• 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

FAQ: If I Want to Write, Should I Get a Publishing Job?

 N.G. asks a very good question:  if I want to be a writer should I try to get a job in publishing, or avoid the business altogether?

This is a can of worms. Lots of people who go into publishing have the desire to write. Some do. Many don’t. Would they have realized their writing ambitions had they stayed away? We’ll never know.

Also, what branch  of publishing? Clearly, editing is the closest to the writing process, but does that work sap your creative juices most? In my case, I didn’t write for the first twelve years I worked in publishing as I climbed my way up the editorial ladder. I even stopped keeping my diary. It wasn’t a conscious decision; I became completely wrapped up in my authors’ lives and work.

The time factor:  editoral work is extremely time consuming, most reading and editing is done on nights and weekends. It’s almost impossible to write. Also, if you’re struggling with your own work and what you want write, it’s “easy” to get absorbed in someone else’s work and avoid your own. I’ve seen some editors and other publishing people become competitive with their authors. This is the sure sign of a frustrated writer.

One reason to go into publishing is to make connections and see how it’s done. I would have never sold my first book had I not known agents and reviewed hundreds of non-fiction proposals to see how to put them together. 

Ultimately, I think it’s probably better to do something that leaves you more time to write. And, more important, read.  The day you step into a publishing cubicle, your life is consumed with reading a lot of sub-standard material as you comb through stacks of submissions.

When I was an assistant editor at Ballantine, my boss handed off a how-to book for me to edit. The woman barely knew how to string a sentence together. We must have gone through eight drafts and the Dingleberry still didn’t get it. In the end, all that work raised a D- manuscript to a C- book. All editors have zillions of stories like this — it comes with the territory.  But the whole time working with her I remember thinking, I will have read eight drafts of this piece of crap and go to my grave having never read War and Peace.

You know how they say you have to play tennis with someone above your level to improve? I think the same is true with writing. You could be reading slush or you could be reading Tolstoy.

 

Betty

On most Tuesdays, I stay over in the city and do something I haven’t done since college. No, not that. I pull an all-nighter. I fire up the FM radio, put on every light in the place in case there are any ghosts of unhappy clients past roaming around, and whip myself into an organizational frenzy. Yes, I am the person in the office with the label maker — and you know, I still can’t believe it,  NO ONE has ever asked to borrow it. People!

Pencils Down

Going to spend the day working with a writer on her copyedited manuscript. I just want to say for the record that I love the copyediting stage more than any other — it’s the fine tuning and the points of grammar, syntax, tense and word choice that really turn me on. It’s what I miss most about no longer being an editor. The best copy editor I ever worked with is Peg Anderson formerly of Houghton Mifflin. No one could work a blue pencil like Peg.

 

Then meeting a writer for a discussion of  her novel.

Then paying the bills. Party!

Then catching up on everything else I didn’t do today.

Then going to a movie. I will see anything just to escape myself. I mean it.  Any suggestions?

A Horse With No Name

Yesterday, I watched a hawk circle a body of water, and I began to question what I was doing with my life. And then I felt like I was going to cry when I was interrupted by a young couple with a baby in a knapsack on the dad’s back. They were all wearing the same biodegradable sandals.  I hated the lot of them so much I could barely contain myself. 

Which reminded me of other things I hate with a passion:

  • The phrases “back in the day” and “24/7.”
  • Single spaced manuscripts.
  • Any sentence that begins, “To be perfectly honest.”
  • Rejections letters that use “not my cup of tea.”
  • Query letters that refer to “fictional novels.”
  • When an editor sends a rejection letter that ends with: let’s have lunch.
  • Cute fonts.
  • When a writer says they’ve made tons of revisions and they haven’t.
  • A certain someone at William Morris who has not returned my call.
  • The way my mother makes a sour face when you suggest having Japanese food.
  • Not smoking.

Shape Shifters

In the past few days, before the book fair even starts, we have met with publishers, editors, and agents from China, Japan, England, Germany, France, Italy, Netherlands, Spain and Los Angeles. Everyone is looking for one thing: the next Twilight. Makes me wonder, if everyone is looking for the same thing, why can’t they find it?

I have always counseled writers not to look at the bestseller lists for inspiration. I’ve even been condescending to those copycats who ride on the coat tails of others. But it is undeniable that when a book hits big, lots of knock offs follow, some of them extremely good.

Since I’ve been in publishing, people have been searching for the next Perfect Storm which kicked off a renewed interest in outdoor adventure. (I prefer indoor adventure, particularly parlor and bed room adventure.) The next Seabiscuit, the next Angela’s Ashes, the next Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, the next Harry Potter, Tipping Point, Marley, Tuesdays with Morrie, Eat me, Pray, Love, etc. 

I would still prefer to be the agent whose client kicked off the trend. I would still prefer to find my writers under rocks, beside streams, in locked wards, and lost in the stacks of a lonely library. I just would. I’m a stubborn son of a bitch. That said, if you have a werewolf manuscript in a drawer, or can whip up one before the next big thing hits, send it to me. Now.

‘Til Death Do Us Part

Last night went to the much touted Literary Death Match, hosted by none other than our beguiling Erin Hosier and the kinetic Todd Zuniga. All in the service of a literary magazine called Opium. And from what I could gather twenty and thirty somethings hooking up.

Very fun, as you know mother doesn’t get out much. Hilarious “judges.” Four fearless writers, my favorite Rivka Galchen. Can’t tell if she won because there was total mayhem at the end of the death match when the two finalists battled it out in the final round known as  “Poet or Madman.” Never mind the redundancy.

 Bottom line: kids still love literature, still love death, sex, and $1 beer. As the woman at the gym said this morning, praising the joy of a hot shower, Hallelujah. Thank you Jesus.

Gravy

Just got my royalty statement from Penguin. It comes in a large envelope with a window pane. (Cellophane not to be confused with late 70’s acid.)  I still find it miraculous that after nine years the book is still earning a royalty. Not a fortune, mind you. But enough to buy a bracelet and a few qualudes, as a good friend once put it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I want to thank everyone who bought a copy this reporting season. And if you send me your address, I’ll send you an original, authentic pencil from the historic and highly imitated marketing campaign. I know, this blog never stops giving.

I Heard the News Today, Oh Boy

It isn’t every day that a poetry dog fight makes the front pages of the New York Times. Makes me feel proud. Makes me feel alive.

Seems that Ruth Padel, the first woman to be elected to Oxford University’s prestigious chair in poetry, resigned. She admitted to having been part of a smear campaign to discredit her main rival Nobel laureate Derek Walcott, alleging at least two known cases of sexual harassment.

My favorite part of the article relays that British  commentators pointed out the “irony of hounding a distinguished literary figure on the basis of long-ago sexual transgressions when many of Britian’s greatest poets were social or political reprobates, by the standards of modern-day Britain.”

I have a few reactions, only half way through my morning decaf:

  • refreshing that women poets can keep up with the men, scoundrel-wise
  • refreshing to be reminded that most poets, well great poets, are serious shitheads
  • refreshing to be reminded that great poetry doesn’t care who writes it.

As a side note, and as gently pointed out to me by Hamilton Cain,  Carol Ann Duffy did not get the post, but was awarded the highest honor in the land: poet laureate. 

When I was in London last year, I happened upon her book Rapture in a little shop on Charing Cross Road (okay, it was a chain store in Notting Hill).  I read the title poem, the first poem and the last. My usual test for buying a poetry book. I bought it, devoured it, and have reread it a few times. I haven’t been able to find her poems on-line, or I’d link one here. Treat yourself. Anyway, I hope they find some dirt on her soon, like she eats babies for breakfast.

Acquainted with the Night

If you have a chance, read David Orr’s superb reckoning with Frederick Seidel’s poetry in today’s NYTBR. I’m still struggling with the rhyme “china vagina.” But, hey, that’s just me. Though I was happily reminded of a guy in my grad school workshop who rhymed Milton Berle with squirrel.

FAQ-Are Multiple Submissions Kosher?

N.P. from the great state of Long Island asks if it’s okay to make multiple submissions when you are querying agents.

In a word: yes.

Do you have to tell the agents?

In a word: not really. Some writers will divulge that the project is with others. I see this as a courtesy, not a necessity.

What if two or more of the agents are interested? Happy days are here again. At that point you really must inform all of the agents that you have interest. This will accelerate the process, and if possible you should try to meet the interested parties in order to make an informed decision.

Don’t some agents require exclusivity? Sure.

Do I have to honor that? Sort of, but I wouldn’t wait for 4-8 weeks for someone to get back to me. Agents submit almost all of their projects to publishers on multiple submission for a reason. I think writers should enjoy the same benefits: it’s in the interest of time, and could potentially create a competitive situation.

How many agents should a writer go to at one time: I think the magic number is six. If everyone passes, it’s a useful pool from which to draw information. i.e. if you receive all form letters, go back to the drawing board. Close calls mean some tweaking is called for. Invitations to send the material, or see more material, this is a bullseye. Your query letter did the trick. Now, of course, the material has to hold up.

Did I leave anything out? Please ask or let me know where you stand with multiple submissions or your experience with them.