My Book Is Out. How Can I Still Screw This Up?

You navigated all the work and worry and frustration of getting published; you avoided all the pitfalls and hurdles, the traps, mistakes, and numbskull moves, and you can't imagine how. You have a book in your hands and on the spine there's a real publisher's name!

But you're a self-defeatist, and dammit, you wanted to fail! So, you ask yourself, surely there's still some way I can f*** this up?

Yes, indeed there is. You already know how positively maddening it is to your publisher to receive several phone calls from you in a single month. So of course you'll be sure to call them with many questions, and phrase the questions so as to imply that your publicity person isn't doing her job well. Done and done.

But harassing publicity people fresh from sorority life until they cry may or may not torpedo your book. How can you really undermine things? Well, it may seem obvious, but your book will be selling in bookstores... unless you can prevent it!

While you may be tempted to simply try to hide copies of your book behind the shelves or scatter them in the toddler play area to let nature take its course, the really efficient tactic is to make the booksellers themselves hate your book.

This is much easier than you think. First you should come on all nice and eager-newbie-like and get the person in charge to take a copy of your book to review it. Booksellers are such patsies, they'll fall for this over and over again. They know they have far too many important running-the-bookstore tasks to realistically get your book read, but they'll promise they will anyway. Suckers.

Now's the fun part. Start calling that person every week or so asking if they've read the book yet. That's all. It's really that simple! Whereas waiting a couple of months before reminding them would inspire guilt and feelings of indebtedness, calling them almost immediately (and relentlessly thereafter) will take the bookseller directly to feelings of indignation, followed quickly by mounting irritation, disbelief, and actual rancor.

Cross that bookstore off your list. If they even stock the book, they'll do the hiding of it for you. Choose a good, connected bookseller, and you might be able to cross several bookstores off your list—and better yet, the bookseller will complain about you to your publicity and marketing departments!

When your publisher realizes you're making yourself unpleasant to everyone (not just to your publisher), they'll definitely write you off. No more promotion, actually irate booksellers, and really no chance of being published at that publisher again!

When you can't even find copies of your book on remainder tables because your publisher has sold them off as high-fiber livestock feed, you'll know you're a truly successful failure! Congratulations!

Hook vs Gimmick: the Death Match

The Cathy's Book approach: Gimmick?
Hugo Cabret: Hook?
(If my assumptions are correct, what's really the difference between using graphics in a novel and using interactivity in a novel, then? Neither has much to do with the core story. Is it just a matter of the value judgments concealed in hook vs. gimmick?)
Books written in IM: hook or gimmick?
Scratch n' sniff ERs: gimmick? or hook?
Googlie eyes, die cuts, etc: gimmick?
(I'd say so, but those googlie eye books sell enough to perhaps call that a hook?)
Urban vampire books: started out as hook, has turned into gimmick?

Ok, we already seem to have forgotten that effective gimmicks are hooks (though not all hooks are gimmicks). Please refer to the venn diagram. And if you'll refer to my definitions of "hook" and "gimmick", I think you'll see that there are no value judgements involved.

Cathy's Book: The text itself wasn't bad, but the extras, while fun, were an effective gimmick. (Which, once again, means they were also a hook.)

Hugo Cabret: The extraordinary visual storytelling is not a distraction from what the book is. It is part and parcel of what the book is. That means it is not a gimmick.

Vampire books: ditto. Either you want a vampire story or you don't. You aren't going to think "Ooo, vampires!" in the store and then get the book home and think, "Wait, there are vampires in this book! I didn't want a book with vampires!"

Books written in IM: Arguable. Some would argue that it's no different than traditional epistolary novels, which would make it no kind of hook (gimmick or otherwise). Others would argue that anything that makes a book unreadable does distract from what it is, so perhaps it could be a gimmick. Ok, now I'm just being mean.

Scratch and Sniff: gimmick.

Googly eyes: gimmick.

Die cuts: varies from book to book. The die cuts in First the Egg were not a gimmick. They were absolutely integral to the book. The die cuts in Penis Pokey... well, I'm hoping they're a gimmick. I guess it depends whether people are actually using them.

Ok, here's a fantastic example of a gimmick: the squishy, stretchable (surprisingly realistic-looking) plastic tongue in the cover of Chewy, Gooey, Rumble, Plop. Kids who are in no way interested in learning about the digestive system are going to beg for this book just for the tongue. They'll get it home and play with the toy parts and not read a word of it, and the parent who paid hard-earned money for it will be irritated. That's a gimmick. If you had a product that was solely a squishy, stretchable plastic tongue, then its appeal would not be a gimmick, because it wouldn't be distracting from anything else. Are we clear now?

A Couple More

From Raymond Nakamura:

Nice detail. Especially like the helpless editor in its hand.

From Leslie Muir:

Nice t-shirt. Like the crushed city behind.

The Slush Monster Is Here for Your Soul

Now THIS is going to haunt my dreams. I mean nightmares.

One More

From Elizabeth Dulemba: Oh, this is so charming. While obviously it doesn't embody any of the ways I feel about slush, I want to take it home and tickle its feet.

Hook vs Gimmick

So, suppose my agent tells me that a publisher is looking for easy readers with strong hooks, like "pirate mom" or "dancing dinosaurs." What's the difference between a hook and a gimmick?

Good question.


A hook is the reason a reader decides to buy (or read) a book.


A gimmick is an attention-getting element that does little more than get attention. It is a contrivance that seems to add value without actually adding value. It distracts the consumer from the question of whether she really wants the product in her hands.

So while there are many, many hooks that are not gimmicks, all gimmicks are meant to be a form of hook.

I don't think I agree that the subject of a book can be a gimmick. It's the subject. If you aren't interested in buying a book about pirate moms or ballet dinosaurs, you aren't going to be distracted from that lack of interest by the fact that the book is about pirate moms or ballet dinosaurs.

What your agent (and the publisher) want to remind you of is that the goal of any early reader is to be appealing enough to get a child (for whom reading is difficult) to read it. That means it needs a hook that is not

1. great writing (because they can't discern great writing yet)
2. sparkly covers or novelty elements (because early readers are low budget) or
3. name recognition (because they do not recognize author names yet)

...and that leaves you with topic. You have to give them topics they know they want: dinosaurs, sports, ballet, pirates, superheroes, goofy jokes and puns, etc etc.

A Couple More

From Jimmer:

This slush has two cups of coffee, wears glasses, and isn't in a very good mood. In fact I don't think this is slush at all. Looks more like an editor.

From Eric Hammond:

Voila, the not-terribly-rancorous monster I mentioned before.

From Roz Fulcher:

Another editor. I wish I had those fangs.

I'm no closer to a decision, but I'm loving this!

How Awesome Are My Readers?

Finally had the chance to post all the Slush Monsters sent in by readers. Check it out!

From Andy J Smith:
Energetic. I think I prefer the angry monster to the one that looks like an eager dog... though I suppose slush bears a resemblance to both. Gotta have the tail, I think.

From David Huyck: one I can't seem to paste in.

Great texture. This monster seems less slushy than "aww", though. I was hoping for one that embodied editors' frustration, amusement, and terror. This one's just so sympathetic.

From Gin:

Friendly. I might almost say... hobbitty. He looks like he likes his elevenses. Doesn't look like the kind of monster who could scare an editor, though. ;)


From Elizabeth Dulemba:

Slush as the monster that comes to your tea party and eats the cups. I do find myself identifying with the little girl.

From Kristi Valiant:

Kinda creepy. But true slush doesn't sneak up on you. It accidentally crushes the life out of you without realizing it.

From Adrian Croft:

That is some dippy slush. I like the lost tourist thing. Wish he looked hungrier for his destination, though.

From Christine Tripp:

Definitely hungrier, heehee. But the slush monster I live with is hungry for publishing offices rather than paper. I guess that's why I saw him as city-sized.

From Casey G:

Nice vivacity. Still, if I heard that this monster was looking for me, I would assume it wanted a tummy rub rather than my life force.

From Carly Schuna's brother, who goes by 'olie' on Threadless.com:

Nice. Appealingly brainless looking. Still, not quite threatening enough.


Eric Hammond (for whom I cannot find a link) sent me a nice b&w monster who was vaguely reminiscent of the rancor monster in Star Wars (if a bit less, you know, rancorous). Alas, it was a PDF and my computer is fighting me about converting it to something I could post here. Nice work, though.

Blog Mascot

One of the new year's suggestions was that this blog should adopt a mascot. As a fan of the vicious poodle of Snark, the idea appeals to me.

Unfortunately, I have no artistic ability. If anyone feels like making me one, here's what I'd like: a godzilla-type monster named "slush" looking a bit dull-witted. I'm particularly fond of this cutie from threadless.com, but alas, he seems to know where he's going.

The Invention of Hugo Cabret Wins the Caldecott!!

I, like many other people, was biting my nails. If you use the strictest interpretation of the Newbery and Caldecott terms and criteria, it's possible to argue that Hugo Cabret, which relies equally on its art and text to tell its story, might not be eligible for either award. (The horror. How could it not be considered for one or the other?)

Well, the Caldecott committee (and I agree that it's a better fit for the Caldecott than the Newbery) came through. You all rock.

Congratulations, Brian!

Here's where you can find most of the awards.

Quick Reference

I hope some of you will appreciate the fact that I've gone back through the archives and standardised the labelling of this blog's posts. In the column to your right you'll see them under "quick reference."
Enjoy.

Pigeon, Meet Hole. (except no, not really)

A writer friend of mine commented to me once that after the sale of your first work, publishers will expect you to stay in that genre – if your first is a YA those that follow should be YA. I’m currently sending my YA novel to publishers and an agent or two. (Will be my first once sold.) Everything else I’ve written is MG. Is my friend right? Will I have a hard time selling my MGs if I sell a YA first?

Some of the best idea people work in more than one genre and age group, and publishers know this. M T Anderson, Adam Rex, Rosemary Wells, Ann Martin, Jaqueline Woodson, Dav Pilkey, Kevin Henkes, Brian Selznick, sheesh, the list goes on.

You may have sold your YA novel to a publisher imprint (or editor) who really only does YA. In which case you'll have to send your middle grades somewhere else. But real artists cannot paint themselves into a corner. For real artists, there are no corners.

The Yellow Brick Blank Wall of Despair

Dear Editor, Do you review submissions via this blog? I have self-published (yes – self published) a children’s book. Local children have great things to say about it and I think it would be a commercial success if given the opportunity.

No, I don't. I get enough of that at work to want to do more in my spare time.

Local children (not to mention children not at all local) do not have a great deal of money to spend on books. Moreover, children always have nice things to say about books they've been specially read aloud or have authors who made a special trip to see these children. Does this sound like what's happened in your case? If so, you can reliably discount anything the children have said to you.

And in terms of its being a commercial success if given the opportunity: alas, I think there are many people who feel this way about their self-published book. But the opportunity you're hoping for—the one that would get the book in front of lots of people—is called being published by a publisher with a marketing department.

Either you've
(a) decided to forego that option or
(b) didn't try hard enough to get it published at a normal publisher (and by hard enough, I mean sending it to everyone it could work for) or
(c) looked at an enormous pile of rejection letters and decided it couldn't possibly mean that your manuscript would not, in fact, be a commercial success if given the chance.

I don't want to jump to conclusions; I don't know you or your book. But in my experience, the people at publishers know a hell of a lot more about what makes a commercial success than writers do. And we're looking for those books.
In the case of any one manuscript, the person who sees the manuscript at a particular publisher could reject it mistakenly or short-sightedly, but if absolutely no one wants to publish it, I would take that as a Sign of some kind.

You've embarked down a path that for most people goes nowhere. I hope you've brought along a grappling hook or something.

Yea, Verily, Coff Thee.

What were your favorite children's/YA books published in 2007. Why?

Which were your least favorite? Why?

Which books do you most look forward to reading in 2008?

Oh, these questions are always hard, because it means remembering what I've read.
I have a predisposition to smart ass writers, and at the top of that list would be The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian, Wednesday Wars, and The True Meaning of Smekday. Oh, and how about Spanking Shakespeare?
Elijah of Buxton was certainly awesome, but does not qualify for smart-assness.

A couple of my favorite read-alouds in picture books came from England this year: That Rabbit Belongs to Emily Brown and When a Monster Is Born. Frustratingly, the most prestigious picture book award in this country is not for whichever picture book became available to Americans in the past year and rocked. It's for illustration. I'd also like to point out the irony in the fact that a bunch of librarians (and don't get me wrong: fine, brilliant librarians) get to choose which picture book art is the best. As opposed to, say, people with a background in art.

Least favorites are even harder, because it means remembering books I started and never finished. It's also kinda unfair to complain by name about books you haven't read all the way through (though one or two do spring to mind).

The Newberys will be announced on Monday, but I'm already over them. Why? Because I've already read the best book of 2008, and it blows 2007 out of the water: Gary Schmidt's Trouble. Hie thee to a bookstore in a couple of months and coff thee a copy! It releases in April.

Best Face Forward

I'm a Times New Roman 12 pt gal-- mostly because my college professors and all my jobs (govt, university and private sector) used this as the standard.
I recently joined an online critique group where all the other members are courier people. I was tearing out my hair until I started converting their files to TNR, critiquing them, and then converting them back....
But I've noticed that font does affect how I perceive a piece of writing.
So, what font do you prefer? Do you even care? How about your colleagues? Do you discuss fonts when you talk about pet peeves? Or are you all so professional and focused on the actual writing that any font is fine?

Most of what we get is Times or Courier or Palatino or one of the other very normal-looking fonts, and I'm not particular about which one it is. (Though the house standard is Times.) Courier is my least favorite of those, but as long as it's legible, it's not fair to hold a font against a writer.
This is of course the time to point out that Zapf Chancery is not a legible typeface. Typeface is not the writer's chance to make her manuscript more beautiful. If your manuscript needs decoration, it's not good enough yet.

Before We Begin...

How do you feel about prologues? I've heard mixed opinions--some editors don't like them, some like them if they're "done right." What's your opinion on what constitutes a good prologue?

It probably won't come as a surprise that I like cutting to the chase. When I was a child, I took "prologue" to mean "something too boring to include in the main text" and habitually skipped them.
So I'm sensitive to the fact that there are children like that out there. I suppose as long as you give it a more interesting name than simply "prologue" or "introduction," it could be fine. But what's the difference between a prologue and the first chapter of Harry Potter? Or the first chapter of Red Moon At Sharpsburg? The answer is: you've added a paragraph or two to the beginning of chapter 2, and you know your reader's really started at the beginning.
If an author wants to convince me of the importance of a prologue as a separate entity from chapter 1, I'm willing to listen. But it'll take a little convincing. How do you feel about them?

A Little Decoration

I found myself looking for a book with a digital camera in my hand. It was probably always going to happen; if you visit your bookshelves as much as I do, eventually you'd find yourself there with everything conceivable in your other hand.
I'm the sort of person who thinks books are the best decor touch for any room, so the same must be true for blogs.
I defy you to name all of these books. (The skinny yellow one is going to be impossible to recognize, I'm sure.) But you could perhaps determine which author or illustrator is most represented here. Guesses?

And don't forget to add your two cents to the post below.

Blog Resolutions?

An editor and a copyeditor are out walking when they come upon a set of tracks. The editor looks at them and identifies them as deer tracks.
The copyeditor says, "No, those are elk tracks."
"I disagree," says the editor. "The majority of viewers would certainly interpret these as deer tracks."
"But they do not follow the correct form of deer tracks," objects the copyeditor. "They must be elk."
They argue back and forth, on and on, and they're still arguing when the train hits them.

There aren't nearly enough editor jokes. You guys are the writers; can't you come up with some?

In the new year, this blog resolves to laugh more and eat fewer authors for lunch (its margins are feeling a bit tight). It resolves to go to the gym when it says it's going to the gym, instead of stopping at a bar to bench press tequila. It resolves to tidy its apartment more often and see if it can figure out why the damn toilet keeps running, even if this requires visiting a (gasp!) hardware store.

When I started this blog I wasn't sure it wouldn't be just to amuse myself, but a couple of months later, ta-dah! I had a readership. It's nearly a year later (which is eons in internet terms, not to mention in terms of my attention span), and to celebrate this miracle of longevity I thought I'd ask you what you'd like to see on this blog in the new year. Ideas? Suggestions? Most appreciated.

The Labor of Love

I have a 9K ms that is part picture book, part chapter book and part graphic novel. Several agents have requested the full ms and I am waiting to hear back.
But I worry that they cannot envision the book. I have been illustrating for a long time, so I can see the presentation in my mind's eye; the problem is that the format is not like anything else out there on the market now so I have nothing to compare it to. So how do I sell this without dummying up the whole thing? Or do I have to bite the bullet and do that? Scripting it will not work. But creating the dummy is a heck of a lot of spec work, when I have paying and more salable projects in hand. Still, this one calls to me.

You're going to have to dummy up enough of the manuscript for people to get a good idea of what will happen in the rest of it. If that's a lot of work for no sure gain, well, welcome to children's books. (laugh!)

My Job: For Children, and Now By Children!

Dear Editor,
I am the author/ illustrator of several picture books. I often speak and read to children in schools and libraries. I would like to try something new. My idea is to present an unpublished dummy of one of my books and ask the children to be the "editors". This would be an interesting way to get them to think critically. Can you suggest a list of criteria for them to use as a guide?

That's a fun idea. You'll be inserting some "mistakes" for them to fix, I assume? It'll depend on the age of the kids, but you might try some show-not-tell on them, ask them for ways to "show" something you've "told". You could ask them to look for the things that are pictured in the illustrations and can thus be cut from the text. You could ask them what image would be best for the cover, and talk about what the cover should convey. If you want to talk about spelling and punctuation, you could include some examples of how the wrong punctuation will make the sense of a sentence change.

Just leave out the crushing paperwork part.
Good luck!

Relationship Help

A related question ... If an editor emails you, does that mean you have an "email relationship" now and it's fine to use email for future correspondence? For instance, I had an editor email revision comments to me; I did the revision and now need to check in to see where it stands (many months have passed). Is it OK to email for this, or should I mail a letter inquiring?

Assuming that along with her comments she included a request to see the revision, yes, it is ok to use email for future correspondence, as long as this means

1. asking her if she would like the revision via email or via post (don't assume)
2. not emailing her more than twice in a four-month period (editors are in contact with so very many people; if every one of them emailed us just once a month, our heads (and computers) would explode.)

If she offered you some constructive comments but did not ask to see a revision, she likely feels she is under no obligation to respond personally to the revision. Ask for a status update via post, and cross your fingers.

Likewise, another editor I met said that I could email a manuscript to her. She rejected it but said she'd look at other stuff. OK to email again?

Ok to ask her via email if she'd like the manuscript via email or post.

How To Get Black Balled

I'm new enough to the industry that I worry about being "black-balled". Not sure if that kind of thing happens in the publishing business, but I know it happens in other industries.

Remember the kitchen full of slush?

Good. Now imagine that on your way through those piles, one of the authors has done something that you feel is kinda unprofessional.
At least half of that sea of manuscripts is from people who haven't even heard of submission guidelines. So unprofessionalism, while often enough to get the manuscript tossed without a second thought, is not nearly enough to get us to remember your name.

If you want publishers to remember you darkly enough to never want to work with you, you'll have to do something on a higher order of Obnoxious, Stupid, or Psychotic. Eg:

• Sending me lingerie, pornographic manuscripts, or death threats. You're nuts. I've given your name to security.
• Calling or emailing me repeatedly in the belief that you're just too charming to have to play by the rules. Using the phone or email forces me to respond personally to you, and the thought of all the patient, rule-abiding, very likely more talented authors in the slush pile who would love to hear from me personally—when in fact I'm busy dealing with jackasses like you—boils my blood.
• Writing a manuscript so totally out of touch with children—or humans—that I have to share it with all of my colleagues.

And it should be said that in these instances, when you've ensured that your name will live on in infamy with me, that does not go for the many other people in the publishing industry. We don't have a bulletin board or secret clan meetings where The People We Must Never Work With are discussed and flogged in effigy. Though that does sound nice.

So rest assured. The next time that publisher gets something from you, they will not be thinking, "It's that person who waited much longer for a response from us that he should have had to and then, when we still didn't respond, submitted his manuscript to a contest! Kill him!"

They're going to think, "Who?"

Whether Tis Nobler to Suffer the Slings of Publishers' Indifference or to Take Arms Against a Sea of Contests

I have a YA manuscript that I would like to submit to a First YA Novel Contest. The deadline is Dec. 31. The problem is, I still have that manuscript out to another publisher, and the contest rules say the manuscript cannot be sent out to others while under consideration for the contest. Even though I sent my manuscript out over 8 months ago, I still haven't heard anything. And unlike some publishers, this particular publisher says they will respond within six months if the author sends an SASE, which I did. Two weeks ago, I sent a letter inquiring whether or not they are still considering the manuscript, and if they are, when might they make their decision. I sent another SASE as well. My question to you is, if I still haven't heard back by the contest submission deadline (Dec. 31), do I need to contact the publisher with the manuscript to withdraw it from consideration? I have no desire to antagonize any publishers, but nor do I want to withdraw my manuscript if there is a chance that they want it. Neither the contest nor this other publisher is a sure thing after all.

Eight months is a bit long, no question. I wonder if it's gotten lost there. And you've given them a chance to express interest—even just preliminary interest. I'd recommend withdrawing the manuscript and trying the contest; you can send it back to that publisher later if you like.

Graphic Novels without the "Graphic"

I’m an author and illustrator, and I’d like to tell my next story as a graphic novel. How are graphic novels presented to you — as pure text, like picture books, or as text with sketches, or in final form? Thanks for all your efforts to keep us writing, and laughing, and presenting ourselves professionally.

I don't see many of these; I think many writers aren't quite comfortable with the format yet. Basically you're writing a script—so I'd want you to include only as much of the action/stage direction as is needed to understand the dialogue and changes of scene. Of course writing scripts is a separate talent from writing stories... but as longer books get more visual (many thanks to Hugo Cabret), I'm hoping to see more manuscripts that experiment with visual elements in my slush pile. Good luck!

It's Magic! And By "Magic" I Mean a Lot of Work

Do interns really go through the slush pile or have I wasted my coffee money on stamps?
How does a regular person with no connections and no money get an agent?
Will the good houses ever be open to unsolicited ms?
How do you get your foot in the door? Really?

Ali Baba sees a bunch of people walking back from a mountain, loaded down with jewels and precious metals. He imagines the treasure cave they must have found. "There must be some trick to getting in," he thinks to himself. "Some magic phrase."

So he starts stopping each guy as he passes.

"Is it 'abracadabra'?" he asks the first guy. The guy just shakes his head.

"Is it 'hocus pocus'?" he asks the second guy. The second guy just shakes his head.

He keeps asking until finally around the seventh or eighth guy he says, "Is it 'open sesame'?"

The guy stops and looks at him. "Wow," he says. "You just don't get it." The guy swings a big, heavy hammer off his shoulder, where he's been carrying it. "You see this sledge hammer?" says the guy to Ali Baba. "I made this. And it's not my first one. Every treasure I've pulled from that mountain I've hammered out of it with my own hands."


The answers to your questions:
1. Yes, and not just interns.
2. You query them and submit to them the same as you'd do for a publisher.
3. There are good houses open to unsolicited manuscripts.
4. First you've got to create something strong. And then you've got to really work.

Nyet, Nein, La, Non, Nao

From the yellow boards:

I'm a newbie, but I have been writing poetry. Now I think im ready for children picture book writing. Just wondering, I like how the children book is business about. I have done some researching. I just want to know, as being a poet; I wonder, if I'm am ready to take the next step.

Other questions that have the same answer:

• I want to know if this electrical socket is live. Should I use a fork or a screwdriver?
• I have a rash somewhere, you know, private. But my girlfriend's on the pill, so that's ok, right?
• I'll just put my makeup on in the car. I can drive with my knees, and what are all those mirrors for, anyway?
• The only way to get published is to make your own rules and do things to stand out from the rest of the herd. Won't it impress an editor if I show up at her office or mail her little gifts of lingerie with my manuscript?

Out of the Office Until (a) My Vacation Time Runs Out (b) Monday (c) I'm in the Office Right Now

When do most editors actually leave for the holidays? I've been led to believe that most people in the publishing industry take off around December 15 and don't return to work until the first or second week in January. Is that a generally accurate assumption or do many editors keep longer office hours throughout the season? (Perhaps taking off only one week during Christmas.) I'm asking this mostly in relation to book deals and acquisitions. Are offers made and finalized in late December?

Some of us take off for the last half of the month (often the ones with kids who are out of school); others sneak into the office on Christmas Day.
I'm trying not to be that much of a workaholic. But the group decisions needed to approve an offer do get tough to make as you get closer to the holidays, since important members of the group will be unavailable.

The Cutest Thing You've Ever Seen

It's probably your snooky-wookums dog. Or cat. Or weasel. (You keep that in your apartment?) In some cases it's your favorite stuffed animal, or in one case your purse. (Seriously? Your purse?)

Whatever it is, it's so adorable you've made a photo album of it. Oh, I'm sorry, a picture book.
You've traveled with wittle wuvums to scenic locales for your photo shoots. "Scenic" evidently includes the ditch near your house and the four corners area. (You can see four states! Except, you know, not in the photograph.)

And then you've convinced yourself that people with photoshop don't need artistic talent, and you've been doctoring the photos so that your overweight chihuahua (as a completely random example) has an adventure in outer space where he worries the planets like tennis balls and teaches children facts about the solar system. (Are there ten planets?) It's delightful! Because he's so cute!

And you've sent this off to a publisher because sharing your pookie with the world qualifies as a public service, and to "show" those people who made fun of your weird obsession and suggested in their "nice" voice that you might join a book group or try knitting or take a bath.

In the end, it doesn't matter whether these submissions will get published or not. (Though they won't. Ever.) The point is that people at publishing houses get the chance to play MST3K with your photos and for this we sincerely thank you. It's a nice break from taking things seriously.

Q&A Grab Bag

A couple of editors have commented that some secondary characters in my YA ms aren't "developed enough." I'm guessing they meant the characters were cardboard cutouts. I tried to address this problem by showing more of these characters' motivations, gave them more to do than just be a sounding board or antagonist for the heroine, etc, but I'm not sure I've gone far enough. At the same time, I don't want the secondaries to take over the whole show. Could you please talk about character development, what works for you and what doesn't?

The trick seems to lie in giving your secondary characters personalities, histories, and priorities of their own, without regard to your main characters. Then picture the characters interacting. (Not everything will go as planned, and that's what makes writing life-like.) Give your secondary characters a small chance somewhere to show us their point of view—even if it isn't one anyone else in the book agrees with. Give each character a chance to petition for the readers' sympathy—even if they don't get it. Give each of your characters a sense of self, and they'll become the currents your main character swims in and against, rather than simple scenery.

What is your opinion of writers submitting to agents and editors at the same time, especially for picture books? Say a ms was well received during a First Pages session and the editors said they would like to see the rest of the book, would the writer be better off securing an agent before submitting or should he go ahead and submit on his own?

The decision to find an agent or not is a personal one. There's nothing wrong with submitting to editors and agents at the same time; go about this however suits you best.

EA, you may have answered this, but I was wondering about the rejections you give to agents, are they more honest than the ones to authors? Before an editor said yes to my manuscript, several said a variety of things like what you've described here, "strong writing, character, plot, but not right for me." There was also at least one, the writing isn't strong enough. I'm curious if you work harder to be clear about your rejection with an agent, because you are trying to educate the agent as to what you are looking for, and developing a relationship, or if the bottom line is you don't have much time to spend on manuscripts you don't want because you've got to find and work on the ones you do?

As with authors, I'm more likely to be specific if I think there may be some eventual reward for me. Very promising authors and agents who I know have great taste get more feedback for the reasons you mention, as well as to encourage them to keep trying me with manuscripts.

Non-specific responses are not necessarily a sign of no respect, however; it's usually just a sign of no time. Most authors and agents don't really need encouragement to keep submitting, after all.

Is That a Stuffed Hamster?

How realistic is it that a writer might forge a career relationship with one
editor?

It does happen, and it's a happy thing for everyone when it does. But it's not very frequent.

Now that I’m about to start sending out queries, I want to target those editors who are looking for manuscripts in the varied genres I write in. (Material suitable for their list of course.) Am I dropping the ball here by thinking this way? Should I concentrate solely on the sale of each individual manuscript and not consider this?

Yes. Trying to get your manuscript published is hard enough without trying to find and only submit to editors who might take any genre you ever feel like writing. Find someone to publish something of yours, and count yourself lucky. If you happen to find someone with whom to build a continuing relationship, count yourself very lucky indeed.

When you take on a writer, do you look ahead for future projects from him or
her, or do you just care specifically about the current one?

I want to be sure you understand something—the writers who do have a continuing relationship with a particular editor have it for these reasons; and all of these reasons, not just one or two of them:

1. Luck (and perhaps some networking). If an editor and an author who make a really great team happen to find each other, there's always some serendipity about it. Erect a shrine to the goddess Bibliomachia and hope. (If you want to make offerings, she prefers burned manuscript pages and broken pencils.)

2. Professionalism and similar working styles. Those editors you see at conferences and hear about in the writing community? 99.9% of them are very nice people. Those authors out there hoping to get published? 99.9% of them are very nice people. This does not matter, because being a nice person and being good to work with are about as related as hamsters and salad forks.
You don't care if your editor is the kind of person who steals lawn gnomes and dribbles spaghetti sauce into library books, as long as she helps you make your book better and gets back to you promptly when you email. Your editor doesn't care if you're the kind of person who taxidermies your dead pets and only washes your hair when it starts to itch, as long as you take feedback and respect your due dates. It doesn't matter how much you and your editor like each other personally; if your working styles drive each other nuts, you'd both be much happier with other people.

3. Success. Here's the real catch. Not one of those happy teams you may have heard about is turning out unsuccessful books. If you sell a manuscript to an editor who you do happen to enjoy working with, wonderful. But if that book bombs, her publisher is going to cast a skeptical eye on any other manuscripts from you that she decides to champion. And she knows this, so she's less likely to champion them. It doesn't matter how great you both are to work with or how blessed by the ferocious goddess of books you both happen to be if you aren't creating books that sell.

Synopsis Plus Sample Chapters

This week's dip in the slush brought me a manuscript for which there was a synopsis and sample chapters. That's what our submission guidelines request, so the submitter gets points for reading the guidelines. The sample chapters, though, were chapters 19 and 47.

So a quick bit of advice.

I don't need consecutive chapters at this stage, because sample chapters are really just about whether your writing style appeals. (And the synopsis is about whether you've got a plotline that hangs together.)

But let's see... one assumes you've given me your best chapters. Is one of those not chapter one? Has it occurred to you that readers of your published book will not read chapters 19 and 47 first? They'll read chapter one (often skipping any foreword), and if it doesn't grab them, they'll put the book down.

If you have not put some of your best writing at the very front of the book—on the very first page, ideally—that is Not Good.

I Can't Acquire the Next Newbery; I've Filled My Quota for the Month

Are there ever times where you find yourself buying two manuscripts at the same time? (Say, within a few weeks.) Or do you generally try to avoid that?

Why would I avoid that? I acquire when I get the chance to acquire, and no other consideration of timing often comes into it. I think I once offered on three things in the same week.

One Workman to Another

A number of writer's-market-type-guides advise authors to be aware of the market, of who's publishing what. Fine and dandy. But many of them further recommend that you demonstrate this knowledge in your query letter by comparing your manuscript to "similar" offerings from said publisher -- in other words, explain why you think your story is a good fit for this editor and/or house with concrete examples.
Am I the only one who thinks this is bound to come off as pretentious at least 80% of the time? I'm a part-time bookseller, and few things make me want to pluck out my eyeballs as much as catalog copy that assures me a new fantasy is the "next Harry Potter" or that a historical novel is "sure to appeal to fans of Dear America." I end up muttering, "Oh puh-leeze!" and turning the page. (I also sniggered mercilessly when Jenna Bush compared her book to Number the Stars and Anne Frank's Diary of a Young Girl .) Just let me read the dang book and *I'll* decide what it reminds me of, thank you very much. Besides, I don't know about you, but when I give a new book a shot, I'm mostly hoping it will be somehow DIFFERENT from the other gazillion books I've already read.
In light of that, how can an author appear well-informed and familiar with a publisher's taste without going too far and coming off as a conceited nitwit?

While it's nice to see that people have actually done a little research, you're exactly right. Most of the time that skimming of our website does not result in a particularly better-targeted submission or a significant understanding of how my publishing house is different from others. And yes, absolutely, I don't care what you think your manuscript is like unless you give me a good reason to think I might agree.

So here's what would really make a difference: mention a couple of our titles that are in some way similar to yours (e.g., in the same genre and age range, or on the same topic but in a different genre or age range) and tell me specifically what's strong about them. Don't use filler words like "sweet" or "charming" or "great" which essentially mean nothing. Think like you were in a Masters program on children's literature and say precisely what one of our books' strengths are. Showing me that you are aware of the ingredients of a good manuscript rather than simply your reaction to it sets you apart.
You know, most people enjoy any cake that is pretty and palatable, and that's about all they can say about it. Other bakers, though, can tell that this one has a good crumb and a touch of nutmeg and that the type of icing is a good match for the texture and sugar content of the cake. Talk to me like that. Show me you know the difference between pretty and palatable, and pretty and palatable and well-made.

The (Possibly Explosive) Dangers of Feedback

Not as many questions for the magic eight ball of editor speak as I expected, which perhaps means that my colleagues have not been making as much of a nuisance of themselves. Or maybe you guys are taking the 8 Rules of Rejections to heart and not thinking much about the rejection letters you get. (If so, good for you!)

I've had an ed say she loved the voice, the plot, and the premise but not the dialogue. There were literally all of three lines of dialogue in that ms.

Yes, here's an example of wanting to give feedback and avoid the problem at the same time, which editors ought to know are mutually exclusive goals. Sure, editors are sometimes skittish about approaching the problem, since some of the things you definitely can do while giving feedback are confuse, anger, frustrate, and offend people. Still, if you're going to skip the problem, skip the "feedback". This sort of letter just makes people wonder what you're using for brains.

"the writing is thin"

This most often means the writing didn't have enough color or personality of its own. This doesn't necessarily mean you need more description, though writers are frequently in danger of taking it that way. Good, muscular writing knows what its goal is in the manuscript, and gets it done with few words. If you choose the right few words, the right few telling details, you only need a few.

"it's too quiet"

This is a topic problem; the editor is saying there isn't enough of a hook. There are now so many books on the market with lovely writing and illustration that those facts alone will not sell a book. If the writing or art is breathtaking, then that can be a hook of its own. Otherwise, the book also needs to be about something people know they want.

"not substantial enough"

This could mean "too thin" or "too quiet" (see above). Hard to say which.

I have a friend who just got a rejection from an ed who said she loved the concept, loved the genuine voice, loved the really great writing, but rejected the ms b/c she wanted to see more b/w 2 characters. As writers we hear over and over that plot can be fixed. But believable voice, solid writing, original concept, etc...have to be there first. So what was the deal-e-oh here? Not even a revision request. Although she did ask to see anything else of the writer's. Is there a subliminal message, like, "I adore this, but my publisher will never green-light this project," huh?For writers, these kinds of rejections are both exhilarating and excruciating.

Sounds like a letter I would have ended with a revision request. It's sometimes hard, though, to be sure a writer's able to change a manuscript the way you think it needs to be changed. And while we'd love to give people the benefit of the doubt, we see a few hundred manuscripts every year that have distinct strengths and that are simply not ready to be published. If we gave all of them an open door for resubmission, we'd regret it almost instantly. My advice: think hard about this feedback, and if you like it enough to make some real changes to the manuscript, do resubmit it. And submit it elsewhere. And keep submitting.

My husband has noticed that I get more vague yet personal rejections of the "I loved this, really enjoyed it, want a copy for myself but...no." variety between May and September... Even worse are the friendly, unsigned replies from publishers who told me not to include a SASE b/c they only respond if interested... so someone actually SPENT MONEY to send me a vaguely polite rejection..His diagnosis? Summer Interns.(Though I half-wonder if the polite rejection from the "only respond if interested" publisher was, in fact, a veiled attempt to say "please don't EVER submit to us again." Then I stop being paranoid and make another pot of coffee to make me feel better...)

I would attribute any rejection in the vein of "This was so great! I can't think of a single thing to criticize! Not on your life!" to interns.
The friendly, unsigned replies from houses who don't promise a response, however, I would take as actually friendly (while obviously not real personal or helpful).

Now, I do know what you mean about a polite letter that was sent in the hope that the author would never submit again, but you can be absolutely sure you've never received one. You seem perfectly sane. We don't send those letters to the clueless or the people who need to work on their manuscript some more. We don't even send them to the people who we feel could really work on their writing some more. They are solely for the very occasional certifiably insane person whose manuscript and/or cover letter actually scares us. They are "Oh my god, send this person a very nice but vague letter and let's hope the next thing we get from him isn't a bomb" letters.

So far we have not gotten any bombs, but trust me, some of the slush is just that terrifying.

Editor Speak Strikes Again!

If this is not a repetitive question could you please define what "slightly more commercial then we would pursue" means. That word commercial, has me a bit befuddled!

I was just thinking it's about time we had another round of What's -This-Editor-Thinking, otherwise known as the Magic Decoder Ring of Editor Speak. Come one, come all, and email me with your favorite unintelligible editorial comments; I'll try to translate (but no promises). Offer ends on Friday; not applicable where prohibited by law; etc, etc.

Commercial is one of those terms that you know for sure you understand until someone asks you to define it for them.
I not infrequently run into manuscripts that could stand to be a bit more commercial, in that they could stand to appeal to a wider audience.
Saying something is too commercial, though, could be taken a couple ways. Maybe this editor feels it's too mass-market, as in, would be most at home at Kmart and Target rather than at trade bookstores.
Or maybe she means it's trying to appeal to so wide an audience that it's lost it's own uniqueness, and thus has no particular audience.
Or... it's possible there's an interpretation I'm not thinking of right now.

If you cannot make head nor tail of an editorial comment, chances are you should just ignore it. (Remember The 8 Rules of Rejections?) But if you just want to have some fun with them, go ahead an email 'em to me.

Instant Sisterhood

Know how you read somebody's blog and instantly bond with them over their snark and humor and occasional swearing? Yeah, like that.
http://www.poundy.com/

The Illustrated Manuscript, though not Illustrated with Examples

I've just stumbled on to your blog and I'm really enjoying it. Thank you. I have a question: What does an illustrated children's book manuscript actually look like? I'm trying to picture it, but it's hard considering there aren't yet illustrations.

If you mean a manuscript that is meant to be illustrated by someone other than the author, it looks like a manuscript. It's up to the editor reading it to picture what would be going on in the art.

If you mean one of the manuscripts I get that's already illustrated, that varies a great deal. Simple pencil sketches, full-color art samples (photocopies, one hopes), the occasional manuscript with illustrations borrowed from someone else's book (instant reject) ....
Unless the author is a professional artist, including art of any kind is often a bad idea. See my previous post "Stick Figure Theater."

Is it possible to view actual manuscript submissions (strong ones vs. poor submissions)?

Is it possible for me to post submissions I get at work on my personal blog? Hell no. Those people sent their manuscripts to a publisher, who can be relied upon not to use their intellectual property in any way they do not explicitly agree to.

Beauty vs Utility

When you talk about finding "something I want to acquire" in the slush pile, what do you mean? Is this a literary gem that speaks to your heart or is it a commercial manuscript with a hook that will beat out the competition?

The answer is yes.
I don't pull things out of slush that I think will be a commercial success but that I personally despise. Those stay there. The less said about them to Marketing, the better.
But when I do pull something from slush and get excited about it, it can be for lots of reasons. "Literary gem" is one of them; so is "kids are going to love this" and "what a great read-aloud." And many other categories. I love many different kinds of readers, so I love making many different kinds of books.

I guess what I'm trying to ask is are you (and other editors) looking to create art these days or is your company (and you by extension) mainly fixated on the bottom line?

The answer is yes.
Editors are in this business because they love books and want to help create great ones. Publishers are in this business to make money.

Editors work for publishers, which on the one hand put an emphasis on profitability, but on the other hand pay us to work in books.
And publishers hire editors, who on the one hand are stubborn and headstrong and care much more for literature than for profitability, but on the other hand are the only types of people who can do the job.
So each side has some trade-offs.

Is there any room for beautiful writing in picture books?

You're sounding awfully discouraged. Did you notice Show Way got a Newbery honor last year? What a great book.

I Did It! I Avoided the Slush! I'm—AAAaaaaaahhh!...

I'm an artist, and last year, my art rep started shopping around my dummybooks. Her method is starting with an AD who in turn says they love the concept and will "pitch" it to an editor.
YAY! But then the crickets start chirping. My rep contacts the AD who apologizes profusely and says to call on such and such a date when they will have some feedback. This follows with a string of apologies when rep does call and nothing has been done regarding the manuscript.
More phone dates are planned and then eventually AD avoids phone calls all together. This has happened at two houses so far and each time the AD has had the manuscript for 5-6 months at least.
I would just appreciate a "NO" rather than being ignored. Should I seek a literary agent who will submit directly to the editor?Are my manuscripts junky and the Art Director doesn't want to share that feedback?Should I suggest to my rep to submit to more houses than one at a time and directly to an editor? (Ack, I hate to do this, I don't want to come off like I know more than she does.)

The answers to your questions:

1. Yes. The problem with trying to sidestep the swamp of The Slush is that on either side of it is a sheer cliff. There's no where to stand out there. At most houses, designers are not your best advocates for acquisition.

2. Possibly. Designers are often sweeter people than editors. Editors (who are often very nice themselves) have to develop the ability to give bad news without stressing over it or worrying about just how to put it: we get lots and lots of practice, and after the first couple years it gets easy. Designers don't have as much of this experience, and do stress and worry... and may procrastinate because of it.

3. For god's sake, yes. Assuming you don't do the better thing and get a literary agent.

4. And remember to tell the publishing houses you submit to (whomever does the submitting for you) that it's ok if they want someone else to illustrate your manuscript. I've gotten illustrated submissions from artists who were in no way bad artists—but whose art style's strengths did not complement the manuscript's strengths. In those cases, it's better to get someone else.

Agents: the Mousetrap (Ahem, I mean Prize) at the Bottom of the Box

A few months ago I sent a sample (three chapters) of my YA fantasy to The Publisher Of My Dreams. Last week, I was both surprised and delighted to receive a phone call from said Publisher requesting the full manuscript.Of course I obliged, mailing the package as fast as was humanly possible.
Now, I am fully aware that a request to see the entire manuscript is in no way a guarantee that my work will be published. But at the same time, it's as good a sign as I could possibly have hoped for, and I find myself wondering about my situation should I actually be offered a deal. You see, I have no agent... and no clue as to how a Publishing Contract works should one fall on my doorstep. I'm not saying for a second that The Publisher would try to take advantage of me, but I'd like the benefit of someone who knows what they are doing in my corner. If I were to receive an offer, would it be considered a slap in the face to The Publisher for me to then approach an agent? I really don't want want to ruin my chances by committing some stupid faux pas.

I've offered on books that then suddenly developed an agent. In all honesty, I am a tad irritated when this happens, because I'll often make an unagented author a better offer than I would an agent. Agents always haggle, no matter what the starting offer, so you have to leave room for negotiation.

But I put that irritation away. I understand that (a) it's damn difficult for new authors to get an agent (if they want one) before they have a publication deal, and (b) everyone deserves to come to the negotiation table with the knowledge they need in order to understand the contract.

It is, in fact, in the publisher's interest (assuming it's a legitimate publisher) for authors to understand the contract they're signing. The fewer misunderstandings down the road, the better.

So go ahead and get yourself an agent. Do also read Negotiating a Book Contract or something similar, because no matter how great your agent, you should still know what you're signing.

Yes, Sometimes

My question is, if you do acquire this manuscript, how will you go about choosing the illustrator? Does a particular illustrator immediately pop into your head,

Yes, sometimes.

or do you take the marketing advantage of teaming a new writer with an established illustrator into account first?

Yes, sometimes.

If neither of these is true, do you go through postcards you've received, talk to your Art Director for suggestions, or wander online portfolios (which ones?) or illustration annuals (which ones?) to find the illustrator?

Yes, sometimes.
(Ones the design department suggests.)

How much time do you generally spend on this process?

As long as it takes. Sometimes that's a week or two (ie, no time at all: knowing what illustrator I want: illustrator agreeing to do it), other times it's a process of a couple months as design and I find time to meet a couple times to discuss ideas and narrow down who they'd like to work with and who I think will give the project what it needs.
The moral: What's right for one project is not the same as what's right for another.

Questions of Protocol

I have a question concerning the proper way to follow-up on a submission. I had a manuscript critique with an editor from a closed house roughly five months ago. She was interested in the novel, but it wasn’t finished yet. At the end of the critique she gave me her business card. A month later, I sent her a picture book via the conference coupon. It is now one week shy of four months and I haven’t heard anything yet. This is a relatively short amount of time I know, but I am anxious to send it on to other publishers but feel this was an exclusive submission as I didn’t note otherwise. Which would be more professional in this situation, send a follow-up e-mail (which was on her card) or snail mail? I would walk a mile of hot coals to work with her, so I don’t want to do anything that comes across too casual. Any advice?

It's not an exclusive unless you tell someone it's an exclusive. Keep submitting. And you may email the editor at this point and remind her that she's had your submission for four months. Mentioning how excited you would be to work with her isn't a bad idea, either.

Is it OK for a writer (newly unagented) to approach one (or more) of the editors at a closed house who looked at another manuscript when she was agented?

If the editor in question specifically asked to see other work from that author (and not just other projects from that agent) in her correspondence, then yes. Be sure to remind her of that, and be calm if she wants to stand on her company's no-unagented-work policy. But it's ok to ask.

If yes, then can said writer use the email address she obtained via notes from the agent or should she snail mail to the address of the publisher? If this is not appropriate behavior ever ever ever, please discuss why not.

No. While this does vary some from editor to editor, many editors do not want anything in their email inboxes that they could reasonably handle via paper. This is not because we have a vendetta against trees, but because our email inboxes are monstrous already. They are not the place for slush. Agents get to email me because the stuff they send me is often time-sensitive. Email is for things that need a quick turn around. The author who emails a manuscript to me seems to be saying I am important rather than the preferable I have manners.

The Thrill of the Capture

To heck with the thrill of the chase. Chasing publishable manuscripts is less like a heady gallop over wooded hillside in sunny autumnal weather and more like wading neck-deep through fetid swampland while biting midges swarm your face. The chase sucks.

Finding something, though... ah, what joy.

I know I haven't been blogging much recently; instead I've been working very hard. I've seen the inside of my office both days this weekend. But I've been rewarded. This very afternoon I was working my way through a pile of manuscripts that other people (agents, my publishing director, the editorial assistant, etc) had decided I should read, and there it was. Something I want to acquire!

The gleeful disbelief. The attempts to quell my burgeoning optimism with skepticism and visions of the enormous piles of work already sucking my every waking moment away from me. I don't care; I want it, I want it!

Of course, now I must show it to other people at my publisher—people who may go, "Eh." And if so I will have to maintain a professional demeanor while inside I am thinking, "Who cares what you think?! It's mine, it's mine!"

And then I will have to talk to the author (who may have interest from other houses) without acting like a big baby. ("You can't sell this elsewhere, it's mine, it's mine!")

Deep breaths. Still, this glee. Machinations about the illustrator to match with this manuscript. More deep breaths. Must go read something to distract myself.

Suffering Fools Gladly

I've always wondered about this expression. I know a few people who are very commonly described as not suffering fools gladly, and I always experience a twinge of jealousy when I hear it. I certainly don't suffer fools gladly (after all, who does?), but I keep this fact to myself and the fools don't often realize how fed up with them I am. So the jealousy is for the people who keep getting away with making their irritation plain. Why can't I be someone like that?

Instead, I've seriously and politely sat through two separate meetings this month with utterly fourth-rate one-offers who felt they needed to read their manuscripts aloud to me. We'll skip how exactly I got roped into these meetings by otherwise likable counterparts in adult publishing.

Whatever makes people think reading their manuscript aloud to an editor is a good idea? I can think better with a page in front of me, and damn it, if a manuscript can't speak for itself on the page, it isn't going to speak for itself in the bookstore. Maybe they picture standing in bookstores and reading their book aloud to passing bookstore patrons. The problem with that is: most of the people I know who get away with not sufferng fools gladly... own bookstores.

The Clue Arms Race and What You Can Do to Help

In my email this week:

I attended [X] conference where you spoke. I'm sure you've gotten lots of emails since,

No, most people know better.

so I'm sorry for adding to the number. I'm a writer of children's books. I was going through the shelves at my public library and noticed quite a few were from your publishing house.

Oh, you noticed that, did you? Congrats.

I have a few questions for you. Do you know any good agents?

We've just passed amusingly clueless and are headed into hilarious.

Do you know which publishers are best for children's books? Which editor would you suggest at your own house for a quick meeting? I have a mostly-finished dummy and I'd really like to walk someone through it. I realize this probably isn't the normal modus operandi, but I'm a really hard worker and I think I'm pretty talented and I'm talking no more than 15 or 20 minutes of an editor's time. Seems worth it.

I am now trying to howl with laughter and gasp at this person's nerve at the same time, a combination that results in mild choking and then a coughing fit.
Loyal readers, I know none of you are this lost. Would you do me (and all other editors) a great favor and try to impart some of your own wisdom to the newbies you run into out there? I'll take this one, but my weeks would be better (if less full of incredulous hilarity) if more hopeful authors had some sense of how the business works. Much sincere gratitude if you get a chance to do this.

The Magic 8 Ball Says...

My publisher sold paperback rights for my picture book to Scholastic Book Club, which was a good thing, I think. My publisher's letter told me what my advance would be and that it would be payable 1/2 upon their receipt from Scholastic and 1/2, plus sample copies, upon publication. I got the first half, but have received neither the second part nor, more distressing to me (because the advance is paltry anyway), the sample copies. I know the book is out because teacher friends showed me the Scholastic flyer and last night a friend showed me the book. So who do I ask about this (without upsetting anyone, since they are publishing a second book and have a third under consideration?) My editor on that book? My editor on the second book? The publicist assigned to me? The president who sent the letter? Someone else, like whoever answers the phone? I would really appreciate some advice.

The editor you've worked with most recently. She may ask the editorial assistant to follow up on this, but you should go to your editor first. She's supposed to be your first contact at the publisher, and this is not an unusual request. Don't, please, go hunting up random people to bother with your questions. If your editor is hard to get in touch with, cultivate a relationship with the editorial assistant. (Editorial assistants are a bit of information desk, customer service, records, R&D, receptionist, and reviewer all rolled into one. If they can do everything, eventually they'll become an editor. In the meantime, they are your go-to when you don't know who to ask.)

Just say cheerfully that you've noticed the book is out and you were wondering when you'd see the sample copies and the rest of your advance. You may in fact be doing your publisher a favor—if you haven't gotten your money, they may not have gotten theirs, and they'll be glad to be reminded that Scholastic owes them money.

Children Making Up Their Own Minds? Scandalous!

I'm wondering about drinking and drug use by adults in mid-grade novels. My WIP, set in 1970s, has a pot-smoking mother (daughter, main character, disapproves and pretends not to know.) Would that element place me in the YA category? (problematical since MC is only 13)

The only way this would end up in the middle-grade shelves is if it were abundantly clear that the author/book itself disapproved of that behavior. It's not enough for the main character to disapprove, unless it's written in 1st person. As long as the book clearly presents a bias against drug use, it might be tween. If you want to present both sides and let your reader choose, you're talking YA.

Eternity x The Times = Zero

I wanted to ask your opinion on this competition: The Times / Chicken House Children's Fiction Competition It looks like a good opportunity (if a bit of a long shot), but this paragraph in the T&C made me pause:
"11. TNL reserves the right to publish segments/parts of entries other than the winning entry (up to 500 words of any non-winner's entry), and publication does not necessarily mean that the entrant has won a prize. TNL reserves the right to edit entries in its discretion for publication. Entrants will retain copyright in their submitted entries; however, by entering, all entrants give TNL a worldwide royalty free perpetual licence to edit, publish and use segments of each entry in any and all media (including print and online) for publicity and news purposes. In particular, all entrants license TNL the right to print their entry on Times Online and in The Times or The Sunday Times or any of their supplements."
Is this a fair deal for the entrants? 500 words seems fair enough, but that last line sounds as if TNL could print the whole of an entrant's story and not pay for the privilege of doing so?

The part that troubles me is the single word "perpetual". Perpetual?

So let me get this straight: They get to publish any 500 words (edited/abridged at their discretion) from your novel forever? Royalty free? And as far as I can see, they have not committed to only publishing the same 500 words, so they could conceivably publish your entire novel in serial form, 500 words at a time.

No doubt Chicken House already has a deal with the Times to sell them "first serial" rights for the winning entry (assuming that winner agrees to the Chicken House's contract). Which is acceptable—it means the Times gets to print an excerpt ahead of the book's publication. That's just good publicity.

But I'll bet you Chicken House isn't going to give the Times perpetual anything with regards to the work they invest money in. So I'm at a loss as to why the Times thinks lone authors would agree to such a thing (besides, obviously, ignorance).

I think it's acceptable for the Times to ask for the right to print a single example of 500 words of your manuscript in all of their media within a particular window of time—and I would count that time in weeks or months rather than years—that usage would cover the building of publicity around this contest, which is reasonable. But the only reason they would choose to use your work over and over throughout years is if it were making them money. And how much of that money would be for you? That's right: zero.

Query, Query, Partial, Full

I am unagented, and I sent out ten well-chosen (and researched) queries to some editors. I mentioned that they were simultaneous queries. Now I have three who have requested the manuscript—do I need to remind them that others are reading this?

It's not necessary to mention this unless one of them asks for an exclusive (then you can point out that a couple other editors have already expressed interest).

Recently, I have been asked to send a partial manuscript to two different editors. I'm wondering if I send the partial, will they actually be reading it to acquire? Or are they reading it to see if my next forty five pages or so lives up to the first fifteen? Are they just trying to be helpful? Am I asking you to be a mind reader? I suppose if I knew what they were reading for, it will help me with whether or not to submit now or wait until the manuscript is finished. I'm afraid they'll read the WIP pages and forget that it is, in fact, still a WIP. Also, do pre-published awards really matter to you in a query? Thanks, as always, for taking the time to answer questions and provide a format for us to argue with each other (civilly, of course!).

1. Assuming this is fiction, probably not.

2. Most likely.

3. No.

4. A little bit.

4a. As long as your were clear about that up front, there shouldn't be a problem.

5. Depends on whether I've heard of it.

Onward, Children's Soldiers

Children's books have multiple audiences to please -- not only the kids reading them, but the adults selecting/buying/promoting them. Is it tougher to market a book that kids love but adults groan about, for whatever reason? (potty humor, sexual edginess, etc.)

Of course. The children's book market is absolutely lousy with books that are not for children at all (The Gift of Nothing) but that adults will buy for children anyway. Are they easier to sell than Grossology and Everyone Poops, even though those are truly books for how children are, what they're interested in and amused by? The answer is: Duh.

Here again is one of the inescapable contradictions of children's books—the people with the money to buy children's books often have an extremely limited recollection of childhood. I'm not saying for a second that this excuses "children's" publishers for publishing books for the childhood adults think they remember. But it is a fact of the market. It's also something worth fighting, so feel free to grab your banner and follow me.

YA and Middle Grade, and Never the Tween Shall Meet

You made a comment on your blog about the content matter of one reader's middle-grade novel (sex, alcohol consumption, etc.). This got me to wondering, what would you define as appropriate topics for a tween novel? Where would you draw the line on edgy types of subjects, and do you have any good tween titles to recommend?

Pretty much any serious romance (even without any sex) puts a book in the YA section—see Twilight and A Great and Terrible Beauty.

The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants didn't have serious romance or sex, but it had a girl attempting to seduce her soccer camp counsellor. Which makes it YA.

Now, we all know that some junior high schoolers are having sex and doing drugs, (and some elementary schoolers are swearing a blue streak when there are no adults around) and the fact of this exposes the rest of them to those things. So putting sex, drugs, booze, eating disorders, suicide, profanity, etc etc firmly in the YA section doesn't say a thing about the readers of these books. It says something about their parents.

Which, yes, bothers me, but that's the world we live in. Parents are naturally inclined towards overprotectiveness and its constant companion, denial.

A tween book can have flirting but not seduction; doubt but not depression.
It can have the bomb, but not the fuse.

Selflessness, Charity, and Masochism

I am getting ready to sign a contract for a children's nf book with a small advance that will be used, per the publisher's unnegotiable demand, almost entirely to find and purchase photographs to illustrate the book. How depressing is that? Still, according to the publisher's statistics, books similar to mine do earn substantially after several years. My co-author and I are calling our upcoming year of basically no pay and a whole lot of work "an investment" in the future, but I can't help feel a bit downtrodden.

Anonymous said...

Oh, I hear you on the nonfiction stuff. Another writer told me that if I sold my nonfiction book that I should use the advance to pay for a trip to do more research. Cripes, I need the advance to pay for a trip to the grocery store.
Good luck with your project!

How true this is. As someone who has worked on a couple of books just like this, I can say even I didn't understand why the author agreed to this sort of deal. Don't get me wrong—I was offering her the very most I could without sending the book into negative profit. Some books truly shave much closer to the bone than others. If she hadn't agreed to that deal, we would have had to abandon the book—that was simply the most we could offer. But still.

Love For My Readers

I want to thank you all—sincerely—for the conversation around 'Busted Again'. Some of the commenters have made very valid points, and I admit my view of this issue has changed a bit.
While some of us are clearly feeling pissed off, and others of us are feeling verbally tarred and feathered, I want to thank everyone who didn't walk away from the table in the midst of this disagreement. If this blog can accomplish anything, I hope that it's fostering a better understanding between authors, illustrators, and editors. And we can't do that unless we keep arguing with each other (civilly, of course), and listening to each other.
So sincere thanks to everyone who expressed an opinion and read the comments of others—whether you agreed or not; whether you changed your mind or not. Thank you for talking.

Busted Again

A recent post on The Rejecter about low advances inspired me to say a little something about this topic. It's a real irony that I don't like casinos and I don't play the lottery, but I work in publishing. Publishing is gambling in so many ways it's absurd. And the greatest irony is that at least with casinos, the house always wins—I mean, at least there someone always wins. Not so in publishing. So here we go:

Advance money is not money you are owed.

The publisher gambles a whole bunch of money on you in order to print, bind, edit, design, warehouse, ship, publicize, market, and sell your book. That all by itself is many thousands of dollars offered up to the great craps table of publishing.

And then they gamble more money on you to pay you an advance—specifically, the money your royalty for the book might earn if the book sells as well as the publisher hopes it will.

So I'm a tad impatient with people who feel a certain level of advance is just what they're due. A certain level of royalty is what you are due, and you should fight damned hard for it. And this is not to say I short anyone in the way of advances; I use the equation I shared with you all a while back, and since that equation is pretty standard, I can speak of "shorting" an author, in spite of the fact that, as I say, this is not your money, at least not yet.

Some authors work for years on something and get paid $2,000 for it. Other authors whip something out in 2 hours and get paid $30,000 for it. You know this already, and you don't need me to tell you why, but just in case: it's not about your time and effort.

So please do us all the favor of coming to the negotiating table without arrogance. We will pay you, but you're not going to make it easier by thinking of it as money for your hard work. It isn't, any more than the profits publishers make is money for our hard work. It is all—your advance, your royalty, the publisher's own profits—money for results.

Nobody gets paid for kissing the dice unless it's a lucky toss.

The Return of Grandma

No more books about grandmas? That's like saying, no more books about squirrels. It's not the grandmas or the squirrels that make or break a pb, it's the story, story, story. How about: no more corny, sappy books about grandmas and squirrels?

What I want is no more books that are aimed at grandma more than they are at children. Much of what I see in slush has this quality, and comes from a motivation that is more "oh my grandchildren are so precious" or "oh my relationship with my grandchildren is so precious" or "god I wish my grandchildren were as obsessed with me as I am with them", none of which are attitudes that the actual grandchildren can identify with.
Put whatever characters in your manuscripts you like. But write them for children, or face my wrath.

I warn people about the squirrel manuscript epidemic just as an fyi. If there's suddenly 10 thousand squirrels on your front lawn, you're not going to care that one of them might be the most beautiful squirrel ever born. You're going to break out your broom and start laying about you with abandon.

The Perils! The Thrills! The Restfully Dull Paperwork!

I acquired all last night in my dreams. This did not make for bad dreams, but they also weren't terribly restful. Acquiring is an exciting, creative, stressful and mildly terrifying experience. It's one of the things that makes this job worthwhile, and, clearly, it's also one of the things that can make this job very tiring.

• Exciting because you've found something you think is going to get readers excited. Exciting when the other people at the publisher get as excited as you are about a project.
• Creative because you're imagining and discussing what illustration style, production aspects, and market positioning will make this text attract attention— will get it in front of the people who will love it.
• Stressful because you have to bring the project, plus sales histories and product info about similar books, competition research, etc etc, to a group of people who may express a killing ambivalence for the project; who may ask you for the one piece of information you didn't gather and (doh!) should have; who may disagree strongly with the vision for the book.
• And mildly terrifying because when you've gotten the go-ahead and it's back on your desk, it's your work and vision and skill that's going to make a difference between flushing money down the toilet and earning back this investment.

So yes, some extra espresso this morning. It's been an exciting week. Today, I think I'll just straighten up my desk.

Check This Box

Ah, the check-the-box query letter. Several short summaries of manuscripts that you have to offer, and all I have to do is indicate which ones I like and mail the sheet back to you.



So tidy, so efficient, so dumb.

I know, you're multi-talented and the muse has you gushing manuscripts faster than you can write letters. Here's the thing about query letters that query more than one thing at a time: I'm going to choose one.
And even more often than that, I'm going to choose none. You're sending the psychological message that none of these manuscripts is worth devoting a whole sheet of paper to.



Just fyi.

I'm also puzzled and amused by the check-the-box response forms some people include with their manuscripts.

• I've received this manuscript (included in a submission for which there is only the required SASE; response form itself is not stamped)
  
• I haven't received this manuscript (think about it)
• I love it! (Why would I use a form for this?)
• I hate it! (I'm never going to tell people this.)
• Try _______________ (name) at _____________ (publisher) (Oh, yeah. I'm ambivalent about you enough to use a form, but I'm going to pass a colleague's name to you. Sure.)
• Signed, Hotshot editor (or I could just sign it)
  
• Signed, Hotshot editor's assistant (or she could just sign it)
  
• Signed, Hotshot editor's assistant's intern (or she could just throw it in the trash)
  

Grandma Strikes Again

Is one of the characters in your picture book "grandma"? Is "grandma" the main character, or as prominent a character as the child in the story?

If so, pause. Consider whether your book is for children, or if it is, in fact, for grandma.

Some of you, the guilty ones, are saying to yourselves, "It's for children and grandmothers! It's for them to enjoy together!"

Ha, ha. Guess who are the only people who enjoy reading about grandmothers?
That's right.

I know, some of you are thinking of your own twinkly-eyed grandmothers, or of your own twinkly-eyed selves, and are thinking something along the lines of "Who does that whippersnapper of an editor think she is? Why, in my day..."

Yeah. In your day, children still cared more about themselves, their friends, and their parents than they did about their grandparents. To small children especially, grandparents are conveniences like the car or the refrigerator: grandparents take children nice places and give them yummy treats. It's true that the car and the refrigerator cannot hug children, but they also can't pinch their cheeks. Life is full of trade-offs.

There should be a special term for the euphoric obsession experienced by grandparents. And, yes, sometimes it's a positive thing. And other times it's in my inbox.

Pride Goeth Before the Slush

I have a question regarding an article someone sent me. It lists the top reasons editors reject manuscripts (and the list is long). Here's the link to it:
http://foremostpress.com/authors/articles/rejection.html
I've shared this article with some fellow writers, but most of them insist that the contents of this article are fiction. I've never been published, so I can't say whether or not they're correct. Of course, they haven't been published either... So my question is this: does the article contain valid information? Or did the author pull some things out of thin air, then post them on the internet?

Very valid. She seems to be speaking of the adult publishing world, but still, very valid.

REASONS WHY EDITORS REJECT MANUSCRIPTS

1. Content

• Otherwise known as "not my section of the market". Many editors I've met at conferences reference this. Hey, there's a lot of specialization! Don't send a picture book manuscript to a YA imprint.

2. Context

• Otherwise known as "nobody's section of the market". Imagine a manuscript that parents would hate. I have one really creepy guy who keeps sending me the same X-rated manuscript with an awful scene on the first page. It's made the word "commodious" very difficult for me.

3. Mechanical and/or Technical Challenges

• Otherwise known as "knowing how to write in English is not the same thing as knowing how to write". This part of the article is full of the kinds of basic advice that people get when they're learning to write. Our slush piles, however, are full of people who think writing for children doesn't require any skill or craft.

These are the clueless masses with whom you are jostling for place in slush:

I like children, but I don't like :

1. reading submission guidelines
2. reading children's books
3. reading