Miscellania
The weekend
Looked at cars this weekend. Must make a final decision about what to buy and then do the deed before the week is out. The deadline is an artificial one, created by nothing but my own desire to have done with it. I just want it to be over and to move on.
Went to Carkeek Park for the first time this weekend. It's a park that butts up against Puget Sound, so there's a long sandy coastline to walk along as well as an estuary that's used by salmon during the year for spawning. Did a little beachcombing and came up with some lovely old shells and beach glass. This time I had the presence of mind to remember to bring my binoculars and one of my birding books, and we identified two kinds of ducks for my birding journal: the American Wigeon, and the Common Goldeneye. They're fairly common so their sighting isn't all that remarkable, but they're so pretty in the wild that it was a pleasure to see them.
Watched the BBC's Royal Shakespeare Company production of "Hamlet". It's one of my favorite Shakespearean plays. I've now been forever ruined for any other portrayal of Hamlet. Derek Jacobi is brilliant as the prince.
Unrealistic expectations
For once, I'm not talking about my own. Salon is running an article called "Confessions of a Semi-Successful Author". I read this article because it's introduced by this dramatic confession of disappointment and heartbreak at the way the publishing industry works for midlist writers. After reading it, all I could think was that this author was a whiner. First, she's not a midlist author with the exception of her single $10K advance, the money she documents receiving ain't midlist cash. Second, she seemed to expect the industry to continue to pay her huge sums of money for work that wasn't selling, expected to get high five-figure advances for writing one book every two years (a velocity that simply won't sustain a career in today's market), and wanted to be treated like a princess every step of the way.
I've been a publishing professional for years, attended writers' conferences and spoken to writers all over the country, and one of the things I never fail to do is make it clear to them that publishing is a business first, that getting published isn't a right, and that if you want to write for a living, you have to approach it as the business it is. Literary agents can help you deal with the business aspects of your career, but if you leave it all to them, you're in for a rude awakening. Every time I hear a story like this, I can't find sympathy for the writer, simply because I know authors who produce more, get good reviews and win awards, don't make as much on three books as this author made on one, manage to make a decent living and are satisfied with how their careers have progressed. And writers like this author seem to forget that they made the choice themselves to go into a tough, tough industry. Having filo for skin instead of tanned leather just isn't a survival strategy.
The article, to me, is emblematic of old-fashioned, romantic ideas about publishing butting up against the realities of the contemporary industry. We can all bemoan the lost days of publishers publishing a book for love rather than money (and I certainly do from an editorial perspective), but those dayssadlyare gone, and I think there's little besides a catastrophic shift in the business climate that can change that. She makes some good points about the negative evolutions the business has gone through: the rise of influence of the big-box retailers, the effect of the buying policies of the major chains, and the emphasis on numbers above all. She's right to extoll the virtues of independent booksellers and Booksense. But to expect a publisher to continue to pay big money for small sales just isn't realistic. To expect to not have to change along with the business you've entered is a sure recipe for disappointment and heartbreak and that's a result you have to take some responsiblity for yourself.
Maybe this all sounds heartless. Maybe it is. But the truth will out: publishing is shark-infested waters, no place for the timid. I love and admire the people I've worked with over the years, and one of the reasons I do is that they're all survivors, tough, persistent, goal-oriented and realistic. To this author, I say, "Wake up and smell the coffee." To my friends in the business authors and editors alikeI say, "Bravo! Soldier on, and rock your readers' worlds."
Post-script: A friend on one of my e-mail lists pointed me to John Scalzi's response to this Salon article and I couldn't agree more.
Looked at cars this weekend. Must make a final decision about what to buy and then do the deed before the week is out. The deadline is an artificial one, created by nothing but my own desire to have done with it. I just want it to be over and to move on.
Went to Carkeek Park for the first time this weekend. It's a park that butts up against Puget Sound, so there's a long sandy coastline to walk along as well as an estuary that's used by salmon during the year for spawning. Did a little beachcombing and came up with some lovely old shells and beach glass. This time I had the presence of mind to remember to bring my binoculars and one of my birding books, and we identified two kinds of ducks for my birding journal: the American Wigeon, and the Common Goldeneye. They're fairly common so their sighting isn't all that remarkable, but they're so pretty in the wild that it was a pleasure to see them.
Watched the BBC's Royal Shakespeare Company production of "Hamlet". It's one of my favorite Shakespearean plays. I've now been forever ruined for any other portrayal of Hamlet. Derek Jacobi is brilliant as the prince.
Unrealistic expectations
For once, I'm not talking about my own. Salon is running an article called "Confessions of a Semi-Successful Author". I read this article because it's introduced by this dramatic confession of disappointment and heartbreak at the way the publishing industry works for midlist writers. After reading it, all I could think was that this author was a whiner. First, she's not a midlist author with the exception of her single $10K advance, the money she documents receiving ain't midlist cash. Second, she seemed to expect the industry to continue to pay her huge sums of money for work that wasn't selling, expected to get high five-figure advances for writing one book every two years (a velocity that simply won't sustain a career in today's market), and wanted to be treated like a princess every step of the way.
I've been a publishing professional for years, attended writers' conferences and spoken to writers all over the country, and one of the things I never fail to do is make it clear to them that publishing is a business first, that getting published isn't a right, and that if you want to write for a living, you have to approach it as the business it is. Literary agents can help you deal with the business aspects of your career, but if you leave it all to them, you're in for a rude awakening. Every time I hear a story like this, I can't find sympathy for the writer, simply because I know authors who produce more, get good reviews and win awards, don't make as much on three books as this author made on one, manage to make a decent living and are satisfied with how their careers have progressed. And writers like this author seem to forget that they made the choice themselves to go into a tough, tough industry. Having filo for skin instead of tanned leather just isn't a survival strategy.
The article, to me, is emblematic of old-fashioned, romantic ideas about publishing butting up against the realities of the contemporary industry. We can all bemoan the lost days of publishers publishing a book for love rather than money (and I certainly do from an editorial perspective), but those dayssadlyare gone, and I think there's little besides a catastrophic shift in the business climate that can change that. She makes some good points about the negative evolutions the business has gone through: the rise of influence of the big-box retailers, the effect of the buying policies of the major chains, and the emphasis on numbers above all. She's right to extoll the virtues of independent booksellers and Booksense. But to expect a publisher to continue to pay big money for small sales just isn't realistic. To expect to not have to change along with the business you've entered is a sure recipe for disappointment and heartbreak and that's a result you have to take some responsiblity for yourself.
Maybe this all sounds heartless. Maybe it is. But the truth will out: publishing is shark-infested waters, no place for the timid. I love and admire the people I've worked with over the years, and one of the reasons I do is that they're all survivors, tough, persistent, goal-oriented and realistic. To this author, I say, "Wake up and smell the coffee." To my friends in the business authors and editors alikeI say, "Bravo! Soldier on, and rock your readers' worlds."
Post-script: A friend on one of my e-mail lists pointed me to John Scalzi's response to this Salon article and I couldn't agree more.