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.

The House of Words (no. 12): "The House That Ate Marly's Blog" *

"Hot Type" courtesy of photographer Andrew Beierle
of Running Springs, California and sxc.hu.

Let’s sum up and then push off in a new direction.

Once publishers and editors felt it an honor to choose the best books, guide a career, and develop an audience for a writer. No longer is that so (at least not to the same extent and not for most writers) as anyone who hasn’t been living under a plant pot in Mr. MacGregor’s potting shed knows full well. After all, our great edifices of culture have been sold overseas and are no longer entirely ours. The gentleman’s tiny profit margin of the early twentieth century is no longer considered sufficient.

Now the big-house publisher perceives an audiences—a mass audience—and looks for something that will grab its intention and sell in large numbers. Examples abound. Why else would a young woman of nineteen like Bristol Palin write memoirs? Houses—that is the publisher, who is a real human being, and the editors, who are likewise—may not like or want these changes, but if you steer a New York editor into a corner and are the sort of person who keeps her mouth shut, he or she may well tell you that they are forced to look for the commercial these days. I have been in the corner, and I have been told..

THE CHILDREN’S MARKET

This goes for the young adult and children’s market as well. Yesterday I flipped through a novel that my youngest child bought, recommended at a school book fair; it is poorly-written but sells itself to teens by sensationalism and blood. If the protagonist thinks, he signals the motions of his mind by chewing his lip. It’s a wonder he still has a mouth by the end of the book, especially since he has a weakness for the taste of the old crimson juice, fresh-squeezed. Descriptions are contradictory. He can hardly flee (which he must do often) without promptly tripping over the shoelaces of a poorly-chosen adverb. I don’t object to young teens reading books about vampires; I object to poorly-constructed books about vampires that sell on the basis of cheap thrills. Yep, such a book sucks. And what it sucks most is the attention and care in bookselling that might be given to better children's books.

TYRANNY OF SALES

All this is not to say that editors don’t desire good books any more. They do. But the press of finance and the demands of a large organization affect the books chosen. They affect where the publisher puts marketing money. And since books don’t tend to sell all by themselves without help, many writers are subject to the tyranny of numbers. Earlier I mentioned that only a few books can be anointed as lead books.

The ones that are not anointed frequently sit, often beautifully, in the shade. Each ensuing submission is judged by prior sales, as though the publisher could be only a salesman and not a builder of culture. The writer whose books sit beautifully in the shade inevitably sees his or her numbers drop. Usually nothing makes up for lack of push. Occasionally a writer has the freedom (that is, time) and guts and youthful steam of somebody like Christopher Paolini, who in one year flogged his first book at more than 135 schools and libraries, gussied up in a pseudo-medieval tunic and cap. Not having read it, I can’t speak to the book, but I can certainly be impressed by that blistering pace and sheer oomph and his willingness to play the jester in the service of his book. Clearly the strategies most writers use to make up for what the publisher and marketing departments choose not to do are ineffective. (Here I suggest that you look in the comments of the last The House of Words post because it deals with marketing and gives the viewpoints of writers, an imaginative marketer, and a publisher.)

Continued  (The House of Words is growing rather fat and unwieldy; it now takes the rather tubby house a little space to turn around.)
 
* And the title comes from Dave Bonta, poet and online culture maker.

Alice, Peg, and Marly at the Cooperstown Village Library



VisitingCooperstown.com

Update:  Thanks to everyone who turned out--Peg, Alice, and I had a blast (and not just at dinner!) Grand questions, interesting ideas, and 31 in the audience makes quite a respectable crowd in little Cooperstown.

On the 7th, Thursday, at the Cooperstown Village Library: come by a chance to yack with novelists Alice Lichtenstein and Peggy Leon.  The three of us are going to dinner beforehand, it seems. And then we are to talk about whatever you like--I posted that piece of news on facebook about a minute ago and already have requests: Julie says "paisley"; David says "what David Rondinelli wants for his birthday" (Julie responds with "Tinker Toys"); Lisa says "accidental birds"; Esther is thinking about Tinker Toys and toe jam (that must be an obscure David reference.) 

With that start, I can see that we will have a wild time on Thursday. Luckily or unluckily, none of those suggestions come from Cooperstonians.

Oh, and if you're looking for today's installment in "The House of Words," drop down one post, if you please.

The House of Words (no. 11): One writer's lessons

"Buying a book," courtesy of photographer Herman Brinkman
of Amsterdam, the Netherlands, and sxc.hu.

Doing What You Want to Do, continued
Question for the day: Is there something to be learned from one writer's experience?

At this juncture, I am fairly confident that I will continue to be able to publish the books I want to write. I’m not promising where I will publish. I have three books of poetry and three novels forthcoming, and not one is at a major New York City house. I can’t say that I tried too hard to stay in New York, as I have shown exactly one manuscript to exactly two big houses in the past few years. One of the editors liked my books and asked to read a certain manuscript and then wanted to buy. In the end, she gave me the lowdown on the increasing commercialism in New York and her own lack of control over what she could buy. The other gave me a fairly usual rejection. I didn’t bother beyond those two.

Side note about publishing: I find that most book-manuscript rejections are flattering. Don’t let it influence your mind. Don’t get carried away. Nothing in publishing matters until it matters.*

Why have I gone elsewhere? Having parted with my agent, I somehow didn’t want to bother struggling in the city. None of my books to date had received a push. Catherwood was the only one selling wonderfully well at any time.  But that time happened to be just after it had just gone out of hardcover at Farrar, Straus & Giroux and into paperback at Bard, an old literary imprint that had been newly revived. Then HarperCollins imploded and took down many books and whole lines, including Bard. So I was in a situation where it seemed that the big boys had never done more for me than any hardworking smaller house. I was glad to have been on prestigious lists, sure, but my books had remained rather obscure. When I received a flurry of requests for manuscripts from outside of New York, I was ready to accept some of them. More metanoia.

A side note about publishing with a house: expect bumps. Expect disasters, small or large, because your book depends on a publishng and distribution machine and other people who have lives and goals of their own. Also, it is part of time and our human calendar—events that appear to have nothing to do with books affect the visibility and selling of books.

Should I be pleased about where I am? I have a book of poetry and a novel forthcoming at a rising university press that has decided to build a literary line. One of them was given a prize by an outside judge. The Throne of Psyche will appear shortly, and I was very taken with the design. Three books are forthcoming in the UK, where I hope to have more of a presence than I do now. I can reprint those later on in the U. S. And I have a book forthcoming in Canada. The only thing that I’ve ever published there prior to this is a translation of one of my books.

All of these books (and other requests, some that didn’t quite fit me) came out of editors and publishers liking my work and asking to see more or inviting me to submit. I love that. I just plain love it.

What are the worst things about where I am now?

A lot of the older books are out of print. Right now I'm working on obtaining a reprint of Catherwood. Because I haven't experienced that old-fashioned publisher's effort to build a readership for a writer and because I have worked in many different forms, I tend to feel a little uncertain about whether my readers will follow me into new or more unusual territory. (I tend to move about a lot in both subject matter and form, a thing publishers do not love, though it makes life more interesting. And alas, poetry seems to be unusual territory for many people these days!)

What’s the best thing about loving it and where I am now?

I wrote the stories and novels and poems that I wanted to write and gave me joy in the act of writing.

I wrote what I wanted to read.

As a result of a clear prior track in the world, I managed to be lazy about placing books and yet everything turned out fine.

All anybody can say about publishing comes from experience. My experience has been mixed. But most people’s experience is mixed. That's from the simple and inevitable fact that most writers don't have lead books, and therefore they are not at the forefront of the publisher's concern.

What can we take from one writer's experience, as readers or writers?

If you are a reader and you buy a book that is not a lead book and not perched anywhere near the bestseller list, you are making a statement and placing a vote that will affect both writer and publisher. Every book purchase counts. Every book purchase says you want to read a certain writer and that the publisher should have confidence in him or her. In the case of poetry, a modicum of readers voting this way may even mean that a house decides to retain its poetry line rather than jettisoning it. I was told that if each poetry book in a certain smallish house had managed to sell 300 copies, the house would not have gotten rid of the line. 300! Skip lunch out once, and you can vote for a book.

If you write and publish, be prepared for things to go otherwise than dreamed or planned.

If you are a writer passionate about words and storytelling rather that "product" and "market," hang onto your heart and soul. Don’t sell them down the river. Because if you do, a day may just come when you wish with all your being that you had written exactly what you wanted to write and wanted to read.


*The very same thing goes for movie rights. Does not matter until it matters. You sell rights? Still doesn’t matter, though the spare change is welcome. Set to film? I have a friend whose book was six weeks from shooting with a major star signed on for the lead. Six weeks out, the whole thing fell apart. Does not matter until it matters.