The Stigma of Self-publishing: Publishers Prefer Virgins
Self-publishing offers a number of benefits. For openers, like old-fashioned vanity publishing, it satisfies the ego and (ideally) produces a finished product you and your mom can be proud of.
But beyond ego, it offers you the opportunity to bypass the antiquated and burdensome traditional publishing process. It gets your product directly into your markets. And it lets you control how production and marketing funds will be spent and how profits will be reinvested.
I’ll leave the virtues (and seamy downsides) of self-publishing to another blog entry. Today I want to talk specifically about authors who do everything right in self-publishing, but still lose out when it comes to finding traditional publishers for their work.
Here’s the scenario: Author Bob Jones has written and self-published three highly competent novels. First he ran them through his exceptional critique group and made relevant structural and presentation changes. Next he hired a professional editor to do a final review and clean-up. He engaged a graphic designer to create high-quality covers and interior layout, and fronted his own money to have a quantity of the books printed. He sent out copies to all the right reviewers, hired a publicist to plan promotional activities, did book-signings, radio interviews and served on panels or otherwise participated in appropriate genre and publishing-industry events. He secured distribution agreements with major booksellers, and created a professional Website with book sales capabilities. He sold over 1,000 copies of each book within the first two years and developed a fan base that increased over time. And finally, he submitted his books to various respected competitions (in many cases competing against traditionally published works) and won several awards.
But, despite the quality of his products and his history of objective praise and independent sales, Bob could not get an agent to represent him or an editor to buy his books. Why? There are two big reasons:
1. Publishers prefer to sacrifice virgins.
This is what my agent told me. She said they don’t want to pick up a book that has already been, well, around the block a few times. They have a hard time getting excited about a “new” product that isn’t exactly new to the marketplace.
Bob’s 1,000-copy book sales were just enough to take away that “new-book smell” and make the product a little less desirable. And with such stiff competition for publishing dollars, even a little tarnish can spoil your chances.
2. Perhaps more significant, publishers don’t want a self-published book because part of their market–and their potential sales–has already been used up.
Especially with first books, publishers are taking a financial risk, hoping that the book won’t lose too much money. They are betting that your subsequent books will break even or make a profit as your audience base develops. If they would ordinarily have expected to lose $5,000 on your first book and you’ve already sold 1,000 copies they would have sold, then they may actually lose $10,000 on that first book instead.
There’s an exception to these rules, though, and that is the self-published book that “takes off” through word-of-mouth. Books that have a magical energy of their own, that find their audiences easily without really trying, will get publishers’ attention. Think: Chicken Soup for the Soul. If a traditional publishing house can catch one of these books early on the rise, it can push the wave still higher and cash in on the work already done by both the book and its author.
So how do you get past the self-publishing stigma? There are no easy answers, unfortunately. Like everything in publishing, you are still at the mercy of luck, mood, circumstances and trends.
However, if you have self-published one or more books and earned rave reviews and respectable sales, then you can use that record to enhance the desirability of your NEXT book.
When you approach agents and editors, offer them a virgin to sacrifice. Give them an unpublished manuscript that has all the same wonderful virtues as the virgins you’ve sacrificed yourself. And then enhance the new book’s desirability by showing evidence of the benefits your previous virgins have delivered (awards, reviews, sales, fan base, promotional opportunities/invitations).
An author who is willing and able to promote his book is certainly an asset to a publisher, though self-promotion has become a virtual requirement in today’s market. But proving and quantifying your ability to sell books may give you a leg up with the next book.
As a final note: self-publishing doesn’t have to be the end of the line for a given book, even a modest seller. One friend, a member of my critique group, self-published his first novel and sold a respectable number of books on his own. He, like many others, could not get a “real” publisher to pick it up. However, he displayed his book (for a fee) at the Frankfurt Book Fair in Germany and found a foreign publisher who offered him a contract. This, in turn, led a U.S. publisher to do the same in the States.
Backwards, perhaps, but whatever works…
CAVEAT: The purpose of this blog is to share ideas, knowledge and advice on a regular basis. Entries may contain errors of all types.
Winning Secrets from a Writing Contest Judge
For any of you who have entered writing contests, whether as part of a conference or separately, you know it can be just one more “black hole” in this business where we often fail to win the prize, but never know why.
The lack of constructive feedback is arguably the most maddening aspect of publishing. Too often we end up guessing what we did wrong and “throwing the baby out with the bath water” in our attempts to please the mysterious and silent gods.
If you’re lucky, your contest judge will take the time to make notes in the margins of your submission or write up a summary of observations that can help you improve your skills. As an author, I’ve learned a lot from just a few meaningful comments. As a contest judge, I’ve even had exemplary writers thank me for my feedback because it confirmed the authors’ own instincts and, in some cases, suggested other publishing opportunities they might pursue.
In judging, I have observed certain patterns and have identified three distinct author categories, based on their submissions:
Freshmen: Those who have something to say but have not studied the craft or business of writing to any extent.
Freshmen make a lot of basic mechanical errors: wrong fonts/sizes, margins, indentations and text spacing; missing or inappropriate headers, failure to drop down several spaces before starting each chapter, etc.
It is next to impossible for a freshman to win a contest among more accomplished or experienced writers. (You HAVE to master the basics if you want to play.)
Juniors: Those who have made a serious effort to learn about the craft and who have developed a great many skills.
Juniors have learned to format a manuscript, craft a compelling article or story with well defined characters, and refine their presentation to appeal to readers. If they are not among the contest winners, it is because their submissions were not quite as polished as others’ were.
They typically make a few spelling or punctuation errors, breaking rules the average writer may not even be aware of, such as:
- The period or comma goes inside end-quotation marks, (e.g., James said, “I prefer mine shaken, not stirred.”)
- The long dash (or “em-dash” written as two hyphens) is used to set off what is essentially a parenthetical phrase. But where the parentheses tend to downplay the importance of the information between its marks, the em-dash actually increases the reader’s attention to the information. Technically, the em-dash should not be separated from the words before and after it. However, graphic designers and typographers often will use an em-dash or the shorter en-dash (a little longer than a regular hyphen) with a space before and after it. Whichever style you choose, be consistent.
- Verb tense should be consistent. Many writers stumble on tenses when characters in the present must refer to events that occurred in the past.
In terms of the stories they are conveying, juniors may also fail to:
- Stay in only one character’s point of view for the entire scene.
- Make the reader feel the experience of the POV character, as if living inside his/her skin.
- Provide a unifying theme that lets the reader know up-front what the goal is and why it matters. Then pay off and wrap up that theme at the end (especially if the submission is a self-contained work, such as an article or short story).
- In non-fiction as well as fiction, put tension, conflict or hooks of some kind on every page to keep the reader wondering what’s next, what’s going to happen.
- Set the reader’s expectations with a memorable opening. And craft a memorable ending for your submission (even if it is only an excerpt from a larger work).
Valedictorian Seniors: Those whose work is highly accomplished in every way and who may only need to tweak their material to appeal to specific audiences/markets.
This is where judging becomes painful. When you hear a judge say he/she had a hard time deciding on a winner, this may actually be the truth. V-seniors offer submissions that are not only competent but entertaining/engaging and/or highly beneficial to the readers.
As a judge, you hope that, in the end, one submission will resonate more, or will have some special magic that sets it apart from the other, equally “perfect” pieces. But what do you do when three or four equally competent submissions all possess their own kind of magic? What do you do when each of the four is absolutely perfect for its own class, but you can award only one first prize?
At this point, the judge may end up drawing straws or selecting the winner based on some arbitrary virtue.
What you can learn from this is that your skills may be enough to get your submission into the top three to five. But beyond presenting a perfectly crafted piece, it becomes a matter of magic, resonance and, sometimes, just plain luck.
Remember, too, that a somewhat flawed piece with incredible magic can trump even several “perfect” pieces. But it’s awfully hard to do. Judges feel compelled to reward authors who have perfected their craft. And in most cases, the submissions that are closest to being mechanically and structurally perfect will rise to the top. It’s best not to depend on magic alone.
However, if you intend to deliver one of those technically perfect submissions and want to do everything possible to rise above them all, then think about how you can make your submission (a) more memorable to the judge and (b) more appealing to a wide range of readers.
Both elements are important. I have ranked an exceptional piece one step below another–even though it was truly memorable, made me laugh and at the same time touched me–simply because its subject addressed a relatively small audience, of which I happened to be a member. The first submission appealed to me, personally, far more than the winning submission, but the winner addressed a much broader audience with comparable skill.
You may prefer to write about a more personal subject, even if it means you may lose out to a submission with broader appeal. But if you have choices and are determined to do everything possible to win the contest, you may want to pick a subject that is likely to appeal to a wide range of readers including the judges.
CAVEAT: These blog entries are primarily about sharing ideas and information on a regular basis. They may contain errors in formatting, grammar or spelling.
Best way to find an agent
Some may argue that querying allows you to fish for agents in a larger pond…and the point is valid. If you have one or more knock-out books that create instant addiction in the reader from page one, you may, indeed, do better querying (assuming you can also create a knock-out query). Not only can you cast a wide net in querying, you can go after the agent you think is perfect for you, at least on paper (assuming such agents are taking on new clients).
However, most writers trying to break into the business are not in a position to choose agents, except by targeting their queries. Rarely do we have agents fighting over us. More often, we feel as if we are playing roulette, hoping we’ll be lucky enough to land in any agent’s slot. And the agent we’ve “won” may or may not be right for us.
That’s where writers’ conferences can help. Not only can you meet agents at conferences and pitch your books, you can sit in on their workshops to learn more about their personalities, their preferences and their hot buttons. An agent who looks good on paper may express a complete dislike of certain styles or subjects that are integral to your work. That would effectively eliminate that agent from your list of choices.
On the other hand, while certain agents’ personalities may clash with yours, you should not cross an agent off your list for personality alone. Some very good agents may come across as extremely abrasive or, at the other end of the spectrum, may seem shy until you get to know them.
Perhaps more important, conferences give you the opportunity to impress the agent with your personailty, your enthusiasm, your marketability. At a conference, you have the chance to make your book rise above the noise in an agent’s mind by: (a) showing the agent you are a client he/she would enjoy working with, (b) revealing glimpses of your public poise, professionalism and your ability to promote the book, and (c) exuding excitement about your work that will (ideally) “infect” the agent.
At that point, you are no longer just another faceless author sending a query, you are an author with a personality and a certain kind of energy that makes you memorable.
Conferences help you get an agent in another way – though the opportunities have diminished over the years. Occasionally, editors still attend conferences, and you may have the chance to attend their workshops and pitch your work to them as well as to agents. If you find an editor who is interested in seeing your manuscript, you have done a part of the agent’s job and may find it easier to get an agent to represent you, whether during the conference or afterwards.
Typically, agents will only pick you up if they believe they can sell your work and make money. This makes perfect sense: they depend on the commission they make off their clients’ book sales to pay their own bills.
But it’s not about making boatloads of money (though that would be a nice bonus). If agents feel a passion for your book, they may be willing to find a home for your specialized or highly literary book at a small press, despite the tiny commission.
Most of the time, agents need to understand and enjoy the kind of books you write. They typically have relationships with editors who buy such books and know what they are looking for.
Occasionally, however, they may represent subjects/styles they are not as familiar with if they think the book is an easy sell (the subject matter is a hot news topic, you have a strong “platform” or notoriety, or an editor you pitched to at a conference or elsewhere has offered you a contract).
The bottom line is that meeting an agent at a conference gives you extra advantages not available in the cold querying process.
Writers Conferences for the Terminally Introverted
You may have seen us, or you may be one of us–those painfully shy people who go to writers conferences to learn more about the craft an the business, to pitch our books and stories to agents and editors, to promote the books we have published. Those who wander like ghosts, nearly invisible, among the living and the gregarious, unable to penetrate the membrane into that social clockwork that drives conversation and leads to interesting new connections and beneficial alliances.
Just last month I was such a wraith, a wandering soul, and I hated it. Swore I’d never go to another conference. I felt profoundly irelevant, insignificant and uninteresting.
In years past, I’ve attended these events with friends, and/or my agent and her entourage. This year, I had to depend on my own shaky social skills.
Sure, I know how to walk up to people and talk to them. I meet my tablemates at the meals and carry on conversations with one or more of them. I ask questions in workshops and sometimes chat with the presenters afterwards.
In my professional life, I have worked tradeshow booths, served as media spokesperson for my company, conducted training sessions workshops. I’ve been on TV and national radio promoting my one published book and have spoken before many groups on the book’s subject matter.
But in those situations, I was there because someone invited me or had come to me, someone was already interested in what I had to say. Conferences are completely different.
First, there are those who have come with groups who coalesce at meals and between sessions to report back and share their recent experiences. I wouldn’t want to interrupt one of their conversations, except maybe to ask for the salt or to inquire about the terrific session I’d overheard them talking about. And I certainly would not attempt to insert myself into their well established group.
Then there are those unconnected individuals who have been lucky enough or are skilled enough to make a connection with another individual and are now engaged in a conversation. Again, I would not interrupt their conversations, though I might stand nearby hoping they have just met and will expand their attention to include me.
What is especially surprising, though, is to see speakers/presenters wandering disconnected just like me. These are the folks that dozens or even hundreds of us have crammed into a room to hear talk. They are often quite successful, whether as authors, agents or editors, and can draw a crowd of people when they are offering advice and telling stories about the writing/publishing business.
Yet when the throngs are gone, they too seem hard-pressed to assertively create their own connections, to inject themselves into others’ conversations. Like me, they walk deliberately through the halls, up and down floors, out onto the patio or balconies–as if they have some place to go between sessions, a phone call to make, someone to meet, materials to gather from their hotel rooms.
Even when I stop by or pass them in the hall and ask if they have a minute to chat, they seem quite happy to answer my questions, but when I’ve finished drawing conversation out of them, they seem to run out of gas. I’d considered that they really did have someplace to be, but a short while later, I’d see them wandering or standing around again, talking to no one.
I try not to comandeer their attention and always release them when I’ve gotten my answers by saying I don’t want to hold them up if they need to be somewhere. And off they go. But I wonder if they left because they didn’t want to talk to me anymore, because they needed to do something, or because they just didn’t know how to keep the conversation going.
I wonder if they are like me: more than able to talk for hours about subjects of interest to them with people they know, yet unable to find those areas of common interest with strangers. I wonder if they too have been considered arrogant or aloof when, in fact, they were merely shy.
The upshot of this latest experience is that I think conference organizers should do more to put introverted people like us together and to help stimulate conversation among us. It has to be more than the usual cocktail reception. It has to involve some kind of buddy system maybe using compatibility matching. People wearing a pink dot, for example, write emotionally evocative stories like romances or tales of friendship and familial bonding. Those wearing brown dots write action, thrillers, etc.
Or maybe we should just wear special ribbons to identify us as the terminally introverted, so the more socially adept can recognize us and draw us into their circles.
You may notice that nothing in this post asks us to get over ourselves, conquer our fears and become more extroverted. I’ve been working on my shyness for [#!$%@] decades and, well, you see where I am. I still need help.
