Some irresistible questions from yesterday:
Setting aside the normal caveats–everyone’s different, there’s no one way to write–what do you tell your writers about outlines?
One size does not fit all. Men tend to like outlines. It gives them a false feeling of control. Women like underwires. Personally, I hate reading outlines. Anything that isn’t the writing itself bores me. Oh, they can be useful. I’m more of an index card and bulletin board girl myself. I know a bestselling thriller writer who starts with a 100 page document of pure plot. I tell my writers: do what works for you. Wear pantyhose. Floss. Avoid scallops. I also believe a writer caught without a notebook should be shot.
After a novel tanks, is there anyway to squeeze a few more bucks from it? Can I throw in a few werewolves, search-and-replace the character names, and try to sell it as a new book with a new title? All good ideas. Or, for non-fiction, you can revise and update your book, throw up a blog, whore around writers conferences and squeeze a few more shekels out of it that way.
Barring any contractual language that covers this point, is there any way to get the rights back from the publisher after a book has stopped selling but before it’s officially out of print? I know agents sometimes ask for the rights back, and maybe get them, maybe just foreign, whatever–does it simply depend on the publisher’s mood that morning? I worked for a publisher who wore a mood ring and based all of his editorial decisions on it; first prints and marketing budgets were decided by the eight ball he kept on his desk, and reverting rights were left to the Ouija board.
What’s the downside to changing pseudonyms every three months and selling each book as a ‘debut novel’? (Until one hits the list, of course, and then retroactively claiming all the previous titles.) If you get caught you’ll have to make love with James Patterson and his battery of ghosts (some of whom I hear are quite toned), or enter the writer’s witness protection program which is akin to being a waiter at Breadloaf.
What is the big industry association, the AAP? Do they suck at lobbying? Are they underfunded, idiotic, or just focused on corporate profits instead of the health of the industry? Why do I suspect that that’s a stupid question? The American Academy of Pediatrics is dedicated to the health of all children, even you, our darling August. http://www.aap.org/ Thanks.
Today I want to do something different. Instead of a comment, leave one sentence from something you wrote this week, if you like.
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I’ve always been turned off by people who say they can’t write certain things until their parents die. Does that mean they go around hoping for mom and dad to choke on a pecan at Thanksgiving? I don’t think you can hijack your writing for the sake of people’s feelings. And who are you really protecting? And I’m not just talking about confessional or autobiographical writing. All writing has something at stake, or should, in my humble. You don’t have to engage in character assassination, or pen a Mommy Dearest, but you have to take me there. I want a manuscript to take me somewhere I’ve never been, or somewhere I’ve been a million times and show me something new. I don’t like polite writing, polite conversation, or conversation about weather. I want a writer to be fearless because I’m a pussy.
Hi Betsy,
I think I was in the third grade when my best friend Lisa Zimmerman and I snuck a fat paperback by Harold Robbins from her mom’s room. I had no idea what was going on, but the title was oh so appealing, The Betsy. I think I was in the fifth grade when The Godfather was secretly circulated around my class, with a page number that referenced a hot sex scene between Sonny and a bridesmaid. I was in twelfth grade when I read a book because of the title, A Spy in the House of Love, and decided that I wanted lovers instead of boyfriends. Then Marguerite Duras’ The Lover. Then, the motherlode, Henry Miller. Tropic of fuck me dead.
Word of mouth is the single most powerful selling tool known to man. Studies have shown people trust a personal recommendation over institutional reviews, celebrity testimonials, advertisements, or a guy wearing sandwich boards hanging around the CVS. Now, of course we have e-word of mouth through Face and Twit. Is it the same as your friend raving about The Goon Squad or Jeff Eugenides new novel, or Daniel Craig in chaps in Cowboys and Aliens? How did book groups proliferate? One minute everyone is reading alone in a chair, the next they’re sitting around with a bunch of women drinking Chardonnay in Polartec vests reading Cutting for Stone. How? Word of mouth. Operator. Pollination. Water Cooler. What’s on your Ipod? What are you reading? What have you read? What do you recommend? This is not my beautiful wife.
I was in a mall today with a Borders. Liquidations signs everywhere. 30% off of everything. The shelves were picked over with the exception of twenty or so copies of the Bush autobiography and a ton of Hello Kitty shit. It was all so depressing, and I was never a big fan of Borders. The thing is it looked like more than the death of a store or the second largest bookstore chain. It looked like the end of our industry as we know it. I hated everyone in there pawing over books and bargain shopping. I heard one young guy, hoisting a Tom Clancy, complain about the cost, even with the discount. “This is what is wrong with books,” he said, “I don’t have thirty bucks.” I’ve tried in these posts never to go negative unless it was about myself. I’m not a sky is falling type, and I truly believe that books are superior to any electronic readers, and when the dust settles books will still be there. But right now, it’s difficult, it not near impossible, to feel that books are anything but an endangered species.
Take your time. Take your time is code for: read my pages now. When a writer says read it whenever you get a chance, he means skip your daughter’s wedding and get reading, pal. There is nothing more adorable than a writer pretending to be mellow, cool, chill. Dude, read it whenevs. I’m already working on a new project. I could use a big break so take your time. Take your time is code for: my life is in the balance. Writers have developed all sorts of coping mechanisms to cope with the waiting. Some include: self-flagellation, excessive self-love, massive weight gain, massive weight loss, cleaning and organizing, chopping garlic, and my personal favorite: cutting frayed towels into dust rags.
How many times have I heard a writer say, upon delivering his book, “Be brutally honest.” Really? Wouldn’t honest suffice? I don’t think anyone really wants brutal honesty, especially once they get it. Some editors can take out your molars and you don’t feel any pain, their “brutal” notes couched in kind and supportive suggestions. Other editors can take a single hair from your head and make you feel as if you’ve been scalped, so sharp their hatchets. Do we say be brutally honest because we suspect our reader will otherwise be too gentle or generous with us?
