aux armes, citoyens Formez vos bataillons, Marchons, marchons!