We’ve looked at the business of publishing in several old threads, including the success possible by self-publishing.
I came across this article today, written by an experienced literary agent and writer called Kate McKean, which helpfully sums up the details of being traditionally published:
Sometimes, when I read of an author’s struggles over several years to complete their novel, I wonder what the problems were.
There’s a myth among artists of all kinds, that unless a colossal struggle occurred, then the work will be bland. For example, you never hear of a Hollywood film being made where the original script was accepted without rewrites, where the ideal cast was assembled, and they all got on, for which funding was immediately provided and the director didn’t exceed the budget…and the film went on to win awards, becoming a favourite with audiences worldwide.
In the world of books, it’s more likely that a literary novel will involve multiple rewrites, arguments with the editor and despair for the author. By comparison, genre writing is considered to be a doddle, but anyone who’s written it knows progress still involves travelling rocky roads.
Some authors succeed immediately, which isn’t always a good thing. Arundhati Roy won the Man Booker Prize for Fiction with her first novel The God Of Small Things in 1997. She disliked the adulation and fame her success brought, devoting the next twenty years to political activism, human rights and environmental causes. Her second novel The Ministry of Utmost Happiness was politely reviewed in 2007 while being considered a disappointment.
Writing that’s admired for being quickly drawn from the hat includes poetry and song lyrics. Samuel Coleridge’sKubla Khan came to him in an opium-induced dream. Writing it down, he was interrupted, making him forget how it ended. David Bowie wrote All The Young Dudes in two hours, to resurrect the career of one of his favourite bands Mott The Hoople…after they’d rejected Suffragette City, which seems like ingratitude to me.
We wonder at the inspiration that came to them, as the result of a dream or overhearing a throwaway phrase, marvelling at how that verse came out practically fully-formed. Now, imagine our response to a novelist divulging that they had little difficulty penning their story, it just rolled out of them seamlessly. For a start, it would be hard to believe, and also rather annoying!
Some novelists have been notoriously prolific, producing many titles of dubious literary quality, but which continue to be snapped up by adoring readers who love their style. Barbara Cartland pumped out her romances like a machine gun, narrating them to her secretary who typed them up. She’s reckoned to have written about 722 titles, which sounds impressive until you look at the output of Mary Faulkner, who was in the Guinness Book of Records for a while as the world’s most prolific novelist at 904 titles. Plagiarism may have been involved. L. Ron Hubbard churned out 1,084 books, including science-fiction, adventure, westerns, mystery and religion. That’s nothing, compared to Spanish writer Corín Tellado, who published 5,000 titles, selling more than 400,000,000 books!
Plainly, they found writing easy.
Some famous authors struggled long and hard. Agatha Christie had difficulties with spelling all of her life, probably from undiagnosed dyslexia. John Irving continues to have problems reading, using a finger to follow words and aid comprehension. Margaret Atwood is currently enjoying great success with The Handmaid’s Tale and the recently published sequel The Testaments, but she only began The Handmaid’s Tale after giving up on a difficult novel. As she later said:
“Failure is just another name for much of real life: much of what we set out to accomplish ends in failure, at least in our own eyes. Who set the bar so high that most of our attempts to sail gracefully over it on the viewless wings of Poesy end in an undignified scramble or a nasty fall into the mud? Who told us we had to succeed at any cost?”
I’ve yet to abandon a project, though I’ve had a novella on the go this year, which has wandered off into the wilderness and become feral. I’ve been distracted by blogging, website building and struggling with technological problems.
I’ll begin writing my sixth Cornish Detective novel tomorrow. In preparation, I’ve re-read the first five stories, to get reacquainted with my protagonist. I was reminded of how much I enjoyed writing them. There were awkward challenges, mainly fact-finding to do with forensics and police procedure, but the story flowed going where I wanted it to. I like to think of myself as more pantser than planner, but I still make note of things to include in the plot, including character names and phrases. There’s a lot of detail I don’t record before beginning a project, held in brain cells to do with forward planning. I’ve always been this way with complicated endeavours, such as rebuilding a car engine or rewiring a house, able to anticipate what I’d need to get the job done.
Thus, I don’t find writing hard. Punctuation can be a bitch, though, especially commas. I detest editing, even though I know I’m improving the manuscript, which feels invisible to me at the time. I also dislike the self-promoting and marketing I’ve been doing this year, finding it hard to take myself seriously as an author and bemused by describing my books as commercial products, which need to be proclaimed as essential reading if they’re to sell.
I haven’t seen the film yet, but it set me to wondering which books have been well-adapted. We looked at Who Stars in the Film of your Novel? a while ago, but which dramatised versions of books do you like and loath?
I admire what Peter Jackson did with the Lord Of The Rings and The Hobbit, making them accessible to a modern audience.
Films that I’ll forever avoid watching include the travesty of The Golden Compass, which eviscerated the religious theme from Philip Pullman’s first story in His Dark Materials trilogy. It did poorly at the box office, meaning plans to adapt the next two books were scrapped. Thankfully, the BBC adapted the trilogy and have stayed loyal to the books.
I won’t ever watch Tom Cruise as Jack Reacher, which is a ludicrous example of miscasting. Lee Child’s hero is 6′ 4″ tall and ruggedly built. Tom Cruise is undoubtedly fit, but he’s a claimed 5′ 8″.
My favourite adaptations of books were shown in a double bill that I saw in 1973, an experience I’ll never forget. One film was predominately white snow with splashes of red blood, the other dominated by green foliage and water with splashes of red blood,
Deliverance was written by James Dickey, who had a bit part in the film. Jeremiah Johnson was based on a true character described in Robert Bunker’s book Crow Killer: The Saga of Liver-Eating Johnson and Vardis Fisher’s Mountain Man. The liver-eating part wasn’t included in the film but it’s what Jeremiah Johnson did to his slain Crow enemies. Robert Redford and director Sidney Pollack have both said that it’s one of their favourite films.
Do you have a cherished adaptation…or did your favourite story get butchered by Hollywood or Netflix?
Which book or book series cries out to be adapted?
Are there any books you think are unfilmable? They said that about The Lord Of The Rings.
Devised by psychologist and autism researcher Simon Baron-Cohen (cousin of actor and comedian Sacha), it has the weakness of such multiple-choice questionnaires, in that some questions are ambiguous. I found myself thinking “depends on” while contemplating an answer.
It surely helps a writer to be empathic, otherwise, how do you put yourself in someone else’s shoes? John Steinbeck stated:
You can only understand people if you feel them in yourself.
I’ve been called empathic by several friends over the years. It’s true to a certain degree: I scored 63 out of 80 on the test.
Having empathy for my characters can be problematic, such as when I bond with the antagonist in a crime novel, worrying that he’s suffering from gout, but forgetting he’s murdered four people!
If your empathy score is low, you might want to check out an old thread:
Apologies to The Stone Roses for stealing the title of one of their songs from their breakout album, which I acquired yesterday at a car boot sale. I hadn’t listened to it for a while, but I wanna be adored made me think about how we sell ourselves as writers. Lead singer Ian Brown wrote the song to admit that he’d sold out, by going for a more commercial sound—to be liked by more music fans.
In the 21st-century, we’re expected to share details of our lives as part of the process of marketing our writing. Having a blog and a website devoted to our books is practically compulsory, expected by one’s literary agent, publisher and readers. And, what about your social media posts, where you scintillate and captivate new readers?
No one likes a grouch, however good their writing. You have to play nice, at least occasionally when interviewed, if you’re going to improve sales of your books. Some people are naturally charming while retaining a depth of intelligence that shows they’re not being smarmy. I think of J.K. Rowling, Philip Pullman, Ian Rankin, Walter Mosley and Jeanette Winterson when I say this. I’m sure that you can think of other examples of accessible authors who you enjoy hearing talking about the creative process.
I’ve spent most of 2019 building an author platform, attempting to come across as nice, for want of a better word, as well as someone worth reading. Having spent the last decade living in a flat at a petrol station, socialising and dating not at all, my life has been devoted to reading and writing. I have lots of imaginary friends! The concept of being adored is laughable, but whether I self-publish my Cornish Detective series or I get picked up by Hodder & Stoughton’s The Future Bookshelf publishing opportunity, I need to ingratiate myself with potential readers.
Some will hate my books, others will think them OK, while a few may adore them. And me?
It would be a strange situation to be in, where your fans believed in you more than you believed in yourself, demanding more and more from you.
Best not to take yourself too seriously. Neil Gaiman put it well in an interview:
“You have a very open relationship with your fans.”
“Yes. We have an open relationship. Obviously, they can see other authors if they want, and I can see other readers.”
We’ve previously discussed You In Your Book, where you, the author, make a disguised appearance in your story, but what about channelling personal experiences?
It’s the best example of the advice to ‘Write what you know.’
I’ve written about bereavement, depression and a suicide attempt all drawing on personal experience. It’s also been my fate to have been poisoned, stabbed and shot, so I’ve used those extreme situations to add authenticity to stories.
I’ve had several confrontations with sharp weapons. Many stab victims report that they didn’t realise they’d been stabbed, until they saw the knife and escaping blood, as the blow feels like a punch. Which it does. I used that experience in my last Cornish Detective novel, in which my protagonist is run through from behind with a sword blade. He traps the blade with his elbow and hand (suffering more wounds), to prevent it being withdrawn for another attack.
It’s not just the intensity of life-changing events that personal experience adds colour to, but also how the aftermath affects behaviour as the victim recovers from trauma. My fictional detective is spiralling into depression in Book 1, having lost his wife in a traffic accident. By Book 2, he’s a functioning zombie dosed to the gills on antidepressants and suffering panic attacks, as he tracks down a serial killer. These are both feelings I’ve experienced, so it was good to put them to use.
Not that readers would necessarily appreciate such verisimilitude. Also, I’d be unlikely to talk about my experiences in blogs or interviews. As science fiction author Stephen Leigh said:
‘That’s the essential goal of the writer: you slice out a piece of yourself and slap it down on the desk in front of you. You try to put it on paper, try to describe it in a way that the reader can see and feel and touch. You paste all your nerve endings into it and then give it out to strangers who don’t know you or understand you. And you will feel everything that happens to that story — if they like it, if they hate it. Because no matter how you try to distance yourself from it, to some degree you feel that if they hate it, they hate you. Which isn’t the truth, you understand. At least you understand that in your head…but not always in your heart.’
Before publishing a story and being criticised, we might mangle our hearts as we edit our carefully created writing. I’ve posted this poem before on Paul Pens but it’s worth reposting, especially for anyone lost in the ignominy of editing:
In The Desert
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, “Is it good, friend?”
“It is bitter — bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”
While researching marketing and self-promotion, I saw a novel idea about how to deal with newsletters and comments to and from adoring fans (who dey?), which is to give your protagonist their own email account.
Sounds weird, but I’ve already got a Gmail account in my discarded pen name of Augustus Devilheart, to take messages, newsletters and subscription updates from anyone to do with writing and publishing. Google being Google, this led to the strange situation where I received a message from them, asking “Paul Whybrow do you know Augustus Devilheart?”
Not content with haunting myself in this way, I’m waiting to hear from my main character Detective Chief Inspector Neil Kettle—perhaps asking me why I haven’t begun writing his latest investigation—I left him in a coma at the end of Book 5 The Dead Need Nobody, completed at the end of 2018.
While writing my books, I’ve had my eye on creating a tourist trail based on the locations of my Cornish stories, though it’s hard to think of merchandising opportunities…mugs, calendars, tea towels? Having an email address might make people think my literary hero is a living person.
It’s weird to think that readers might one-day email Neil Kettle, but who knows?
Have any of you made your protagonist real in some way?
But, I was recently reading an article by writing guru Jane Friedman, where she said that “The only true measure of a book’s success is sales”.
Strictly speaking, she’s correct, for any artist creating a piece of work to be sold to the public is entering commerce. Films are judged by their box office receipts, paintings become treasures by reaching stratospheric auction prices, a musician’s sales are proof of their talent (or their publicist’s marketing skills), so why shouldn’t a writer’s progress as a writer be measured by sales?
But, that ignores the writer’s relationship with their stories, the struggle they went through to get the ideas onto the page. It’s an achievement to write a book. Many say that they want to, but do nothing about it. We work alone, though the support of friends, family and writing group members is a comfort. But, we’re still alone, unsure of where we’re going, so how do we gauge our progress?
Looking at my efforts since I returned to creative writing in 2013, I’ve typed about 2,000,000 words, some of which worked as story-telling. I’ve self-published 48 titles of short stories, novellas, poetry and song lyrics, arousing little interest in readers. I’ve completed five novels in my Cornish Detective series, querying agents 750 times, which has increased the depth of my hide. I may finally have piqued the interest of a publisher, who asked for a full manuscript this summer. I’m waiting on them. I’m ready to self-publish on Amazon’s KDP Select should they say ‘No’.
I’ve also started this writing blog and a website devoted to my Cornish Detective. Somehow, that didn’t feel like progress, more like putting scaffolding into place for a house of stories that few may visit.
I’m not sure if I’m sanguine or cynical about the business of publishing. I do know that it’s best not to take myself too seriously when receiving rejections.
I love writing stories. It’s joyful for me. In the last six years, I’ve learned a lot about technique and punctuation, which is progress, but for me, it’s the reactions of readers that show how I’ve improved.
Three of my friends offered to be beta readers of a novella about assisted suicide, and all cried at the same point (Yes!), which made me tear-up too and I knew what was going to happen!
I wrote humorous poetry for infants, which made the daughters of a friend laugh and start writing their own poems. Blimey, I’m influential! A short story I wrote was satisfying to one reader, as it ended exactly as she hoped, which was my intention. It’s great to surprise readers, but there are times when they crave the predictable.
Not to forget, that writing stories creates a fresh identity for you, which is real progress keeping you interested in who you are and arousing curiosity in others. Anyone who produces a book is infinitely more intelligent and sexier than they were before!
Huge sales of your books would be fantastic, but it’s the human reactions that really matter. Isn’t it?
It’s irritating to contemplate a book, especially one that’s become a best-seller, despite an unlikely plot and think “I don’t think I’d enjoy it,” then you try to read it and it’s just as bad as you thought! You kick yourself, promising to avoid that author.
Sometimes, though, a book title will keep nudging your consciousness, gently enticing you to read. I have a tendency to avoid reading bestsellers immediately, leaving a couple of years until the fuss has died down. I keep a record of books to request from the local library, but one of them was sitting on the shelf waiting for me last week.
Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman was a breakout debut in 2017, winning the Costa First Novel Award. Reese Witherspoon is adapting it into a film.
I loved it! It’s one the most skillful character portrayals I’ve read, for Honeyman slowly releases information about Eleanor’s history helping the reader understand why she is so strange. I admit, I guessed a plot twist, but that’s one of the drawbacks of being a writer. That the author resisted a traditional happy ending is all to the good, adding to the power of the story. It’s one of those tales where you bond with the character, wondering what they’re up to now.
Even this version of the book cover is fitting:
A couple of freinds mentioned The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I’d put off reading it because I rarely read anything about Nazis following exposure to their atrocities when I was a child after reading details of the Nuremberg war trials. I was captivated by The Book Thief.
Other books I enjoyed, without expecting to, include Brady Udall’s The Lonely Polygamist, which is moving in its twists and turns, tragic one moment, then comedic.
Another book I didn’t expect to like was Good Time Coming by C.S. Harris whose title is as misleading as the book cover design. Reading it partly as research for the second novella in my series about a traumatised American Civil War cavalry officer rebuilding his life in the post-war Reconstruction era, I was gripped by the dilemma faced by townspeople suddenly swept into the conflict by an invading army. Well-researched and surprisingly violent, I cared for the characters.
I sometimes worry about repetitive strain injury to my right wrist, when I feel the muscles tensing after twelve hours of manipulating the mouse. I once knew a woman who had to have an operation on her wrists to correct carpal tunnel syndrome. This is a painful medical condition in which the median nerve, which travels through a passageway in the wrist called the carpal tunnel, is compressed. Her job was thought to have caused the condition – sorting eggs into trays and egg boxes at a chicken factory farm. She was a keen web surfer, and the combined strain of repetitive use of small muscles with her arms extended made them seize up.
As I’ve just bought a new laptop, I wondered about getting an ergonomic mouse. For the last few years, I’ve been using a wired optical mouse. A small travel-sized mouse came with my old laptop, and I was pleased that it caused less cramping than a conventional mouse. Made in China, they don’t last long, about two years of clicking, scrolling and sliding.
My laptop is on an over-chair table, my right hand and forearm resting flat on the mouse mat. I haven’t developed carpal tunnel syndrome yet, but pressing the median nerve against the edge of the table for 16 hours daily sometimes makes my fingers tingle; I give up then.
The best-known makers of ergonomic mouses are Logitech and Kensington and they’re pricey, but no-name vertical designs that are supposedly better for the hand start at £5.50: I bought one and it’s brilliant! No more aches and pains.
On eBay, Kensington Orbit Elite models are available from £20 – £50
Microsoft sells a similar trackball model for about £100:
Then there are various designs of finger-mounted mouse!
