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

Endgame

Lynne Patrick

I wonder how many authors, when they begin their first novel, go into it with the intention of writing a series based on the same set of characters, or at least the same protagonist.

How many bad guys was Jack Reacher meant to see off? How many crimes was Inspector Morse supposed to solve? Come to that, how many clients was Sherlock Holmes going to take on?

There’s a school of thought that suggests that series fiction is a publishing invention, and not the authors’ idea at all. It has all kinds of marketing advantages: a loyalty factor will kick in; backlist will sell to readers who come in halfway through and want to catch up; it can be promoted as a ‘brand’, with family-feel covers and a ready-made strapline for the front; the author will probably work more quickly (and therefore produce more books) because some of the key elements of fiction are already in place; TV producers with an eye to an ongoing franchise might take an interest... you see where I’m coming from with this.

So more power to authors like Ann Cleeves, one of my favourite Brit crime writers, for stating right at the start that her Shetland series would be four books and not a syllable more. Four major crimes is pushing the suspension of disbelief on a remote group of islands where in real life shoplifting is enough crime to make headlines; stringing it out any further would have risked looking just plain silly.

Without that kind of common sense and the willpower to call a halt, once a series is under way it gathers its own momentum like one of those huge trucks that thunder down the dual carriageway, and can be just as hard to stop. And because of the increased earning potential of a series, few publishers are going to want it to come to an end. So we have unlikely situations like a quiet coastal town or a group of rural villages where there’s a murder every week. What’s more, readers seem to like it – maybe in some kind of backwards way it makes them feel safe.

So what’s a poor author to do? How does a popular series reach a full stop?

The obvious solution is to kill off the protagonist; there’s no coming back from that.

That’s how Colin Dexter dealt with Morse – though a TV company promoted poor old Lewis and gave him a backstory, so spinoff books are no doubt only a heartbeat away. And Sherlock Holmes survived the Reichenbach Falls; and the rumour that Reacher hadn’t survived the crunch ending of 61 Hours proved unsubstantiated.

Reginald Hill actually wrote a book called The Death of Dalziel, though since there are two subsequent titles in the series it’s not giving too much away to say he doesn’t actually die. And now we’ll never find out what exit, if any, Reg Hill planned for his large hero with a philosophical sidekick.
Sue Grafton has four more bites at the Kinsey Milhone cherry before she has to rethink her title format. Will she regard that as a good place to bow out, I wonder. It’ll be interesting to see...

My old chum Maureen Carter ‘rested’ her gutsy heroine Bev Morriss back in 2010, following a major body-blow at the end of book #7. She’s currently writing another great series, but there are those of us who really, really wish Bev would come back. But who knows? Maybe she’s taken one knock too many.

One thing is certain: however successful it is, no series should be allowed to continue past its natural life. The doesn’t apply to any of the above, but I’m sure we all have our own thoughts on people who should have called it a day a few books ago. So, short of untimely demise, what does an author do to draw a line under a series when s/he (or his/her readers) has/have had enough of it?

I have absolutely no idea. Have you?

Is Badass-ness Physical?

Josh Getzler

 

I had a very interesting lunch today with an editor, who is in the relatively unusual circumstance of working on both adult and young adult (and in fact the crossover "new adult") fiction. We were talking, as we do at these lunches, about what each of us was reading, and what we were looking for from our submissions. This is a particularly useful exercize from my perspective as agent because I can (as I did) go through my list in my head and move projects up and down in priority to mention based on what I'm hearing. I didn't expect to mention a beauty and makeup nonfiction project I have because I thought she worked on fantasy novels. But that was precisely what she said she was looking for, and we spent some time in the until recently to me foreign world of blushes and lip colors.

 

Then we entered a different phase of the conversation, and I thought it was fascinating. The editor said that she's been seeing an awful lot of strong female characters whose strength was of a particularly physical type. They weren't admired or respected for the brains, she said, but because they could kick the boys' asses physically. That was a cop-out, she said. Why weren't they allowed to be smarter, or respected for their ingenuity or problem-solving ability, particularly in middle-grade and YA?

 

I thought about that (as I mentally moved one of my projects--with a teenage girl who protects the two geeky boys from physical harm--down on my list of possible pitches), and said that I figured that many of these girls were being written somewhat archtypically, as empowerment characters for the young girls reading the books. When I mentioned this conversation to my wife this evening, she took it even further. Girls, she said, are kind of allowed to be--supposed to be, at times--smarter than their male counterparts. But it is empowering for them to be admired for their physicality as well.

 

My badass female leads come in a number of shapes and sizes, and largely become less physcially deft as they are older, even in books with a lot of action. I think I end up on the side of approving of strength in female characters for any reason. I have two daughters, one of whom is very physically strong (as well as being sharp academically), and one less physical (if still very strong in other areas). When they read, I want the message to be that girls can keep up with--and occasionally surpass--the boys, whether in figuring out whodunit or on the basketball court or in science class or even on that rare occasion when defending themselves against vampires.  

The Writer's Rollercoaster

Jeff Cohen

What about those Academy Awards, huh? Could you believe she won? I mean, that last thing was sure a surprise, wasn't it?

Okay, I admit it; I'm writing this before the Academy Awards airs, in fact a whole day before. I'm guessing Billy Crystal was funny and classy, the middle 90 minutes were tedious, Whitney Houston got the biggest ovation in the Memorium crawl, and The Artist won best picture (I promise I won't change that if I'm wrong). But I honestly have no idea.

Addition after Academy Awards: I had no idea when I wrote "Could you believe she won?" that Ms. Streep of the Jersey roots would take home her third over Viola Davis et al. Go figure. And there was NO applause during the Memorium crawl--you got the feeling the audience had been asked to refrain. All in all, I thought it was a pretty good Oscar show. Could have used more Chris Rock, less Ben Stiller, and Billy Crystal, while miles above last year's fiasco, looked annoyed a lot of the time. Hope he'll be back next year, though. I will.

But that's not what we'll be talking about this week. (Aside to Josh G: Don't read the rest of this post. You'll understand why when you read it.)

My wife and I went out to dinner with friends a couple of weeks ago, and I'm sure everyone was wondering why I was in such a bad mood. There was no question about it; I was grumpy. Yes, more than usual. (Very funny, wiseguy.) I didn't talk much, I wasn't trying very hard to be amusing, and when the evening was over, I just sort of shook hands, got back in the car and left.

I wasn't trying to be antisocial, but I was going through a difficult moment emotionally, one that writers have and rational people don't. I had left the character in the book I was writing in a very unsettling situation, one that was absolutely agonizing for him, and I was feeling the effects.

This is not an isolated incident, although it doesn't happen with every book. Quite some time ago when my children were small, my parents and my brother treated us to an anniversary gift: a long weekend in Bermuda. It was incredibly generous of them and we had a very lovely time. 

But I remember leaving Newark that Friday morning in a funk: I was writing a screenplay and my character and his son were in an extremely precarious position I had not been able to resolve before we left. I won't say I was grouchy the whole time we were in Bermuda, but it took me a little while to shake it.

Writers go through an emotional roller coaster when we're working. To do the job right, we have to really experience--mentally--the situations we write. For me, it's more a sense of tension when things (in the story) are going badly for the main character, even when I know how I'm going to resolve it. Once I get to the ending, there's a relaxed sensation, a satisfaction that comes and stays. Until I start the next story.

This past opus, the one I just finished (which is not part of any series and doesn't feature any character you might have read from me before) was a tough one. It's scary to start anything new, particularly in an area you haven't explored before--it's not a mystery at all--and the character I was writing had to go through some really harrowing life moments, ones that caused him a lot of grief.

It was a difficult couple of months, and I don't think anyone--not even Jessica--realized it. The draft is now done and if it is what I believe it to be, anyone who ever reads it will not imagine for one second that the author was a complete lunatic while writing it. 

Now, I'll be on tenterhooks until someone reads the damn thing and tells me if it's any good. And I don't want it to be an obligation (I'm serious about that; I don't--that's why I told you not to read this, Josh!), so I'm waiting patiently.

Except for the grumpiness. But nobody will notice that.

Some observations about PW Select

      PW Select, for those of you not familiar with it, is a quarterly feature within Publisher's Weekly that is devoted to  the world of self publishing.   Initiated at the end of 2010, I was glad to see that PW was finally going to give some recognition to  worthy authors who were, for whatever reason, being ignored by mainstream publishing and  who  had  therefore decided to take matters into their own hands to get their books into print.  I was excited by the prospect of being able to add all sorts of interesting self published titles to my library's collection.  Unfortunately,   PW Select  has not lived up to my expectations and perusing it has generally been  a pretty depressing experience.

       According to the  inaugural issue  of December 20, 2010, PW Select  will provide reviews for at least 25 of the approximately 200 self-published submissions it receives for listing each quarter; each issue will also include several feature articles  covering various aspects of  self  publishing.  For a fee of $149, the self published author can buy a  bare bones listing that includes author, title, publisher, medium, page count, ISBN and a one or two sentence description of the book; these listings provide PW with approximately  $120,000 in additional revenue over the course of a year.  The most recent issue of  PW Select  in the January 2, 2012 issue of Publisher's Weekly contains  listings for 193 self published titles, 37 of which are given full reviews similar in style to those found in the main portion of PW.     Unfortunately, no criteria are provided that would explain the decision making process used to determine which of the listed books get reviewed.  There is also no way to determine if all of the revenue collected for PW Select is being used to support the operations associated with PW Select or if the real purpose of PW Select is to serve as a cash cow for its parent publication.  I  therefore decided to do some basic quantitative analysis to see if I could  get a better handle on what is actually going on with PW Select.   Here's what I found:

1.    Of the 193 self published books that people submitted for the listing, the largest category by far was adult fiction, with 102 titles, followed by the category autobiography/biography (which included memoir) with 21 titles; the 18 books which fell into the juvenile fiction category made it the third largest category.   The next largest categories were self help with 7 titles and poetry with 5.  After that, the subject matter of the remaining non-fiction titles was fairly evenly distributed over a variety of other subjects.

2.    Of the titles selected for review, 25 were adult fiction, 7 adult non-fiction, and 5 were children's titles.  For those authors hoping to score an actual PW review, clearly it helped to be writing for children; nearly 28% of the submitted children's books received reviews, compared with 24.5% for the writers of adult fiction and only 9.6% for the non-fiction authors.

3.       I then looked at the reviews for each book to determine if each was positive, negative or mixed.  While this is admittedly somewhat subjective, I came up with the following breakdowns:

Adult fiction:    8 positive, 12 negative, 5 mixed

Adult non-fiction:  5 positive, 1 negative, 1 mixed

Children's books:  3 positive, 1 negative, 1 mixed

        There was something distasteful in all of this and it took me a while to put my finger on it.   In that same issue of PW, there were also  93 regular  reviews of adult fiction and non-fiction titles, the vast majority of which could be considered favorable.   This makes sense; with the large number of books that are being published, there   are enough good ones out there to obviate the need to waste valuable reviewing space on poorly written books.   Generally, the only negative reviews I see in PW are of works by popular or otherwise prominent authors whose current work, in the opinion of the reviewer, does not live up to the author's previous high standards.  This also makes sense:  In instances such as these, it is only  fair to warn an author's loyal fans that they will be headed down a path to certain disappointment.

        And then I figured it out.  In the search for the next undiscovered literary superstar, PW Select  serves as a sort of American Idol venue for librarians and  readers.  ( I disclose here that I have never watched an episode of American Idol and what I know about the show I have learned primarily from reading about it.)    What I find distasteful about  the American Idol  concept is the fact that ordinary people who are painfully deluded into thinking that they have talent  are paraded before millions of viewers and subject to mass ridicule, all  in the name of good clean fun.    We consider that these people are fair game for our ridicule not only because they have overly inflated opinions of themselves but also because they have  volunteered themselves for the experience.   This  makes me uncomfortable in the same way  that I was made uncomfortable  as a young child  watching a mentally challenged teen willingly do something that was humiliating to himself because it was requested of him by the neighborhood "cool" kids and he was looking for their acceptance.

        And it's the same thing with PW Select.  Obviously, anybody who goes to the trouble of having their book self published and then paying $149 for a listing in PW Select believes that his or her work has merit and deserves a wide audience.    But if a book that has been self published is poorly written and would not otherwise cross the radar of librarians or booksellers, what purpose does it serve, other than to feed  a taste for snark, to waste the space  - and my time -  on  reviews that are negative?   

    I wonder if the purpose of the bad reviews isn't to serve as  a comeuppance  of sorts to those who dare to put themselves out there as legitimate writers in defiance of the collective wisdom of the people  in the publishing industry who have rejected them.  No matter what, the  vast majority of self published authors  are  going to end up with boxes and boxes of their books sitting in basements, garages, or attics.   Isn't that punishment enough?

    

Death or Taxes

Marilyn Thiele

Living in New Jersey, I have come to accept high taxes as the price we pay for the privilege of living in The Garden State. In the last week, however, a couple of events have reminded me that the tax I collect can be as burdensome as the taxes I pay.

A request from a customer who tries to shop locally whenever possible illustrates the disparity created by current law regarding sales tax collection. She was interested in purchasing multiple copies of several books for the local yoga studio where she is employed. She had already priced the books on Amazon and gave me a printout of their prices for these books. She said that if I could come somewhat close to those prices, they would prefer to buy from me. A little research proved what I already assumed: Amazon’s prices were barely higher than what my cost for those books would be. Even if I were willing to make only a small profit on this sale, there was another problem. I would have to charge the customer 7% more, in this case approximately $30. The state of New Jersey requires that I collect the sales tax. It does not require Amazon to do the same. For a small business such as the yoga studio (or a small book store), where every penny counts, a $30 savings trumps the desire to “shop local.”

Because of a 1992 Supreme Court decision, states cannot force retailers to collect sales tax unless the retailers have a physical presence in the state. Books purchased from chain bookstores which sell on-line but have stores in the state must collect New Jersey sales tax from New Jersey customers. This is true in most other states. However, if the seller has no ties to the state, it is not required to collect the tax. Instead, the purchaser is supposed to declare the items and pay a “use tax” on them when they file their state income tax return. I am sure that this is being done faithfully by all residents of New Jersey and other states.

Recently, Amazon expressed an interest in locating two distribution warehouses in New Jersey. This physical presence would require them to collect sales tax from their customers located in the state. Any retailer who thought this move would even things up a bit was soon put straight; Amazon requested a 22-month “sales tax amnesty” from the state. Their bargaining chip is the creation of an estimated 1500 jobs in a state with a high unemployment rate. Of course, some of us who are employed would like to keep our jobs. One news article reported that they were considering building in nearby Delaware, which does not have a sales tax. The most recent news I have is that a bill has been introduced in the state legislature to grant a 16-month exemption from collecting the tax, not just to Amazon but to other retailers willing to locate warehouses in the state.

There has been federal legislation introduced to give states authority to require on-line sellers to collect state sales taxes, as long as they streamline the collection process. Not surprisingly, despite heavy lobbying by associations of retail merchants, the bills are languishing in Congress. My understanding is that Amazon has actually supported this legislation; the delay seems to be caused more by the usual (non)workings of Washington than by strong opposition.

One objection to the legislation is the difficulties it would impose on small sellers. I have periodically considered selling books on-line, especially the more unusual used books I have acquired. Thus I can easily put myself in the shoes of a small on-line seller who would have to determine the sales tax rate in another state, collect the tax, and file a sales tax return in that state. First there would be the paperwork of registering in that state as an authorized collector of the tax. There are many who think this requirement would kill on-line commerce, or at least inhibit that delightful matching of geographically distant buyer and seller which it facilitates. I’m not sure what “streamline the process” means in the pending federal legislation, but I am convinced that it would not be long before software would be developed to handle the transactions. State governments should be willing to forgo some of the burdensome filing requirements; it is estimated that about $23 billion was lost to states last year because of untaxed on-line sales.

Although I have used books and Amazon as examples, the sales tax issue applies to all sorts of small retailers, from toy stores to gift shops to pet stores and Amazon is not the only large on-line retailer which benefits from the lower cost to the consumer of not paying sales tax. It may be that Main Street is dead because there is no way to compete with the buying power of huge on-line sellers and physical “big box” stores. I don’t agree with that view, but that is a topic for another day. My concern is not filling the state coffers but leveling the playing field. A store owner or manager can work with a customer on price; he cannot waive the sales tax. If requiring the collection of sales tax for on-line purchases may mean the death of on-line commerce, consider the alternative slow death of Main Street commerce. Which should it be? If we compete fairly, both can survive.

Marketing Flash Mob

By Erin Mitchell

Before you panic, I’m not suggesting anyone create a flash mob to promote her or his book. I mean, I think flash mobs are spiffy, but I can think of plenty of marketing activities that could use that energy in more fruitful ways.

Today I’m participating in what might be described as a marketing flash mob. That is, the celebration in many different (online) venues of one particular book. It looks a little messy, perhaps (this is our first one!), but like any good flash mob, there was planning behind it. Here’s the story…

A couple of weeks ago, in talking with Crimespree magazine Pooh-Bah of all Things Grand (aka, Editor in Chief) Jon Jordan, we hatched an idea: What if we could combine all the online resources available to us and direct them at one book on a specific day? We could, we figured, raise awareness of a book that everyone should be reading. So we decided to give it a go. The book we picked is Val McDermid’s THE RETRIBUTION.

First, Jon spoke with the good folks at Grove/Atlantic, who agreed to supply some copies of the book for a giveaway, which was very smart on their part, especially given that we have quite a broad reach online, and also since while many of the people we interact with are already fans of Val’s books, many more are not…yet.

Then we looked at how we could set up the giveaway to reach the most people—and drive the most traffic—within our ecosystem, which includes the Crimespree site and blog, my blog, the FridayReads Facebook page, and our respective Twitter feeds. We created a tab on the Facebook page, which directs people to a post on the Crimespree blog from which they can enter. So now we had a place for people to start.

But we knew, too, that just as a flash mob doesn’t work without an excellent song, in order to sustain giveaway entries and increase the book’s visibility, we’d need great content. Part of the reason we chose THE RETRIBUTION for this first foray is that it has lots of great online content, including reviews from smart and influential bloggers (here, here and here), video, and pieces Val has written about her books as well as an interview with character Tony Hill.

Just like a flash mob, we didn’t warn anyone—not even Val!—that this was coming. This morning (well, technically, last night), we just started unleashing it on our online communities. So far, it has been well received. Giveaway entries are pouring in. Retweets and shares, too. People are talking about what they’re reading. Val’s fans are chiming in, and it’s all helping new readers learn about her books.

This isn’t a thoroughly slick marketing endeavor, but we’re reaching readers. And in the end, isn’t that the only book marketing measurement that matters?

 

A Reminder

BENJAMIN LEROY

99% of the people working in publishing as editors or agents are in the business because they love books.

They have likely been reading since they were able to sound out words on the living room floor. Many of them loved words and books so much they majored in English during their college years. Will they always love the same books you love, or, perhaps more importantly, the book you wrote? Of course not, we’re all subjective human beings with different interests, fascinations, and tastes. In the same way that it doesn’t offend me that some people like the taste of okra, it shouldn’t offend you if I don’t dig your book the way you and others might.

You’ll also note that the math in my initial assertion is (a) not backed up by scientific evidence, and (b) is rather specific with regards to two job titles, and is not the blanket of “all people working in publishing.” On the first point, it’s a number I arrived at by living in the industry for ten years and meeting a whole bunch of people. I have extracted accordingly. As far as the second point, I raise it because there are many other people who are essential to running a publishing company that could just as easily be working at a music label or a computer manufacturer or a general widget company. Their skillsets are for running a business. The product is sometimes secondary, and is usually hostage to spreadsheets and forecasts. Instead of things like plot, pacing, and theme (the domain of the editor and agent), focus is instead given to things like, profit margin, consumer buying trends, and other jibberjabber that I can’t even properly qualify. Undoubtedly, some business types have come in from different industries hoping to apply widget practices to literary conventions and have ruined the party for all present. That doesn’t change the fact that other skilled business folks have also helped keep afloat a vessel, the S.S. Publishing Industry, through many storms.

These two different sides are usually good together. The business suit guy helps keep the editor/agent from indulging in some crazy whims about things that could be published. And, through some complicated osmosis that I’m still not completely sure I understand, the buttoned up Poindexter behind the calculator learns about things like Love and the Existential Struggle.

Here’s a sample transcript from a made up meeting between the two sides.

 

EDITOR: Oh my God! This book is so great. The protagonist is a man who accidentally ingested speaker wire and he falls in love with a poor country singer who can’t afford an amp, but absolutely has to play the county talent show. So the protagonist stands on stage with her (the singer), mouth wide open, and the music comes out of him, loud and clear, with the best acoustics ever… 

BUSINESSMAN: Who is going to buy that?

EDITOR: Me. And like, at least a dozen of my friends.

BUSINESSMAN: Is the singer a vampire? Vampires are biiiig right now.

EDITOR: Well, no…I mean…it wasn’t ever really discussed or anything. I suppose it’s possible. There wasn’t any evidence to suggest it, but…

BUSINESSMAN: Could you talk to the author, maybe? Vampire it up a little bit? Or, if the author doesn’t like that idea, could we set the county fair in some dystopian wasteland, where, if the singer doesn’t win the contest she is killed on stage in front of a cheering crowd and her body is harvested for organs in front of everybody. There was this show on HBO that…

EDITOR: Yeah, the book is basically a quirky love story. I don’t know how those things would fit with it…

BUSINESSMAN: Do you have any other projects to suggest? Maybe we should move on.

 

Editor has a problem. Huge fan of Speakerman and the Blue Ribbon(*), but the numbers don’t work. So now editor has to go back to the author and say, “Well, I love this, I really do. It’ll be with me for the rest of my life, but I couldn’t get the necessary in-house support. We’re not going to be able to publish it.”

Who is wrong in this situation?

Well, to the author, it’s likely to be whoever the hell “in-house support” is, and because that’s not a name or a single person, it can quickly become the company. And if enough companies reject Speakerman and the Blue Ribbon it can become the publishing industry as a whole.

Well, to Captain Numbercruncher behind the big mahogany desk, it’s the author for not writing what’s hot, and, instead, following the pesky gnawing in the gut to write a book that means something to the author.

To the editor, it might also be “in-house support” but in this case, editor knows the names and faces and knows that the business folks who stress over forecasting and budgets are the same people who have to make sure enough money is coming into the company to pay for editor’s salary and health insurance. So editor goes back to the other 300 unread books in the office and begins the process anew, trying to find a brilliant work that has a definable audience (preferably with disposable income for books) and speaks to the same part of the editor that was built on the living room floor and was fed with Ramen during four years of college.

It’s hard, I know, to be out of step with current trends, to be passionate about something brilliant while the world adjusts its bifocals. But as a writer, it is your mission to listen to that voice in your gut, writing the thing that means something to you. It’s the part of the process you have absolute control over. You have an anxious audience waiting behind the desk—agents and editors both who will do what they can because they believe in books. Are moved by words. See your brilliance.

 

 

* Because a whole bunch of people asked to buy SPEAKERMAN, I thought I'd at least give you a glimpse of the cover so that you can find it on the shelf at your local bookseller.

What's in a name?

Lynne Patrick

An interesting discussion over the second cup of breakfast coffee this morning.

I’m reading a Tess Gerritsen I found in the supermarket – not that I make too much of a habit of buying books in the supermarket, but they’re the second best place to buy backlist. I’m allergic to Amazon and the bookshops I frequent lack the shelf space for entire oeuvres. And I only recently discovered Ms Gerritsen. Oh, I knew she existed – I just hadn’t read her.

Anyway – I’m reading this Tess Gerritsen which, it turns out, was first published in 1999. And the protagonist’s name is – wait for it – Emma Watson.

The question that arose was this: if the Harry Potter phenomenon had already been under way when she wrote that book (it wasn’t – the first film was in 2001) would she a) have given the character that name in the first place, and b) been allowed to keep it if she had?

The answer has to be no in both cases or either, if for no other reason than that a name that carries so much baggage which is completely unrelated to the book will surely be a distraction to the reader.

And there are other, potentially more pressing reasons.

When I was publishing, I used to advise my authors to Google the names of their main characters, just in case there was any reason not to use them. Like, we might get sued. This probably wasn’t a serious possibility 99.9% of the time – but love it, hate it or laugh at it, the litigious society is an unfortunate fact of life. It only needed one fictional serial killer to bear the same name, however inadvertently, as someone a little, um, over-sensitive, and lawyers might have been exchanging letters before you could say High Court. And it’s OK saying all publicity is good – but if the end product of the resulting media coverage was a large bill for damages, the cost could have outweighed the benefit by a margin too large to swallow.

I keep thinking I should slide in an ‘allegedly’ there, just to make sure I’m covered.

There was only ever a problem on one occasion, and that didn’t involve lawyers, for which I still thank whoever’s up there whenever I think about it. It turned out that the character in question was in the same line of work (no, not serial killing, but it could have been tricky) as a real person of the same name – and we didn’t find out until a whole lot of advance information about the book had already gone out. We managed to pull most of it back, and it all happened a few years ago now, so I don’t think any harm was done, but I’m telling you, the sweat stood out on my forehead for a few days.

Trouble is, people are protective about their names. In one of my many lives I run workshops on writing fiction, one of which focuses on developing characters. I’m often asked if it’s OK to base fictional characters on real people, maybe family or friends; the supplementary question is invariably, what are the chances that they’ll recognize themselves? This is my answer: I’ve written a lot of short fiction in my time, and much of it got into print; many – OK, most – of my characters had elements of people I know.

And no real person has ever identified him- or herself. On the other hand, a couple of times a character had the same first name as a friend or family member, though I took great care not to use similar personality or appearance traits. Yet each time I had to work hard to convince the real person that the character wasn’t based on him or her.

Love it or hate it, the label your parents laid on you is yours. Never mind that there are six other Lynne Patricks listed on LinkedIn and who knows how many on Facebook: my name is part of my identity. And I think I’d rather not find it attached to a fictional serial killer, however great the book. Though I probably wouldn’t sue.

What's in a name?

An interesting discussion over the second cup of breakfast coffee this morning.
I’m reading a Tess Gerritsen I found in the supermarket – not that I make too much of a habit of buying books in the supermarket, but they’re the second best place to buy backlist. I’m allergic to Amazon and the bookshops I frequent lack the shelf space for entire oeuvres. And I only recently discovered Ms Gerritsen. Oh, I knew she existed – I just hadn’t read her.
Anyway – I’m reading this Tess Gerritsen which, it turns out, was first published in 1999. And the protagonist’s name is – wait for it – Emma Watson.
The question that arose was this: if the Harry Potter phenomenon had already been under way when she wrote that book (it wasn’t – the first film was in 2001) would she a) have given the character that name in the first place, and b) been allowed to keep it if she had?
The answer has to be no in both cases or either, if for no other reason than that a name that carries so much baggage which is completely unrelated to the book will surely be a distraction to the reader.
And there are other, potentially more pressing reasons.
When I was publishing, I used to advise my authors to Google the names of their main characters, just in case there was any reason not to use them. Like, we might get sued. This probably wasn’t a serious possibility 99.9% of the time – but love it, hate it or laugh at it, the litigious society is an unfortunate fact of life. It only needed one fictional serial killer to bear the same name, however inadvertently, as someone a little, um, over-sensitive, and lawyers might have been exchanging letters before you could say High Court. And it’s OK saying all publicity is good – but if the end product of the resulting media coverage was a large bill for damages, the cost could have outweighed the benefit by a margin too large to swallow.
I keep thinking I should slide in an ‘allegedly’ there, just to make sure I’m covered.
There was only ever a problem on one occasion, and that didn’t involve lawyers, for which I still thank whoever’s up there whenever I think about it. It turned out that the character in question was in the same line of work (no, not serial killing, but it could have been tricky) as a real person of the same name – and we didn’t find out until a whole lot of advance information about the book had already gone out. We managed to pull most of it back, and it all happened a few years ago now, so I don’t think any harm was done, but I’m telling you, the sweat stood out on my forehead for a few days.
Trouble is, people are protective about their names. In one of my many lives I run workshops on writing fiction, one of which focuses on developing characters. I’m often asked if it’s OK to base fictional characters on real people, maybe family or friends; the supplementary question is invariably, what are the chances that they’ll recognize themselves? This is my answer: I’ve written a lot of short fiction in my time, and much of it got into print; many – OK, most – of my characters had elements of people I know. And no real person has ever identified him- or herself. On the other hand, a couple of times a character had the same first name as a friend or family member, though I took great care not to use similar personality or appearance traits. Yet each time I had to work hard to convince the real person that the character wasn’t based on him or her.
Love it or hate it, the label your parents laid on you is yours. Never mind that there are six other Lynne Patricks listed on LinkedIn and who knows how many on Facebook: my name is part of my identity. And I think I’d rather not find it attached to a fictional serial killer, however great the book. Though I probably wouldn’t sue.

The Joy of Submission

Josh Getzler

 

I spent a good amount of my day today submitting manuscripts to editors. It was largely two of the…many (more than six) projects I have on my plate ready to roll, with several more on their way.

Yes, that’s a ton. But I’m fortunate that these are timed so that I have almost no editor overlap, which is often a source of great stress (please forgive the digression): What do you do when two projects ought to go to the same person at a publisher, when simultaneous double-dipping is typically frowned-upon? My list, thankfully, is broad enough now—and many editors’ mandates narrow enough—that where three police procedurals might once have gone to the same editor, I can now divide it into the Historical Western procedural with romance, the contemporary Boston procedural with the Jewish sub-angle, and the one with vampires and other beasties.  

Today, though, I really was able to go to very different folks, since I was going out with a young adult novel with a paranormal element (aliens, not sparkly vamps—this time) and a police procedural for adults. Both are dark, angsty novels dealing with identity and love. One’s by a man, one by a woman, and in fact one is likely going to be read more by men, and the other by (young) women. Most of the editors I sent the procedural to are men (though there is one woman I am really thinking could love it), while the YA editors are almost entirely women. In both cases I went “out wide” to more than ten editors—all of the Big Six, plus several larger independents.

My clients are excited—for one it’s the first time at the dance; not so the other. But in each case this was one of the most optimistic, adrenalin-filled days (OK, afternoons), where all of a sudden there is the knowledge that it’s Out There, with editors we’ve discussed at houses we’d like to make their homes.

There is excitement as well because there is visible activity going on. OK, so back 10-15 years ago there would be a more physical sense of a manuscript being Out, since it would be a physical box with, you know, paper, rather than a phone call or email and a brief zap. But still, one of the authors knew that something was going on because all of a sudden she was seeing Publishing House IP addresses on her website.

Of course, tomorrow—or rather sometime at the end of the week, when all the editors have called me back and all the manuscripts are delivered to the appropriate inboxes, and the little jokes and greater hyperbole in my pitch letters are read, the waiting begins all over again. It’s a brutal process for the writer. For me it’s a lot of underlying brutality, rather than the ever-present pain to the writer. After all, tomorrow I get to start submitting the business book and the thriller, while finishing reads on two other client manuscripts, notes on three others, and contract negotiations for three others still (all different projects and authors!).

My hope for the procedural and the YA is that there will be an editor who just heard from me, who will have dinner plans cancel and will hang out at work an extra hour and decide to see what I was talking about, and then find herself at 10 transferring it to her kindle for the subway to Brooklyn or Astoria or the Upper West Side, and will call me tomorrow and say “I can’t put it down.” And while there are all manner of pitfalls as to what happens after that, we will know that the excitement will be sustained. 

 

Oscar or Eagle?

Jeff Cohen

Think carefully, now:

Every four years, we have an interesting confluence of events in the United States, and particularly one that I think helps define the type of person you think you might be. Sure, you can look at the years whose numbers in the Roman Calendar are divisible by four and say, "Okay, there's Leap Day, but so what?" I will argue, however, that a deep psychological truth can be discovered if you are in the mood for self-reflection.

Consider: Every four years, we have a time when you can ask yourself a very telling, and in some cases, pivotal question. And the way you answer it can determine, if not the course of your life, at least the route you would prefer it take. Ready?

Which would you rather win: An Academy Award, or the Presidency of the United States?

Wait. Think before you answer. These are two races that will be dissected, scrutinized, analyzed and for all I know bowlderized before the year is over. Winners will be chosen by a select group (in the case of the presidency, too select because not enough people choose to participate) of voters. Losers will be shunted to the side, only to become the answers to trivia questions as the years pass. They will have to appear jovial and conciliatory at the moment their rivals are declared victors, and go home to lick their wounds in private, firing their closest advisors who brought upon this outrage, since the blame must certainly not be their own.

And how you answer the question will provide a window to... well, not your soul, necessarily, but certainly your megalomania. Which would you choose?

Personally, I'm going home with Oscar if I get the choice.

Every election year, voters complain that we only seem to get candidates who are out of touch with the average voter. They say the people who run for office see themselves as above the typical citizen, because of money or power or the seductive effects of both those things, coupled with the constant reinforcement they're given from sycophants who tell them everything they do is perfect.

Of course we get those people. Of course crazy people run for president. What sane person would want that job? What human being within driving distance of reality would think he or she is qualified to do it?

Nope, I'm getting an Academy Award. All that happens then is people who do the same thing you do tell you they think you did a good job. There's no responsibility. Everything that is required of the award is done BEFORE you campaign for it. After you win, you go to some parties, do some interviews, and go home (preferably) with your spouse to celebrate. Then next year, you show up to hand out the award to the next person in line, and wait for the next update of Trivial Pursuit to see if your name's made it in there yet.

Once you're elected president, you begin to age in dog years. Nobody has ever left that office looking as good as they did when they arrived. People start to complain--before you begin the job--that you're not doing it well enough. Everyone you've ever met wants a job, and will be incredibly peeved if they don't get the one they want--and a lot of them wanted to job you have now.

Then you get the first briefing from the security and defense people, where you find out what's REALLY going on, and if your hair wasn't grey before, it will be by eleven that morning. If it was grey before, it will start to fall out.

And here's how crazy most of these people are--after four years of that, they work like the Dickens to get it all AGAIN.

The presidency? You can keep it. I'd just like to get the envelope from which my name was read and the chance to thank people while Billy Crystal looks on. Or, if I don't achieve all my aspirations, a tape of the phone call when they let me know I'm in the running. I can fake not hating the winner as well as anybody, I'll bet. Just give me the chance, I say.

After all, it's an honor just to be nominated.

Which one would YOU choose?

P.S. Pitchers and catchers reported yesterday. There is hope.

A Modest Proposal to Save Rutgers

by Dale Spindel 

            Rutgers University has taken a lot of heat recently because of the vast sums of money it has spent on its less than stellar football team, a situation further exacerbated by Coach Schiano’s recent defection to the greener pastures of the NFL.   As if this were not enough, Rutgers is also in danger of having its lower extremity cannibalized by Rowan University, a state school in South Jersey seeking to upgrade its status by swallowing  Rutgers’ entire Camden campus.

             Although I spent some time on the banks of the Raritan in the 1970s  picking up a couple of masters degrees, I must also divulge the fact that  my undergraduate years were spent at an out of state  university that did not - and still doesn’t - have a varsity football team.  Even so, I feel an obligation to help Rutgers come up with a plan for finding a way out of its current predicaments.

             So consider the following:  the common ground that exists between spectator sports and books, theater, movies and television is that they all serve the purpose of providing entertainment, a commodity for which people have proven their willingness to spend money.   Also, I do not believe it is a coincidence that both athletes and writers (at least sometimes) can be said to work in teams.  Based on these two very simple facts, the solution to Rutgers’ problems becomes obvious:  treat writing as if it were a Division I varsity sport and treat football as if it were part of the liberal arts.

 Here are just a few of the ways that Rutgers will benefit:

1.    The 2.3 million dollar salary paid to Coach Schiano can be used to bring to the English department distinguished writers with a demonstrated commitment to teaching undergraduates.

2.    The large pool of scholarship dollars previously designated for football players can also be redirected to the English department, resulting in an influx of students with perfect scores on the SAT writing test.

3.    The Camden campus, having been converted into a massive state of the art performing arts complex, will develop an international reputation as the premier location for attending cutting edge live theater, film festivals, and literary events, garnering millions upon millions of dollars in revenue for the benefit of the entire university.  The creative rights to the works penned by Rutgers students will be managed through legal agreements that are strikingly similar to those signed by student athletes.

4.    The psychological health of the entire university will improve as students stop paying attention to football and therefore stop caring about whether or not their team wins.

5.    Residents of New Jersey will be so busy reading, watching television and otherwise being entertained that they will no longer complain about how much they pay in taxes to support the state university.

 My proposed changes will also accrue the following benefits to students:

 1.   Unlike Rutgers’ previous decision to eliminate such non revenue producing  varsity sports as fencing, crew and men’s swimming, the money that will be generated by students who are learning to write for television and  film will  be used to  subsidize the programs that support student novelists, essayists, poets   and memoirists.

2.    Students wishing to turn “pro” will have a venue in which they can be scouted by publishers and producers.

3.    Events staged by female students will be equally as well financed and attended as those staged by males.

4.    As in football, students will be encouraged by their professors to specialize in those areas where they perform best, forming “special teams” that focus either on character development, plotting, dialog, or irony.

5.    All English majors will be given varsity jackets.  Additionally, it will be mandatory for writing students to satisfy their freshman physical education requirement through participation in intramural sports in which varsity athletes also participate - choices will include football, basketball, baseball or cheerleading – as it is only fair that English majors experience the same degree of terror in P.E. class that the less academically inclined varsity athletes experience in the classroom.  At the very least, this will serve as material for several zany television series, a few heartfelt memoirs and maybe a poem or two.

             For all the money it has funneled toward football in recent years, no one who has played for Rutgers since Paul Robeson has ever become a household name, the irony being of course that Robeson is remembered today because of his contributions to the arts and the civil rights movement, not because he was an All-American.

             I profess in the sincerity of my heart, that I have not the least personal interest in endeavoring to promote this necessary work, having no other motive than the publick good of New Jersey.  I have no children from which I can propose to get a single penny; neither my son nor daughter went to Rutgers and both were business majors.        

Save That Book From Drowning

Marilyn Thiele

Before I sat down to write, I read the blog posts from earlier this week. I was going to comment on Erin’s from yesterday, regarding authors from other countries, but decided that what I wanted to say was too long for a comment. I am in full agreement with Erin, but here is a bookseller’s view on why foreign authors are a hard sell in this country.

When I first opened The Moonstone Mystery Book Store, I decided that I needed to find a niche market that would draw mystery readers looking for something out of the ordinary. Although a carry a broad range of mysteries by American authors, I focused on classic and foreign mysteries. I was aware of many very good UK writers who deserve more attention; I set out to educate myself on writers from non-English speaking countries. What a trove of good books are out there!

Sad as it is to say, I think that a lot of the resistance to reading mysteries set in foreign countries or by foreign authors is due to parochialism or even chauvinism. I don’t mean this as a condemnation; but there are many people who have no interest in the rest of the world and don’t think that authors from elsewhere have anything to offer. There is not an overt antagonism, but a lack of awareness of the big world out there. There is also a fear that it will be difficult to understand the culture or sensibility of a writer from another country. Fans of Donna Leon, who have read all of her books, will hesitate when I suggest Andrea Camilleri, pointing out that, after all, Donna Leon is an American. I sense a fear that an Italian writing about Italy may not be as enjoyable.

The Scandinavian invasion helped overcome some of the resistance to “outsiders.” If discomfort with the unfamiliar is part of the resistance, Henning Mankell’s popularity led readers to seek out others from that part of the world. The recent “Dragon Tattoo” craze intensified the interest. Many readers had trouble with the first seventy or so pages of the first in that series, but bore with it because everyone told them how good the book is. The advertising that went with the release of the series lent a sense of familiarity, but word of mouth was a big factor. I was surprised at how many readers were unaware of Stieg Larsson’s untimely demise and wanted more books. One author I suggested was Jo Nesbo, and most readers found him to be a good choice. In the last year, the publishing hype has caught up to his talent. I put many readers on to him before The Snowman got double page ads in the New York Times Book Review. In this case, readers’ familiarity with writers from Scandinavia made my job a little easier.

Mentioning Jo Nesbo leads me another problem that arises when promoting foreign authors. I’m guessing that American publishers, looking for bestsellers, latch on to European bestsellers in the hope that they will have the same success here. Often, this is the case, as with “Dragon Tattoo.” Often, too, the bestsellers are published here, but not the whole series. The first two books in Nesbo’s Harry Hole series have not yet, as far as I know, even been translated to English. (One customer, who loved the books so much that he obtained these two in German, indicated that this may not be a great loss.) More interestingly, the sixth in the series, The Redeemer, is not available in the U.S. I have have regularly restocked the British edition for customers who want to read the series in order. The Snowman and The Leopard, numbers 7 and 8, came out here with great fanfare. I can only guess that The Redeemer was not such a big seller in Europe. Other authors’ books, for example the quirky but delightful Commissaire Adamsberg series by French author Fred Vargas, are published out of sequence. Many readers like to read a series in sequence, watching the development of both the protagonist and the supporting cast through their detecting experiences and their personal lives. Choosing the order of reading by the American publication date is frustrating. Providing lists of series in internal chronological order is one service I provide my customers.  

Writers from the UK are easier to promote; everyone is familiar with Agatha Christie, and both P. D. James and Ruth Rendell have large followings. Thus readers are sometimes willing to give a British author a try. Still, when I suggest Minette Walters to lovers of Ruth Rendell, there is a hesitation; the lack of familiarity with the name seems to be the problem.

Those readers willing to take a chance on a writer from a different country usually come back for more. They find good writing and a good plot, and are happy to have learned more about another country’s geography or culture. The differences are enjoyable, not distracting. The difficulty is just getting them to try something new, like getting a child to sample a new food. A member of one of our reading groups, after a discussion of Colin Cotterill’s The Coroner’s Lunch (the first in a series about a coroner in Laos after the Communist takeover), said it was a book she never would have chosen on her own, but that she loved the writing, the humor, and the things she had learned about both Laos and the politics of the time. And she read the rest of the series.

Getting readers to try a foreign author is often not very different from getting them to try an unfamiliar American author. Moving outside one’s comfort zone is, well, uncomfortable. For the bookseller, developing a knowledge of worthy authors who are less well known and establishing credibility with readers are the key. One of the most rewarding parts of the job is having a reader say, “I loved your last recommendation. Do you have another?”  

I encourage everyone to take on Erin’s challenge. Try an author from abroad; if you like the work, talk it up. Enthusiasm and knowledge from a trusted mystery fan can overcome that fear of the unknown.  

The Book-Eating Ocean

By Erin Mitchell

In a country where just over a third of the population possesses a passport (up from a miniscule 3 percent in 1989), perhaps it should not surprise me that relatively few non-American authors have work published in the US, never mind have that work read and celebrated.

As the world continues to shrink onto screens of various sizes, one of the most significant benefits I see is that more non-American authors whose stories I’ve loved are gaining visibility—and sales—with American readers. 

For anyone looking for a model of the right way to reach global readers, Karin Slaughter fits the bill. From what I can see, this is a combination of Karin’s savvy and personality (she connects with people on- and off-line and travels extensively), fantastic stories that appeal to readers regardless of locale, a team that includes an agent who really understands how to maximize the global reader audience (I’ve no idea who her agent is, but my hat’s off), and a network of smart publishers that reaches an astounding twenty-nine countries. I can promise you that Karin didn’t just wake up one morning and find herself a worldwide sensation; she recognizes the value of a global audience and her brand positioning recognizes this.

Both Val McDermid and Mark Billingham are excellent examples of storytellers who have found quite a few loyal American readers…but in my less-than-humble opinion should have more of them. Their stories have a broad audience, and each has a healthy backlist of books to keep new readers going until the next new release. In trying to understand why they’re not outselling the Pattersons of the world, I have developed a theory: Most Americans don’t know what police force titles in the UK mean, and so sometimes the interplay between characters is confusing. I mean, I don’t think this is the only reason, but it must be a contributing factor, right? And if we’re honest, most American’s don’t know jack about geography within the 50 states, never mind outside it.

The good news is, online media provides ideal venues to address these cultural gaps. Of course, someone needs to actually do the addressing, but that’s a topic for another post.

Other authors, like Sara Blaedel and Michael Robotham, are new to American audiences having enjoyed copious global success. I can’t for the life of me figure out why it’s taken so long for an American publisher to embrace them, and heaven knows they each have an uphill battle in gaining reader mindshare, but I’m awfully glad they’re here.

And speaking of publishers…why someone has not snapped up Niamh O’Connor’s terrific and critically lauded (fiction) books is beyond me. I mean, I know there are more books out there than one can shake a stick at, but these are good. And Niamh has a back-story the likes of which marketing types dream of.

All this, of course, is before we even get to the many stories that fall into the Pacific Ocean never to make it to American shores.

So my challenge to you is this: Find a non-American author whose stories appeal to you. Acquire a copy of his or her book…by any means necessary. Talk about that book to everyone who will listen. If you’re an author, find a reader overseas and send him or her a copy of your book.

Don’t let the ocean deprive us of stories!

Thank You for Everything

BENJAMIN LEROY

It’s my birthday today.

At the risk of sounding sappy, I want to thank you for the present. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you (even those of you who may be discovering this weeks later) for caring about the written word, for loving books, for not having fled the joy of reading. I’m looking at you, readers, authors, librarians, agents, publishers. Bless your hearts reviewers! For keeping the discussion going.

I travel a lot for work.

Sometimes by car. Sometimes by plane. Big cities, little towns, sometimes no town at all in the middle of nowhere. I am most at peace in the throes of movement. All of those miles are grist for the experience mill—everything I hear, see, taste, experience is part of a never ending quest to understand everything about everybody, everywhere. At the heart of that is a desire to understand myself and my place in the universe.

I’ve been blessed to meet many wonderful people along the road. Endlessly generous and warm people who reaffirm my faith in all of us. I have been invited into the homes of strangers to have dinner with families that have become extensions of my own. I have slept on the couches of people with beliefs very much unlike my own in matters of politics, music, sports, and any number of other superficial subjects that sometimes distract us from the greatness we can cause.

My own life is immeasurably richer for having been a part of the publishing industry, for having spent so much time with people who care so severely about what it means to be human and alive and everything that goes with it.

When I started Bleak House Books more than ten years ago, I had big dreams about what the future held. I could never have known just how lucky I’d be. The dreams may have morphed a bit, evolved as I have along the way, but they have never been any less fantastic than they were way back then.

For that and everything else you all have given me, I thank you. It’s the best present ever, every day.

At about this time each year I release a video made up of footage from my life during the previous year. Here is my 2011. My love to everybody in here.

Happy Birthday.

 

While we're on the subject... or, social media: an alternative view

Lynne Patrick

Like every writer I know, I have a cupboard full of projects which refused to get properly started, reached the end but didn’t go anywhere, or were abandoned halfway through. Now I sometimes have a little time to take stock, that cupboard provides interesting rummage fodder. This week I started revisiting a novel I wrote many years ago, when I was going through a YA phase. (Writing YA, not being one; the being one phase came to an end a lot more years ago than that.)

It’s far enough in the past to allow me to be fairly objective about it, and parts of it are... OK. Except... it’s a contemporary story, but I wrote it so long ago that the characters seem to live in a different world. They don’t use the internet to research their coursework assignments. They don’t even have coursework assignments; this was an exam-only era. They don’t use mobile phones to text their friends as soon as they’re out of sight. And quaintly, they help Mom with the gardening or house cleaning as displacement activity from homework, rather than heading for the laptop and the world of social media.

Yes, folks, there was life before Facebook.

So now I have a problem. Do I leave the novel as it is, set in its own pre-technology world? Or do I thread in some references to all the above, to bring it into the 21st century? Since it currently inhabits the publishing nomansland which is neither contemporary or historical, I think the second option is the only serious one.

And that’s where I hit the real problem.

I’m not on Facebook. I’m not on Twitter. Heck, I don’t even have a mobile phone. The language of that world is alien to me. And absolutely nothing I read or hear about any of these three staples of the technological society gives me the smallest desire to change the situation.

I’ve resisted mobile phones from the outset. ‘Staying connected’ has no particular charm for me; if I’m off-duty I like to stay off-duty, and that means unavailable except to people I choose to be with. There are times when it might be useful to have one – delayed trains, car breakdowns – but I can stay in touch with friends and family without texting them a dozen times a day.

And Facebook and Twitter... What are they all about?

The view from outside is pretty clear. Marketing, that’s what. Displaying one’s wares. Selling one’s goods.

I used to think Facebook was a way of staying in touch with friends and family at a distance, or linking up with people from school or college with whom you’d lost contact. But how does that square with the tag on the soup carton or chocolate wrapper inviting me to ‘friend’ the manufacturer, or the TV show suggesting I ‘tweet’ my opinion about current issues, so they can add me to the viewer statistics which help them sell more advertising?

So much for social media. It’s not about keeping in touch; it’s about saying look at me, then buy what I’m selling.

I should have seen it coming. It’s happened at every stage of technological progress. Websites began as an adjunct to company brochures: an extra information source. Now you don’t exist if you don’t have one; every author, published or not, has to have a website. Google began as a way of tracking down information; now it’s yet another advertising medium.

Everyone reading this probably has a website, knows how to get their name on the first page of Google, tweets and friends in their sleep, and probably wouldn’t know any other way to live, so forgive me if I’m stating the obvious. But to me the obvious is a simple question: why? The only answer I can come up with is, because everyone does it. But think about it. Doesn’t this smother-fest of self-promotion and marketing quickly become self-defeating when absolutely everyone is doing it? There’s so much stuff out there that any novelty value was worn out long ago, and no one has time to look at a tiny fraction of it.

A suggestion for a new way of marketing a book: refuse to release any information about the author; create a sense of enigma; make the background as much of a mystery as the plot. It could work. At least until the novelty wears off.

For the moment, though, I think my YA novel will have to go back in the cupboard. The characters would need to inhabit a foreign country I have no inclination to explore.
And anyway, without all the tweeting and friending and telling the world it’s here, it would never sell.

Facebook VS Twitter IMHO

Josh Getzler

 

I was at a cocktail party last night and was talking to another agent about our respective social media habits.

 

"I love Twitter," she said. "It's immediate, it's quick, and when something is happening in the world it suddenly explodes and I feel like I'm in the middle of something big." She went on to say that she tweeted almost exclusively about publishing-related topics and didn't like Facebook because she found it too big and overwhelming. It seemed to be an almost sensory reaction to the different photos and drawings and videos. Also the fact that it was more personal--by design--than Twitter.

 

(Note: That's the way she--and I in this case--use it. It's a tool to get short snippets of information out, to retweet our clients' brilliance (and occasionally to suggest to our followers that they buy one of our clients' books). Certainly there are all manner of people--I'm talking to YOU, Kanye--who are a bit more intimate in their tweets.

 

I found that fascinating, because I find myself drawn far more to Facebook precisely because it's a bit more sensory. I like seeing the graphics and clicking on a video. I also like the fact that my Facebook community is a combination of publishing folk, friends from different stages of my life, and relatives. They have a very wide range of social media styles--from the FB version of the Twitter feed, businesslike and filled with reshares; to my high school classmates showing pictures of their kids or discussing their jobs (which are not like mine, by and large); to my own, which is more like the former than the latter, except that if you are my FB friend you know that I love the Muppets, Angry Birds and the NY Liberty, as well as my clients and family.

 

I don't feel like I need to be exclusive in one direction or the other--I don't spend enough time on either to feel like it's sucking away my life--but I'm finding it interesting hearing what others think. I'll be glad to see comments this week, and will be more active responding to them.

 

And what the hell is Pinterest?

 

Happy Valentine's Day! 

Yes, I'm a Valentine's Scrooge, As Well

Jeff Cohen

Tomorrow, in case you haven't seen enough card, candy, and jewelry commercials yet, is Valentine's Day, and I'm going to let you in on the secret, romantic plan my wife and I have made for the day.

We're not doing anything special.

I know; you're envious. Especially if you're a man, and the pressure on you to provide "her" (they never say who "she" is, which confused the hell out of me when I was single, because I figured they knew and weren't telling) with a romantic gesture that will knock "her" socks--and probably other garments--off is tremendous.

This year, the two of us will be marking a number of significant milestones in our lives and our relationship. And we've decided mutually that being told when we should feel especially romantic about each other is, in a word, stupid. We're not paying extra at a restaurant because it's February 14. We're not indulging in gifts to remind each other how we feel--if we can't do that on our own, perhaps our relationship has bigger problems. And we're not succumbing to the conventions of a society that bases all its emotions on a profit margin for some retailer or another.

Besides, I teach in Philadelphia on Tuesdays, and I'm not home until late.

Personally, I've always resented the idea that the calendar should dictate my mood. I'm not jolly in December, for any number of reasons that make perfect sense to me. I'm not especially spooked out at the end of October, but I do enjoy candy. I don't have a particular taste for turkey in late November, but I'll go along with the crowd on that one because not much is expected of me. Patriotism in July? It's too hot. But I do like fireworks; they're fun to look at.

I love my wife pretty much all the time. She knows it, or she really hasn't been paying attention, and she's too smart for that. There is no point in indulging in anything with a red ribbon on it, or flowers that were half the price on February 13 and will be again on February 15. 

We're not completely ignoring the sentiment, but we're bending it to our own preferences. If you're looking for us on May 12, you'll probably get voice mail.

That's the anniversary of the day we met. A considerably more significant date in our history.

Happy February 13, everybody. Feel free to feel any way you feel today.

Because tomorrow, they don't want you to have the choice. 

P.S. Pitchers and catchers report in 6 days.

Judging a book by its jacket, or let the browser beware

    Last week, I was browsing my library's display of its very newest books, looking to find a short-ish mystery that I could get through in a few days' time.   I picked up Murder in Mount Holly because it had the following going for it:

1.    It was only 148 pages.

2.    Each page measured  5 x 8 inches, resulting in a surface area per page that is  only a little more than  60%  of  the size of a standard 6.25 x 9.25 inch page.  (No, I didn't do this math in my head while I was standing by the shelves although I could kind of eyeball it.)

3.    The cover art on the jacket was simple and appealing with the author's name appearing in slightly larger font at the top of the jacket, above the title.   As you can see, the jacket is additionally embellished by pictures of a revolver pointing up, three toy soldiers, and a simple stars and stripes design that simulates three flags.  The lettering and artwork are red and blue on a pale yellow background, with the toy soldiers providing just a touch of green.  

4.    There is a town called Mount Holly located in South Jersey and although I've never been there, I thought there might still be some local color I would recognize and identify with.

5.    The book was by Paul Theroux, author of  The Mosquito Coast ( loved the movie, didn't read the book) and someone who has been on my "meaning to read something by" list for quite some time.

6.    The blurb on the top of the inside jacket read," Paul Theroux, one of the world's most popular authors, both for his travel books and his fiction, has (italics mine) produced an offbeat story of oddball criminals unlike anything he has ever written."

        So now, here are my thoughts:

        In my quest for a quick and easy read, this book did not disappoint.   The pace was snappy, the characters were quirky  and few in number which made it easy for me to keep track of them, and I truly did want to keep reading to find out how the story would end.   As for Jersey color, anyone who is familiar with our state knows that the character of rural  and semi-rural southern Jersey is very different from that of the northern  part of the state; although I recognized nothing that was distinctively "Jersey" in the setting, there was nothing grossly inaccurate that jumped out at me either.   However, it was only after I got to the very last paragraph of the book and its reference to Marblehead Massachusetts as being a town that was  3,000 miles away from Mount Holly that I realized I had been reading about people from California the entire time -  and it really didn't make any difference.

        Murder in Mount Holly takes place during the presidency of Lyndon Johnson, a time best remembered for the struggles of the Civil Rights movement  and the fact that  people were getting drafted to serve, very often unwillingly, in the  Vietnam War.   The depictions of racist attitudes and speech were pretty  over the top and perhaps it was this particular detail  that made me flip back to the front of the book to check out the copyright date; I was more than a little miffed to see that it was 1969, a time when Theroux was just starting out in his career as a writer.   

        And here's why I was miffed - I  had thought  that I was reading something new rather than  a reprint of something that had  first appeared in print  (albeit only in Great Britain) more than 40 years ago.   This bothered me because I had chosen the book at least partly because of the reputation that the author has  earned for himself over a long period of time - according to Wikipedia, Theroux did not start winning any real recognition for his writing until 1972 which means that Murder in Mount Holly was written when he was still, so to speak, cutting his literary teeth.   Adding to the deception is the fact that the blurbs on the back cover, all from major newspapers, are general quotes praising Theroux's writing that in all probability were lifted from reviews of his later work.   I am not, by any means, a professional grammarian, but the statement that Theroux "has produced an offbeat story" definitely implies to me something that was produced in the  much more recent past. 

    Bottom line: The book was okay, moderately entertaining, but nothing I will be rushing to recommend to other people either inside or outside of the library and the fact that it was marketed in a deceptive manner has  left a bad taste in my mouth.   As a business decision, I guess I understand why this was done but I'm also guessing that nobody anticipated that  there would be any backlash.

    Wrong - or maybe it's also possible that they just don't care.

To E or Not to E

Marilyn Thiele

I was on vacation last week, and thought I might write this week about the attitude adjustment and re-energizing that a vacation generates, despite the frantic preparation of the business and home for an absence and the inevitable catching up that has to be done upon re-entry to the real world.  We left early in the morning on January 30, and because of packing and last minute details, the New York Times from Sunday January 29 was still on the kitchen table when we returned late Tuesday. Wednesday morning, I decided to flip through it before putting it in the recycling bin to see if anything caught my eye. Well, the Business Section sure did catch my eye: “The Bookstore’s Last Stand” on Page 1. Re-entry to reality was faster than I expected.

The article contains fodder for many blogs, and I will probably refer to it in the future. The focus is on the impact that electronic readers have had on the market for books, and particularly on how Barnes and Noble is dealing with it. The title of the article, using “bookstore” in the singular, implies that there are no regional chains or independent stores worth considering. However, I will offer a few observations from the trenches of the small independent bookstore(s).

At this moment, as I type on my laptop at the store counter, five young people have walked in. (Comment overheard: “I love the smell of books!”) Yes, that love of the physical book is still strong, even among the young, and is not going away anytime soon. I’ve lost count of the number of customers who have told me that they have e-readers but still prefer holding and feeling a real book. And they are not all dinosaurs like me.

I have an e-reader, a Sony because I saw no reason to support those trying to put me out of business by buying their products. I use it, and have been glad to find that the prices are the same at the Sony store as they are at the “big” vendors. One of the main uses for me has been for vacation. In the past, I have packed the suitcase with all the books I hoped (vainly) I would read while away, and then wondered if I really needed clean clothing every day or could squeeze in a few more books. (Hey, it’s an addiction; I went to London last year behaving as if I would not be able to find a bookstore if I ran out.) Now, I can take a large backup supply without the extra weight, as I did last week. But I read Old Haunts in my preferred format. (It’s good –buy it!) I also read two other books, both in hard copy. I just prefer holding a book.

I do have a question that I hope someone in publishing can answer. I occasionally get news of a book or story published only in electronic format, and available only for the Nook or Kindle. Why are other outlets excluded? I assume there is an economic reason, although Sony is not exactly a minor company – or maybe it is in the e-book world. There is probably a way (legal or not) to work around the technology, but I am not good at those things, so I just have to forgo the pleasure of these works.

Besides just holding an object I love, there is a concrete reason I prefer printed books. Quite frequently, late in a book a character will reappear or an earlier incident will be referenced. I can flip back in the book, remembering approximately where that detail is located, refresh my memory, and often realize the significance I had missed. Although I can search on the e-reader, it is not the same.  Try searching for “Joe Smith” and you realize he appeared not one but five times before. And try scanning the pages before and after the reference when you find the right one. In the New York Times Book Review of September 4, 2011, Lev Grossman published  an essay, “From Scroll to Screen,” in which he points out that books developed from scrolls, which had to be read sequentially, to the codex, the bound book, in which one could jump to any point in the text instantly; now we are back to scrolls. When reviewing text previously read, my hands and eyes search and scan pages more quickly and efficiently than any electronic device. I’m not one to skip ahead, but I imagine that is even more difficult for those who do. Mr. Grossman’s conclusion: “If we stop reading on paper, we should keep in mind what we’re sacrificing: that nonlinear experience, which is unique to the codex. You don’t get it from any other medium – not movies, or TV, or music or video games. The codex won out over the scroll because it did what good technologies are supposed to do: it gave readers a power they never had before, power over the flow of their own reading experience.”

I don’t have any special power to foresee the future, and I tend to be an optimist (you have to be to do what I do!), but here’s my prediction: When the hype is over and the novelty has worn off, books in electronic form will take their place with other useful technologies. There will be some who will read only on a reader; some will read only hard copies. Most will read in the format that best suits the time and place, e.g., electronic on the train and paper on the beach. Many e-readers will gather dust in a drawer; others will be carried everywhere by avid users. How many people, other than certain celebrities, are still tweeting their every trip to the coffee shop? But Twitter is useful for keeping people informed at a more realistic level and has found its place in our lives. The electronic book will also have its niche, but for truly savoring the reading experience, paper will prevail.

Oh, and by the way, those young people (all seniors at the local high school, I learned): Five students, six books sold – bound, paper books.

Who Do You Love?

By Erin Mitchell

We all have authors and books we love. And unless the author you love most is yourself for your unpublished book you have shared with neither a friend nor a foe, chances are good that you’re not alone in your adoration.

Sharing books you genuinely like is fantastic marketing. Why? Because when you talk, tweet, post, or blog about the authors or stories you revere, your existing and potential readers have another way to connect with you. And when they connect with you, they find your books.

In the spirit of practicing what I preach, here are three of the authors and books that have changed my world, and continue to do so:

Ed McBain
Were it not for the 87^th Precinct, I would not be the reader I am today. My dad introduced me to the series, and it is the standard by which I measure all police procedurals…indeed, most stories, period. I don’t have just one favorite, but LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE DEAF MAN is high on the list. I have bonded over McBain with many people who occupy important places in my life, including my husband.

James Lee Burke
Dave Robicheaux is important to me for a bunch of reasons, but prime amongst them that each of the tales in which he stars is an extraordinary and beautiful story. Mr. Burke writes regional vernacular better than Twain—there, I said it—and the Louisiana of his stories that is at once brutal and shockingly beautiful. And don’t even get me started about Clete. I love Clete Purcel, a character for the ages. My favorite of this beloved series? JOLIE BLON’S BOUNCE, with THE GLASS RAINBOW a close second.

Lisa Unger
Over the last couple of years, I’ve recommended Lisa Unger’s books to a bunch of people. Because I recommend books frequently, I’m accustomed to not always hitting the mark. But because Lisa embraces the fundamental truth that The Story is the Thing, every person to whom I’ve recommended her books loves them, without exception and passionately. Choosing a favorite here is difficult, too, but the story that begins in FRAGILE and continues in DARKNESS, MY OLD FRIEND is one of the best, one that will stand the test of time and appeal to just about any reader.

This is, of course, a list that is far from complete. I think John Connolly’s THE BURNING SOUL is one of the most under-appreciated books of last year, for example, and one I adored and expect I will return to for years to come.

So…how about you? What are some of the books and authors that rock your world?

 

It’s about time for me to open up Tyrus Books for submissions. As faithful readers of this blog know, I had to close things down a few months ago because my plate was full of other things—forecasting, promotional planning for titles coming out this spring, a few secret projects, and some web development. All of those things were necessary (and continue to be necessary) to run a for real business (a skill for which I have no proper training other than experience).

But you know what else is necessary? Books. In particular, good books. Great books. Life changing bunches of words gathered on paper or electronically or surgically implanted into your brain cortex box. And that means, like a pig on a truffle hunt, I’ve got to go out and root around in the dirt to find some. That’s my job, yes. It’s also one of the things that matters most in life to me.

We can all sit back and lament the dying of a golden age of publishing and pretend like things were more prestigious fifty years ago, or that there was an inherent current of genius floating around publishing when it was ruled by old dudes in tweed jackets.

The fact is, we’re all connected in new ways, bigger, bolder, faster, sometimes scary, sometimes revelatory ways that Ebenezer Von Bookguy couldn’t have imagined even after his trip to a (then legal) opium den on the upper Westside of Manhattan. Our interests can be piqued by American outposts that aren’t so distant anymore and we can get the real story by the folks living it, as opposed to the imagined story by people who haven’t experienced it. Do you know what this means? Do you realize how it can fix the problem facing all of us?

That’s right, it can raise the level of understanding among the whole of the planet. The 90 year old great grandmother in Des Moines can nod along to the “hey, we’re all human” typings of a Mormon kid in Salt Lake City or a swamp rat along the banks of the Apalachicola River in my spiritual hometown of Wewahitchka, Florida. And this thing doesn’t stop at any border, because it doesn’t have to, it can beam on an arc all around the globe stopping in London or Tehran, Paris or Damascus, Moscow or Beijing or Nairobi.

Novel writing is not singularly the domain of folks who have done six years of college and who received their MFA in Creative Writing. It’s about finding the truth to life, articulating it in an honest and compelling way, and letting the universe take it from there. We can, in the course of hearing another’s story, excuse imperfect grammar and discarded literary conventions, as long as the story means something.

Tips for querying a publisher:

• Don’t announce yourself as the “next BIG NAME AUTHOR” in your query letter. That isn’t a decision you make. The reading public will let you know. Also, to that same point, don’t talk about how BIG NAME AUTHOR can’t write a book to save his life and you don’t understand why anybody buys his books. You don’t need to understand, you just need to know that people do.

 

• Don’t make some ridiculous claim that you’re a “surefire New York Times bestseller” in waiting. The metrics for the NYT’s list are mysterious and driven by a lot of factors. It’s not in your control or even in your publisher’s control whether or not you’ll make the list. Consumers and readers make it happen, and you can’t control them either.

 

• Not all reviews are created equal. Ok, so check this out, some of you might have read that and been like, “Ben, you’re buying into the old hierarchy of dynamic media and its hold on the myth of blah blah…” Here’s the truth—reviews are good for a few things. Primarily, I note, they help feed an author’s self-esteem (sometimes in negative directions) AND they give awareness of a book to the reader of the review. A glowing five snowflake review of a book on a blog nobody reads is great for column A (author self-esteem) but does little for column B (raising public awareness of a book). A review in a publication with wider circulation does much more for column B and ultimately column B sells books. If that publication is geared towards publishing industry professionals (bookstore owners, librarians, etc.), say in a magazine like Publishers Weekly, Library Journal, Kirkus, or Booklist, all the better.

 

• Don’t do that parlor trick where you pretend to be a big fan of the publishing house and you say, “I consider my works to be like two of your authors JOHNNY STORYTELLER and PEGGY BOOKWRITER” whereas JOHNNY STORYTELLER and PEGGY BOOKWRITER have very little in common with each other. It is a highly transparent move. If you’re a legit fan of one of the house’s authors, great, say what you like about him/her. But don’t just grab two names and say, “Hey, the three of us could be Peter, Paul, and Mary! Because there are three of us!” I know it says to do that in some guides, but don’t listen to those guides.

 

• Realize that the other person on the other end of your query letter is looking to get really excited about projects that move her. Your book might be great, but it might not speak to the editor, and the editor, without question, has a better handle on what is going to get her excited, how a project fits into the editorial niche of the publishing house, and whether or not she wants to acquire the title. If she doesn’t want to acquire it, try to refrain from the “You’re an idiot! I’m the next Stephen Grisham Rowling! You just passed up the opportunity to make $$$!” Because that won’t help your cause. Besides, if that’s the way you’re approaching the intersection of art and business, it will end in a wreck every time. I swear to you.

 

• If you’ve self-published the book you’re now querying about and then decided that self-publishing wasn’t as easy as some people told you it was going to be, be up front about that. Some publishing houses will still look. Others won’t. That’s their call to make. Pretending the self-published version doesn’t exist and being all, “Oh, that? Yeah, uh, I, uh, printed like three copies for my friends to let them see it, but it’s not published published,” is a smidge disingenuous. PRO-TIP, if you publish three copies for your friends, don’t assign an ISBN to the book.

Good news all round

Lynne Patrick

Freelance editing has always been a slightly precarious way to make a living: in fact, for a number of years now, rather more than slightly, especially for the likes of me.

Since publishing became big business and the so-called frills and deadwood got pared away, in-house editors have been cut loose in their hundreds – and people who have worked in house have an advantage, in that they have the right contacts to get first dibs at any freelance work that happens to be going.

But things are looking up, and it’s largely down to eBooks. In the wake of several high-profile boo-boos with eBooks by well-known authors, a school of thought seems to be growing that maybe books do need editors after all, if only to put right what the formatting software messes up. And more than that: not only have I read three articles this week which suggest strongly that people who decide to self-publish their magnum opus as an eBook should get it edited first, but also I’ve discovered a couple of publishers’ websites who make the same recommendation regarding manuscripts for submission.

I know I’m not alone when I roll my eyes, fling my arms wide and exclaim, At last! Haven’t I been saying exactly that for years!

So it looks as if my job is safe, at least for the time being. The former in-house editors will still get first dibs of manuscripts submitted to their former employers; but if people get the message that a fresh pair of eyes will pick up all manner of glitches that an author is too close to see, maybe there’ll be enough work to go round.

Which is good news for me, but even better news for the authors. Because if a novel contains typos, or continuity breakdowns, or ‘facts’ that clearly haven’t been researched or checked, it’s not the editor who gets blamed by the vast majority of readers. So one of an editor’s prime roles is to stop the author looking sloppy or unknowledgeable.

I learned early in the game that authors don’t always realize that there’s a gap in their knowledge. It may be something as basic as punctuation. I’m often astounded by how many professional wordsmiths don’t know the difference between its and it’s. Or maybe a fact or a date or a sequence of events that they genuinely believed they had right is actually wrong. I learned that the hard way: I read a review of a book I’d edited, and found that the critic had spotted several historical errors which I’d not only missed but hadn’t even realized were there. I cussed and threw things at the wall at the time, but afterwards I was grateful to that critic; the review had the effect of making sure I raised my game for future books.

One recent example was the use of an umbrella in a novel set in the early 18th century. When I saw it, I assumed the author had checked the date the umbrella was invented, and when they came into general use. But it stayed in my mind. Google, when it isn’t causing controversy and making a bid for world domination, is a very useful invention. It turned out that the umbrella wasn’t around for several decades after the book was set.

The issue there wasn’t so much that the author didn’t know; it was that s/he (gender disguised to protect the innocent!) didn’t know s/he didn’t know! And if the book had gone to print in its original form, you can bet your life some critic would have picked it up.

Of course, editors aren’t omniscient, and I don’t know one who would claim to be so. Mistakes will always still slip through. But that’s a whole other blog post...

Oh My God It's 11:25! (Or #agentday)

Josh Getzler

Yesterday, when I was running around with my son, interviewing with him for a new school (my wife and I sat with the headmaster for two HOURS, while he got to go to history class!), there was a Twitter hashtag thingy called #agentday. My assistant told me about it this morning, because she said that it totally stressed her out.

"All these agents were tweeting about what they were doing all day. It stressed me out and I DO all this stuff," she said (only better).

So today, it sat in the back of my mind that I ought to think about the different elements of the business I work on during a somewhat typical Tuesday--where I was not having lunch with an editor or submitting a book (both of those will happen tomorrow). I realized that, like eating the proper amounts of all the food groups, I actually worked through a very significant number of the parts of the publishing process, all in different chunks of the day:

I started by writing notes on a contract, which is the second part of contract negotiation. The first part is where the editor makes the offer and the agent says "What? That's IT?" (No, no...). Here I was finishing a review of a pretty reasonable agreement for a book where I had already negotiated a contract with the publisher before. Where I saw discrepancies between the two agreements, I said so, then sent it along. I recieved a new version of the agreement later in the day, which likely will very closely resemble the final contract by day's end tomorrow.

After the contract review I had a phone call with the daughter of one of my clients, who has entertained the thought of entering this industry. My client is no slouch in the brain department, and he had described his daughter as "the smart one." She is living in Seattle, though, and doesn't want to journey East, so she's going to have a bit of a tough go at making a living editing. But she was very smart, and lovely, and certainly was interesting to speak to. I think about the publishing industry, and the fact that there are in fact so many very smart young writer/editor/readers, and I think about what Simon Lispkar said to me when I joined Writers House in 2007: "In order to be successful, you need three things: Taste, luck, and perseverence. You can't have just two. But if you have all three, you can survive--eventually."

After I finished speaking with the now completely discouraged (but REALLY smart) Seattle-an (sic? What do I know?), I had an exciting meeting with two clients who are working on a women's beauty book. They are both extremely well-versed in the industry, and are kind of rock stars. When I read the original proposal, I believe I understood every third word. Now I'm starting to get the hang of it, and their projet is one that marries old and new publishing in an extremely exciting fashion. We realized that there was a real question as to whether the book would drive the website or vice-versa, and whether there was greater potential revenue through royalties or sponsorship income. Absolutely fascinating.

After lunch of sushi at my desk (note: HSG was going to take advantage of both Restaurant Week and our office location to go to suddenly affordable Nobu, but my partner Carrie saw my look of panic at my to-do list and suggested we skip it and order in. Bless you, Carrie!), I got to do one of my favorite things: dig into a manuscript and make editorial suggestions. What I was doing was somewhere between an in-the-margins memo and a line edit. Look, many, many agents started out as editors or writers--or at least with degrees in English. We LOVE working with text. We don't ever get to do it as much as we'd like. So when we have an extended period of time where we can read and make constructive suggestions, we grab it. It was a blas.

After a quick stop to pick up #1 son, take him home, and oversee Homework for Three, I met Jess and Carrie at the West End bar for a quick drink and discussion, and then we went to Columbia for a reception with their MFA program. It was a blast, not just because I had the opportunity to meet with a good number of smart, dedicated writers (lots of memoirs and literary Novels of Brooklyn), but also because I got to hang out with a bunch of agent friends. We sent writers to each other, caught up, showed each other pictures of our kids, and drank white wine in the Low Library rotunda. It was a lovely, rather old-school way to end the day. I may have met a new client or two in the evening--or maybe not--but regardless, it was a fitting end to a day that shifted through so many interesting and stimulating directions.

When I got home, my son wasn't yet asleep. "How was your day, Daddy,"he said. "Did you do anything interesting?"

"You bet," I said. "All kinds of things."

It's OLD HAUNTS Launch Day!

Jeff Cohen

 

 

Don't listen to what this guy says:

OLD HAUNTS, the third Haunted Guesthouse Mystery

Publishes TODAY, February 7!

Fans: You get to meet The Swine!

New Readers: Jump right in--no learning curve necessary!

Enter the OLD HAUNTS giveaway contest here!

 

    The date that at least three of you have been waiting for is finally (very close to) here! TODAY, Tuesday February 7, marks the release of OLD HAUNTS, the third Haunted Guesthouse mystery! And you'll see (assuming you get a copy; this won't just happen at your house) Alison Kerby deal with the past. Not just her past--although the Swine is at the door, making noises about "being a family again." It's Paul Harrison's past, too, and the ghostly private investigator is asking Alison to find the woman he intended to marry before he became, well, dead. Just to see if she's all right.

    That's nothing compared to the request that comes from Maxie Malone, the resident poltergeist. Maxie's just found out that her ex-husband (they were married four days once) Big Bob the biker has been found quite deceased, his remains under the Seaside Heights (NJ) boardwalk. And Maxie wants to know who killed him. Something Alison would prefer not to find out, as it could mean she would make it onto the killer's to-do list... 

Good Things That Will Happen If You Buy OLD HAUNTS Tomorrow

1. I'll be happy
2. My wife will be happy
3. My children... who are we kidding--won't notice
4. The world will experience more laughter
5. Some of it may be yours
6. You'll get a fun mystery that might challenge you
7. You'll meet The Swine (on paper)
8. You'll contribute to the American higher education system (believe me!)
9. You can add an attractive green cover to your bookshelf
10. There might be a possibility of world peace (no guarantees offered)

 

Bad Things That Will Happen If You Don't Buy OLD HAUNTS Tomorrow

1. All I'm saying is: Keep in mind the Mayans had this book release planned when they made their calendar. 

 

P.S. Pitchers and catchers report in 12 days.

Janet should have listened to me

     A few nights ago, in spite of the fact that the reviews were generally pretty bad, I went with a couple of  friends to see One for the Money, the new movie  based on the first of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum mystery novels.   It was playing at our local highway multiplex  and although I didn't actually count, there were probably no more than 15 people sitting in a theater that could easily have accommodated 300.   Not surprisingly, there were no men in sight anywhere.

        In spite of the negative reviews, the movie was not anywhere close to being  as bad as I had anticipated; I  actually found it a lot less annoying than almost anything I've seen recently that falls into the category of romantic comedy.  Nonetheless, here are my criticisms:

1.    If a story is supposed to be taking place in Trenton, shoot the movie in Trenton, not Pittsburgh.  Parts of it just totally had the wrong look.  Of course, if you're not from New Jersey, this is probably not going to bother you.

2.    In every scene in which she appeared, Debbie Reynolds came across as Debbie Reynolds, not Grandma Mazur.   A less well known actress would have been better.

3.    The actor who plays Joe Morelli was adorable but did not come across as ethnically Italian.  Maybe it's because Jason O'Mara is actually from Ireland.  Whose idea was that? 

4.    Anyone who's already read at least one of the Stephanie Plum novels already knows that the purported bad guy  in One for the Money really isn't a bad guy, completely eliminating the sense of tension that should be an essential part of experiencing a crime story, be it a book or a movie.

5.    Nobody dwells too much on the fact that some innocent people die; the fact that one of them is especially unattractive and annoying  seems to  make it almost justified.

6.    Behavior that I would consider to be borderline sexual assault was treated as if it were cute.

7.    For a movie that more or less comes across as a live cartoon, none of the players looked as if they were having all that much fun except for the actresses  who were playing street walkers.

Things that were okay about the movie:

1.    I thought that Katherine Heigl was pretty well cast as Stephanie Plum - she conveyed just the right balance of being cute and not quite completely  pulled  together.

2.    Sherri Shepherd was awesome as Lula - just the way I pictured the character.

3.    Daniel Sunjata is an excellent match for the character of Ranger.  I had been afraid that whoever got cast in this role would end up coming across as a mashup of Rambo/Schwartzenegger/John McClain, but Sunjata manages to play it low key while still coming across sexy as hell.

4.    In the unlikely event that a sequel is made, it would be fun to see Ana Reeder get more to do as Connie, the receptionist at the bail bond storefront where Stephanie is more or less employed.

    So what was it that Janet should have listened to me about, not that she knows who I am or cares  what my opinions are?

    In my January 22 post, I expressed the opinion that television series rather than movies are evolving into the preferred medium for bringing books to the viewing screen, especially in the case of a long running and extremely successful series such as the one that Evanovich has penned.  A television series which is given eight to twelve hours spread out over an equal number of weeks obviously allows much more of an opportunity for character development of both main and secondary characters.   In movie adaptations, it is not unusual for scenes that develop character rather than move the plot forward  to be omitted entirely; in a television series, these parts of the story can be given loving and detailed attention.      After all, what is worse than going to see a movie adaptation of a favorite book only to find out that they completely left out your favorite part?

       Based on the disappointing response to the movie version of One For the Money, I would be surprised if Two for the Dough ever gets made, let alone Explosive Eighteen.  On the other hand, the entire run of Stephanie Plum books would have been more than enough to keep a well written  series going on HBO or Showtime for six or seven years.

        

Open Forum

 Marilyn Thiele

One of the joys of bookselling is interacting with so many different kinds of people. For the most part, shoppers in book stores are easier to deal with than those in other retail establishments. They come to the book store because they want to read, or are looking for a special gift for a reader. Shopping is a pleasure rather than a chore, as it so often is for clothing or food. For the book lover, books are a necessity, but a happy one. Thus the bookseller’s day is filled with pleasant, happy people. That said, conversations begun with the intent of choosing a book can be wide ranging and often startling.

Regular customers, over time, become more like friends. Even the quiet or seemingly grumpy ones start to open up, when not pushed; they become comfortable knowing that I will not intrude beyond their comfort level. Discussions about book choices lead to a sharing about family or jobs or volunteer activities. The day brightens a bit when the door opens and a familiar face appears.

When the face appearing is unfamiliar, the adventure begins. Most often, the transaction involves a few friendly words about the customer’s needs (a specific book, a recommendation, or “just browsing”). More frequently than one would imagine, though, customers feel free to express their strongly held opinions on many topics. Perhaps the proliferation of examples of one of our basic freedoms, to read and write whatever we want, sets an atmosphere of openness.

The two most common topics opened by customers are politics and religions, both social “no-nos” and particularly to be avoided by merchants who do not want to alienate their source of income. On both topics, the genesis of the discussion is usually the customer’s admiration for a particular author who, in the customer’s view, has the answer to the world’s problems. (Bookseller response: “He/she is very popular.”) I find it fascinating that people who hold very strong views in these areas assume the listener agrees with them, with no real evidence. Very few know my political or religious leanings, and it is best kept that way.

These encounters can often be spontaneous and humorous. On one occasion, during a rather heated election campaign, a customer told me that she had to choose and purchase her book quickly because she was off to the headquarters of her preferred political party. It seems she had two signs on her lawn promoting her candidate, and her neighbor, of the opposite persuasion, had put up three signs. “The nerve!” So this individual was going to get three more signs. I tried to hide my smile as I envisioned two lawns no longer green, but with rows of red white and blue signs. (A side thought: Do these signs, which we can be sure will proliferate as this year goes on, really change or influence anyone’s decision?)

Another topic about which strangers feel free to comment is the organization, selection and display of books or other items for sale. (“You should carry magazines.” You should carry greeting cards.” “You should put XYZ up front.”) Some ideas have merit, and I do think about them. Most often, the ideas have more to do with that particular customer’s needs or preferences than with any real desire to improve my sales. One of my favorites was from a gentleman who frequents used book stores in the New England area. He had discovered a shop where the books were displayed flat, so the titles could be read easily without turning one’s head, and thought I should do the same. Although I respond to most suggestions with a smile and some indication that I will consider the idea, in this case I couldn’t resist saying, “Keeping them in order would be a nightmare!” His next words: “Oh, they’re not in any order.” (I should mention here that my used book sections have been mistaken for a library.)

There are also the sadder encounters. On occasion, the sole customer in the store, a total stranger, will say something like, “I’m trying to find a book to distract myself. But I can’t even concentrate on choosing.” There follows a tale of a life crisis, usually with a difficult decision to be made (and it’s not which book to buy.)  I’m not a clergy person or a psychologist, so I don’t try to offer advice. I believe what the person wants is just someone to listen, and that often just explaining the situation to another person helps clarify options. I won’t offer a specific example here, because despite my lack of professional qualifications, I impose a confidentiality requirement on myself. I often wonder how these situations have been resolved, but never know.

So what is it about book stores that makes it so easy to open up about opinions or problems? Is it, as I suggested above, the presence of books on every topic? Or the quiet atmosphere? Or the captive audience? All I know is that I learn a lot about the world just being in my shop all day, and that I’ve learned most of it by listening, not talking.

World Book Night

By Erin Mitchell

A million books. 50,000 people. What could possibly go wrong?

Truthfully, I can think of a bunch of things. I won’t be too surprised to be accosted by ignoramuses on April 23 for having the audacity of give people books. Because, you know, when people read, they think. Which is dangerous.

But I digress.

This week I learned that I will be a giver on World Book Night. I applied a good while ago, and every time I thought about it, I felt like I was 7 years old again, waiting to be picked for a kickball team, and knowing that I’d be the last one standing…unpicked. Oh, the life of a book nerd. Thankfully, I got the fantastic news this week that I was picked. So imminent mid-life crisis averted. Week after next I’ll learn which book I get to give out. I’m hoping for Michael Connelly’s BLOOD WORK for a couple of reasons:

First, Mr. Connelly lives locally, so I can tell reluctant or infrequent readers there’s a local tie. I have this pipe dream that he might even make a guest appearance on my odyssey of book foisting.

Also, BLOOD WORK was a movie. Ok, it was a crap movie, but still. I figure people might have heard of it, and therefore be more likely to read it. Of course, this might work against me if someone saw the movie and therefore feels s/he doesn’t need to read the book. We’ll see.

Oh, and it’s a helluva book.

When World Book Night happened in the UK and Ireland last year, I watched from afar hoping against hope that we’d do the same in America. Because I love the idea of thousands of people making a concerted effort to encourage reading. It means there are at least 50,000 people in the country who care enough to participate. And if even a tiny percentage of those who get one of the million books distributed reads it and learns or remembers that reading is actually fun (not boring or pretentious or any of that other crap some people think reading is), then it’s effort well spent.

This is an enormous effort involving booksellers, publishers, authors, librarians, and, of course, readers. There are few things more powerful than putting a book into someone’s hands, and there’s still time to sign up to be a giver. I hope you’ll consider joining in!

 

Two Paragraphs and a Hunch

BENJAMIN LEROY

This week we got some good news around the Tyrus Books compound. Our 2011 title, Untouchable by Scott O’Connor was selected as a finalist for Barnes & Noble’s Discover Great New Writers Award (fiction). We were thrilled back in early 2011 when we found out the book was selected for the Discover Great New Writers Program, but to have that book end up being named a finalist out of all the books selected for the program last year? That felt awesome.

(As a sidenote, the ultracool Dead Guy contributor Dale Spindel wrote about Untouchable a few weeks ago. You can re-read that here - http://heydeadguy.typepad.com/heydeadguy/2012/01/what-makes-a-book-a-mystery.html)

Untouchable started out special, and has continued along the path.

As I understand it, the book was originally shopped to larger publishing houses by agent Yishai Seidman of Dunow, Carlson, & Lerner. Though some folks at the big houses were excited by it, ultimately it got passed over for being too dark (and therefore, likely not marketable).

Then it ended up on my desk.

I’d like to tell you that I dug into it immediately, but that would be a lie. I don’t read things as quickly as I would like to (and if you’ve submitted something over the last few months, you’re likely aware of that already). I often require a kick in the ass a few times before I get around to reading something, and even then (this is terrible to confess) I read with an eye towards rejecting the book, just so I can put it behind me and get the agent off my case).

When Yishai called to remind me about Untouchable, I opened the file with my RejectionGun all set to go. But then a funny thing happened. I read the first two paragraphs.

At that point, two paragraphs in, I called Yishai and said—“I haven’t read the whole thing. In fact, I haven’t even read the whole first page. But I know I want this. Let’s get a deal done right away.”

And we did.

Was the book perfect at that point? Nope. The author and Alison worked hard on it to get it into the best shape it could be. But the essence of what makes a book great to me was there in full display even before the two of them fixed any of the particulars.

I had the same reaction the first time I dug into Craig McDonald’s Head Games, a book that would later go on to be nominated for an Edgar Award for Best First Novel. When that reaction hits, I trust it. It’s more than words on a page speaking to me at that point. It’s the I Know It When I See It phenomenon, and I can’t explain it any better than that.

Of course, you could buy a book based on the first two paragraphs and later realize you’ve made a terrible mistake. But in this case, the selection by Barnes and Noble for the Discover Great New Writers program happened and then later, The New York Times reviewed the book in the Sunday Books Section. The first novel I’ve ever been involved in publishing that did either.

Guess I got lucky.

Anyway, the winner of the award will be announced in March 7^th, and I’ve got my fingers crossed. If you’re so inclined to cross yours, too, that’s great.

Also, unrelated to Untouchable, but about publishing, I was on WGN's Midday News today. You can watch the clip here.

Tell me a story

Lynne Patrick

When Reginald Hill died a few weeks ago, it started me thinking. Specifically, his comment about choosing to write a crime novel rather than a Booker Prize-winning tome started me thinking about The Great Debate about ‘genre’ versus ‘literary’ fiction – and yes, the quote marks are deliberate.

Cards on the table: I stand firmly in the middle of this debate, wondering what all the fuss is about, and asking whether the people who draw these distinctions actually read any so-called genre fiction. (I’m well aware that there are a lot of people who don’t read so-called literary fiction – but I rather think they’re not the ones who engage in the debate.)

I like to think my tastes are eclectic, and my to-read shelf contains books which the people who categorize these things would place firmly on one side or other of the divide. David Lodge and Louise Erdrich sit alongside Lee Child and Tess Gerritsen. Sometimes I’m in the mood for fast-paced action and adventure; other times I need something more slow-moving and reflective.

I suppose it all goes back to a pretty fundamental question: why do we read at all? For me it’s much the same as going to the theatre: I want to be entertained, and made to think, and preferably both at the same time.

There’s a school of thought – not one to which I necessarily subscribe – which claims that genre fiction does the former, and literary novels do the latter.

My question is, how do you categorize the kind of book that does both?

I’m sure we all have our own favourite examples. Dennis Lehane’s Mystic River would be on many lists. More recently, John Hart’s The Last Child. And how about Philip Pullman’s majestic His Dark Materials trilogy?

The quality all three of these have in common is that they tell a rattling good story. And isn’t that the whole point of fiction? Stories are the stuff of life. Once upon a time they were the main teaching medium of many societies: probably still are in a lot of places.

In my experience that’s where ‘literary’ fiction often falls down. Not always; that’s why David Lodge and Louise Erdrich are on my shelf. But often. I’m in the middle of a ‘literary’ novel which had better remain nameless. It’s written with great skill and thought; the characters are intricately described and clearly live full lives inside the author’s mind; and their world is so detailed I could step inside it tomorrow and know where to find the car keys and the coffee. But when I reached page 100 I put it down without a wrench, stepped back, and asked myself what had actually happened so far. The answer was, not a great deal. There was no story: just an account of a family’s life at a point which could, I suppose, be called a crisis. I shall finish it, but I’m not aching to get back to it, and I shall certainly have no desire at all to re-read it. Unlike any of the three mentioned above (and just about everything Reginald Hill ever wrote), which matched it blow for blow for character and background, and also told a cracking good tale.

Now, that’s great fiction.