• Forest for the Trees
  • THE FOREST FOR THE TREES is about writing, publishing and what makes writers tick. This blog is dedicated to the self loathing that afflicts most writers. A community of like-minded malcontents gather here. I post less frequently now, but hopefully with as much vitriol. Please join in! Gluttons for punishment can scroll through the archives.

    If I’ve learned one thing about writers, it’s this: we really are all alone. Thanks for reading. Love, Betsy

You Know Sometimes Words Have Two Meanings

Whenever my mother expressed pride in anything we did, she would immediatly chase away the evil eye lest the wrathful gods punish our hubris. Tonight was the HBO screening of the movie based on Temple Grandin’s life. And I’ve got to say, I was busting with pride. I worked as Temple’s editor on Thinking In Pictures, and continue to serve as her agent.  It was extraordinary to see her life captured so intelligently and emotionally. But it’s Temple the scientist and  Temple the visual thinker who clearly captured the imagination of the writer and director, and together they found a way to portray Temple’s autism without going all Rainman or I am Sam. Instead, it’s her genius you see. It’s her genius I salute. And lucky me, I get to have breakfast with her tomorrow.

You Are Everything and Everything Is You

I've always wanted to be her.

I had the unique pleasure last week of telling a client that we had sold his book. He said, “I’m sure you hear this all the time, but you changed my life.” When I first became an agent and started selling books, I felt as if I were Santa, The Tooth Fairy and a Fairy Godmother all wrapped in one. It wasn’t long before I saw some of those books struggle in the marketplace and sometimes sink without a trace, the writers filled with despair. Even those who succeeded including some bestsellers didn’t necessarily thrive in the wake of their success. In fact, some were entirely crippled by it. (I know, I know.) I went from being Tinkerbelle to an ER nurse.

I too thought publishing a book would change my life, that I would cross over into some magic kingdom, that pounds would shed. I was prey to the same magical thinking and I worked in publishing, saw the shit hit the fan every day. I also thought that I would change my life; I had always promised myself that if I made x amount of money from writing, I would quit the day job and write full time. Didn’t happen. Couldn’t walk away from a career I had built for so long, didn’t have the confidence I would be productive. So, here’s how I look at it now: publishing a book doesn’t change your life so much as creates opportunity. Then it’s up to you.

Did publishing a book change anyone’s life? Good, bad, snuggly?

The Best Things In Life Are Free

Dear Betsy:

Happy new year!

Your suggestions to read Susan Rabiner’s book and to put pen to paper on my
book proposal were both so helpful that I’m hoping you might be willing to
provide more sage advice.

I submitted a proposal to a (Major Trade) Publisher and have recently received a
call from their Editorial Director…. offering me a “competitive” contract
around the end of January.


I’m wondering what you would recommend to me at this point. If all goes
well, I have already secured a publisher and don’t know if I should seek an
agent’s representation. It seems to me that a large part of an agent’s job
is to secure a publisher (?). However, I will need someone to aid me in
negotiating the contract and don’t know if this is something best left to an
agent, or if a lawyer would be sufficient. To be candid, I don’t want to give up 15-20% of my earnings if I
have already done much of the heavy lifting. I also do not want to shoot
myself in the foot by not taking my first book contract very seriously. Any thoughts???


Dear Reader: Congratulations on the offer! You ask a common question: Do I need an agent now that I have an offer? No, there are excellent contracts consultants who will ensure you get a good contract and they work by the hour and cost less than lawyers. Done. Except for the following: an agent would have sent your book to multiple publishers and gotten the most competitive offer, your agent would negotiate the contract, run interference if you have difficulties or disputes with your editor/publisher. The agent should exploit your ancillary rights such as film, audio, serial and foreign. Your agent should be a sounding board for new ideas, help shape proposals, wipe your tears and kick your ass. He should get you, get your work, and help you get what you need. The care and feeding of writers is what agents do — of course, they come in all stripes and perform their duties differently. Is it worth 15%?

[As an aside, the chapter on proposal writing in the Rabiner book is really good. I’ve recommended to lots of writers and they always come back with results. I’d prefer to recommend my own writing book but I don’t have a chapter on the nuts and bolts of proposal writing. My chapters are about mental illness, masturbation, self-promotion and so forth.

People, help me out here: should this writer get an agent?



Money Doesn’t Talk, It Swears

I want to talk about money. Impossible not to quote Samuel Johnson’s, “no man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.”  Friends, I’ve worked with a lot of blockheads. Then there is the new age-y advice to do what you love and the money will follow. If that’s true, then how come no one ever gets paid for eating in front of the tv? Some writers keep their day job and write at dawn. Others forgo regular employment to support their writing, cobbling together a precarious income with no health benefits . It seems to me that whatever you say about money, you must also say something about time.

I doubt I’m alone in saying that getting paid for my two books was the best money I ever made. I would have laminated that first check and put it over the cash register if I had been the proprietor of a diner.

Writing is awesome. Getting paid for writing is ___________________. (fill in the blank)

Do you write for money? If not, what?

Here’s Johnny

Just Kids - Patti Smith - Ecco 1/19/10

NY Times review: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/18/books/18book.html

LA Times feature: http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-ca-patti-smith17-2010jan17,0,2564080.story

NY Post feature: http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/relics_of_punk_poet_a61CPcQkfCcp6IshzkCA8J

Chicago Tribune feature: http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/ct-ae-0117-patti-smith-20100115,0,2094777.story

San Francisco Chronicle lead review: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/01/15/RVQC1BH4ST.DTL

Boston Globe review: http://www.boston.com/ae/books/articles/2010/01/17/patti_smith_recalls_life_with_mapplethorpe_and_atop_new_york_art_scene/

Newsday: http://www.newsday.com/lifestyle/books/just-kids-by-patti-smith-1.1701826

Cleveland Plain Dealer review: http://www.cleveland.com/books/index.ssf/2010/01/in_her_memoir_just_kids_rocker.html

Bookforum.com: http://www.bookforum.com/review/4981

Once Upon a Time You Dressed So Fine

Sales figures. When I was a young editor, a highly regarded literary agent sent me the second novel by a writer whose first I had loved. I was desperate to acquire it, but before my boss had even read a page, he quickly surmised the situation. The novelist’s first work hadn’t sold much and his publisher had passed on the book. He asked me to ask the agent for sales figures. She sneered at my request. I wasn’t allowed to bid on the book. And I never saw another project from the agent.

Fast forward. Today, all sales figures are available to publishers on Bookscan, which tracks approximately 70% of sales. Now, you can no longer fib about how many books you’ve sold the way you might fib about penis size, body weight, or SAT’s

Duh, a good track record is hugely helpful in providing leverage when you’re selling your next book or the one after that. But it’s not everything. I think of bad sales figures as a sand trap. If you can chip your way out  you can stay in the game. The novelist I couldn’t acquire went on to win five literary prizes and was twice a finalist for the National Book Award.

How do you stay in the game, overcome sales figures, demons, financial insecurity, creative ebbs, night terrors?

Deep Inside My Heart I Know I Can’t Escape

Be afraid, be very afraid.

When I was an editor, everyone at the publishing houses feared a few agents, most notably Andrew Wylie who has gone on the record with his disdain for publishers. He was a bully, he didn’t play by the rules (or rather he played by his own rules), and he exacted huge advances for his clients.

In a Vanity Fair article he was quoted as saying, “When I got into the business, I saw that agents had…friends. Their close friends were publishers, and their second closest friends were their clients. Their friendships with certain editors, certain houses were important to protect the longevity of their profit margin…It’s a source of satisfaction…that editors do not recommend us to writers. They say, ‘No, no!” Whatever you do, don’t go with Andrew.’ Well, thank you very much, we’re doing our job.”

I realized then it was better to be feared than loved. Fewer people will attend your funeral, but so what. You’re taking a permanent dirt nap anyway. Unfortunately, I think the only I person I scare is myself.

When I left editorial for the dark side, a fellow editor took me aside and said he thought I was making the right decision, becoming an agent. He had observed that I fought too hard on behalf of the authors, that I didn’t realize who “buttered my bread.” I couldn’t let anything drop. He said I wasn’t a good company girl. I took all these as great compliments, that I was a true champion of writers. Though I also felt vaguely accused of being…immature.

My parents had always accused me of never knowing when to stop, but why should I have stopped begging to go to that Peter Frampton concert? So what if I had a 102 degree fever. Why wouldn’t I want to go to my 34th Grateful Dead Concert? What is enough? I keep pushing because I believe in the these little fuckers known as books. And if they’re worth publishing, it’s worth trying to get it right. In the ten years I’ve been on Andrew Wylie’s side of the fence, however, I still find my stance is more collaborative than confrontational.

That said, I’d like to be feared. I want editors to tremble and publishers to faint. And please, don’t think of me with a referral. For god’s sakes, man, whatever you do, don’t go with Betsy Lerner.

Let’s Not Do Lunch

May I please have the dressing on the side?

I want to write about a strange publishing phenomenon which I call phantom lunch or faux lunch. This is where a lunch invitation is extended that will never materialize. Or when you actually have a date but then start canceling and rescheduling, knowing that you will never actually sit across a table from this person and stuff a California roll down your gullet.

The faux invitation: we’ve all been there when you are the recipient of a vague invitation, an email, say, that ends with a p.s. let’s do lunch. If it isn’t followed with some possible dates to actually have lunch, then it’s a faux. An empty gesture. Don’t be fooled. It doesn’t mean let’s have lunch; it means let’s not have lunch and say we did. Or, in a perfect world, we might be cooking raw beef over a Korean b-b-q, but we’re not. Or, I’m vaguely interested in you and haven’t totally written you off, but that doesn’t mean I’m prepared to sit for an hour and a half and watch you scarf the chicken paillard at Molyvos.

Then there’s the cancel/reschedule dance. Big show of being sorry about rescheduling. No, no, no, I totally understand. Your next free date is months from now. Then that gets bumped. Then the next. It’s one thing and another: author in town, editing a crash book, sales conference, yeast infection, family brutally murdered by random attacker. Oh god, I hate when that happens. Well, don’t worry, we’ll reschedule when you’re back in the office. No worries. Well, my friend, highly fucking likely that you’ll be enjoying the roasted cod with fingerling potatoes at Balthazar. Your lunch date ain’t happening. Trust me on that.

Seven Habits of Highly Successful Writers

I forgot all about my “ask a question” gmail account, so without further delay (and questions always welcome):
Hi there
I have just started following your blog.
I am in the process of writing a synopsis for a novel which I need to get finished by 28th February. I would love some hints and tips.
Many thanks

Dear Reader: I know agents differ on the matter of the synopsis and its importance, but I’ve always hated their skinny asses. With fiction, it’s all in the execution, so what can a synopsis tell you? A brilliant one line description is worth gold, as far as I’m concerned. If a writer sends me a synopsis and a few chapters, I just read a few pages of the novel itself and see if the writing interests me. The synopsis is of no use to me. Unless I forgot my sleeping pills.
But why are you writing a synopsis on a deadline? Is this a self-imposed deadline (which I am in favor of)? Has an agent asked for one? If you’re determined to write this god damn synopsis, I would keep the following in mind: speak to the themes more than the plot details. Describe just the two or three most important characters. Pepper the motherfucker with rhetorical questions, i.e. What happens when a brilliant literary agent and blogger falls desperately in love with one of her readers?  Most helpful, go to publishers’ websites and read the copy they squirrel together for their authors. You’ll learn a lot.
Now, for some real tips for writers:
  1. Wash your specs with warm soapy water and dry with a cloth
  2. Floss twice a day.
  3. It is NEVER too late to thank your agent/editor with fruit or flowers
  4. Look up words you don’t know.
  5. Go to at least one reading a month (and buy the book)
  6. Read a poem a day.
  7. Write

In My Own Little Corner, In My Own Little Chair

Dear Diary,

I remember when I was a little girl dreaming of what it might be like someday to be a literary agent. And I thought it would be just like tonight: hobnobbing at a gallery opening, being whisked off to dinner to a private room in a five star restaurant, the table filled with rock stars, clothing designers, photographers, producers, heirs to fortunes, and hedge fund managers. The conversation ranging from real estate to bestiality, Avatar to frequent flier mileage.

And I always imagined that when the night was over and my yellow pumpkin had delivered me to my office, I would be back amid the piles of manuscripts, letters, and contracts. And that into the late, quiet night, I would write my long editorial letters. And that I would grow old among books and writers. And that I would be happy.

Love, Betsy