Monday, January 14, 2013

"Everybody does have a book in them, but in most cases that’s where it should stay." Christopher Hitchens

Okay, some demotivational columns worth reading:

Notes from the Drunken Editor: You Are the Joke Here

Nobody gives a F*** that you wrote something

The funny thing about being a development editor is that I can divide most of the authors that cross my desk into one of two categories: highly talented writers who are too shy and (unrealistically) dissatisfied with their work to seek publication (and who need a writing coach mostly for moral support), and aspiring writers who have no idea how bad their work is (who need a writing coach to tell them to go back to the drawing board and never ever let the current manuscript see the light of day). The former are a lot easier to work with, but the latter often do quite well if they can put their egos aside long enough to take the advice they're given; and if they are willing to undertake repeated revisions, not just first drafts. Sadly, many in the second category just shoot the messenger and fail to make any forward motion. Fortunately, most of those will want to design their own covers too, and so effectively warn buyers away from their work (see previous post).

I'm egotistical enough to think I can help any writer get better...but I do occasionally tell writers that they are not sufficiently close to their goal that paying for developmental editing would not be cost effective for them; that they need to go back a couple of steps: perhaps take some writing courses, join a writers' workshop, write two or three other novels, etc, before trying to bring the current manuscript up to publishable standards.

And sometimes our styles/tastes/issues are just too incompatible to be workable. A good development editor doesn't take on clients s/he cannot help, and that is more often about being the wrong genre than about the quality of the writing.

So, I can usually help most SF writers get better. But it helps a lot if the writer starts with a little humility. Thus the demotivational references above. Get a little perspective before demanding that others love your manuscript....

Oh, but don't read those columns if you fall into the first group; that is, someone who worries that their manuscript is not good enough. If you are worried that no one will want to read your book, these guys aren't talking to/about you.

Bad Covers

As I have said repeatedly, self-publishers have to take on the role of the publisher which means hiring professional editors and cover artists and so on. Getting one's 9 year old or one's cousin to do the cover will not sell books. (May do a significant public service by warning readers that the book behind the cover is amateur, but won't sell copies of the book.)

Of course, authors also have to ensure that if they are going with a small--sometimes even a large--publisher, that the publisher has some idea of what they are doing. Check out the coverart on their other books before you sign on.

On the other hand, I have heard authors complain about perfectly decent covers because they thought the hero's sword needed to be longer or their heroine was brunette not blonde, or some such triviality. So every once in a while we need to remind ourselves just how bad things can get. Here then, examples of cover art so bad they will make you more appreciative of the cover you got, and/or remind you not to use your own clipart cover: http://lousybookcovers.tumblr.com/

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Editing for Self-published Authors

Here's a good column by Lindsay Buroker (author of Encrpted among other pretty good novels) on editing for those going self-publishing route: Editing for Independent Self-Published Authors.

Monday, October 15, 2012

SF Epithet of the Day

"...you morsel of depleted picritic shergottite!"
John Park (author of JANUS)

(I should note that said epithet is not from the book JANUS, just something that came up in online conversation...but it's one of those phrases that you just know is highly insulting, even if you have no idea to what it refers.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Starting with the action

I've always thought L. Sprague de Camp's, "shoot the sheriff in the first line" excellent advice to writers. I often find that manuscripts across my desk start several chapters before the actual story. But came across fantasy author Dave Duncan's version of the same advice this evening: "Start with the fire alarm, not an alarm clock."

To which John Park added "The brick-through-the-window opening sounds like the easy part of de Mille's 'Start with an earthquake and build up to a climax'."

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Simultaneous submissions

Ran into an established YA author I hadn't seen for awhile, and greeted her with my standard, "written any good books lately?" She replied that she had just sent the latest manuscript off to a new publisher she had just found.

"A new publisher?" I asked. "Did X reject it?" (Because I was surprised that her previous publisher would even consider letting her go.)

"Well," she replied, "I never heard back from them on it, or from my other publisher, and it's been nearly two months, so I thought it was probably time to send it out again to somebody new."

My face must have revealed my shock, because she said, "What?"

"You've sent the same manuscript to three publishers? At the same time?"

"Well, yeah. What's wrong with that?"

The answer is that simultaneous submissions are a very very bad idea. It's like trying to sell the same car to three different buyers. It can get you into a lot of trouble.

Most publishers are very explicit on their websites or in their submission guidelines that they do not accept simultaneous submissions. (There are a few--very few--exceptions, that explicitly accept simultaneous submissions, but even they insist that you tell them it is a simultaneous submission.)

The publishing industry is filled with stories of editors who, finding that this or that title missed a crucial deadline or otherwise isn't ready to go to press, reached down into the waiting pile of submissions, pulled out the next title in line, and fast tracked the editing, artwork, book design, etc etc, and then sent off the good news to the author that their manuscript is not only accepted but already halfway to press -- only to find that the author has just sold the manuscript to another publisher. (Yes, yes, smart editors would not order artwork before they had a signed contract in hand, but it has happened often enough to be the stuff of legends.) Needless to say, publishers get very pissed when they find themselves holding a cover to some other publisher's book; and that that author need never cross their doorway again--and probably shouldn't bother trying to submit to any other publisher that publisher has ever had lunch with, either. There are a million manuscripts out there awaiting publication, a thousand as good as the best, so publishers will often simply decide not to bother with an author they have come to think of as 'unreliable'.

But forget about the anecdotes of books halfway to press before the publisher discovered they didn't in fact own the rights. More commonly, the problem with simultaneous submissions is simply that you are asking the editor to invest 8 to 10 hours reading a manuscript you may not end up selling them. Editors are busy people who already have more manuscripts on their desk than they can possibly read before quitting time, so if they push other manuscripts aside to read yours, you're not just cheating the editor out of his time, you're cheating other writers out of their shot at that editor.

Even in small one or two person presses, it can take two to three months to decide on a manuscript. Admittedly, the first two months are probably spent with the manuscript sitting on a pile of other unread manuscripts while the editor frantically attends to some other more immediate deadline; or just attends to the stack of submissions from two months before that. But even once your manuscript gets that first read, the editor has to weigh it against other submissions, maybe talk it over with another person at the press, maybe play around with how this or that element could be 'fixed', and so on, before a decision can be made. So it is unlikely that you would hear back before at least a couple of months go by. Check the publisher's submission guidelines to see if they have mentioned their response times. If it says 8 to 16 weeks response time, that's how long you should expect to wait. Throw in another couple of weeks for good measure, then send a polite inquiry about the status of your manuscript. If there is no response, or time keeps going by and they don't seem to be making a decision, you can always withdraw the submission and take it elsewhere. Taking it elsewhere without first officially withdrawing it can place the editor in a very tricky situation.

For example, at larger presses, there is typically an editorial meeting at which each editor brings forward her three or four nominees and has to argue for them against the nominees of the other editors. This doesn't just represent the further investment of time in your manuscript, but may actually matter to the editor's career. If they've championed your manuscript at the meeting, but have to go back to the next meeting to confess that your's has been withdrawn because it has already sold elsewhere, than that can represent a significant loss of face for your editor. The other editors will be pissed that their nominees were trumped by a manuscript your editor was not in the end able to deliver. The stakes are similarly increased each time your editor has to defend your manuscript as the decision to purchase is vetted by the marketing department, more senior editors, the editorial board, or the publisher. So editors come to loath simultaneous submissions, even if they haven't invested a dime in production.

So, although it feels like the press should be able to respond immediately, or that they must not be interested if they do not respond within a few weeks, deciding whether to publish your book is a time consuming process. You must therefore give the publisher time to finish the process before taking your manuscript to the next publisher.

Another factor that this particular author had overlooked was that she had previously published with two of these publishers. That certainly gives her a leg up on newcomers submitting to the slush pile, and increased her expectations of a speedy response, but it also greatly increases her responsibility to the publisher. That publisher has already invested in developing her manuscript/talent, in promoting her writing, and so on, so that unless there have been significant problems with the experience, the writer should consider giving that publisher first right of refusal. Indeed, many first book contracts include a clause that make that a legal requirement. Submitting the book simultaneously to the competition may actually leave an author open to suit for breach of contract. (And again, the second publisher will not be overjoyed to find that they are being sued by the first publisher because you submitted a manuscript to them that you shouldn't have.

So basic rule: unless both the publishers to whom you are submitting explicitly say that simultaneous submissions are okay, don't even think about doing it. Allow each publisher in turn sufficient time to make a determination about your manuscript before withdrawing it and moving on to the next. Spend your time working on your next manuscript, rather than obsessing about how long its taking to hear back about this one.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Galley Proofs

Reviewing galley proofs today -- the most tedious part of any editor's job. Basically, after a book has been typeset, a copy of the page proofs are sent back to the author and /or editor for a final check for mistakes. And there are always mistakes that have somehow managed to sneak through.

I hate finding mistakes by the typesetter. Why can't that person just leave it the way I had it and not introduce such obvious errors?! It's not their job to change things!

I hate finding mistakes I've made -- why didn't the typesetter realize I meant to put that title in italics and fix that for me, instead of leaving such an obvious mistake? Why can they never show a little initiative?!

I hate finding grammatical errors. Why wasn't that caught at the copy-editing stage? I find this especially irksome on books where I was the copyeditor.

Worst of all is how correcting galley proofs makes me fat. I can only stand the intense tedium of reading text letter by letter for an hour or so before I have to take a break. And sitting in my office, resisting the obvious siren call of Facebook and Twitter, the only alternative is the coffee shop downstairs. Damn them and their lattes and giant cookies!

800 calories later, and I'm still only on page 35.