Sales of CROSLEY: Two Brothers and a Business Empire that Transformed the Nation have topped 48,000. If you're curious about how the book was promoted, and the special geographic pattern of sales, have a look at this story in Publishers Weekly.
This comes after CROSLEY made the New York Times extended bestseller list, as well as the Wall Street Journal and Business Week lists.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
Books about Writing, for Writers
The header says "Books for Writers," but note that this post isn't about books on writing how-to and technique. Rather, the following are books that will expand your knowledge of both the writing process and the publishing business.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
- Another Life: A Memoir of Other People, by Michael Korda (Random House, 1999). Here's an excellent and entertaining guide to how the book publishing industry works.
- Hitchhiker: A Biography of Douglas Adams, by M.J. Simpson (Justin, Charles & Co., 2005). If you have trouble finishing (or starting) a manuscript, don't panic! Adams suffered from the same problems as you do.
- Education of a Wandering Man, by Louis L'Amour (Bantam Books, 1990 Reissue). This is as close to an autobiography as L'Amour ever wrote. It provides an inside look at the writer's mind, and how he folded life experience into short stories and novels.
- How to Be Your Own Literary Agent: The Business of Getting a Book Published, Revised edition, by Richard Curtis (Houghton-Mifflin, 2003). Pretty much everything you need to know about the business end of writing books.
- Ian Fleming: The Man Behind James Bond, by Andrew Lycett . This is an interesting biography on its own, with the bonus of covering a lot of the ins and outs of Fleming's literary dealings. You learn how Fleming got his books into print, how he promoted them, and even how much specific books earned.
- Sometimes the Magic Works: Lessons from a Writing Life, by Terry Brooks (Del Rey, 2004). An interesting mix of autobiography, writing business and how-to, and fantasy.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
LitChick: Crosley book just won't quit
As of February 12, CROSLEY is on the Business Week hardcover bestseller list.
Sara Pearce, Cincinnati's LitChick, says: "Crosley book just won't quit!"
Sara Pearce, Cincinnati's LitChick, says: "Crosley book just won't quit!"
Friday, February 02, 2007
Newspaper book blogging ...
Here's something we don't see enough of: a dedicated book blog in a newspaper. Cincinnati's LitChick, Enquirer veteran Sara Pearce, provides some of the most comprehensive coverage of new books available. It's all from the reader's viewpoint, with lots of interesting background details on authors, publishers, and the books themselves. Regional and national.
Sara is currently running a poll as to which character readers think will die in the next (and final) Harry Potter book. Have a look, at:
LitChick: Hmm ... who do you think will die?
Check out some of the other features, too!
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Sara is currently running a poll as to which character readers think will die in the next (and final) Harry Potter book. Have a look, at:
LitChick: Hmm ... who do you think will die?
Check out some of the other features, too!
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Fame?
The more famous you are, the less you act it. The more famous you THINK you are, the more you act a fool about it.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
CROSLEY Continues to Score
CROSLEY: Two Brothers and a Business Empire that Transformed the Nation continues to pop up on various bestseller lists. It's currently No. 6 on Barnes & Noble's list of bestselling business books, and has made the Wall Street Journal's hardcover business book list, as well as the New York Times extended bestseller list (twice).
Not bad for a book in its third month of life.
I'm presently working on follow-up books for the same audience. These are narrative nonfiction books that examine some fascinating business, personal, and technological subjects in the same way CROSLEY does.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Not bad for a book in its third month of life.
I'm presently working on follow-up books for the same audience. These are narrative nonfiction books that examine some fascinating business, personal, and technological subjects in the same way CROSLEY does.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Another Problem with Ebooks ...
When Ebooks are all we have (as enthusiasts predict will "someday" be the situation), what will authors autograph?
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Google, the McCartney Effect, and Writers
What's up with Google? Famous for searching, the company has moved into advertising, E-mail, and other Web ventures. Why? It's almost as if McDonald's started building houses, simply because it has the money.
What I think it happening is this: Having reached the summit and finding it can go no higher, Google hopes to duplicate the exhilaration of its original run-up to success by engaging in new projects. It’s not about the money; it’s about the magic.
But the magic isn’t there, thanks to what I call “The McCartney Effect.”
Paul McCartney has worked to recapture the magic of the Beatles’ early days since he wrote “Get Back.” But those days cannot live again because the uncertainty, anticipation, and risk are gone. That’s the McCartney Effect: You can’t undo the legacy of success.
Succeed or fail, Google trying new Web ventures is like Paul McCartney organizing new bands, making movies, writing opera and so on. He’s still McCartney, and Google is still Google. Neither will ever “get back.”
This is not uncommon in pop music or other facets of the entertainment industry, where few people every really drop out and disappear to the extent that they must truly start over as an unknown. When a person or organization reaches a certain level of fame, it is impossible to subtract that fame.
More examples: Chuck Berry returning from infamy and prison, or Willy Nelson coming back after being wiped out by the IRS. No problem! No risks or uncertainties. Each had his fame behind him--fame and images that obviously could not be taken away.
The effect doesn't seem to carry over to writers, though. Once a writer slips away from reader consciousness, making a comeback is like starting over. And if a writer tries a new endeavor, the fame and image don't seem to carry over--unlike, say, an actress becoming a singer, or vice-versa.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
What I think it happening is this: Having reached the summit and finding it can go no higher, Google hopes to duplicate the exhilaration of its original run-up to success by engaging in new projects. It’s not about the money; it’s about the magic.
But the magic isn’t there, thanks to what I call “The McCartney Effect.”
Paul McCartney has worked to recapture the magic of the Beatles’ early days since he wrote “Get Back.” But those days cannot live again because the uncertainty, anticipation, and risk are gone. That’s the McCartney Effect: You can’t undo the legacy of success.
Succeed or fail, Google trying new Web ventures is like Paul McCartney organizing new bands, making movies, writing opera and so on. He’s still McCartney, and Google is still Google. Neither will ever “get back.”
This is not uncommon in pop music or other facets of the entertainment industry, where few people every really drop out and disappear to the extent that they must truly start over as an unknown. When a person or organization reaches a certain level of fame, it is impossible to subtract that fame.
More examples: Chuck Berry returning from infamy and prison, or Willy Nelson coming back after being wiped out by the IRS. No problem! No risks or uncertainties. Each had his fame behind him--fame and images that obviously could not be taken away.
The effect doesn't seem to carry over to writers, though. Once a writer slips away from reader consciousness, making a comeback is like starting over. And if a writer tries a new endeavor, the fame and image don't seem to carry over--unlike, say, an actress becoming a singer, or vice-versa.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
Friday, January 19, 2007
How I Got Started Writing, Part II
In early 1960s I started paying attention to the “About the Author” blurbs on book flaps and noticed an interesting common thread. Most writers seemed to have spent their pre-writing lives working at jobs involving manual labor at poverty wages in unidentified but possibly exotic locations, rather like Bob Dylan’s early self-portrayals.
This left my young self with the impression that one had to live in poverty and work a lot of boring jobs before becoming a writer. Which begged the question: Did holding mindless, low-paying jobs make you want to write, or were writers incapable of holding a job? Not that I was thinking of becoming a writer. But some writers made such an impression on me that I was inspired to learn who these people were.
Ten years later, at the age of 20, I found myself working on the assembly line at a GM plant. I was taking evening classes at the University of Cincinnati, driven by a fuzzy idea of becoming an engineer. I had no idea of writing for a living, or writing very much at all beyond the occasional newspaper piece.
If it hadn’t been for the high pay and great benefits, I wouldn’t have stayed at the job long. The work was physically demanding and deadly boring--circumstances that drove some to seek relief in alcohol and drugs on the job. Others, high-seniority men who had the easier jobs, operated small businesses that fed on the boredom. They sold pot, pints of whiskey, pocket knives, and a wide variety of other merchandise that they hand-delivered to customers the line. One such entrepreneur not only sold whiskey but also managed a pornographic book-of-the-week club. Peter Lorre rented out 120-page paperback novels for twenty-five cents a day. (No, it wasn't the real Peter Lorre, but this guy could have been his twin.) For the less literate, Mr. Lorre offered a selection of porno picture books at slightly higher prices.
Although I was bored, getting drunk or stoned didn’t appeal to me, and reading porno novels seemed pointless. But that gave me an idea. Each day I took a book to work with me, mostly science fiction or mystery, though I alternated my reading with textbooks. I managed to read a book a day for most of a year, stealing glances at pages as I waited for the next car on the line to roll up, or during the rare 8- or 10-minute period of freedom I could create by working back the line.
It was a desperate existence, however well-paid. But in the summer of 1971 a slump in the new-car market brought sudden relief. The plant cut an entire shift and I was laid off. No worries, though: I had worked on that line for over a year (minus a couple of months on strike), and under the terms of the union contract I would receive 95 percent of my regular pay every week for six months. Plus medical benefits.
The only requirement was that I apply for a job at least once a week, and report that to the state unemployment bureau. There was a Catch-22 in my favor: I didn’t have to accept a job that paid less than what I was already receiving. As you probably know, the take-home pay of auto workers was huge—almost university vice-president level. When you’re 20 years old and unskilled who else is going to hire you at six times the minimum wage?
Right. There I was, my life completely subsidized. I was a new father, which took up some time, but I was mostly bored. It was a less-antagonizing boredom than standing on the assembly line, but boring enough. Getting another job was out; I’d seen co-workers try that, get caught, and lose the free ride. Going into fulltime party mode wasn’t for me. But I couldn’t just do nothing. More than that, I felt moved to do something worthwhile.
I had no hobbies at the time. I tried volunteering for community organizations, but the opportunities were limited. So I continued writing newspaper stories, for which I was actually paid from time to time, anywhere from $5 to $15. I also managed to talk the owner of a print shop into letting me write some ads for him. I made less than $200 writing that year, but I was beginning to feel like a writer. Doing something worthwhile, or at least something that produced tangible results.
I traveled some. I was still reading, and picked up a dozen or so magazines every month. I subscribed to several, including Popular Science, Mechanix Illustrated, Science Digest, and Analog science fiction magazine. I was strongly drawn by the idea of writing for magazines, but I didn’t feel that I had the skills. I thought about writing books, but here again I felt my skills were lacking. Still, there was one book in particular I made notes to start several times: a biography of Powel Crosley, Jr.
I was also intimidated by the idea of creating a book-length manuscript. At that time in my life I was unable to put so much sustained effort into a project without feedback. Shorter works were my métier.
And short fiction ... well, there was an idea. I was reading a lot of fiction in the monthly magazines, and short story collections were prominent among the books I took to work every day. Why not try fiction?
Why not, indeed? Years of reading had left me with some idea of the structure of fiction. I noticed how sentences were organized, soaked up dialogue technique, and studied the styles of various writers. I was already editing stories in my mind, changing characters and outcomes. (It helped that my 7th-grade English teacher had drilled us on sentence diagramming so much that for weeks afterward I was mentally diagramming sentences as I spoke them.)
So I spent a lot of hours at the typewriter, pounding out mainstream and science fiction stories that were more wish-fulfillment fantasies than marketable fiction. I found it gratifying to write short stories, but I was frustrated that my stories didn’t read as well as published work, and mostly didn’t have satisfying endings. (Some had no endings at all.)
After a few hundred pages I decided to seriously attack the problem of writing style, to answer the question of why my writing was so ... clunky. I studied how writers like Ray Bradbury and Robert Heinlein achieved certain effects, and slowly developed sets of rules to help me produce smoother prose. Heavy editing and rewriting reinforced what I was learning.
The six-month summer eventually came to an end, and I had to find a job. I returned to the automotive industry; family connections help me “get on” at the local Ford transmission plant. Big money, big benefits. I was in Fat City again--but with a killer schedule.
Night shift. Noisy. Grim, bleak, and depressing. Midnight to 8:00 AM four days a week, and Midnight to Noon three days a week. Reading was forbidden, a covert activity. I was lucky to get in 20 pages a night. I drove home each morning (or early afternoon) to toss and turn for hours before I dropped into a fitful sleep, only to wake up a couple hours before I was due at the plant--when everyone else was going to bed. No time for writing. I wanted out, but it seemed to go against all logic to walk away from the kind of money I was making, the equivalent of $3,500 a week in 2007 dollars.
One morning I stopped by a Walden Books store (they were two words back then) to find something to read myself to sleep with. I was perusing the science fiction shelves when for whatever reason my eyes shifted to the right, into the Reference section.
A title on a book’s spine jumped out at me: Writer’s Market.
“I wonder if that’s what I think it is?” I asked myself. I slid the book off the shelf and flipped through it with growing excitement. It was what I thought: a directory of magazine and book publishers for freelance writers--imagine that! Inside I found magazines that I read, and--amazingly--most of the magazines paid money.
I paid my $7.95 and took the fat paperback home. It was a revelation. I had never thought of just sending an article to a magazine, or even sending a query. Magazines were put together by editors in faraway places, people beyond the pale, people who would ignore submissions from someone in Cincinnati, of all places.
But Writer’s Market indicated otherwise. These publishers actually seemed to be inviting submissions, from anyone. As I paged through the book that morning, I was set on a new road. (Little did I suspect that one day I would be endorsing this book in full-page ads in Writer’s Digest.)
Thrilled, I wrote up a short humor piece and sent it to a magazine called Modern People. I’d never seen the magazine, but the WM listing said the editor wanted humor. A few weeks later I received a check for $25. Wow! I was hooked. Maybe I could make some decent money at this stuff, enough to let me take a more sane job.
I may even then have been thinking, in the back of my mind, about making my living as a writer, but consciously I was still thinking of engineering.
The next time I took a newspaper story to Leona Farley I told her about the sale, and Writer’s Market. As it turned out, she knew all about it. And she gave me a dozen or so back issues of Writer’s Digest, a magazine I didn’t know existed. (I was so busy reading marketing listings in WM that I didn’t notice it was published in Cincinnati by Writer’s Digest.)
This was a real boost. Here were people telling you how to write better, and how to get your work read and published. I started sending out more articles, and queries, too. And it didn’t bother me when I learned that Modern People was a tabloid when I finally found an issue at a downtown newsstand. The checks didn’t bounce, and that was good enough for me.
--Mike http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
How I Got Started Writing, Part I
Thanks to the Crosley book making the New York Times and Wall Street Journal bestseller lists, I’ve been interviewed by several newspapers. Most of the reporters were curious as to how I got into writing for publication. In case you're curious, too, here’s the story I told them:
Although I always did well in languages in grade school and high school (English and Spanish), I never gave a thought to being a writer. I admired several writers, but if I thought about what I would do “when I grew up,” I figured I would be an aeronautical engineer or, later, a rock musician.
Aside from class assignments, my writing was limited to a few songs and quite a bit of poetry. Most of the poetry consisted of typical teenage angst and social criticism, as did the song lyrics. An English teacher persuaded me to give one short poem to the school newspaper as part of a class project. It was published, but I didn’t see myself as a writer. I felt more like I was just getting something off my chest, and otherwise didn't share my poetry. (The paper was the Milford [Ohio] High School Reflector.)
My first serious thoughts of writing were inspired a couple of years later by a fellow named Cary Sunderhaus. Cary and I had been friends off and on through most of high school. After graduation I moved out of Milford and we saw less of each other. But I still picked up the hometown weekly newspaper, the Milford Advertiser. One Friday I was scanning its pages when a familiar name caught my eye. There, beneath a headline about a golf tournament was the line, "by Cary Sunderhaus." When did he start writing?
I read the article, which was well-written, and thought, “This looks like fun. I'll bet I can do it, too!”
I’m not completely sure where that thought came from, but thus was born an urge to write and be read that continues to drive me today. It was supported by my having recently bought a cheap typewriter at a yard sale. I had no idea what I would do with it at the time; it just seemed like a good idea to own a typewriter. (I had taken typing in high school for the easy half-credit, finishing with a C-.)
And now I had a use for the typewriter.
Going from idea to publication was fairly easy, thanks to the fact that the paper’s editor, Leona Farley, was the mother of another friend, Mike Farley. If I hadn’t known her, I probably would not have approached the paper; I was seriously introverted.
But having a contact gave me confidence. All I needed was something to write about. Something timely and newsworthy ...
The subject came to me almost immediately: it was May, 1971, and everyone was complaining about a proposed increase in the cost of a First Class stamp, from six cents to eight cents. I would, I decided, write a public service piece about the issue. Pencil and notebook in hand, I went to the Milford Post Office, where I interviewed a clerk with whom I’d often spoken, and asked two customers what they thought about the increase. Armed with carefully copied quotes, I went home to tap out the story on the old typewriter. I kept in mind the “who, what, when, where, why” rules I’d once read about newspaper writing, but mainly my technique was to write and rewrite until the story “felt” right.
The next day I took my two-page manuscript to Leona Farley. She looked it over, made some corrections, and told me she would see if the paper could use it. Three days later I opened the paper to find myself in print!
There followed a few more stories for the Advertiser, after which I branched out with small pieces for other local weekly papers. Leona was encouraging, and helped me improve my writing with suggestions like, "If you're not sure you have the right word, replace it with its antonym. If you do that and the sentence says the opposite of what you wanted to say, you had the right word."
All of which helped prepare me for the next step: writing for national magazines. My first editor would have a role in that chapter of my writing career, too.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
Although I always did well in languages in grade school and high school (English and Spanish), I never gave a thought to being a writer. I admired several writers, but if I thought about what I would do “when I grew up,” I figured I would be an aeronautical engineer or, later, a rock musician.
Aside from class assignments, my writing was limited to a few songs and quite a bit of poetry. Most of the poetry consisted of typical teenage angst and social criticism, as did the song lyrics. An English teacher persuaded me to give one short poem to the school newspaper as part of a class project. It was published, but I didn’t see myself as a writer. I felt more like I was just getting something off my chest, and otherwise didn't share my poetry. (The paper was the Milford [Ohio] High School Reflector.)
My first serious thoughts of writing were inspired a couple of years later by a fellow named Cary Sunderhaus. Cary and I had been friends off and on through most of high school. After graduation I moved out of Milford and we saw less of each other. But I still picked up the hometown weekly newspaper, the Milford Advertiser. One Friday I was scanning its pages when a familiar name caught my eye. There, beneath a headline about a golf tournament was the line, "by Cary Sunderhaus." When did he start writing?
I read the article, which was well-written, and thought, “This looks like fun. I'll bet I can do it, too!”
I’m not completely sure where that thought came from, but thus was born an urge to write and be read that continues to drive me today. It was supported by my having recently bought a cheap typewriter at a yard sale. I had no idea what I would do with it at the time; it just seemed like a good idea to own a typewriter. (I had taken typing in high school for the easy half-credit, finishing with a C-.)
And now I had a use for the typewriter.
Going from idea to publication was fairly easy, thanks to the fact that the paper’s editor, Leona Farley, was the mother of another friend, Mike Farley. If I hadn’t known her, I probably would not have approached the paper; I was seriously introverted.
But having a contact gave me confidence. All I needed was something to write about. Something timely and newsworthy ...
The subject came to me almost immediately: it was May, 1971, and everyone was complaining about a proposed increase in the cost of a First Class stamp, from six cents to eight cents. I would, I decided, write a public service piece about the issue. Pencil and notebook in hand, I went to the Milford Post Office, where I interviewed a clerk with whom I’d often spoken, and asked two customers what they thought about the increase. Armed with carefully copied quotes, I went home to tap out the story on the old typewriter. I kept in mind the “who, what, when, where, why” rules I’d once read about newspaper writing, but mainly my technique was to write and rewrite until the story “felt” right.
The next day I took my two-page manuscript to Leona Farley. She looked it over, made some corrections, and told me she would see if the paper could use it. Three days later I opened the paper to find myself in print!
There followed a few more stories for the Advertiser, after which I branched out with small pieces for other local weekly papers. Leona was encouraging, and helped me improve my writing with suggestions like, "If you're not sure you have the right word, replace it with its antonym. If you do that and the sentence says the opposite of what you wanted to say, you had the right word."
All of which helped prepare me for the next step: writing for national magazines. My first editor would have a role in that chapter of my writing career, too.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
Getting Your Book Published
"I've been working on a book. How can I get it published?" This is a question I get asked a lot. After some discussion I usually learn that what the writer really wants to know is how she can finish the book, and whether there's any way to know if it's any good.
It happens that I'm teaching a course for the University of Cincinnati's Communiversity program starting next week, so I've been thinking about these matters a bit.
Rather than tackle how to write a book (certainly a subject for another posting), let's go to the main question: how does one get published? The short answer is that you write your (book, article, story) to completion, submit the manuscript to someone who might buy it (do your market research first), and if it's rejected send it out to another market. If it's returned with a note suggesting changes, by all means make those changes and resubmit.
In real life, it's not always that simple. Requests for changes will be rare. And rejections inspire questions, such as "How many rejections should I collect before I give up?" and "How do I know if my work needs changes?" Not to mention, "If I'm rejected does it mean my writing is poor?"
Let's examine each of those questions. (The answers I provide apply whether you're submitting a completed manuscript or a proposal. As for whether you should be submitting a proposal or completed manuscript, see my article in the November, 2006, issue of The Writer magazine.)
How many rejections should I collect before I give up?
Only you can answer this question. The first two short stories I published each went to seven magazines before they sold. My first book sold to the first publisher to whom I submitted it. The same thing happened with the first newspaper and magazine articles I wrote. My second book sold on its fourth submission. I have stories that I wrote and submitted eight or nine times, and never sold. And just today my newest book proposal was rejected. (I'll send it back out tomorrow.)
Obviously, persistence can be a good thing, but there is no set number of rejections. I know of an author who submitted his first novel 84 times before it sold. That's extreme, and I don't recommend that kind of persistence. It can be emotionally wearing, and an absolute waste of time. The time and effort you put into the 10th through 84th submissions might be better invested in writing a new novel, one that may have a good chance of selling because of what you learned writing the first book.
For my part, I figure five or six rejections mean that the manuscript needs work, or that it's hopeless. At that point I examine it to see what sorts of changes I might make.
How do I know if my work needs changes?
Most writers are not qualified to critique their own work--not immediately. Repeated rejection may be taken as an indication that the manuscript needs some changes, corrections, or improvements. But you can't be sure until you've been away from the manuscript for a while. Ideally, you will be working on another project while the manuscript is in circulation, and hence it will have been out of your thoughts for a while. At this point, when you have as objective a viewpoint as possible, you can judge whether the work needs changes, or if you should just keep submitting it. (Recognizing the changes you need to make is a subject for another posting.)
If you feel that you can't improve the manuscript, perhaps it's time to retire it for a while. A few months later you may find that the market has changed, or that your perspective with respect to that particular work has matured enough to enable you to see what might be wrong with it.
If I'm rejected does it mean my writing is poor?
This question, implied by the preceding one, is a tough one. Manuscripts are rejected for all sorts of reasons that have nothing to do with quality. There are almost as any reasons for a manuscript being rejected as there are for bad books getting into print. Here again, detailing those reasons is a subject for another post, but you should be aware that a rejection doesn't mean you should give up. It may hurt, and you may take it personally, but rejection is not necessarily a comment on the quality of your writing or the viability of your subject matter. Only repeated rejection, combined with the ability to critique your work after gaining some distance from it can tell you that.
A Solution?
If you have only one writing project going at a time, all the worry over rejection (not to mention the length of time it takes to get responses to submissions) can skew your judgment. Waiting six months to be rejected can shoot the hell out your confidence. So can going through several three-week waits followed by rejection.
To avoid this, don't put all your eggs in one basket. Work on more than one novel or story or poem or whatever at a time, and keep multiple manuscripts in circulation. When you do this, a given rejection will have far less impact. And when you hit writer's block, you will have an alternate project to tall back on, which means you won't compound the block with frustration over not getting any writing done.
Do I Need an Agent?
Looking back over this post, I see that I haven't said anything about agents. To answer the obvious question, you can sell a book without an agent. But it can help to have one--in terms of getting your manuscript in front of the right editors, getting a good contract, and in other ways.
(Do I have an agent? Right now, no. But I've agented for other writers.)
Recommended Reading
For lots of useful info on the book publishing business in general, read Another Life: A Memoir of Other People, by Michael Korda. Want to learn about agents and marketing? Read How to Be Your Own Literary Agent, by Richard Curtis.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
It happens that I'm teaching a course for the University of Cincinnati's Communiversity program starting next week, so I've been thinking about these matters a bit.
Rather than tackle how to write a book (certainly a subject for another posting), let's go to the main question: how does one get published? The short answer is that you write your (book, article, story) to completion, submit the manuscript to someone who might buy it (do your market research first), and if it's rejected send it out to another market. If it's returned with a note suggesting changes, by all means make those changes and resubmit.
In real life, it's not always that simple. Requests for changes will be rare. And rejections inspire questions, such as "How many rejections should I collect before I give up?" and "How do I know if my work needs changes?" Not to mention, "If I'm rejected does it mean my writing is poor?"
Let's examine each of those questions. (The answers I provide apply whether you're submitting a completed manuscript or a proposal. As for whether you should be submitting a proposal or completed manuscript, see my article in the November, 2006, issue of The Writer magazine.)
How many rejections should I collect before I give up?
Only you can answer this question. The first two short stories I published each went to seven magazines before they sold. My first book sold to the first publisher to whom I submitted it. The same thing happened with the first newspaper and magazine articles I wrote. My second book sold on its fourth submission. I have stories that I wrote and submitted eight or nine times, and never sold. And just today my newest book proposal was rejected. (I'll send it back out tomorrow.)
Obviously, persistence can be a good thing, but there is no set number of rejections. I know of an author who submitted his first novel 84 times before it sold. That's extreme, and I don't recommend that kind of persistence. It can be emotionally wearing, and an absolute waste of time. The time and effort you put into the 10th through 84th submissions might be better invested in writing a new novel, one that may have a good chance of selling because of what you learned writing the first book.
For my part, I figure five or six rejections mean that the manuscript needs work, or that it's hopeless. At that point I examine it to see what sorts of changes I might make.
How do I know if my work needs changes?
Most writers are not qualified to critique their own work--not immediately. Repeated rejection may be taken as an indication that the manuscript needs some changes, corrections, or improvements. But you can't be sure until you've been away from the manuscript for a while. Ideally, you will be working on another project while the manuscript is in circulation, and hence it will have been out of your thoughts for a while. At this point, when you have as objective a viewpoint as possible, you can judge whether the work needs changes, or if you should just keep submitting it. (Recognizing the changes you need to make is a subject for another posting.)
If you feel that you can't improve the manuscript, perhaps it's time to retire it for a while. A few months later you may find that the market has changed, or that your perspective with respect to that particular work has matured enough to enable you to see what might be wrong with it.
If I'm rejected does it mean my writing is poor?
This question, implied by the preceding one, is a tough one. Manuscripts are rejected for all sorts of reasons that have nothing to do with quality. There are almost as any reasons for a manuscript being rejected as there are for bad books getting into print. Here again, detailing those reasons is a subject for another post, but you should be aware that a rejection doesn't mean you should give up. It may hurt, and you may take it personally, but rejection is not necessarily a comment on the quality of your writing or the viability of your subject matter. Only repeated rejection, combined with the ability to critique your work after gaining some distance from it can tell you that.
A Solution?
If you have only one writing project going at a time, all the worry over rejection (not to mention the length of time it takes to get responses to submissions) can skew your judgment. Waiting six months to be rejected can shoot the hell out your confidence. So can going through several three-week waits followed by rejection.
To avoid this, don't put all your eggs in one basket. Work on more than one novel or story or poem or whatever at a time, and keep multiple manuscripts in circulation. When you do this, a given rejection will have far less impact. And when you hit writer's block, you will have an alternate project to tall back on, which means you won't compound the block with frustration over not getting any writing done.
Do I Need an Agent?
Looking back over this post, I see that I haven't said anything about agents. To answer the obvious question, you can sell a book without an agent. But it can help to have one--in terms of getting your manuscript in front of the right editors, getting a good contract, and in other ways.
(Do I have an agent? Right now, no. But I've agented for other writers.)
Recommended Reading
For lots of useful info on the book publishing business in general, read Another Life: A Memoir of Other People, by Michael Korda. Want to learn about agents and marketing? Read How to Be Your Own Literary Agent, by Richard Curtis.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Making the Bestseller Lists
Almost nothing turns out the way you might expect or want it to. A case in point: Between December 23 and January 7, CROSLEY: Two Brothers and a Business Empire that Transformed the Nation made the New York Times Bestseller List, the Wall Street Journal's hardcover nonfiction list, and the New York Times Hardcover Business Best Sellers list.
If you believe what you see in movies, you might expect me to be whooping it up--buying a new house and looking for a 1963 Jaguar XK-E coupe as I sign six-figure contracts and consider film offers.
Hardly. Little has changed, at least not on the professional and financial fronts. Neither editors or agents are contacting me with offers (though I'm open). I'm in the same nice little house, and still drive the mini-van with the trick transmission. My banker friend, Greg, is still waiting to recommend investments, and I'm putting off buying that 1958 Fender Precision bass.
Did I expect my bank account to suddenly swell to mammoth proportions, or that I would get calls from Hollywood? Truthfully, no. I've seen enough writers make bestseller lists and fade into obscurity to know that bestsellerdom isn't necessarily life-altering. Besides, these things take time. (Remember Cheops' Law: Everything takes longer and costs more.)
But what the heck--I never expected to even make one bestseller list, let alone two!
And some things have changed. Relatives I haven't heard from in years (and who once ridiculed my writing) are calling me. When I do a bookstore signing, scores or hundreds of people turn out instead of two or three. People who have seen me on TV or in newspapers congratulate me and enthuse over all the money I must be getting paid.
Most of them are so honestly happy for me that I hate to burst the bubble by explaining that it will be most of a year before even I begin to see any money from the book. That the publishing world has taken little notice of my name on the bestseller lists. That, aside from a box of books and a couple of neat shirts I haven't gained anything material from this.
Oh, certainly I had a book advance, but that was years ago, and I spent far more time writing the book than the advance warranted. (It's usually my practice to get a large enough advance to cover the time I put into a book. That way, if it doesn't earn royalties or sub-rights money I'm not disappointed. But CROSLEY was a special case. I'd been waiting decades to write this book)
Otherwise, publisher response is as slow as it ever was. I suppose I could speed up the responses by making a nuisance of myself, but that's no way to sell books. (Another aphorism comes to mind: If you press for an answer, you'll likely get the one you don't want.)
The lesson in all this is fairly straightforward: Public acclaim doesn't always translate to professional success. But it's all fun!
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
If you believe what you see in movies, you might expect me to be whooping it up--buying a new house and looking for a 1963 Jaguar XK-E coupe as I sign six-figure contracts and consider film offers.
Hardly. Little has changed, at least not on the professional and financial fronts. Neither editors or agents are contacting me with offers (though I'm open). I'm in the same nice little house, and still drive the mini-van with the trick transmission. My banker friend, Greg, is still waiting to recommend investments, and I'm putting off buying that 1958 Fender Precision bass.
Did I expect my bank account to suddenly swell to mammoth proportions, or that I would get calls from Hollywood? Truthfully, no. I've seen enough writers make bestseller lists and fade into obscurity to know that bestsellerdom isn't necessarily life-altering. Besides, these things take time. (Remember Cheops' Law: Everything takes longer and costs more.)
But what the heck--I never expected to even make one bestseller list, let alone two!
And some things have changed. Relatives I haven't heard from in years (and who once ridiculed my writing) are calling me. When I do a bookstore signing, scores or hundreds of people turn out instead of two or three. People who have seen me on TV or in newspapers congratulate me and enthuse over all the money I must be getting paid.
Most of them are so honestly happy for me that I hate to burst the bubble by explaining that it will be most of a year before even I begin to see any money from the book. That the publishing world has taken little notice of my name on the bestseller lists. That, aside from a box of books and a couple of neat shirts I haven't gained anything material from this.
Oh, certainly I had a book advance, but that was years ago, and I spent far more time writing the book than the advance warranted. (It's usually my practice to get a large enough advance to cover the time I put into a book. That way, if it doesn't earn royalties or sub-rights money I'm not disappointed. But CROSLEY was a special case. I'd been waiting decades to write this book)
Otherwise, publisher response is as slow as it ever was. I suppose I could speed up the responses by making a nuisance of myself, but that's no way to sell books. (Another aphorism comes to mind: If you press for an answer, you'll likely get the one you don't want.)
The lesson in all this is fairly straightforward: Public acclaim doesn't always translate to professional success. But it's all fun!
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
Writers as Optimists
If there was a job description for writing for publication, optimism would head the list of required character traits. After all, what is more optimistic than writing a story or novel without any feedback, then sending it out to be judged by someone you've never met and who has too much to read, anyway? Only an optimist would seriously contemplate such an absurd act.
Before I started writing for a living I regarded myself as a pessemist. I was always looking at the negative side of things, worrying about what might go wrong next. But 20 years of fulltime writing has shown me that I'm a fulltime optimist. Without optimism, I’d never have made it for a year, much less 20! Late checks, impossible deadlines, canceled contracts and columns … any of these could have easily run my career right into a dead-end if I wasn't optimistic that things would get better through my continued efforts.
So far, it's worked out to be a self-fulfilling prediction.
--Mikehttp://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
Thursday, December 28, 2006
How Bad Books Get Into Print
Three chapters into the novel you bought yesterday you find that you just can’t go on reading it. The characters are wooden, the writing is stilted, and the dialogue is unbelievable. Viewpoints shift and the action leaps through time and space without benefit of transitions.
You know you can write better than this in your sleep. How did this mess get into print? you wonder. Did someone sleep with an editor, or what?
Actually, some books are published because the author slept with an editor (or a publisher). But that's not the only reason bad books see print. Sometimes a badly written novel slips into print because an editor has a vacant spot on her list and a writer friend or relative who needs work. And it has happened that a bestselling author falters (or doesn’t care any more) and turns out a poor novel that gets into print because of the author’s reputation. And although I don't know of any instances, I'm sure that bribery has gotten a few books into print.
Some questionable novels are “contract breakers,” poorly-written tomes intended to barely fulfill the terms of a publishing contract. The hope is that the publisher will reject the manuscript and release the author from her contract. An author may do this after signing a multiple-book contract with a publisher who proves to be less than proficient in the marketplace. A contract breaker may also be used to get around a common book contract provision that gives the author’s current publisher first refusal rights on his next book.
If the author is lucky, the publisher will drop the book. But the publisher might take the book anyway, in which case another bad book is born.
Why put such a book on the market? This may be done out of spite, or because the publisher figures the author’s name will sell the book.
A tight publishing schedule can also propel a contract breaker onto bookstore shelves. If the title is already scheduled for publication and there’s nothing available to replace it, the publisher has no choice but to put it out there.
All of which may seem illogical, but the nature of book publishing is such that most publishers would rather put out a bad book than miss a publishing date. Once a book is scheduled and announced, money is spent and irreversible processes are set in motion. At the very least, a publisher faces embarrassment by not releasing an announced book. But there are worse consequences to not fulfilling the expectations of distributors, wholesalers, and retailers, including but not limited to reduced orders on future titles.
Time-sensitive titles (such as movie tie-ins or books linked to news events) can also fall victim to publishing schedules. These books are often written on nearly impossible deadlines, and the quality reflects it. But agreements with studios or other entities require that the book be published by a certain date, and marketing often takes precedent over quality.
Many books are scheduled for publication before the author completes the manuscript, and it sometimes happens that what the author turns in is not what the editor expected. Still, the book is scheduled to go into production, and there’s no time to make changes. And so the disappointing manuscript becomes a disappointing book.
Then there are late manuscripts. For whatever reason, a novel isn’t ready when it’s due. So the editor puts out a call and grabs the first complete manuscript she can locate that fulfills the genre requirements of the missing work. The replacement may be of minimal quality, but the publishing slot is filled.
Finally, as you may suspect, some bad books are the result of poor judgment on the part of an editor or publisher. One or the other may be so enamored of an author's writing style that they are blind to its poor plot. Or maybe wishful thinking fools them into thinking that a really well-written book has substance that it lacks.
Obviously, just making it into print doesn’t mean a work is “good.” Remember that the next time a bad book makes you wonder if your own work is on the wrong track.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2006, Michael A. Banks
You know you can write better than this in your sleep. How did this mess get into print? you wonder. Did someone sleep with an editor, or what?
Actually, some books are published because the author slept with an editor (or a publisher). But that's not the only reason bad books see print. Sometimes a badly written novel slips into print because an editor has a vacant spot on her list and a writer friend or relative who needs work. And it has happened that a bestselling author falters (or doesn’t care any more) and turns out a poor novel that gets into print because of the author’s reputation. And although I don't know of any instances, I'm sure that bribery has gotten a few books into print.
Some questionable novels are “contract breakers,” poorly-written tomes intended to barely fulfill the terms of a publishing contract. The hope is that the publisher will reject the manuscript and release the author from her contract. An author may do this after signing a multiple-book contract with a publisher who proves to be less than proficient in the marketplace. A contract breaker may also be used to get around a common book contract provision that gives the author’s current publisher first refusal rights on his next book.
If the author is lucky, the publisher will drop the book. But the publisher might take the book anyway, in which case another bad book is born.
Why put such a book on the market? This may be done out of spite, or because the publisher figures the author’s name will sell the book.
A tight publishing schedule can also propel a contract breaker onto bookstore shelves. If the title is already scheduled for publication and there’s nothing available to replace it, the publisher has no choice but to put it out there.
All of which may seem illogical, but the nature of book publishing is such that most publishers would rather put out a bad book than miss a publishing date. Once a book is scheduled and announced, money is spent and irreversible processes are set in motion. At the very least, a publisher faces embarrassment by not releasing an announced book. But there are worse consequences to not fulfilling the expectations of distributors, wholesalers, and retailers, including but not limited to reduced orders on future titles.
Time-sensitive titles (such as movie tie-ins or books linked to news events) can also fall victim to publishing schedules. These books are often written on nearly impossible deadlines, and the quality reflects it. But agreements with studios or other entities require that the book be published by a certain date, and marketing often takes precedent over quality.
Many books are scheduled for publication before the author completes the manuscript, and it sometimes happens that what the author turns in is not what the editor expected. Still, the book is scheduled to go into production, and there’s no time to make changes. And so the disappointing manuscript becomes a disappointing book.
Then there are late manuscripts. For whatever reason, a novel isn’t ready when it’s due. So the editor puts out a call and grabs the first complete manuscript she can locate that fulfills the genre requirements of the missing work. The replacement may be of minimal quality, but the publishing slot is filled.
Finally, as you may suspect, some bad books are the result of poor judgment on the part of an editor or publisher. One or the other may be so enamored of an author's writing style that they are blind to its poor plot. Or maybe wishful thinking fools them into thinking that a really well-written book has substance that it lacks.
Obviously, just making it into print doesn’t mean a work is “good.” Remember that the next time a bad book makes you wonder if your own work is on the wrong track.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2006, Michael A. Banks
Monday, December 18, 2006
Collaborating with Non-Writers
Every writer hears it sooner or later: "Hey--I got a great idea for a book! You write it and we'll split the money!"
There are a couple of problems with such a proposal. First, ideas aren't difficult to come by; they occur naturally. The person proposing the collaboration usually offers nothing more than a subject or situation, and perhaps some information. Nothing the writer couldn't work up on her own.
And the non-writer has no idea of the time and effort writing a successful book requires. Otherwise he wouldn't propose "splitting" the money with the writer, who is the one who will do all the work. Doing so is like demanding half the money after pointing out to to someone else that a certain corner is a great spot for a restaurant, have them build and operate the restaurant, then demand half the money.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
There are a couple of problems with such a proposal. First, ideas aren't difficult to come by; they occur naturally. The person proposing the collaboration usually offers nothing more than a subject or situation, and perhaps some information. Nothing the writer couldn't work up on her own.
And the non-writer has no idea of the time and effort writing a successful book requires. Otherwise he wouldn't propose "splitting" the money with the writer, who is the one who will do all the work. Doing so is like demanding half the money after pointing out to to someone else that a certain corner is a great spot for a restaurant, have them build and operate the restaurant, then demand half the money.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
Writer's Digest: Down the Drain?
"Writer's Digest isn't read by professional writers, but it is written by professional writers." --Jerry Pournelle
It was a real surprise to see Writer's Digest go bi-monthly last Spring. I started reading the magazine in 1971, when an editor friend gave me some back-issues, and I wrote for it throughout the 1980s. (I got to writing for it so often that I was identified with the magazine; for two years I was paid to endorse their companion annual market directory, Writer's Market, in full-page ads.)
Back then, when someone asked me what kinds of magazines I wrote for, I would say something like, "Oh, several. Analog, Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, computer magazines, Writer's Digest ..."
"Reader's Digest, hey? Wow--lot of people read that!"
And I would explain that Writer's Digest was a magazine for writers. Eventually I stopped mentioning it--not out of embarrassment, but because talking about it was a waste of time unless the person who asked was a writer or would-be writer.
I stopped writing for WD in the 1990s, just as it began to decline, a bit after Bill Brohaugh moved from being the magazine's editor to become editor of Writer's Digest Books. Tom Clarke made an effort to keep the magazine on course, but he wasn't in the position of editor long enough. After Tom a succession of editors struggled to change the magazine's look, feel, and content--but none approached the quality of the magazine under Brohaugh, John Brady, or Kirk Polking.
When Richard Rosenthal decided to retire and sell the company that published WD (F&W Publications), the magazine reflected that change. It became less personable and more hobby-oriented.
Why? I heard that the new owners were pushing to double the company's revenue, and the magazine's design and content seemed to reflect that. It was as if they were striving find a formula or package that would push readers' "buy" buttons. (One approach was to link a book to every article ... a bit too in-your-face, folks!) The emphasis was more on using the magazine to sell books and other products than providing content that would make readers want to buy the magazine.
In the meantime, many of the company's best people left. And apparently a lot of readers decided they wanted something other than a catalog.
I won't be very surprised if WD folds, or is sold off to a private company. Then again, maybe the management will realize that the writers and would-be writers who make up WD's audience buy the magazine for its own sake, and bring back usable content.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
E-mail to: Mike [insert the "at" sign here] michaelabanks.com
======
It was a real surprise to see Writer's Digest go bi-monthly last Spring. I started reading the magazine in 1971, when an editor friend gave me some back-issues, and I wrote for it throughout the 1980s. (I got to writing for it so often that I was identified with the magazine; for two years I was paid to endorse their companion annual market directory, Writer's Market, in full-page ads.)
Back then, when someone asked me what kinds of magazines I wrote for, I would say something like, "Oh, several. Analog, Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine, computer magazines, Writer's Digest ..."
"Reader's Digest, hey? Wow--lot of people read that!"
And I would explain that Writer's Digest was a magazine for writers. Eventually I stopped mentioning it--not out of embarrassment, but because talking about it was a waste of time unless the person who asked was a writer or would-be writer.
I stopped writing for WD in the 1990s, just as it began to decline, a bit after Bill Brohaugh moved from being the magazine's editor to become editor of Writer's Digest Books. Tom Clarke made an effort to keep the magazine on course, but he wasn't in the position of editor long enough. After Tom a succession of editors struggled to change the magazine's look, feel, and content--but none approached the quality of the magazine under Brohaugh, John Brady, or Kirk Polking.
When Richard Rosenthal decided to retire and sell the company that published WD (F&W Publications), the magazine reflected that change. It became less personable and more hobby-oriented.
Why? I heard that the new owners were pushing to double the company's revenue, and the magazine's design and content seemed to reflect that. It was as if they were striving find a formula or package that would push readers' "buy" buttons. (One approach was to link a book to every article ... a bit too in-your-face, folks!) The emphasis was more on using the magazine to sell books and other products than providing content that would make readers want to buy the magazine.
In the meantime, many of the company's best people left. And apparently a lot of readers decided they wanted something other than a catalog.
I won't be very surprised if WD folds, or is sold off to a private company. Then again, maybe the management will realize that the writers and would-be writers who make up WD's audience buy the magazine for its own sake, and bring back usable content.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
E-mail to: Mike [insert the "at" sign here] michaelabanks.com
======
Will They Steal My Idea? Unethical Writers and Editors
Many writers and would-be writers worry about someone stealing their work, or stealing their ideas. I always encourage the writers to not worry about such things, to concentrate on their work, instead.
Still, one can't ignore the possibility of theft of intellectual property completely, and I know that many of you are curious about how this stuff happens. So I'll relate here some of my experiences with certain unethical (or simply ignorant) scum of the Earth.
Note that my brushes with these matters were not as high-profile or dramatic as those involving J.K. Rowling or Dan Brown. There wasn't near as much money involved. But they serve to illustrate not only how theft can happen, but also how to deal with it.
On to cases ... my one verifiable instance of plagiarism involved someone lifting my work in big chunks and publishing it under someone else's name. That was a fairly straightforward incident; one had only to look at certain parts of the works involved to see the plagiarism. The problem was resolved by my publisher's attorneys contacting the offending publisher, after which the latter pulped thousands of copies of the offending work.
More subtle were certain cases of someone taking an idea and running with it. Before you start wondering whether you should have kept quiet about your idea for novel that resembles a certain film now showing, let me explain what I mean by an "idea." Or, what I don't mean. By "idea," I don't mean, "I have an idea about this evil galactic empire that existed long ago and the only person who can stop the spread of evil is a young man who has no idea of his heritage, special powers, and destiny ..."
This particular idea, which you'll recognize as "Star Wars," was the foundation for scores of novels and short stories published long before George Lucas was born.
It is a plot situation, not a firm idea or story. As such, it is not copyrightable, and not protected by law. Specific works, in their content and very order of words are what copyright protects. So you are free to write a novel about an evil galactic empire whose only salvation is a dispossessed, unaware prince. Just as anyone is free to write a novel about aliens destroying the Earth's economy with matter duplicators (the plot situation in my first novel, The Odysseus Solution, written with Dean Lambe).
Doing so is no more plagiarism than Jane Smiley's A Thousand Acres (it's King Lear all over), West Side Story (Romeo and Juliet), and Forbidden Planet (The Tempest). The same is true of Pygmalion-based tales such as My Fair Lady which in a way became Pretty Woman and bunch of novels and a television series. If plots were protectable from "theft," there would be only one locked-room mystery, only one time travel story, only one story about an African-American who commits justifiable homicide in Mississippi, and so forth.
What is protected is what you do with an idea. Thus, you can query a magazine editor about doing an article on the subject of garage bands in the Midwest, and the editor can turn you down and ask another writer to do an article on that subject--with impunity. Such action is ethically crummy and a ripoff, but there's nothing illegal about it. I've had it happen, and I'll be glad to tell you who did it--privately.
But if you write an article about garage bands in the Midwest, send it to the editor, get turned down, and then see the unique spin you gave the subject in the same magazine under someone else's name, you probably have cause for action. If your sentences or paragraphs are copied, you definitely have cause for action.
I've not had submitted articles stolen, nor short stories. Just about any magazine editor is glad to buy what you write, and credit you, so as to get more of your work. But I have had book ideas--and more--stolen.
The first time this happened, a manager at a publishing house asked me to submit a book proposal on a certain subject to a specific editor, which I did. After waiting five weeks I telephoned the editor to ask about the proposal. Yes, the editor had received the proposal, and "... I folded it in with some other proposals on the same subject to give to another writer who will be writing the book."
WHAT? Hold everything!
My stomach lurched. Invectives and vulgarities rushed to the tip of my tongue, and I bit them back with an effort.
"You can't do that!" I said instead. "I was asked to submit the proposal on the understanding that I would write the book."
"Well," came the reply, "isn't that how everybody does it? Just take the best of all the material to create the book?"
Yeah, sure, lady! And when I need some lunch money I'll just go through your pocketbook, and take your ATM card for later.
"No, that is not how everybody does it." Some of the invective spewed forth at that point; I'll leave that to your imagination. I later learned that this was the editor's first job in publishing (no surprise). I suppose the editor thought I was doing this for fun. Or maybe the publisher thought they could just steal from anyone with impunity.
I contacted the president of the company, who gave me an apology and a few hundred bucks. But never again will I submit anything to that company.
A couple of years later I was asked to submit a proposal for a book to a publisher with whom I'd worked in the past. This was an outfit I trusted. As with the incident just described, I waited a few weeks, then telephoned to inquire as to the status of the book. "Oh," said editor B, "we contracted for that book four months ago."
What madness is this? "Then why solicit a proposal from me?" I demanded. My shoulders were hunched. My right hand clenched the phone so strongly that it began to ache. "Why ask me for a proposal when you had someone signed to write the book?"
"Well, my boss said to ask you."
I called the boss, editor B, who declared that he didn't know the book had already been signed when he told editor A to solicit the proposal. A blatant lie; the other author was well into the project, and there was no way editor A could not have known about the book because he had to approve the contract. The only questions was whether both editors thought it was a good idea to "help out" the author by taking my ideas, and if the author was in on it.
I managed to raise enough fuss with management to get one of these jerks fired, and was given a tiny financial compensation. None of this made up for the loss of time and effort on my part. (Editor B doubtless went on to pull unethical stunts on other writers.) And then there were the anticipated book credit and earnings. I suppose I might have brought suit over that one, but I was too busy writing to bother. And, even though I'd won civil suits in the past, I wasn't anxious to get into another one.
Needless to say, this is another publisher I avoid and warn others away from.
So, yes: plagiarism happens, and ideas are stolen. And the best way to deal with them, short of threatening suit, is to go over the offender's head.
But when you consider that I've had so few incidents in a career that includes publishing over three dozen books and 1,000 magazine pieces, you can see that they are the exception rather than the rule.
Still, the low probability doesn't make such events any less disturbing.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
E-mail to: Mike [insert the "at" sign here] michaelabanks.com
Still, one can't ignore the possibility of theft of intellectual property completely, and I know that many of you are curious about how this stuff happens. So I'll relate here some of my experiences with certain unethical (or simply ignorant) scum of the Earth.
Note that my brushes with these matters were not as high-profile or dramatic as those involving J.K. Rowling or Dan Brown. There wasn't near as much money involved. But they serve to illustrate not only how theft can happen, but also how to deal with it.
On to cases ... my one verifiable instance of plagiarism involved someone lifting my work in big chunks and publishing it under someone else's name. That was a fairly straightforward incident; one had only to look at certain parts of the works involved to see the plagiarism. The problem was resolved by my publisher's attorneys contacting the offending publisher, after which the latter pulped thousands of copies of the offending work.
More subtle were certain cases of someone taking an idea and running with it. Before you start wondering whether you should have kept quiet about your idea for novel that resembles a certain film now showing, let me explain what I mean by an "idea." Or, what I don't mean. By "idea," I don't mean, "I have an idea about this evil galactic empire that existed long ago and the only person who can stop the spread of evil is a young man who has no idea of his heritage, special powers, and destiny ..."
This particular idea, which you'll recognize as "Star Wars," was the foundation for scores of novels and short stories published long before George Lucas was born.
It is a plot situation, not a firm idea or story. As such, it is not copyrightable, and not protected by law. Specific works, in their content and very order of words are what copyright protects. So you are free to write a novel about an evil galactic empire whose only salvation is a dispossessed, unaware prince. Just as anyone is free to write a novel about aliens destroying the Earth's economy with matter duplicators (the plot situation in my first novel, The Odysseus Solution, written with Dean Lambe).
Doing so is no more plagiarism than Jane Smiley's A Thousand Acres (it's King Lear all over), West Side Story (Romeo and Juliet), and Forbidden Planet (The Tempest). The same is true of Pygmalion-based tales such as My Fair Lady which in a way became Pretty Woman and bunch of novels and a television series. If plots were protectable from "theft," there would be only one locked-room mystery, only one time travel story, only one story about an African-American who commits justifiable homicide in Mississippi, and so forth.
What is protected is what you do with an idea. Thus, you can query a magazine editor about doing an article on the subject of garage bands in the Midwest, and the editor can turn you down and ask another writer to do an article on that subject--with impunity. Such action is ethically crummy and a ripoff, but there's nothing illegal about it. I've had it happen, and I'll be glad to tell you who did it--privately.
But if you write an article about garage bands in the Midwest, send it to the editor, get turned down, and then see the unique spin you gave the subject in the same magazine under someone else's name, you probably have cause for action. If your sentences or paragraphs are copied, you definitely have cause for action.
I've not had submitted articles stolen, nor short stories. Just about any magazine editor is glad to buy what you write, and credit you, so as to get more of your work. But I have had book ideas--and more--stolen.
The first time this happened, a manager at a publishing house asked me to submit a book proposal on a certain subject to a specific editor, which I did. After waiting five weeks I telephoned the editor to ask about the proposal. Yes, the editor had received the proposal, and "... I folded it in with some other proposals on the same subject to give to another writer who will be writing the book."
WHAT? Hold everything!
My stomach lurched. Invectives and vulgarities rushed to the tip of my tongue, and I bit them back with an effort.
"You can't do that!" I said instead. "I was asked to submit the proposal on the understanding that I would write the book."
"Well," came the reply, "isn't that how everybody does it? Just take the best of all the material to create the book?"
Yeah, sure, lady! And when I need some lunch money I'll just go through your pocketbook, and take your ATM card for later.
"No, that is not how everybody does it." Some of the invective spewed forth at that point; I'll leave that to your imagination. I later learned that this was the editor's first job in publishing (no surprise). I suppose the editor thought I was doing this for fun. Or maybe the publisher thought they could just steal from anyone with impunity.
I contacted the president of the company, who gave me an apology and a few hundred bucks. But never again will I submit anything to that company.
A couple of years later I was asked to submit a proposal for a book to a publisher with whom I'd worked in the past. This was an outfit I trusted. As with the incident just described, I waited a few weeks, then telephoned to inquire as to the status of the book. "Oh," said editor B, "we contracted for that book four months ago."
What madness is this? "Then why solicit a proposal from me?" I demanded. My shoulders were hunched. My right hand clenched the phone so strongly that it began to ache. "Why ask me for a proposal when you had someone signed to write the book?"
"Well, my boss said to ask you."
I called the boss, editor B, who declared that he didn't know the book had already been signed when he told editor A to solicit the proposal. A blatant lie; the other author was well into the project, and there was no way editor A could not have known about the book because he had to approve the contract. The only questions was whether both editors thought it was a good idea to "help out" the author by taking my ideas, and if the author was in on it.
I managed to raise enough fuss with management to get one of these jerks fired, and was given a tiny financial compensation. None of this made up for the loss of time and effort on my part. (Editor B doubtless went on to pull unethical stunts on other writers.) And then there were the anticipated book credit and earnings. I suppose I might have brought suit over that one, but I was too busy writing to bother. And, even though I'd won civil suits in the past, I wasn't anxious to get into another one.
Needless to say, this is another publisher I avoid and warn others away from.
So, yes: plagiarism happens, and ideas are stolen. And the best way to deal with them, short of threatening suit, is to go over the offender's head.
But when you consider that I've had so few incidents in a career that includes publishing over three dozen books and 1,000 magazine pieces, you can see that they are the exception rather than the rule.
Still, the low probability doesn't make such events any less disturbing.
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
E-mail to: Mike [insert the "at" sign here] michaelabanks.com
Sunday, December 17, 2006
We're All Best-Selling Authors on this Bus!
Used to be, if a book was labeled "bestseller" or an author "bestselling" (or "best-selling"), it meant something. A true bestseller sold more copies than the average book, and made the New York Times bestseller list.
And, it followed, a bestselling author was the author of a bestseller--a book that had sold hundreds of thousands of copies, maybe even millions of copies.
Assuming that making a bestseller list is a valid endorsement (and whether that's true is a subject for another blog entry), it's natural to let potential readers know (on second and third and nth printings) that the book sold enough copies to make such a list, and therefore might be interesting.
Where a new book by a previously bestselling author is involved, it's equally natural to want readers to know that this writer has sold a lot of books, since it is assumed that knowing the author has sold a large number of at least one title will motivate readers to by her new book.
But both bestseller and bestselling lost any real meaning years ago, thanks to the terms being applied indiscriminately. I've seen books that I know didn't sell 6,000 copies labeled bestselling. Sometimes the cover on a writer's first book lauds him as a "bestselling author." What?
When I was writing cover copy 20 years ago, I refused to use either term with any book that hadn't made some sort of list. Still, quite a few books that hadn't even made a grocery list ended up with something like "a new thrilling bestseller," or "Sylvanus Spatula, bestselling author of Picking a Molecule," splashed on their covers. (Editors and publishers have the final say on such things, after all.) Observing this, I learned to disregard best-anything in book descriptions. I suspect that the typical reader has done the same, even when the writer in question really has had a bestseller.
If book cover copy is going to brag, I'd much rather see it brag appropriately. Perhaps with a line like one proposed by the late Martin Caidin (bestselling author of The Six-Million Dollar Man) for one of his novels: "Forget bestselling: this book grabs you by the balls and drags you screaming through 320 pages of terror!"
--Mike
The definitely-selling author of The eBay Survival Guide, Crosley: Two Brothers and a Business Empire that Transformed the Nation, and other titles.
E-mail to: Mike [insert the "at" sign here] michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
http://www.michaelabanks.com
And, it followed, a bestselling author was the author of a bestseller--a book that had sold hundreds of thousands of copies, maybe even millions of copies.
Assuming that making a bestseller list is a valid endorsement (and whether that's true is a subject for another blog entry), it's natural to let potential readers know (on second and third and nth printings) that the book sold enough copies to make such a list, and therefore might be interesting.
Where a new book by a previously bestselling author is involved, it's equally natural to want readers to know that this writer has sold a lot of books, since it is assumed that knowing the author has sold a large number of at least one title will motivate readers to by her new book.
But both bestseller and bestselling lost any real meaning years ago, thanks to the terms being applied indiscriminately. I've seen books that I know didn't sell 6,000 copies labeled bestselling. Sometimes the cover on a writer's first book lauds him as a "bestselling author." What?
When I was writing cover copy 20 years ago, I refused to use either term with any book that hadn't made some sort of list. Still, quite a few books that hadn't even made a grocery list ended up with something like "a new thrilling bestseller," or "Sylvanus Spatula, bestselling author of Picking a Molecule," splashed on their covers. (Editors and publishers have the final say on such things, after all.) Observing this, I learned to disregard best-anything in book descriptions. I suspect that the typical reader has done the same, even when the writer in question really has had a bestseller.
If book cover copy is going to brag, I'd much rather see it brag appropriately. Perhaps with a line like one proposed by the late Martin Caidin (bestselling author of The Six-Million Dollar Man) for one of his novels: "Forget bestselling: this book grabs you by the balls and drags you screaming through 320 pages of terror!"
--Mike
The definitely-selling author of The eBay Survival Guide, Crosley: Two Brothers and a Business Empire that Transformed the Nation, and other titles.
E-mail to: Mike [insert the "at" sign here] michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2007, Michael A. Banks
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Obnoxious Self-Promoters
Some writers carry self-promotion to obnoxious levels.
Consider a series of postings by writers in a bulletin board memorial to someone who recently passed away, and who counted a large number of writers among his friends and acquaintances.
It was disgusting to see the number of writers who added a list of their novels to each message. I know, I know--those were signature lines. But it still makes the in memoriam statements read like:
"Wow--he was a great guy. I'll miss him. By the way, buy these books that I wrote!"
I wonder if these writers hand out book promo at funerals, and maybe take advantage of such captive audiences to do a reading?
It can get worse. Back in the 1980s a well-known SF fanzine published a special issue to honor a certain legendary writer. Included in the issue were solicited tributes by fellow writers--one of whom hijacked the tribute and turned it into a personal promotion.
How? By jamming the "tribute" with references to the offending writer's own work, such as "... and I'll never forget [honored writer]'s [book title], which inspired my own [egotistical writer]'s [MY BOOK'S TITLE with publisher and date appended]. And my character in [ANOTHER BOOK'S TITLE with publisher and date appended] was inspired by [honored writer], as was the protagonist in [YET ANOTHER BOOK'S TITLE, etc.]" The writer (whom I will not identify even by gender, lest I inadvertently add to its "fame") did this for each and every book it had ever published!
Someone died; it’s about them, not you. Leave your ego--and insecurities--at home.
Regards,
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2006, Michael A. Banks
Consider a series of postings by writers in a bulletin board memorial to someone who recently passed away, and who counted a large number of writers among his friends and acquaintances.
It was disgusting to see the number of writers who added a list of their novels to each message. I know, I know--those were signature lines. But it still makes the in memoriam statements read like:
"Wow--he was a great guy. I'll miss him. By the way, buy these books that I wrote!"
I wonder if these writers hand out book promo at funerals, and maybe take advantage of such captive audiences to do a reading?
It can get worse. Back in the 1980s a well-known SF fanzine published a special issue to honor a certain legendary writer. Included in the issue were solicited tributes by fellow writers--one of whom hijacked the tribute and turned it into a personal promotion.
How? By jamming the "tribute" with references to the offending writer's own work, such as "... and I'll never forget [honored writer]'s [book title], which inspired my own [egotistical writer]'s [MY BOOK'S TITLE with publisher and date appended]. And my character in [ANOTHER BOOK'S TITLE with publisher and date appended] was inspired by [honored writer], as was the protagonist in [YET ANOTHER BOOK'S TITLE, etc.]" The writer (whom I will not identify even by gender, lest I inadvertently add to its "fame") did this for each and every book it had ever published!
Someone died; it’s about them, not you. Leave your ego--and insecurities--at home.
Regards,
--Mike
http://www.michaelabanks.com
Copyright © 2006, Michael A. Banks
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
