Posted on February 7, 2017 by betsylerner
It’s elusive even to me sometimes and that’s with thirty years of working in publishing as an editor, agent and writer. I think it’s because what makes books good is so subjective. You can look at the bestseller list and think it’s all crap. You can read the National Book Award winner and think the emperor has no clothes. When I started as an agent, I sold two novels. One went for a pittance and the other for a small fortune. It made no sense to me whatsoever, especially since I thought the reverse would happen. How does it work?
What do you want to know?
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Posted on February 6, 2017 by betsylerner
Amazon rankings. Number of comments. Sales figures. Facebook friends. Twitter followers. Salary. Penis size. Portfolio. The Scale. Bank account. Square feet. Bestseller lists. No one ever asks how many doors you help open for other people, how many times you gave up a seat on the subway or helped a woman with a baby carriage up the stairs. At some point you have stop checking the rankings or you’ll go insane. Some of my clients start every phone call with a report on their rankings. It’s impossible not to check the Bestseller list if you have a client with a book on it. And as it goes up and down so goes the mood of the nation. People like to say that numbers don’t matter. Of course they matter.
What else matters?
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Posted on February 5, 2017 by betsylerner

I’m not exactly a football person, but I got a little caught up tonight. Even though I’m from New England, I wanted the Atlanta team because they were the underdogs. But the moment they started shellacking the Patriots and they became the underdogs, I wanted The Patriots to win. I will always root for the underdog.
A few years ago, I was having with lunch with a publisher when he made the observation that he liked winners and I liked losers. I think it’s more that I don’t trust winners. What is a winner anyway? It is true that I’ve taken in my share of broken birds, but I never saw them as losers. They were always beautiful to me.
Who do you root for?
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Posted on February 5, 2017 by betsylerner

I started a new project yesterday.I’ve been thinking about it for six or seven years on and off. I’ve had the title and not much more than that. By start, I mean I wrote two pages and made a new file on my desktop so it will stare me in the face whenever I open my laptop. I won’t say much more because I am extremely superstitious. In fact, I’ve said too much.
How often do you start a new writing project?
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Posted on February 2, 2017 by betsylerner

What makes you buy a book? The title, the jacket art, the author, the blurbs, the author photo, the first sentence, first paragraph, last line? Do you read a review, see something on Facebook, see the author on Trevor Noah, or hear about it from a friend, your book club, Goodreads, word of mouth.
What gets you?
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Posted on February 1, 2017 by betsylerner

I’ve been in NYC the last few days doing the agenting thing, by which I mean glamorous parties, auctions, meetings with Polish agents who still smoke and have alluring eyebrows. Or, to be more accurate, sitting at my desk eating a do I dare peach Chobani yogurt, being put on hold for an hour and forty minutes with Verizon, paying the bills, and packing up my manuscript bag with over 500 pages of paper that all say the same thing: read me first. Not complaining, just saying.
What’s your work day? Like the not writing part?
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Posted on January 30, 2017 by betsylerner

I received an email tonight from a woman who is hosting her book club and they are reading…The Bridge Ladies. To get in the spirit, she is taking out the china and silver. You guys know that very little makes me happy, and the happier something makes me the sadder I feel, but all that aside, I’m truly tickled to have heard from this woman in Atlanta. Atlanta! I’ve heard from other folks hosting books clubs. I’ve even been invited to a few (one was all Canadians)! And I’ve been invited to Bridge Clubs where I do a little reading and then we break out the cards. I try to act like whatever, but I admit it: I’m happy to hear from people who like the fucker.
What’s the nicest thing you’ve ever heard in relation to your writing?
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Posted on January 26, 2017 by betsylerner

I met with six writers and talked about who they are, why they write, and what their work feels like. We looked at twenty pages and found some themes, some clunkers, some wonderful adjectives and transitions, some bloat, some moments of truth, some wit, and some duck duck goose. I wondered what they did after our meetings. Starbucks? Laptop? The Affair? I wondered what it meant. I thought about my hideous graduate school days, depression in full force. Dancing on the line. Did anyone ask me? Did I tell anyone? I loved these students for their life. Their sweet life. One young man wore three necklaces strung on lengths of leather. Totems from another life, a feather from India made of bone. I fell back in love with the writing life.
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Posted on January 26, 2017 by betsylerner

Just finished my last reading on this mini-tour. I finally caved and got a Kit Kat. I’m crashing. It’s hard not to hate on myself. In fact, the better I do, the more I hate. It’s just an old song, a sad reflex, a folie a deux between me and myself. And it’s not all that bad either, just a familiar old friend showing up when you least need it. No mini bar. MSNBC 24/7. A young woman asked why I went into publishing instead of becoming a writer. Why did I become a bicycle instead of a fish? I have to get out of this dress.
How am I doing?
I need to get out of this dress.
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Posted on January 25, 2017 by betsylerner
Today was a double-header. A reading in the morning and the evening. That’s a lot of Bridge and Betsy. I’m chillin’ now with MSNBC in an overly warm hotel room in Fort Lauderdale. No mini bar. I love the ladies who turn out for these events. They’re major readers and book buyers. It’s easy to make them laugh. They come with their stories of daughters who don’t talk to them, mothers who criticized.They ask a lot of the same questions: what does my mother think; has my daughter read the book, how long did it take to write? Are you working something else? Tonight a first: a fan gave me doobie!!! My mother was not amused.
What did your mother do to you?
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