Ten Things to Do While Working on Requested Revisions
(dedicated to me and Raine and every other writer out there working on revisions this week.)
Avoid e-mailing your friends who work as editors and asking them things like "Do you all belong to one big crazy club, or what?"
Don't answer comments or queries until you are feeling calm, cooperative and understanding, or the chocolate-covered Valium finally kicks in; whichever comes first.
Follow the directions on your writer's revision towel.
Invoke the Writer's Revision Serenity Prayer: Grant me the serenity to accept the things my editor wants to change; the courage to change at least 75% of the things that I want to STET; and the wisdom not to mouth off about any of it.
Print out an extra copy of your editor's revisions request letter and (just for your own amusement) edit it. Go on, you know you want to.
Realize that you're in good company.
Remember while on the phone discussing revisions with your editor that you have the right to remain silent, and why.
Remove all firearms, lethal doses of drugs, ropes, sharp objects and telephones from arm's reach of your computer desk.
Repeat your revisions mantra: OMigod. OMigod. OMigod.
When all else fails, remind yourself of how lucky you are, because while you have to deal with 1 editor, your editor probably has to deal with at least 26 yous.
Showing posts with label Editors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Editors. Show all posts
Monday, January 30, 2012
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Changing Editors
I've had a couple more indicators that for me 2011 will be the Year of Change. Earlier today I was at the doctor's getting a follow-up check, and while his nurse was taking my blood pressure she kept frowning.
"Can't find a pulse again?" I asked her (my BP regularly runs very low, and I have a heart murmur, so I routinely scare the daylights out of people using stethoscopes.)
"Actually it's a little on the high side. For you, anyway." She pumped up the sleeve again. "Any reason you might be feeling some stress?"
I thought for a moment. "My new novel is being released today, and everyone is already saying great things about it, something that in Publishing never goes unpunished. Last night one of my editors asked me to synopsize two hundred years of a character's backstory from a book I'm not actually writing until 2012. I have to electronically correct a set of proofs for another book before my mother visits next week, but I don't think that editor is going to send them until Friday afternoon. And right before I came here, my agent e-mailed to tell me the editor I've worked with longer than any other in my career is quitting the business, possibly before she finishes editing my current novel, and I have to decide on a new editor. So now I have to pick who I want to work with on the bestselling books of my career until 2013 in the next twenty minutes before I call the agent back."
"Uh-huh." The nurse stopped taking my blood pressure. "When does Mama arrive, and how much house cleaning have you done?"
"Next Wednesday. We just renovated one of the bathrooms." I hung my head. "The rest of the house looks like the North Pole after an Elf Kegger."
"Poor thing." She patted my shoulder. "I'll have the doc write a scrip for some more chocolate-covered Valium."
So as I've already admitted to the cosmos, change is good. For 2011 I fully intend to be a good sport and willingly embrace it. However, it would be helpful -- and a little less stressful -- if all the changes the universe is going to throw at me didn't have to happen in the first week.
If you stay in the business long enough, you will probably have to change editors. Just like any other biz pro, editors are routinely promoted, laid off, or shuffled to another imprint or division. Older editors eventually retire; younger editors often get pink-slipped or jump ship to take a better job at another house. Occasionally some leave Publishing behind entirely; one of my editors quit the biz to go to law school.
Losing an editor can be extremely stressful for a writer, especially if you've worked together for a long time. After a few years you both know each other well and have settled into a workable routine. Even if you didn't particularly like your old editor, s/he is the devil you know; the replacement is the one you don't.
If you're given the opportunity to choose your next editor, and you haven't been collecting info about other editors at your publisher (most of us veterans do that in anticipation of editor changes), you should (discreetly) check out the candidates first versus blindly choosing one or relying on an agent or senior editor's recommendation (remember, they don't have to work with the new editor, you do.) You can go info-gathering on the internet (editors talk a bit about their professional experience in interviews, and they also sometimes list other publishers they've worked for in bios), contact other authors who have worked with them, and ask your agent what s/he knows about them.
Everyone has different expectations and desires, so you have to tailor your investigation to suit your needs. I always look at experience first (as in, where have they worked, how long have they been in the biz, and how many houses have they worked for. Also if possible I like to know how often they've changed jobs; I prefer to work with editors who don't jump ship a lot.), I also consider what's on the editor's plate: which authors are they editing, which genres are they handling and how many titles they're putting out a year. The more info I gather, the better guess I can make as to whether or not we'll be a good match.
When you have to change editors, your new editor is generally aware of how stressful the situation is for you, and will try to fill thehuge gaping hole space left behind. In my experience most do a terrific job of this, so it's worth giving them the benefit of the doubt (and some time to prove themselves.) It's always a roll of the dice, but you shouldn't expect the worst upfront.
Some writers say you should always meet an editor in person before you agree to work with them, but I don't agree. At times it can even be counterproductive. The last editor I met in person back in 2003 was so young she had barely gotten through puberty -- she sounded a lot older on the phone -- and was so "on" for the conference we were at that I couldn't get a genuine handle on who she was as a person (something that later resulted in a major clash during production that I might have avoided if I hadn't met her and assumed she was -- as she behaved at the conference -- all sunshine and happiness.)
One more thing about asking around the writing community: a writer who doesn't know you is probably only going to say good things about their editor. 99% of the time this is because the writer doesn't know you well enough to depend on your discretion to keep the truth confidential. 1% of the time it's because the writer thinks their editor sent you to find out what they're saying about them. It really depends on how neurotic and paranoid the writer is.
Tomorrow I should hear whether or not if I can be moved to the editor I want to work with; tonight I'm going to think about a few alternatives if I can't. While I put together a 2012 novel notebook for the notes from the 200 year character backstory synopsis. And clean the guest bedroom -- twice. And see how chocolate-covered valium taste crushed and sprinkled on top of a big honking banana split . . .
"Can't find a pulse again?" I asked her (my BP regularly runs very low, and I have a heart murmur, so I routinely scare the daylights out of people using stethoscopes.)
"Actually it's a little on the high side. For you, anyway." She pumped up the sleeve again. "Any reason you might be feeling some stress?"
I thought for a moment. "My new novel is being released today, and everyone is already saying great things about it, something that in Publishing never goes unpunished. Last night one of my editors asked me to synopsize two hundred years of a character's backstory from a book I'm not actually writing until 2012. I have to electronically correct a set of proofs for another book before my mother visits next week, but I don't think that editor is going to send them until Friday afternoon. And right before I came here, my agent e-mailed to tell me the editor I've worked with longer than any other in my career is quitting the business, possibly before she finishes editing my current novel, and I have to decide on a new editor. So now I have to pick who I want to work with on the bestselling books of my career until 2013 in the next twenty minutes before I call the agent back."
"Uh-huh." The nurse stopped taking my blood pressure. "When does Mama arrive, and how much house cleaning have you done?"
"Next Wednesday. We just renovated one of the bathrooms." I hung my head. "The rest of the house looks like the North Pole after an Elf Kegger."
"Poor thing." She patted my shoulder. "I'll have the doc write a scrip for some more chocolate-covered Valium."
So as I've already admitted to the cosmos, change is good. For 2011 I fully intend to be a good sport and willingly embrace it. However, it would be helpful -- and a little less stressful -- if all the changes the universe is going to throw at me didn't have to happen in the first week.
If you stay in the business long enough, you will probably have to change editors. Just like any other biz pro, editors are routinely promoted, laid off, or shuffled to another imprint or division. Older editors eventually retire; younger editors often get pink-slipped or jump ship to take a better job at another house. Occasionally some leave Publishing behind entirely; one of my editors quit the biz to go to law school.
Losing an editor can be extremely stressful for a writer, especially if you've worked together for a long time. After a few years you both know each other well and have settled into a workable routine. Even if you didn't particularly like your old editor, s/he is the devil you know; the replacement is the one you don't.
If you're given the opportunity to choose your next editor, and you haven't been collecting info about other editors at your publisher (most of us veterans do that in anticipation of editor changes), you should (discreetly) check out the candidates first versus blindly choosing one or relying on an agent or senior editor's recommendation (remember, they don't have to work with the new editor, you do.) You can go info-gathering on the internet (editors talk a bit about their professional experience in interviews, and they also sometimes list other publishers they've worked for in bios), contact other authors who have worked with them, and ask your agent what s/he knows about them.
Everyone has different expectations and desires, so you have to tailor your investigation to suit your needs. I always look at experience first (as in, where have they worked, how long have they been in the biz, and how many houses have they worked for. Also if possible I like to know how often they've changed jobs; I prefer to work with editors who don't jump ship a lot.), I also consider what's on the editor's plate: which authors are they editing, which genres are they handling and how many titles they're putting out a year. The more info I gather, the better guess I can make as to whether or not we'll be a good match.
When you have to change editors, your new editor is generally aware of how stressful the situation is for you, and will try to fill the
Some writers say you should always meet an editor in person before you agree to work with them, but I don't agree. At times it can even be counterproductive. The last editor I met in person back in 2003 was so young she had barely gotten through puberty -- she sounded a lot older on the phone -- and was so "on" for the conference we were at that I couldn't get a genuine handle on who she was as a person (something that later resulted in a major clash during production that I might have avoided if I hadn't met her and assumed she was -- as she behaved at the conference -- all sunshine and happiness.)
One more thing about asking around the writing community: a writer who doesn't know you is probably only going to say good things about their editor. 99% of the time this is because the writer doesn't know you well enough to depend on your discretion to keep the truth confidential. 1% of the time it's because the writer thinks their editor sent you to find out what they're saying about them. It really depends on how neurotic and paranoid the writer is.
Tomorrow I should hear whether or not if I can be moved to the editor I want to work with; tonight I'm going to think about a few alternatives if I can't. While I put together a 2012 novel notebook for the notes from the 200 year character backstory synopsis. And clean the guest bedroom -- twice. And see how chocolate-covered valium taste crushed and sprinkled on top of a big honking banana split . . .
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
The No-Thanks That Helps
One of my annual spring rituals is to clean out my office filing cabinet, which I've been doing this past week. While disposing of what I no longer needed to save, I came across an old reduant copy file of rejection letters for proposals I sent out back in the 90's. About five hundred of them; looks like everyone in New York rejected me at least three times. Now I can chuckle over some of the scathing comments -- like one editor who said I'd never get my vampire fiction published -- but back then these were very tough to read.
Not all the bounces were bad, though. In the file I found a copy of my favorite rejection letter of all time from Natashya Wilson at Harlequin American. Natashya was the first editor to give me feedback that was actually useful, and also the first editor I ever pitched in person (a couple years later we met at a regional writer's conference. Still didn't sell her anything, but I made a point to thank her for her advice.)
As busy as editors are these days, they probably don't send out many personalized rejection letters anymore. If you receive one with comments, it's almost a given that the editor thought enough of your work to offer an opinion. In Natashya's case, she actually helped the most by referring me to another division of Harlequin for whom the book might work better. As editorial feedback goes, this is pure gold.
Some writers are simply not good matches for certain publishers, and what one editor dislikes another might love. Generally you can tell a rejection is based on preference or suitability when the editor makes comments like "I didn't care for [story element]" or "At this time we're not acquiring novels in [genre]." In my rejection letter from Natashya, she specifically mentioned the hero, how he didn't work for her, and how he wasn't appropriate for her line.
Other helpful feedback is when the editor comments on the marketability of some aspect of the novel. Although I didn't know it at the time, environmental issue plots were not popular with romance publishers; Natashya pointed that out and actually saved me a lot of time; after pitching the book to Harlequin Presents (who also rejected it, btw) I shelved the manuscript and moved on.
The comments you really need to pay attention to from any editor are those made about the quality of the work. Natashya emphasized that my hero was over-the-top, especially in the beginning of the novel, which was right on the money. When editors tell you that there's a problem with the writing itself, it's definitely worth looking at closely. Look for comments like "I don't feel this was written at a professional level" or "The pacing of the story felt uneven" or "The characterizations seemed two-dimensional."
Rejections can also help you decide whether to pursue or abandon a project. Last year when my agent was shopping around a new three-book proposal for me, she was getting nothing but blanket rejections for it (yes, I still submit and I still get rejected. Bestsellerdom does not = automatic acceptance.) All the editors kept saying was that they'd already acquired something similar or they didn't have room for it in their line (the heartbreakers were the editors who said "I wished I'd seen this a year ago." Got a couple of those.)
Because my timing seemed to be off, I was considering pulling the proposal and moving on to the next idea. Then one editor sent a comment about how she would have bought it except that she felt it would be too much competition for one of their established authors. That was exactly the feedback I needed to hear to keep pursuing publication. A few weeks later I received an offer from another publisher for the proposal (my new editor later told me it was exactly what he'd been looking for) and they bought all three books.
Now some questions for you guys: what do you find most helpful in the rejections you receive? Any editors out there you think are particularly helpful or generous with feedback? Let us know in comments.
Not all the bounces were bad, though. In the file I found a copy of my favorite rejection letter of all time from Natashya Wilson at Harlequin American. Natashya was the first editor to give me feedback that was actually useful, and also the first editor I ever pitched in person (a couple years later we met at a regional writer's conference. Still didn't sell her anything, but I made a point to thank her for her advice.)
As busy as editors are these days, they probably don't send out many personalized rejection letters anymore. If you receive one with comments, it's almost a given that the editor thought enough of your work to offer an opinion. In Natashya's case, she actually helped the most by referring me to another division of Harlequin for whom the book might work better. As editorial feedback goes, this is pure gold.
Some writers are simply not good matches for certain publishers, and what one editor dislikes another might love. Generally you can tell a rejection is based on preference or suitability when the editor makes comments like "I didn't care for [story element]" or "At this time we're not acquiring novels in [genre]." In my rejection letter from Natashya, she specifically mentioned the hero, how he didn't work for her, and how he wasn't appropriate for her line.
Other helpful feedback is when the editor comments on the marketability of some aspect of the novel. Although I didn't know it at the time, environmental issue plots were not popular with romance publishers; Natashya pointed that out and actually saved me a lot of time; after pitching the book to Harlequin Presents (who also rejected it, btw) I shelved the manuscript and moved on.
The comments you really need to pay attention to from any editor are those made about the quality of the work. Natashya emphasized that my hero was over-the-top, especially in the beginning of the novel, which was right on the money. When editors tell you that there's a problem with the writing itself, it's definitely worth looking at closely. Look for comments like "I don't feel this was written at a professional level" or "The pacing of the story felt uneven" or "The characterizations seemed two-dimensional."
Rejections can also help you decide whether to pursue or abandon a project. Last year when my agent was shopping around a new three-book proposal for me, she was getting nothing but blanket rejections for it (yes, I still submit and I still get rejected. Bestsellerdom does not = automatic acceptance.) All the editors kept saying was that they'd already acquired something similar or they didn't have room for it in their line (the heartbreakers were the editors who said "I wished I'd seen this a year ago." Got a couple of those.)
Because my timing seemed to be off, I was considering pulling the proposal and moving on to the next idea. Then one editor sent a comment about how she would have bought it except that she felt it would be too much competition for one of their established authors. That was exactly the feedback I needed to hear to keep pursuing publication. A few weeks later I received an offer from another publisher for the proposal (my new editor later told me it was exactly what he'd been looking for) and they bought all three books.
Now some questions for you guys: what do you find most helpful in the rejections you receive? Any editors out there you think are particularly helpful or generous with feedback? Let us know in comments.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Editorisms
Ten Things Editors Say, and What They Really Mean
1. "Authors are wonderful, creative geniuses. I love working with them."
Authors are neurotic, obsessive-compulsive nutcases. Luckily,
so am I.
2. "Congratulations on winning the Northeast Writers' Golden Goose Quill Honorable Mention for Excellence in Happily Ever After Endings."
There is no way in hell I'm fitting all that on your cover.
3. "Don't worry, John, I'm not mad at you."
Don't be surprised, John, if your next advance check is misplaced. For eight months. Bastard.
4. "I appreciate the chance to look at the revised copy of your novel, but it is still not appropriate for our line."
If you send me this damn Book of Your Heart one more time, no matter what cool new title you slap on it, I'm coming to your house and beating the crap out of you.
5. "I don't expect an acknowledgement."
Excuse me -- did your mother, best friend or critique partner help you work out the subplot problems in half this book, or listen to you cry about your reviews, or front you the money for your divorce, or take you out to dinner at National and pour you into your hotel room after you drank fifteen Margaritas? No? Maybe you should think about who did when you're writing up the acknowledgements.
6. "I can't believe how adventurous your heroine is."
I can't believe your heroine slept with every single guy in the story. Twice, no less.
7. "I see you've sent me a vampire romance."
Dear God, not another vampire romance.
8. "My greatest joy in life is editing books."
Pardon me? What life?
9. "Yes, I rejected Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. At the time it wasn't right for our imprint."
How do you like the final draft of my suicide note?
10. "Your advice on how we should edit, market and speak about our books is duly noted."
Oh, blow me.
(No real editor was actually quoted during the composition of this post, but a few were paraphrased. Dedicated to L., with much admiration.)
1. "Authors are wonderful, creative geniuses. I love working with them."
Authors are neurotic, obsessive-compulsive nutcases. Luckily,
so am I.
2. "Congratulations on winning the Northeast Writers' Golden Goose Quill Honorable Mention for Excellence in Happily Ever After Endings."
There is no way in hell I'm fitting all that on your cover.
3. "Don't worry, John, I'm not mad at you."
Don't be surprised, John, if your next advance check is misplaced. For eight months. Bastard.
4. "I appreciate the chance to look at the revised copy of your novel, but it is still not appropriate for our line."
If you send me this damn Book of Your Heart one more time, no matter what cool new title you slap on it, I'm coming to your house and beating the crap out of you.
5. "I don't expect an acknowledgement."
Excuse me -- did your mother, best friend or critique partner help you work out the subplot problems in half this book, or listen to you cry about your reviews, or front you the money for your divorce, or take you out to dinner at National and pour you into your hotel room after you drank fifteen Margaritas? No? Maybe you should think about who did when you're writing up the acknowledgements.
6. "I can't believe how adventurous your heroine is."
I can't believe your heroine slept with every single guy in the story. Twice, no less.
7. "I see you've sent me a vampire romance."
Dear God, not another vampire romance.
8. "My greatest joy in life is editing books."
Pardon me? What life?
9. "Yes, I rejected Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. At the time it wasn't right for our imprint."
How do you like the final draft of my suicide note?
10. "Your advice on how we should edit, market and speak about our books is duly noted."
Oh, blow me.
(No real editor was actually quoted during the composition of this post, but a few were paraphrased. Dedicated to L., with much admiration.)
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Editor No-Nos
Ten Things Editors Probably Shouldn't Do to Their Authors
1. Assign Them Nicknames: Only call your author "kid" if your author is actually younger than you. The older author doesn't take it as a compliment; they probably have purses, rejection letters and marriages that are older than you. Definitely avoid using derogatory nicknames for the author behind their back -- the author will hear about it (see #6.)
2. Drop in on Them: Only drop in on your author at their home after you have called 48 hours in advance to let them know you're in town. When you arrive, don't ask for a tour of their workspace, they probably use a corner of the dining room table. If your author's children are present, refrain from talking to them in baby talk unless they are 18 months old or younger. If you're allergic to pet dander, pet hair, Play-Doh or dust, best invite the author to your hotel or skip the visit altogether. And avoid asking the author to cook for you. You'll live longer.
3. Err on the Title: Try to use the correct title for your author's present manuscript when you talk about it with them. Never guess at it; you'll probably get it wrong and this freaks out your author.
4. Forget Their Calls: If your author is the type who only calls you once or twice a year, and you miss their call, try to return it. If you forget, they will imagine horrible things and never call you again.
5. Lie to Them: If you're going to lie to your author, make sure the author has no other sources of information (like your assistant, co-editor or boss) with whom they can quietly check out if what you said is true.
6. Make Public Complaints: It's best not to complain about your author at conferences. What you say will be repeated word-for-word to your author in an e-mail from someone present who doesn't like you.
6a. Attached to the e-mail will be a candid, unattractive photo of you, too.
6b. Taken while you were drunk and trying to give the conference guest of honor a lap dance.
6c. In front of his wife.
6d. Which your author will then e-mail to all your other authors.
7. Miss Payments: You like getting your weekly paycheck, right? It's nice to pay your author on time, too. If you can't, let them know. If you forget to pay your author for a year or more, don't make excuses. Don't make a cute little joke about it. Just: Mail. The. Check.
8. Object to Revision Questions: If your author questions something involved with the revisions you request, don't immediately assume the author is an ungrateful, egotistic snot trying to usurp your authority, or that the author hates you, or that the author wants to get you fired. It may be something simple, like they can't figure out how you want them to change something, or they can't read your handwriting.
9. Spouse Talking-tos: If you call the house when the author isn't home and speak to the author's spouse, partner or significant other, resist the urge to have a heart-to-heart talk with them about their inability to be supportive of the author's career. It will not make the author's spouse more supportive, and the author will come home to World War III.
10. Tactless Blurb Requests: If you ask your author for a quote for for a newly-signed rookie, avoid referring to the rookie's debut as "the best book I've read all year" if your author has turned in a book in the same year. For one thing, you won't get a quote.
1. Assign Them Nicknames: Only call your author "kid" if your author is actually younger than you. The older author doesn't take it as a compliment; they probably have purses, rejection letters and marriages that are older than you. Definitely avoid using derogatory nicknames for the author behind their back -- the author will hear about it (see #6.)
2. Drop in on Them: Only drop in on your author at their home after you have called 48 hours in advance to let them know you're in town. When you arrive, don't ask for a tour of their workspace, they probably use a corner of the dining room table. If your author's children are present, refrain from talking to them in baby talk unless they are 18 months old or younger. If you're allergic to pet dander, pet hair, Play-Doh or dust, best invite the author to your hotel or skip the visit altogether. And avoid asking the author to cook for you. You'll live longer.
3. Err on the Title: Try to use the correct title for your author's present manuscript when you talk about it with them. Never guess at it; you'll probably get it wrong and this freaks out your author.
4. Forget Their Calls: If your author is the type who only calls you once or twice a year, and you miss their call, try to return it. If you forget, they will imagine horrible things and never call you again.
5. Lie to Them: If you're going to lie to your author, make sure the author has no other sources of information (like your assistant, co-editor or boss) with whom they can quietly check out if what you said is true.
6. Make Public Complaints: It's best not to complain about your author at conferences. What you say will be repeated word-for-word to your author in an e-mail from someone present who doesn't like you.
6a. Attached to the e-mail will be a candid, unattractive photo of you, too.
6b. Taken while you were drunk and trying to give the conference guest of honor a lap dance.
6c. In front of his wife.
6d. Which your author will then e-mail to all your other authors.
7. Miss Payments: You like getting your weekly paycheck, right? It's nice to pay your author on time, too. If you can't, let them know. If you forget to pay your author for a year or more, don't make excuses. Don't make a cute little joke about it. Just: Mail. The. Check.
8. Object to Revision Questions: If your author questions something involved with the revisions you request, don't immediately assume the author is an ungrateful, egotistic snot trying to usurp your authority, or that the author hates you, or that the author wants to get you fired. It may be something simple, like they can't figure out how you want them to change something, or they can't read your handwriting.
9. Spouse Talking-tos: If you call the house when the author isn't home and speak to the author's spouse, partner or significant other, resist the urge to have a heart-to-heart talk with them about their inability to be supportive of the author's career. It will not make the author's spouse more supportive, and the author will come home to World War III.
10. Tactless Blurb Requests: If you ask your author for a quote for for a newly-signed rookie, avoid referring to the rookie's debut as "the best book I've read all year" if your author has turned in a book in the same year. For one thing, you won't get a quote.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
The Maxed Man
Over the weekend I gave an interview to Mad Max Perkins, the blogger who has been creating a stir with his weblog, BookAngst 101. The interview was the result of an interesting exchange I've been having via e-mail with this guy since answering a survey for authors on his weblog back in November.
To give you what lowdown there is on Max, he uses a pseudonym to protect his identity and invites other industry pros to comment anonymously on the blog. All we know about Max is what he tells us, which is this:
"Mad Max Perkins has worked in the book trade in a variety of capacities for over 20 years and is currently a senior executive for a major New York publisher."
I like that variety of capacities in particular. Reminds me of some of the excellent dodges I saw on resumes when I was a comptroller and tried to hire a decent secretary. Note to aspiring secretaries: do not put "typing on various equipment" if the only thing you can operate is a telephone key pad.
Anyway, Max's survey asked fairly standard questions like "What (if anything) did publisher #1 do especially well as pertains to the positioning/marketing of you/your book(s)?" and "Why did you switch publishers?" but he was also interested in changes in sales and marketing effort, and whether or not the publisher delivered on their promises.
I thought Max might be an author posing as an editor (or marketing director, "executive" can mean a lot of things, but I'm going with editor.) Trusting soul that I am, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and sent in my answers. His first personal e-mail to me opened with this line (and please note, Max has given me his permission to post these excerpts):
"I'm digging into the survey responses, and I think you for your honesty & specificity."
Okay, so Max forgets to hit his spell check, but hey, you know I can relate to that. :) He was also careful not to squash my toes:
"I know this is terribly inappropriate of me--but it sounds like you make a pretty good living, no?"
Sounds a little French, doesn't he? And he admitted he didn't know everything about publishing, and thus earned another gold star in my book:
"I'd have to consider you one of the real success stories of this survey--and it comes from a realm I didn't even know existed! (I don't mean the genres, but that you get paid a flat fee etc.)"
I like people who don't pretend they know everything; they're less likely to piss me off. I responded with my usual candor, and he appreciated it:
"This is PRECISELY the reason I started this site in the first place--in hopes of discovering these avenues to which you allude, and giving writers--and publishers--something else to try."
Nice motive, and I mean that sincerely. I suspected he also wanted to get some fresh angles on marketing for his own career purposes, as he wanted to know more:
"Can you be more specific? Even if you don't want me to talk about it in the survey, and/or want to withhold certain details, I'd DYING to know how YOUR plan is different from what I've heard--and even said, myself..."
I have no problem with this, either. Shared information is the only way we can improve the industry. Quote me on that.
After I gave Max the information he requested, I didn't see any results from the survey posted (it never occurred to me that he might not be getting enough response to the survey to post useful results.) The only communication he sent me after the survey was a reminder to read at particular post at BookAngst in which he had other industry pros endorse him.
Frankly the endorsements annoyed me. I have little patience with coyness to begin with, and this read like another dodge. Also, I'd been very up front with this guy, but now he seemed more worried about his credibility than posting the survey results and following through on his promises.
After reading that endorsement post, this was my unsolicited advice to him:
"...the whole justifying the anonymous thing is getting old. If you're so afraid for your job or your reputation that you have to hide who you are, you shouldn't be doing this. If you're not, and you truly want to change things, just be honest. Hiding behind your industry buddies while they vouch for you only makes you look foolish. As does continuing to contact me when I don't know who you are."
He didn't tell me who he was -- and I still have no idea who he is -- but he came back with a quick response:
"I'm afraid I don't agree--I think there's utility in what's going on there, and frankly I won't be able to continue doing it if I go public, for a variety of reasons. If you want me not to send you updates, I certainly understand, and I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope it's still OK to use your story in this writer-survey I'm working on--please advise if not."
Up until this point I thought Max might be bullshit, but I work for a lot of editors, and the above paragraph has "editor" written all over it. If I'm wrong and he isn't an editor? The guy should be one.
I happen to like editors, so I sat down and thought about it. I'd been honest; he was still wearing a mask. He was actively working on the survey, something I hadn't known, and he sounded more legit than ever. I don't like being scammed, but what I'd told him was pretty much what I'd tell anyone who asked.
I decided to trust my instincts and regard Max as a genuine person with good intentions. Our exchange continued from there to an interview, which Max will be posting on Book Angst sometime after the holidays. The interview is under my name -- well, one of them -- because I do share information, and I don't have anything to hide.
Who knows, maybe if enough authors follow my example, maybe we can eventually unMax Max.
To give you what lowdown there is on Max, he uses a pseudonym to protect his identity and invites other industry pros to comment anonymously on the blog. All we know about Max is what he tells us, which is this:
"Mad Max Perkins has worked in the book trade in a variety of capacities for over 20 years and is currently a senior executive for a major New York publisher."
I like that variety of capacities in particular. Reminds me of some of the excellent dodges I saw on resumes when I was a comptroller and tried to hire a decent secretary. Note to aspiring secretaries: do not put "typing on various equipment" if the only thing you can operate is a telephone key pad.
Anyway, Max's survey asked fairly standard questions like "What (if anything) did publisher #1 do especially well as pertains to the positioning/marketing of you/your book(s)?" and "Why did you switch publishers?" but he was also interested in changes in sales and marketing effort, and whether or not the publisher delivered on their promises.
I thought Max might be an author posing as an editor (or marketing director, "executive" can mean a lot of things, but I'm going with editor.) Trusting soul that I am, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and sent in my answers. His first personal e-mail to me opened with this line (and please note, Max has given me his permission to post these excerpts):
"I'm digging into the survey responses, and I think you for your honesty & specificity."
Okay, so Max forgets to hit his spell check, but hey, you know I can relate to that. :) He was also careful not to squash my toes:
"I know this is terribly inappropriate of me--but it sounds like you make a pretty good living, no?"
Sounds a little French, doesn't he? And he admitted he didn't know everything about publishing, and thus earned another gold star in my book:
"I'd have to consider you one of the real success stories of this survey--and it comes from a realm I didn't even know existed! (I don't mean the genres, but that you get paid a flat fee etc.)"
I like people who don't pretend they know everything; they're less likely to piss me off. I responded with my usual candor, and he appreciated it:
"This is PRECISELY the reason I started this site in the first place--in hopes of discovering these avenues to which you allude, and giving writers--and publishers--something else to try."
Nice motive, and I mean that sincerely. I suspected he also wanted to get some fresh angles on marketing for his own career purposes, as he wanted to know more:
"Can you be more specific? Even if you don't want me to talk about it in the survey, and/or want to withhold certain details, I'd DYING to know how YOUR plan is different from what I've heard--and even said, myself..."
I have no problem with this, either. Shared information is the only way we can improve the industry. Quote me on that.
After I gave Max the information he requested, I didn't see any results from the survey posted (it never occurred to me that he might not be getting enough response to the survey to post useful results.) The only communication he sent me after the survey was a reminder to read at particular post at BookAngst in which he had other industry pros endorse him.
Frankly the endorsements annoyed me. I have little patience with coyness to begin with, and this read like another dodge. Also, I'd been very up front with this guy, but now he seemed more worried about his credibility than posting the survey results and following through on his promises.
After reading that endorsement post, this was my unsolicited advice to him:
"...the whole justifying the anonymous thing is getting old. If you're so afraid for your job or your reputation that you have to hide who you are, you shouldn't be doing this. If you're not, and you truly want to change things, just be honest. Hiding behind your industry buddies while they vouch for you only makes you look foolish. As does continuing to contact me when I don't know who you are."
He didn't tell me who he was -- and I still have no idea who he is -- but he came back with a quick response:
"I'm afraid I don't agree--I think there's utility in what's going on there, and frankly I won't be able to continue doing it if I go public, for a variety of reasons. If you want me not to send you updates, I certainly understand, and I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope it's still OK to use your story in this writer-survey I'm working on--please advise if not."
Up until this point I thought Max might be bullshit, but I work for a lot of editors, and the above paragraph has "editor" written all over it. If I'm wrong and he isn't an editor? The guy should be one.
I happen to like editors, so I sat down and thought about it. I'd been honest; he was still wearing a mask. He was actively working on the survey, something I hadn't known, and he sounded more legit than ever. I don't like being scammed, but what I'd told him was pretty much what I'd tell anyone who asked.
I decided to trust my instincts and regard Max as a genuine person with good intentions. Our exchange continued from there to an interview, which Max will be posting on Book Angst sometime after the holidays. The interview is under my name -- well, one of them -- because I do share information, and I don't have anything to hide.
Who knows, maybe if enough authors follow my example, maybe we can eventually unMax Max.
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