There are people who write, and there are people who write for publication. And even there, there are subdivisions. There are the hopeful, the enthusiastic, and the jaded, for a start.
I started to write because I needed to write. However it was many years before it occurred to me that instead of dumping the results in the bin every so often, it might be a good idea to try for publication.
I was lucky enough to be accepted right away. Then the problems started. First, someone contacted me and warned me about the publisher I was about to sign with. That would have been Starlight (for those of you who remember, please repress your shudders). So I signed with NBI (even more shudders). A year or two in, and the owner of NBI disappeared. Worse than bankruptcy, in a way, because who do you ask for your rights back? Well, it sorted itself out. Then I signed with Triskelion, which was marred only when the company filed for bankruptcy. So I know something of which I speak.
It’s still happening. The latest train wreck is the First One Publishing contest, which, by the way, I strongly advise you not to enter.
Readers love them. Writers watch and suck in their breaths, for the most part. If they’re religious, they cross themselves. Because yes, it could happen to you.
Sometimes the information is plain wrong, and sometimes it’s a shitstorm started by a few disgruntled authors. Sometimes, it’s just crazy. And sometimes, things go on in plain sight, and nobody says anything, because, well, we don’t want to upset the applecart, do we?
It’s far more complicated than most people see.
Authors write. There are thousands of them. The RWA has around nine thousand members. So insecurity is built in to the job, because even for the best seller, there are hundreds of men and women queuing behind her waiting for her to slip up, disagree with her publisher or come up with a dud.
Authors are also a bit strange. We look at the world slightly differently, but we all do it in our own ways. Differently. We are great marks, because we’re desperate. The money’s not good, and publication is hard to come by.
And so marked we are. We are targeted for fake contests, we sign with publishers who want us to pay for the privilege of seeing our work in print, we’re given less than 10% royalties for providing 90% of content.
But more than that, we find ourselves in the hands of amateurs, or people who, being experts in one area of publishing, think they can do it all. People who want to run a business on a shoestring, and so take too many shortcuts with cheaply thrown together websites, badly designed in-house covers and authors-turned-editors.
Sometimes, when someone really talented is involved, these small projects work. Look at them closely and you can usually tell the difference. Look at Ellora’s Cave’s Jaid Black, or Samhain’s Crissy Brashear. Amazing women with the vision and the talent to make things work, and the wisdom to know that they can’t cut corners and they can’t do everything themselves. Every business has to start somewhere and it’s with that hope that new authors sign with a new publisher. Sometimes they strike it lucky. Sometimes not.
As you make more of a name for yourself, you become a little safer. You make friends you can trust, contacts you admire, and you know where to go. But because there’s no definite link, nothing concrete, and because sometimes you hear the word in confidence, you can’t pass it on. For instance, many authors knew that Dorchester was in some trouble over two years ago. Dorchester had always run on the edge, always had a reputation for not paying on time, but usually, they managed to pull everything around at the eleventh hour. They might even manage it this time, and turn themselves from a mass market paperback house to a digital-first house. For the sake of the authors, I really hope that happens, and I wish them all the luck they deserve. Just that.
Then you meet the crazy author. The larger houses usually avoid them, or drop them after a book. I mean the author who thinks she is entitled, or who won’t accept any edits, or who trashes everyone who isn’t her. I’ve met one or three. Sometimes they seem perfectly normal, but either the business drives them crazy, or they were crazy to start with.
There are crazy editors, too, and even more crazy owners. There are more and more small publishing houses, especially on the digital side, and they vary from professional and determined, to ambitious and frivolous. Sometimes there’s no way of knowing which is which, and that’s why many authors wait until the company has been going awhile.
Rumours abound. Most have a nugget of truth about them, but very few can be taken completely at face value. There are usually far more elements than any one person can know. For instance, three or so disgruntled authors can cause huge damage to a company. They could be right in whatever it is they say, or they could have another reason, a grudge or a personal dispute. Sometimes a rumour can grow as you watch it, and expand into a total shitstorm, where people who know very little about the situation take a view, and that view becomes the truth.
It’s not just in publishing, of course. My mother worked in the fashion industry all her life, and publishing is still on the nursery slopes compared to the fashion slalom. “The Devil Wears Prada” is a sugary version of what really goes on. Fashion runs on paranoia, desperation and despair, but produces some truly beautiful things, and a designer like Karl Lagerfeld could probably buy Bolivia if he wanted it.
Oh yes, and the self-publishing thing? There is an attitude I’ve heard voiced that hasn’t been aired anywhere that I’ve seen. Let me say that I would love to see a self-published author do really well, someone unknown who makes it.
But publishers and agents are cheering in the background, because since computers became commonplace, manuscripts have been snowing into the offices of the big publishers and agents. Far more than they can handle. The self-publishing boom should help with that, at least a bit. Rather than wait 6 months or more for a reply, the impatient author is taking her own path. Most fail. Some don’t. But instead of authors, they become businesspeople. And the slush pile shrinks a bit.
The truth about NBI? The owner did a runner. We have never heard from her since. The truth about Triskelion? Borders made huge orders for print, then returned nearly all the books. If that hadn’t happened, the company would have bumbled on a lot longer. The owner’s husband was also a Realtor in Arizona, so the good times ended rather suddenly. But at least Trisk filed for bankruptcy, instead of just disappearing. Not entirely good news, but at least the authors stood a chance of getting their rights back in reasonable time. All the other rumours about the company had some truth, and some outright falsehoods, but once the mob got hold of it, it didn’t stand a chance.
And yes, I’ve been involved in one shitstorm I still feel shame about, because I didn’t know the full truth when I gave my opinion. And no, I won’t say what it is, because the person involved has suffered enough. It taught me not to jump in, wellies first. I will give an opinion, but I won’t take part in any mobs. Unless it’s of the flash variety.
Lynne Connolly http://lynneconnolly.com
