The House of Words (no. 18): Philip Lee Williams & the university press

Philip Lee Williams, continued

But how can one do that and still publish? The answer for me was to hook up with a small but aggressive academic press that was interested in highly literary works. That press is Mercer University Press in Georgia, which is fairly young and eagerly trying to make a name for itself as a literary press. Here, I will be publishing the high-art literary books I've been writing for years but haven't really been able to publish in New York. For instance, last fall, Mercer published my 450-page epic poem The Flower Seeker, based on the life and writings of 18th century naturalist and artist William Bartram. This fall, Mercer will be publishing my 1,000-page novel The Divine Comics: A Vaudeville Show in Three Acts. It's a prose re-imagining of Dante's Divinia Commedia, and a book I've been working on for some 28 years. Others along the same lines will follow--finished manuscripts I've written over the years with a hope that some day I would find a press willing to go with me.

Mercer is aware that my promotions will be virtual rather than personal, and they are fine with it. Of course, this approach may not help sales, but with these kinds of books, it probably won't hurt them much, either.

So for me, it's the best of both worlds: publishing more experimental manuscripts (all of them wildly imagined black comedies, by the way) while not having the stress of the road and motels and the preparation of speeches.

Is my letting go of the public life absolute and eternal? Probably not. If Oprah called, I'd go. But the public figure I have been for decades is gone. I hope and trust that I will still be kind to those who drop me a note (my email address is on my website), and I intend to keep being a writer until the end. But this is where I have been headed forever, it seems. I like to think that with 15 published books in more than 30 different editions and many translations, I've earned it, at least in part. But even if I haven't, it's a happy sea-change for me.

The House of Words (no. 17): Metanoia: Philip Lee Williams

Another kind of metanoia: Philip Lee Williams. 

Today we'll start an interview with Philip Lee William that, among other things, looks at why he has altered his mode of communicating with his readership and moved from relying on New York publishers to the university press.

Phil and I have been correspondents for more than a decade, although we only met in person a few years ago. Oddly, we are both winners of The Michael Shaara Award, but Phil has wheelbarrow loads of awards and books and is a Georgia institution all on his own... If you don't know his work, you may pop over to www.philipleewilliams.com and take a look at his novels, nonfiction, and poetry (as well as some of his musical compositions.) A blog for his sixteenth (or is it seventeeth?) book, The Divine Comics, is also there. 

In addition to being an award-winning writer, Phil holds solid title to being one of the kindest men on the planet. That quality is not always rewarded in this world, but for me it has been a great pleasure to be his friend. And so I want to say that Phil is the most positive sort of proof that it is possible to be both a good man and a good writer.

Marly: Phil, you have published many books, won awards, been honored--how and why have you changed the way you relate to your public and to the publishing industry?

Phil: It has been nearly 27 years now since my first novel, The Heart of a Distant Forest, was published by W.W. Norton. (It's still in print, btw, in a trade softcover edition from the University of Georgia Press!) From the spring of that year until the summer of 2010, I did many, many dozens of appearances, autographings, speeches to benefit causes and so forth, from New York City to Los Angeles and points in between. I loved meeting with readers and fans of my work, and for many years, I traveled extensively. I published books with major NY publishers such as Random House, St. Martin's, Grove Press, Norton and so forth, as well as university and smaller regional presses.

By last summer, however, I realized several things. First off, I felt a sea-change was necessary in my public life. Where in the past I had spoken everywhere to help push my books and meet my readers, I began to believe that the old model of just showing up in person and signing a few books was no longer the best way to meet the public. Instead, social media, blogs, websites, and so forth are much more effective. I have even done hour-long phone hookups with book clubs that are fun. I also realized that I had simply run out of my need to travel and sell. As a result, I made a decision to severely limit my public life. I announced that I would no longer tour or do routine speeches, lectures, or autographings. Frankly, I wanted my private life back.

Continued

The House of Words (no. 13): Moving toward alternatives

"Luminous Letters" by Mary Bullington.
Acrylic & oil pastel on paper, 21" x 26." 
We read each other's poems in college,
and now look at us, long grown up.

Continued

SMALLER PUBLISHERS

No longer is any large house exempt from the rule of marketing. This change in publishing means that many writers look for a secure home and never quite find it—sometimes they are uneasy where they are or they keep moving or they have stopped being able to publish because of numbers.

The world of micro presses, small and regional presses, midsize houses, and university presses changes constantly. What I notice most at the moment is that poetry is still dropping away from university presses and many midsize houses. But new presses spring up all the time. People in our cities or in obscure and surprising places are striving to make culture, to distribute well-crafted books.

FINDING A HOME FOR A BOOK, FINDING A BOOK TO READ

In fact, my first book was published at a smallish house, maker of beautiful books. In my innocence, I sent a little book to David R. Godine. How did I pick him? Browsing, I stumbled on a Godine book that called my name. And as I was reading that strange and wonderful book, Salar the Salmon, and I thought that if David R. Godine liked this book, he would like mine. And he did.

I still think it’s a grand way for a writer to find a press. Whose books do you love? It’s also a good way for readers to escape the list of “pushed” books. Find a book you like at a small press or midsize house? Perhaps you might like more of their books.

NEW DIRECTIONS

Next up is a look at Beth Adams and Phoenica Publishing. Afterward, I’ll whip down South to get warm and talk to Philip Lee Williams and learn how and why he turned away from public speaking and New York publishers to a more retired life and association with the university press. Among my friends in the small press world, nobody is more experienced than poet, novelist, and bookseller Corey Mesler. In an upcoming post, he’ll talk about what’s good and bad about smaller publishers, both from the point of view of a writer and of a bookshop owner. The internet has altered the situation for many who are nimble enough to take advantage of it. One who exemplifies nimbleness and ability to adapt to change is poet Dave Bonta, and I’ll ask him a few questions. Somewhere along the way we’ll talk to literary advisor Carole Sargent and Gary-the-out-of-the-box marketer who was so active and interesting in the no. 11 comment thread. (Thanks, Gary!) He is going to talk about luck, or how nothing is luck. If we are lucky (if we ask nicely or maybe hound him), he may talk some time about marketing. And there will be other voices--more poets and writers--as well.  No doubt there are surprises ahead and many rooms in The House of Words.