Betsy Lerner

You either gonna be rich or famous fuckin wit me, probably both.

Posted on March 23, 2010 by betsylerner

Hi Betsy:

First of all, Jesus I love your blog. I love your book, I love your twitter and I love your taste in music. Had there been a jdate for agents and authors, I feel certain we would’ve been together now and forever [Doubtful, like many self hating Jews, I never date tribe members.](I adore my agent, btw, but she lacks most of your endearing neuroses). [Then what does she have to offer??]

Here’s the deal: my narrative nonfiction book is coming out in the fall. [far-fucking-out-that’s great.] I am giddy, excited, nervous, schpilkes–[I am against random y-dropping] the whole thing. It’s great. Obviously I would like for it to do well. [I trust “well” means off the charts successful] I need for it to do well. So what am I doing to help make that happen? I blog, I tweet, I give lectures when asked and sometimes when not asked. I plan on hiring a publicist. I’m not on facebook yet but my resistance is weakening. The thing is, Twitter often feels to me like an icepick in the forehead (your feed is a notable exception). [No argument there.]There’s so much stuff whizzing by; I always feel bombarded and overwhelmed. When I’m not checking it I worry that I’m missing stuff. When I am checking it, I worry because the Important Lit Blogger has ignored my personal tweets, so and so thinks I’m wrong about the existence of God or the price of fish, and all the Super Important Shit I Need to Say requires, like, at least 147 characters. And even when it doesn’t, it feels like I’m pissing in the ocean. I fear that when I finally succumb, Facebook will be even worse. [Did you leave your Ritalin at my house last week? I thought it was you.]

And I don’t have an author website. Do I need one? Can’t I just append my Amazon link to my blog? Hand out flyers on the street? [How about a sandwich board?]I am reluctant to drop $5000 on yet one more thing that requires frantic major screen-time and curation but whose future seems uncertain.

Please understand: this is not about shyness. I am self-hating, sure, but I’m also a narcissist and a shameless self-promoter. [Yeah, yeah.]I really do want the book to succeed. I just wonder if an author has to avail herself of every single social networking tool available to her. Does she have to be ubiquitous? What say you? [As I say in MY FORTHCOMING revision of Forest for the Trees, you don’t need to slap pasties on your tits and dance around a pole to get attention, BUT publishers are expecting authors to be building an audience one way or another. It takes time to build an on-line community just as it does any sort of following such as popular classes, a newspaper readership, radio listenership, etc. If your non-fiction book has a niche market, I would figure out as many ways to reach that market as possible whether it’s through the internet, universities, clubs, religious organizations, etc. Most publishers will cover you on the general publicity push, but you need to reach your niche. As for all the frenzy around websites, blogs, facebook and twitter — if you do one really well, you’re ahead of the game. You also don’t need to spend 5k on a website. If people can reach you through your blog, then you’re covered. Figure out what you’re trying to accomplish and use the best social networking tool to reach the widest audience. And that is my advice. Love, Betsy]

Sincerely,

In Tweetment [Ha ha, I get it.]

Filed under: On-line, Publicity | 19 Comments »

There’s Flies In the Kitchen

Posted on March 21, 2010 by betsylerner

In Miami over the weekend, I got together with Campbell McGrath. Campbell and I were in the same MFA program. The only difference is that when we attended, I was an amoeba and Campbell was a complex organism, at least where language was concerned. The guy was writing circles over everyone’s heads whether we wanted to admit it or not. Shortly after he graduated, his first book, Capitalism, was published. Over the years, he has produced eight volumes, a series of arresting and beautiful books.

I felt tremendous nostalgia visiting with him, Liz and their two awesome sons. Had it really been twenty five years ago since he casually sauntered around Dodge Hall, ripped bandanas tied around his wrist. Since we first witnessed the poems that would comprise his first book. Twenty five years since I took writing more seriously than anything else in the whole world. Twenty five years since I had no idea how things would turn out. For Campbell, there was clearly only one way. For me, well let’s just say my portfolio was more diversified.

I’m not going to pretend that I’m not in awe of that kind of resolve, intensity, passion, calling, instinct, single-mindedness, thrall, vision, what have you. People, when they find out I have an MFA in poetry, often ask why I stopped writing. The answer: because I did. I didn’t plan to, I didn’t expect to. If you told me then that I would have quit, I would have begged to differ. But I did. I stopped working at them, or I worked at it but didn’t get better or find satisfaction. And eventually I gave up. Don’t cry for me, Argentina.

What have you given up?

Filed under: Authors, MFA, Poetry | 31 Comments »

The Best Things In Life Are Free

Posted on March 18, 2010 by betsylerner

Last week a non-fiction proposal sold for a small fortune. Everyone was talking about it for a few days, the manuscript electronically zinging all over town. I wondered what would stop someone from publishing it electronically? It made me think of my first bootleg album, Patti Smith, of course. I loved how illicit it felt, the raw production values, the cheap cardboard sleeve it came in. Of course, it never occurred to me then that she was being cheated of her fair share of royalty. Now that I’m an agent I think about these things, especially as books are next.

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.

Who will your book appeal to? Does it touch a nerve?

Filed under: Authors, Publishing, Writing | 46 Comments »

You Don’t Know What You Got Til’ It’s Gone

Posted on March 16, 2010 by betsylerner

I’m the middle of three girls. My two sisters have blonde hair and blue eyes. I don’t. They used to call me Jan Brady after the Brady Bunch episode where Jan gets a brunette wig to differentiate herself from Marcia and Cindy. I think the psychological term is “individuate.”

Anyway, I always felt like the son in the family as growing up I was closest to my dad. He owned a lumber yard and he very much wanted me to work with him. But Dad, I cried, I don’t care about lumber. It’s not about lumber, he used to say, it’s about people. But Dad, I cried, I don’t care about people, I care about books. When I eventually made it into publishing, my father was extremely proud and would show anyone who came to our house where my name was listed in the acknowledgments of a book. It was mortifying, of course, and I believe it explains in part why people stopped coming to our house.

My dad eventually sold his business. There’s a CVS where the yard used to be.

What were you supposed to be when/if you grew up?

Filed under: The End of the World as We Know It | 37 Comments »

Let’s Admit We Made a Mistake, But Can’t We Still Be Friends?

Posted on March 15, 2010 by betsylerner

Breaking up with clients, getting broken up with, none of it is easy. Egos wounded, hearts broken, tongues wagging, reputations flagging. Even when someone you hate fires you, it stings. Not that I would know. Even when you fire someone, you feel fucking awful. Especially when their next book goes on to sell for millions. But awful, too, if they don’t find a new agent. If they are, in publishing terms, homeless. Most people are pretty bad at parting company, even if both acknowledge that it’s better this way. Even if the writer desperately needs to be seen in a new light. Or if the agent no longer knows how to advance his or her career. Where are the boundaries?

Where are the boundaries after you’ve worked on five books with a writer, went to his mother’s funeral, lent him money for rehab, emailed every day during a six month depression, how do you say: it’s just business when it’s no longer working?

Is this messy business of writing and passion and rejection and ego and wit and fear and posturing and hoping and bluffing and talent and belief and love — is it ever “just business?”

Tell me, what is just business?

Filed under: Agent, Authors | 24 Comments »

If You Liked It Then You Shoulda Put a Ring On It

Posted on March 14, 2010 by betsylerner

Dear Betsy,

I was fortunate to have a friend recommend me to her agent. Said agent is on my A-list. A-list agent and I exchanged pleasantries via email, and she invited me to send my manuscript, which had won two substantial novel-in-progress awards in 2009. In October 2009, I mailed the ms. Soon after that, I received an extremely generous critique from another agent who loved the work but felt she couldn’t take it on “at this time.” With that agent’s suggestions in mind, I did a substantial revision and feel that the novel is much improved. Of course, I will ask agent #2 if I can resubmit to her. Meanwhile, I haven’t heard back from A-list agent. It’s been four months. I would love to send her my revision, but I don’t want to annoy her. It is possible that she hasn’t seen my original version. What is the protocol? Ask if she’ll accept a revision? Wait for her to respond to the ms I already sent?

Thank you for any suggestions. I love your blog.

“Wife Number Three”

Dear Three:

This is classic. Classic! Though a little confusing. Usually when an agent says she can’t take on something “at this time” it means NEVER. It means not now, not ever, which spells never. “At this time” is like a guy who doesn’t call back after you fuck him. If he doesn’t call the next day or the day after, will he ever call back? Highly fucking unlikely. Maybe a few months later in the middle of the night when he’s drunk. Maybe. That said, this little minx gave you substantial notes. You don’t give substantial notes unless you would like another role in the hay. So, sure, send it again.

A-list agent has not read your book. No agent reads a manuscript, wants to take it on, and sits on it. A-list agent may have started it, didn’t get into it, put it aside, knew she should give it more time because of the friend connection, but as time passed it became increasingly difficult to revisit . Why? Think of all the books you’ve started, left on your side table, mean to get back to…same thing. Send her the revision. If she hasn’t read, good. If scenario two is to blame, then this gives her a fresh start.

It’s so hard to apply common sense where your writing is concerned. Every action or inaction feels loaded. You can scrutinize this shit to death. It just took me a month to send my screenplay out to someone who INVITED me to send it. I’m no different when it comes to sending out work. I’d rather chew off my arm.

Any missing limbs out there?

Filed under: Agent, FAQ, Protocol | 8 Comments »

I’m Singing In the Rain

Posted on March 11, 2010 by betsylerner

Dear Betsy,

Honestly, how important (or not) is it for a writer to have a blog? I started one over a year ago to try and promote my work, but I decided to stop for a number of reasons, at the top of the list that I wasn’t updating it every day. I write longer pieces, and I felt that my audience (barring 37 friends) wanted shorter. I also began to feel like a hack; I don’t read blogs (except yours and those of a few foodies), I read books. I write books, and I hope they will be published. Have I squelched my chances by removing myself from the cybersphere?

Your Fan,

P.S. I also hate Facebook.

Dear To Blog or Not to Blog:

You shouldn’t blog. You tried it, like you might try sweet and sour soup, or snowboarding, or tinting your eyelashes and you determined that it wasn’t for you. It’s not a crime not to blog. It’s tempting in this rapidly changing world to think you have to cover all the bases: website, blog, facebook, tweet, and god only knows what’s coming down the pike. Some people are not temperamentally cut out for it. I think Robert Lowell would have blogged, not so Elizabeth Bishop. Walt Whitman and Alan Ginsberg would have blogged; Emily Dickinson might have tweeted. Sylvia Plath would have blogged. Anne Sexton would have been all over Facebook.

Some writers have made tremendous use of the web to promote their work. I think the best example is Chuck Palahnuik. Not that he needs my plug. His site, aka The Cult, is pretty amazing with forums, writers workshop, galleries, chat rooms and a store! If anyone wants to know what to get me for any occasion, I really like the t-shirts.

Look, it’s certainly an advantage if you have a huge presence on the web, especially if you are starting out and want to show a publisher that you have a following, a platform to use their word. Of course it is. But you can’t make yourself someone you’re not. As far as I can tell, Alice Munro, Jhumpa Lahiri, and Lorrie Moore don’t blog.

What do you think out there? How important is it to B-L-O-G?

Filed under: Media, The End of the World as We Know It | 34 Comments »

They Call Me Her

Posted on March 10, 2010 by betsylerner

Have you ever met a couple who are about to have a baby and haven’t yet picked out the name, claiming they can’t give the kid a name until they see it? You know, he may not look like a Bobby or Billy. He might be a Preston or a Chandler. Personally, I don’t get it. A newborn basically looks like Mr. Potato Head without the mustache. But whatever it is these parents think they are seeing before they brand their infant forever is akin to work of a novelist trying to name his main characters. You have to know something about your character before you can give him a name.

When I think about some of my favorite names from fiction, it’s pretty clear why they work. The names themselves hold a key to the character’s identity: Dick Diver, Augie March, Jo March, John Self, Oscar Wao, Mrs. Dalloway, Hazel Motes, Esther Greenwood, Lily Bart, Rabbit Angstrom, Nathan Zuckerman, Anna Karenina. They are memorable. How they sound, what they mean, imply, or infer. What is in a name? Everything.

How do you come up with names for your characters. What makes a name memorable? What are you favorite names?

Filed under: Books, Writing | 23 Comments »

Infinite Jest

Posted on March 9, 2010 by betsylerner

I know I was going to write about writing all week, but I have to share this link to the David Foster Wallace’s papers which were just acquired by the Harry Ransom Center of the University of Texas at Austin. I know it’s good that these papers are now part of an estimable collection, and that researchers and scholars have access to them. But if you just look at the few examples that are shown in the release, tell me if your heart doesn’t break. What can be more private, more intimate than the notes a man jots in the margins of his books, the words he circles in a dictionary? It’s strange, but I don’t have the same feeling about diaries; I think most writers hope that someday they are found and read. It’s as if they are written for an imaginary audience even if unconsciously. But there is something different about the papers — the manic marginalia, notes scrawled on every space of an inside jacket, drafts revised within an inch of their lives — this all feels too close. When a writer leaves behind a book, he has signed off on it. But the notes he leaves in the margins are a trail of brilliant crumbs. They are a living conversation. If you have moment, look through the pages the museum has displayed. I can’t think of anything more beautiful than a writer so deeply engaged in his work. I could weep.

Filed under: Authors | 8 Comments »

You Only Make a First Impression Once

Posted on March 8, 2010 by betsylerner

Ford Madox Ford

I want to do something crazy different this week. I want to talk about writing. I want to focus on a different aspect of writing every day. Tonight, I want to talk about first lines. Openers. Your first move. Is it confident, timid, arresting, digressive? Is is mysterious, challenging, indulgent, or tricky? Are you introducing a person, place or thing? Is our narrator instantly known, or shadowy. What’s the tense? Who’s speaking? Is there a hook? Is the language surprising, does it foretell the end? Here are some first lines.

From Crying of Lot 49:

Thomas Pynchon

One summer afternoon Mrs Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed executrix, of the estate of one Pierce Inverarity, a California real estate mogul who had once lost two million dollars in his spare time but still had assets numerous and tangled enough to make the job of sorting it all out more than honorary.

D.H. Lawrence

From Lady Chatterley’s Lover:

Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically,

From The Good Soldier:

This is the saddest story I have ever heard.

Which opening line would you vote for and why? For me, it’s the Ford. I love the first person. I love how direct and simple it seems, while at the same time I feel a story of great complexity coming on. I like the use of present tense; it makes the sentence very immediate, though the next sentence will shift easily into past. Also, I live for sad stories. My uncle once asked me why I didn’t like happy stories and I said because I didn’t believe they were true. It’s not a world view for everyone, but it’s mine.

Filed under: Writing | 23 Comments »

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