Yes, I am aware that the Book Expo is on. Do I care? Yes and no. When I was a little girl, my dad took me to lumber trade shows and I loved them. Especially the displays of knobs and pulls, hundreds of them. Racing down the aisles in search of candy and any free crap we could get our hands on like levelers and mini tool boxes (which I still have).
I hear things are heating up at the Javitz Center with dog fights breaking out over e-book royalties, the undead everywhere, and Barbra Streisand as the big draw with her book about her “passion” for design, which is a euphemism for control which is about how no matter what she achieves her mother will never be impressed. (Anyone else belong to that club?)
I understand that there will be fewer giveaways, fewer galleys, and t-shirts, and tote bags. Fare thee well swag! Fare thee well bowls of candy for grubby hands! When I was younger, the best part of the fair was scoring free galleys of favorite writers, sometimes getting them signed. Going to parties at night and sleeping with Knopf writers. (You know who you are.) Ha ha. The best part for me was scouring the small presses and university presses, such cool shit. Just soaking it all in, each publisher’s booth with its glossy blown up jackets. Watching people in meetings talk like squirels with their mouths full of nuts.
Do I care about BEA? Yes and no. It seems like more dancing on the Titanic. Earlier today when I looked up above the convention center I saw something quite extraordinary: our beloved books getting in formation and flying away high above the Javitz Center, above the sad fray.
I’m glad I got to do this with my life. Lucky.
Filed under: Publishing, The End of the World as We Know It | 23 Comments »
If you want excellent advice on how to write a pitch letter, go to 
I’ve known authors over the years who balk at boiling down their book to a few sentences. “I”m not good at it,” they cry. I’m sympathetic; it’s extremely difficult to do, and may be impossible when you are in the middle of it. It takes time to figure out what a book is really about, as they are often about so many things. But it’s critical if you want to hook someone. Just imagine yourself at a party. You discover someone writes. You ask, what is your book about? They reply with a five minute plot description. I would guess that by the end of thirty seconds you find yourself wishing you were never born. Now imagine the writer responding, “It’s about a woman who kills her therapist.”
I’ve been whining for a while about being stuck with my writing. Pathetic. Finally, had a breakthrough over the last week (or maybe it’s my meds talking), but I feel that I’ve taken the project a few big steps forward. Mother may I? Yes, you may. And in the middle of all this new writing came the title for the screenplay as if on a silver platter with a great roast upon it. The title not only galvanized me into figuring out what the motherfucker is really about, but it also suggested a new structure, which is like getting a new engine in a car.
Dear Betsy,
What made this particular book so hotly contested? It’s controversial, for starters. Exhibitionistic even. And the idea at the heart of it is something that people are both curious about and invested in. The author also has what’s known as an impressive pedigree. But it’s more than that: whether or not you like what he has to say, he touches a chord. You have to touch a chord. Unfortunately for me, whenever I think of touching a chord, the next thing I think about is touching the third rail.
Fast forward. Today, all sales figures are available to publishers on 
Betsy Lerner 