And really, this time around it is not much—mostly a dry run for the real thing so that we can get our iTunes subscription base set up and so on and so forth. But if you download it, you will be able to hear Michael read to you a paragraph by Raymond Carver. Thrilling, right? Seriously. So give it a listen and subscribe.Future netcasts will feature both Michael and Chris discussing everything from truly stunning new novels to industry gossip to interviews with Top Writers and Deep Throat sources from within publishing. It is going to be fun. So give us a try, and we'll have more for you soon.[podcast format="video"]http://upstartcrowliterary.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/UpstartCrowLit001.m4a[/podcast]
And really, this time around it is not much—mostly a dry run for the real thing so that we can get our iTunes subscription base set up and so on and so forth. But if you download it, you will be able to hear Michael read to you a paragraph by Raymond Carver. Thrilling, right? Seriously. So give it a listen and subscribe.Future netcasts will feature both Michael and Chris discussing everything from truly stunning new novels to industry gossip to interviews with Top Writers and Deep Throat sources from within publishing. It is going to be fun. So give us a try, and we'll have more for you soon.[podcast format="video"]http://upstartcrowliterary.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/UpstartCrowLit001.m4a[/podcast]
There used to be site called www.rejectioncollection.com where people would post their rejection letters. Sadly, it’s been taken down or the operators failed to pay their bills or some printer’s demon got loose and did its evil work. Regardless, it was sort of morbidly fascinating, and not just because I recognized so many of my rejections among the many posted there. (Usually I would read what I’d written and feel that pleasant burr of recognition of something you’ve put out into the world. Sad, but true.)What I found most interesting about the site was how very wrong-headed it was. After each reproduced letter, the rejected author would answer a series of questions: How did receiving this rejection make you feel? and What bothered you most about this letter? As though a rejection letter is some sort of assessment of the author herself, and not of the author’s work and how well it matched the editor’s tastes.It’s not personal. It never is (unless the editor or agent knows you personally and hates you for that smelly thing you did at dinner that time—though even then, it’s likely not personal.) I’ve been doing this for ages, and in an easy ninety-five percent of the cases, the reason for rejection was simply that I didn’t love what I read. Period. And there are so many submissions and so few slots that an editor or agent has to really fall in love with a book in order to best serve it. Life is short and work is long and why fuss about with things you aren't ass-over-teakettle crazy about?Rejection letters aren’t about you. They’re about someone not “getting” your work. Feel disappointment, sure, but then square your shoulders, shrug, and think, “Your loss, punk!” and send it out again.
I see a lot of queries for manuscripts, but one sort of query drives me absolutely nuts. This kind of query is written with a barely contained e!x!c!i!t!e!m!e!n!t! about ... not the story or the manuscript itself, but about the author's fully envisioned marketing and merchandizing plan.Yes, the writer informs me, there is this children's book manuscript, but that is only the first step. Following quickly on the heels of publication—or maybe at the same time—will be the licensed video game, the bed sheets, the mugs, the T-shirts, the cocoa flavor, the branded colonic, the weekly sitcom, the Nike shoe endorsement, the star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and so much money and glory showering down upon the writer and—if I am wise enough to seize this opportunity—me, that we will never have to work again.I wish all good luck for that writer, but I sincerely doubt any of it will come to pass. Because this writer clearly doesn't give a damn about story, or kids, or good writing; she is all about the big dream of a huge payday to end all paydays. Such people never write good books. They write something, sure, but not good books. And whatever it is they've written, I don't want to see it.
Years ago, I was touring the floor of the American Library Association's annual convention along with a friend of mine, who we will call Very Famous Children's Book Author, and we were discussing the fact that I used to write—had published stories, won a few awards, blah blah blah—but not so much anymore. At that time, not for about eight years. And she asked, "So why not? Why aren't you writing?"And I sighed in a melodramatic way and said, "Well, I'm tired."She asked me how old I was, then shook her head and said, "That's bullshit, Michael. You're not tired. You're just not doing it. You just have to sit your ass down and do the work. That's all." And she told me how she did it, which was a daily word goal of a thousand words. Every day. No more than a thousand words, no fewer.Do that, and at the end of three months, you have a 65,000-word draft. (No, my math isn't that bad: I'm assuming you had to throw out 25,000 words that Went Wrong, or Just Were No Damn Good, or Were Part of Another Book Entirely that Wandered in and Cocked Up the Story You Already Had Going.) And then what?You print it out, you read through and mark it up, you take it to a workshop of writers who understand your goals, and who you trust. They'll give you feedback. If you're wise, you'll listen to only about ten percent of it. (People in critique groups mean well and work hard, but it is very hard to help a writer find her book in a first draft. Some people will be wanting you to write a different book altogether, others won't understand at all what you're doing, and still others will just be lousy critics. That happens, too. But you'll smile, and thank them, and then go off and do what you have to do, taking what is useful and leaving the rest.)And then? And then you put your butt back into the chair and you revise. That's another three months. And then you do it all over again. And again. Until it is good.Simple, right?
There used to be site called www.rejectioncollection.com where people would post their rejection letters. Sadly, it’s been taken down or the operators failed to pay their bills or some printer’s demon got loose and did its evil work. Regardless, it was sort of morbidly fascinating, and not just because I recognized so many of my rejections among the many posted there. (Usually I would read what I’d written and feel that pleasant burr of recognition of something you’ve put out into the world. Sad, but true.)What I found most interesting about the site was how very wrong-headed it was. After each reproduced letter, the rejected author would answer a series of questions: How did receiving this rejection make you feel? and What bothered you most about this letter? As though a rejection letter is some sort of assessment of the author herself, and not of the author’s work and how well it matched the editor’s tastes.It’s not personal. It never is (unless the editor or agent knows you personally and hates you for that smelly thing you did at dinner that time—though even then, it’s likely not personal.) I’ve been doing this for ages, and in an easy ninety-five percent of the cases, the reason for rejection was simply that I didn’t love what I read. Period. And there are so many submissions and so few slots that an editor or agent has to really fall in love with a book in order to best serve it. Life is short and work is long and why fuss about with things you aren't ass-over-teakettle crazy about?Rejection letters aren’t about you. They’re about someone not “getting” your work. Feel disappointment, sure, but then square your shoulders, shrug, and think, “Your loss, punk!” and send it out again.
A writer I work with, when he heard I’d be working out of Brooklyn, asked, “Will you still be getting into New York often enough to meet with editors?” And I chuckled in that annoyingly condescending way that makes anyone outside of New York justifiably hate people in New York, and I said, “Oh, sure. I mean, Brooklyn is New York. It’s just not Manhattan.”Thing is, I didn’t understand that until I actually moved here in 2001. (Yes, I'm a transplant. Which made that chuckle even more annoying.) I’ve never had a strong grasp of geography, and my impressions of New York city had all been formed by movies and Law & Order. (I expected to bump into Jerry Orbach around every corner and hear a loud chun-chung! overhead whenever I "changed scenes." Sadly, it wasn’t like that.)But then I came to discover that most of publishing doesn’t even live in New York City. (It’s too expensive, and too noisy, and just too much muchness.) About half of children’s publishing lives in or around Park Slope in Brooklyn (near Propsect Park), and the other half lives in New Jersey. And the third half (because there are so many of us that two halves aren't nearly enough) are scattered around in Queens, and Long Island, and even—yes—in Manhattan.Some agencies prize their New York city addresses and ballyhoo it as though it matters, but let me reassure you: It makes no difference. Except maybe that they can get to a lunch ten minutes faster.
Apparently, it is all about giving it the right name. Happily, you can hire someone to figure out the name for you:
Dear Mr. Michael Stearns,
When customers browse the racks at the local book store or scan the listings on Amazon.com, a book's title is often the most significant purchasing factor. We at Novel Titles create commercially successful, effective and memorable titles for your client’s work. You can expect complete commitment, integrity and respect with each and every project... [two more paragraphs of drivel]
Sincerely,
[Mr. I Am Happy to Take Your Money, Sucker!]
Thank you, noveltitles.com. Now if we can just hire someone to actually write the book, we’ll be all set.
If you know anything about books, you’ve got opinions. Just ask any librarian. Or writer. Or reader. Or more to the point, literary agent.We here at Upstart Crow Literary flatter ourselves that we know a thing or two, so we are going to launch an occasional podcast. In it we will gab about what we’re reading, what trends we’ve noticed, exemplars of craft we should all pay attention to, which authors we think are All That, and maybe even conduct interviews with writers and gadabouts whom we admire.So subscribe to our RSS feed (if you are the technologically savvy sort), or just check back in every now and again (if you are, like me, just plain grateful for the new-fangled wizardry of this internet thingamajig), and drop us a line care of podcast@upstartcrowliterary.com if there is anything you’d like us to talk about.