If you're a young adult writer, reader, librarian, or merely a fan of books, you should be paying attention to the folks at Readergirlz, Guys Lit Wire, and YALSA. For Operation Teen Book Drop, these three great organizations are working to get 10,000 new books for teens into the hands of kids who may not otherwise have a chance to read them. In previous years they've donated to books to hospitalized teens; this year, the 10,000 books will going straight to Native American teens living in tribal lands. We sometimes focus on the negatives of publishing, either by predicting the fall of books or bemoaning the electronic gadgets that distract our nation's children. It's important to remember that there are still needy children within our own country who don't have the opportunity to read the types of books they want.To help in a small way, some of my clients and I will be leaving books out in public places for teens to pick up and enjoy. I'll be headed into Manhattan later to make my own drop.UPDATE: Here's a picture of my drop spot in Union Square:
If you're interested in helping, please head to http://yalsa.ala.org/blog/2010/04/07/support-teen-literature-with-operation-tbd/ for details on how to get involved. I'll be posting my own book drop later today.
It’s always cause to celebrate when one of my clients’ books is released into the world.But it’s extra special exciting to see an author grow. Sydney Salter’s newest book, Swoon At Your Own Risk, is now available from Harcourt. This is Sydney’s third book, and I have worked with her since the beginning of her career. I have watched her develop and grow as a writer, and challenge herself to conquer new literary heights. She is the prime example of why it is important to make each book a brand new adventure.Here’s a little about the book:You’d think Polly Martin would have all the answers when it comes to love—after all, her grandmother is the famous syndicated advice columnist Miss Swoon. But after a junior year full of dating disasters, Polly has sworn off boys. This summer, she’s going to focus on herself for once. So Polly is happy when she finds out Grandma is moving in—think of all the great advice she’ll get. But Miss Swoon turns out to be a man-crazy sexagenarian! How can Polly stop herself from falling for Xander Cooper, the suddenly-hot skateboarder who keeps showing up while she’s working at Wild Waves water park, when Grandma is picking up guys at the bookstore and flirting with the dishwasher repairman? No advice column can prepare Polly for what happens when she goes on a group camping trip with three too many ex-boyfriends and the tempting Xander. Polly is forced to face her feelings and figure out if she can be in love—and still be herself.A huge congratulations to Sydney from everyone at Upstart Crow on her latest release. Swoon At Your Risk is the perfect relaxing read. Booklist says, “What appears to be a frothy summer confection delves into some heftier emotions as the underlying issues motivating Polly’s actions, as well as those of her mom and grandma, are uncovered."So buy your copy now--just make sure to keep a pillow nearby while you're reading to catch you when you swoon!
If there were a Ten Commandments of Publishing, "Thou Shalt Be Patient" would definitely fall somewhere between "Always Revise, Ye Children" and "Sippeth Much Coffee." I don't know how many times I've had to say "these things take time" or "we need to be patient" or "hey, what's over there?" before bolting in the opposite direction over the course of my young career, but it's been plenty.Chances are, if you're going to be serious about getting published, you're going to be expected to wait at different points: to figure out the plot, to find time to write, to hear back from your critique group, for an agent to respond to you, for the coffee to finish brewing, for revisions to be completed, for an editor to read your manuscript, for an offer to be finalized, for the contract to be negotiated, for the cows to come home, to receive an editor's notes, for the publishing house to pick the perfect cover, and for the release date to finally arrive. Then you get to start all over (minus some steps, of course, like the cows) for the next book. What I find encouraging is when all this waiting and patience finally pay off. I recently sold a project that, for me, was a perfect example of the importance of patience. The author had written the story, revised it, and worked on it with her critique group. She then submitted the manuscript when my former agency was holding what we called a query holiday, which was a one month period at the end of 2008 into 2009 when we allowed writers to send 20 pages of their story without an attached query.Here's the time line from the author's original submission to accepting an offer that I hope will give you a good example of the needed patience in this business:
There's no set formula for how long this process typically takes. Some works reach shelves more quickly while others take even longer. Regardless of whether your book flies from your fingers and into an editor's waiting hands or is the result of a long period of fine-tuning and hard effort, you're still going to be in for a wait, and patience is an absolute necessity.Now if you'll excuse me, I have some more commandments to write. I wonder what number "Always Save Your Work, Ye Fools" should be...
March is an exciting month for Angela Morrison.Seeing one of my clients’ novels hit the shelves is an incredible thrill. This month, however, Angela has two exciting releases: her newest novel, Sing Me To Sleep;
and the paperback edition of her first novel, Taken By Storm, which received a starred review from Publishers Weekly and has a fantastic new cover.
Having trained as a singer for many years, I am always on the lookout for manuscripts with musical themes. Sing Me To Sleep has just that, plus a terrific amount of romance, intrigue, devastating conflict, and beautiful prose—the perfect combination for a teen novel.Here is how the flap copy reads:THE TRANSFORMATIONBeth has always been "The Beast"—that's what everyone at school calls her because of her awkward height, facial scars, and thick glasses. Beth's only friend is geeky, golden-haired Scott. That is, until she's selected to be her choir's soprano soloist, and receives the makeover that will change her life forever.THE LOVE AFFAIRWhen Beth's choir travels to Switzerland, she meets Derek: pale, brooding, totally dreamy. Derek's untethered passion—for music, and for Beth—leaves her breathless. Because in Derek's eyes? She's not The Beast, she's The Beauty.THE IMPOSSIBLE CHOICEWhen Beth comes home, Scott, her best friend in the world, makes a confession that leaves her completely torn. Should she stand by sweet, steady Scott or follow the dangerous, intense new feelings she has for Derek?THE HEARTBREAKThe closer Beth gets to Derek, the further away he seems. Then Beth discovers that Derek's been hiding a dark secret from her ...one that could shatter everything.Amazing, right? Kirkus Reviews says, “The Nicholas Sparks-esque ending is sure to leave like-minded readers reaching for their tissues” and they are absolutely correct.So, run—don’t walk!—to the nearest bookseller and become the latest Angela Morrison fan. You’ll thank me later.
It is springtime here in New York, and as happens every spring, young hearts turn to thoughts of the Bologna Book Fair.Or my old heart does, anyway. Every year, children's books publishers and agents from all over the world gather in Bologna to buy and sell the rights to published and forthcoming books, to catch up with each other about trends, and to eat some truly excellent food. It is four days of constant meetings from nine to nine (some over drinks and dinner plates, true, but meetings nonetheless). From these meetings, many sales of properties are made to far-flung territories.This can be a great benefit for a writer, the sale of individual rights to different countries. It means that the writer receives separate advances for each territory, and that each of those advances earns out on its own schedule. So even if the publisher in the US stumbles and the book does poorly here, it may still sell well elsewhere and the writer will still earn royalties. These separate income streams make it easier for a writer to actually make a living from writing.Which is why we hold on to foreign and other subsidiary rights when we sell a project to a publisher. It can mean taking a smaller advance up front, or the outright rejection of an offer, and it can make us unpopular with certain publishers. Why? Because the publisher, of course, wants these rights, too.When the publisher controls those rights and sells a foreign license, the advance for that foreign sale—and any royalties paid—are first applied toward paying back the publisher for the advance given to the author. Conceivably, a book could earn back its advance for the publisher without ever selling a single copy in the US. Good for the publisher, not so good for the author.Not long ago, I had a conversation about this very subject with an editor, in which she explained her position. Namely, that an author should want the publisher to keep rights, because that makes it "easier for the publisher to earn back the advance and makes the writer more profitable for the house."Which sounds nice on the face of things, but has all sorts of buried sentiments and assumptions lurking within. Let's unpack that sentence, so that we can see how very wrong-headed it is.For one thing, the implication is that the publisher will be happy with the author and continue to publish that author happily for the next forty years if the publisher earns back its advances by recouping the money through foreign sales.But that's just not true. Foreign sales matter almost not at all to a publisher's decision to publish future titles by an author. If the author's books bomb at home and continue to tank domestically, while the publisher will be happy it recouped its advance in the foreign sales, it won't feel any love for the author. The publisher will have covered its bets on the author, but it will also likely stop betting on that author at all. And the advance, while it may be large, is a mere fraction of the cost of bringing a book to market. So collecting some foreign advances (typically smaller) will do little to offset the actual cost of publishing a book.So let's say the publisher fumbles the publication in this market, but the book is a hit in France—well, the entity that most benefits is the publisher, not the author. Which, to that editor's mind, makes perfect sense. The publisher, after all, gambled; why shouldn't it earn back its money first?But why should the publisher expect that the author will support the publisher? If anything, it should be the other way around, though even that is a questionable proposition. Instead, the author should find a way to make a living by exploiting as much as possible the rights to his or her work. And the publisher should pay advances it feels it can earn back via sales in its home territory.One might also ask whether the publisher is even the best entity to most effectively sell those rights? Few—if any—publishers push hard for the sale of titles after a book's debut year. The publisher's list grows by dozens of titles each season, and those books require attention, while the backlist languishes. And the publisher's subsidiary rights team? They collect their paychecks whether they sell a book or not. The success or failure of an individual title matters little.That's not the story for an agency, however. The agency gets paid only when it sells rights, so it works to keep the focus on older titles even when adding new ones to the list. (Because though the agency's list will grow, it will never grow at the rate of a publisher's.) Older titles are re-presented with new positioning, in the hopes that new sales can be made, new paychecks collected, and the author given a real shot at making a living.
Recently a writer asked me the following question:
After I finished a YA book I particularly loved, I found out that the writer is on faculty at the Vermont College MFA program. It's a low-res program - ideal for my lifestyle. I'm considering applying and wondered about your perspective on the pros and cons of an MFA...My goals would be to develop as a stronger writer. For me, that means learning how to go deeper with POV and understanding how to vary my sentence structure to improve pace and description.
This is a great question and one I'm sure many writers anxious to break into publishing ponder at one point or another. In my opinion, a writer who considers, enrolls in, or has completed an MFA is off to a good start. I tend to assume they're willing to work on their craft, accept feedback, and approach their writing as something more serious than a hobby. The writer who posed this question seems to be considering an MFA program for the right reasons. From my side of the desk, when a query comes in and mentions that a writer has completed an MFA, I take note and regard the submission with a higher level of interest.Of course, it's not all rainbows and puppy dogs. Although I didn't attend an MFA program myself (my graduate degree was an MA in Writing, which basically meant less organization in the courses, less focus on the creative side, and more head-scratching when I try to explain what the heck the degree was all about), I can say from my own experience that a writing program is definitely a mixed bag. Because most of the programs do still use the workshop setup, in many ways you're at the mercy of the rest of the class. In some cases, this could be terrific, as you'd be paired with other serious writers looking to offer sound advice to improve your work. That's the ideal scenario. You have to remember, however, that these programs are incredibly competitive--just getting accepted is difficult enough, but once in, everyone is competing over awards, publication in the literary magazine (if there is one), and the attention of the instructors. Even if you're not in an overly competitive program, stories that get workshopped ad nauseam can sometimes get so caught up in the particulars that they never get to bloom, like a flower that's being repeatedly covered in new soil, fertilizer, and plant food until it's just a pile of soggy dirt.In fact, a former colleague of mine from my days working in grad school practically refused to read anything published by a graduate of an MFA program. He felt these works had a shared pretentiousness about them that stunk of writing groups, self-congratulatory short stories, and purple prose. I once handed him my worn copy of Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, assuming he, an avid fan of comic books his whole life, would adore it like I did. He gave it back after reading the first 75 pages, claiming the writing read like, "An overblown MFA thesis." "But it won the Pulitzer Prize!" I argued. "Bah! The Pullet Surprise? Who cares?" he said. He, a card-carrying curmudgeon, is the exemption, I'm sure.The faculty for a particular program is important as well. It's always smart to ask around about the faculty before signing up. Unfortunately, some of the big name writers out there who wind up teaching should stay behind their desks. Just because they write beautifully doesn't mean they can teach you how to do so, and you want to make sure they're going to take the program seriously and aren't just looking to cash a check.Aside from the above concerns, enrolling in an MFA program is generally a smart idea, as long as you take the following into consideration:
That last one is very important. I fear many people assume because they're putting up serious money and time to attend an MFA program, they should be awarded with a book contract once the degree is in hand. Sadly, this is not always the case. For every Trenton Lee Stewart out there, there are plenty of George Fakelastnames who never make it. An MFA program can definitely help you hone your craft, but it's not the golden ticket in the chocolate bar many wish it was. You still need a great story, commitment, and a few lucky breaks.If anyone is considering, currently enrolled in, or has finished an MFA program, I'd love to hear your take!
(First entry in an occasional series in which we bandy about useful terms for the industry. Want to contribute your own? Please email your entries to podcast@upstartcrowliterary.com. This first is inspired by Michael Pollan's useful thoughts about food.]
Book-like product. These are high-profile (and high-priced) projects: Books that are purchased by publishers and published but that are not sold to the traditional book audience, or are sold on some appeal that is extra-literary.They may be books "written" by celebrities (such as the recent deal for Hilary Duff, or Lauren Conrad's two novels, or Jerry Seinfeld's Halloween "picture book" from a few years back). Or books that no one outside of the celebrity's following (mostly non book buyers) would purchase. (Think of Madonna's The English Roses. Or Glenn Beck's picture book.)Such projects are written and bound and jacketed and look like the rest of the books a publisher may have in its catalogue, sure. They may even read wonderfully well. But make no mistake: They are Something Else. Book-like products don't behave in the marketplace like regular old books, and so should never be used as a point of comparison in discussions of the marketplace. Publishers spend more money on these projects, and the projects have a much higher profile in the world. But neither the advance nor the buzz about the book have any bearing on regular old books and publishing. And these kinds of projects have been around for as long as publishing has been a business.Instead, book-like products should be seen as a lucrative side-line that publishers engage in to help them earn in the marketplace. For all it matters, Usually, the book-like products come out of different branches of the publisher that don't really mix with the more literary minded part of the company, and for all their bookishness, may as well be jigsaw puzzles. Or Beanie Babies. Or Colorforms.All of which is to say, we shouldn't get up in arms because Hilary Duff (or Lauren Conrad or Madonna or Britney Spears or whichever glamorpuss of the moment) got a big deal for a book-like product. That is just one more of the crappy products that orbit her celebrity, and its success or failure affects the real book marketplace not at all.But am I going far enough in defining this category? Or too far? What about books that become phenomenons and leave the rest of publishing behind? Surely they no longer count as representative of anything useful, right?
(First entry in an occasional series in which we bandy about useful terms for the industry. Want to contribute your own? Please email your entries to podcast@upstartcrowliterary.com. This first is inspired by Michael Pollan's useful thoughts about food.]
Book-like product. These are high-profile (and high-priced) projects: Books that are purchased by publishers and published but that are not sold to the traditional book audience, or are sold on some appeal that is extra-literary.They may be books "written" by celebrities (such as the recent deal for Hilary Duff, or Lauren Conrad's two novels, or Jerry Seinfeld's Halloween "picture book" from a few years back). Or books that no one outside of the celebrity's following (mostly non book buyers) would purchase. (Think of Madonna's The English Roses. Or Glenn Beck's picture book.)Such projects are written and bound and jacketed and look like the rest of the books a publisher may have in its catalogue, sure. They may even read wonderfully well. But make no mistake: They are Something Else. Book-like products don't behave in the marketplace like regular old books, and so should never be used as a point of comparison in discussions of the marketplace. Publishers spend more money on these projects, and the projects have a much higher profile in the world. But neither the advance nor the buzz about the book have any bearing on regular old books and publishing. And these kinds of projects have been around for as long as publishing has been a business.Instead, book-like products should be seen as a lucrative side-line that publishers engage in to help them earn in the marketplace. For all it matters, Usually, the book-like products come out of different branches of the publisher that don't really mix with the more literary minded part of the company, and for all their bookishness, may as well be jigsaw puzzles. Or Beanie Babies. Or Colorforms.All of which is to say, we shouldn't get up in arms because Hilary Duff (or Lauren Conrad or Madonna or Britney Spears or whichever glamorpuss of the moment) got a big deal for a book-like product. That is just one more of the crappy products that orbit her celebrity, and its success or failure affects the real book marketplace not at all.But am I going far enough in defining this category? Or too far? What about books that become phenomenons and leave the rest of publishing behind? Surely they no longer count as representative of anything useful, right?
Yes, yes, BIG DEAL, you say. (Really, you should be nicer.)But we are simple folk and made proud by all sorts of little things, and we're proud that we've (mostly) kept up with this here group endeavor.And so my long explanation of what subsidiary rights are and why authors should hold on to them will have to wait. (Sorry, Steve.) Instead, a wee celebratory tune from Frank Turner, the greatest musician you do not know. This song, "Photosynthesis," is from his achingly awesome record Love, Ire & Song. I love this guy so much. Just saw him perform last week in a record store here in New York. He was tremendous.As is this song. Here he and these kids are speaking for all of us in children's books. But especially for us here at Upstart Crow.As I always say on the mixes I make for friends: Don't be afraid to play it LOUD.Have a happy Friday and a good weekend.
Back at the start of this year, Jonathan Galassi wrote an awesome editorial for the New York Times about the value that a publishing house actually provides for a book and an author—those ineffable quality enhancers that make a book cost more than its printing, paper, and binding. Editing. Marketing. Publicity. Design. Attention to detail. Vision.Galassi's piece is the perfect counter to those who suggest publishers are going the way of the T-rex, that authors need only throw their manuscripts onto the Kindle. Seventy percent royalty rates! these people crow. Take that, Legacy Publishers! My audience will not be bound by the old paradigms! And then they—I don't know, twirl the ends of their moustaches while they count their doubloons.
But is Amazon's self-publication plan truly the first death knell for traditional publishers? One writer friend who has worn an THE END IS COMING sandwich board for the past thirty years sees it as— Well, here's what he wrote:
The big six are irrelevant long-term, even medium-term. Why would I sell my book to them so they could place it in some projected Apple e-book store? Amazon is offering a 70% royalty. Can the Big 6 plus Apple offer that? No. Because the downward price pressure will squeeze out any superfluous element in the supply chain. And that's the publishers.
But I've borne witness to the fruits of self-publication, and I can testify to you all that it is no threat to books from publishers. It's the opposite in fact, and some kind of spectacular ugly. An anecdote [that Will Entrekin astutely points out below isn't entirely salient]:Long ago, when I was desperately poor and pretty much willing to whore my talents out to anyone, I worked for the idiotically named iUniverse, a print-on-demand vanity press. Among its investors were the Author's Guild and B&N, so it had the appearance of legitimacy; some titles even got distribution to B&N stores. But it was a vanity press, and even the appearance of legitimacy could not disguise the fact that 99.9% of its list was nearly unreadable dreck.But the people who ran the outfit wanted to create a filter, something to offer the illusion to potential authors (and readers!) that there were some quality controls in place. This is, I'd argue, the issue and where traditional publishers come in: Quality control, and giving an imprimatur of some base quality to a book.That's where I came in.To help potential readers sort through the hundreds of yahoos who published their books through iUniverse, there was something called Editor's Choice. Or Editor's Seal. Or Editor's Paycheck. I don't recall what the program was called, as I never saw a manuscript or finished book after my review of 100 pages.I was paid some amount of money—seems super miniscule in memory, but maybe it was fifty dollars? seventy-five dollars?—to read 100 pages and fill out a form providing possible revision direction, and "approving" the manuscript. A couple lines of tepid praise along the lines of "The reader is aware of the author's painstaking labor every step of the way." Or whatever. You get the idea.Only the most egregiously incomprehensible books were rejected, and those were almost more work to reject, because the iUniverse reps would come back to you and say, Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure you're not just being snobby? Because they were more interested in taking that author's money than they were in putting out quality books. Just about everyone who paid the extra fee for the Editor's Stain of Disdain got approved, because that's what the customer paid for, and these were vanity publications, make no doubt.The customer in any self-publishing venture is always going to be the author, not the reader. But publishers are there for the rea— Well, no, publishers are there for themselves, clearly, but also for readers. Editors don't work their jobs to get rich, they do it because they love making good books. And that is not only what makes the books we buy things of quality, it's also what drives up the cost and eats into author's potential royalties.Of course, I could be wrong. (It happens often, I'm told.) Has anyone downloaded any Amazon original titles? Were the books worthwhile? Or did you long to get back those lost hours of your life?