Chip MacGregor .com

Five Questions Writers Are Asking

I've had more than 50 questions sent my way recently, so I'm going to dip into the mailbag and pull out five that I can respond to today...

Evan wrote to ask, "Do you think it's a good idea to start with a smaller publisher and try to have some success, as a way of getting the attention of a larger publisher?"

That's not only a good idea, it's pretty much the pattern writers follow in today's market. (Occasionally we'll see a great novelist get discovered and published by a large house, but that's become the exception instead of the rule.) Again, the best thing an author can do is to write a great book. Greatness gets discovered, in my view. Whether you move to a larger house is probably going to be part of the "career" conversation you have with your agent. Some writers have done very well at smaller publishing houses, and prefer feeling like the big fish in a smaller pond. Don't think that landing at a large publisher is going to be a dream come true -- it might be great, but larger houses have unique issues (for example, you can become writer #37 on their list of top authors). 

And an addendum -- a couple people have written to ask about doing a book with Xulon or PublishAmerica. Those are not really publishing houses; they are printers. I don't have anything against an author choosing to self-publish, but a book with a self-publisher doesn't count as a "small house." As I've noted here before, unless you have a sales channel to move a lot of your books, publishers will completely discount the fact that you paid to have your novel self-published. 

Darlene noted, "You've said that first person novels are hard to do well. Can you give some examples of successful books done in first person?"

Sure. Historically, both Mark Twain and Charles Dickens wrote books in first person. William Faulkner and numerous other great writers have done so on occasion. The Great Gatsby is in first person, as are all the Sherlock Holmes books (written by his close friend Dr. Watson). Isaac Asimov's I, Robot, Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, Helen Fielding's Bridget Jones' Diary, and Jeffery Eugenides' The Virgin Suicides are all told in first person. And, as I noted in an earlier post, two of my personal favorites, Ross Thomas and John D. MacDonald, regularly wrote in first person. 

David sent me this: "A new Bowker study says that books from traditional publishers declined by 3%, while print-on-demand titles jumped 132%. Are books going the way of music, with the creators demanding speedier turnaround times, more control, and more per-unit profits, so that they are considering self-publishing?"

Yeah, that's the direction we're heading (though I believe the POD number is up artificially high because authors have suddenly discovered how to use POD technology). I'm already on record as predicting that at some point this year (or certainly by next year) a bestselling author will self-publish a book. Why? Because there's so much more money to be made self-publishing. Look at the numbers -- a $22 hardcover will make the author a bit more than two bucks per book through a regular, royalty-paying publisher. But that same $22 hardcover that is self-published and sold as print-on-demand book directly from the author will earn him somewhere between ten and fifteen dollars per book. That's a big difference... but only to an author who has a guaranteed sales channel. (Remember, a few years ago Stephen King tried direct-selling a novel by emailing it chapter-by-chapter to subscribers. It didn't do much, but King was probably just ahead of his time.) The idea of creating your own book and selling it directly to consumers is enticing to authors looking to make more money. The problem is that most authors don't have a big enough following to actually sell enough copies of the book for it to matter. So the distribution offered by traditional publishers will continue to make a huge difference for writers early in their careers. 

Margaret asked, "Are writers conferences worthwhile for a beginning novelist? How can I get the most out of a conference?"

After writing classes and books, I think a writing conference is one of the best investments a newer writer can make. A conference allows you to meet other writers and find out how they do things. It's a great chance to network, meet editors, and find out what's going on in the industry. There are workshops on specialty topics that you would be hard-pressed to find a book on. And it's usually a fun time, hanging out with other people who love words. 

Some thoughts... Plan out a schedule before you get there. Make selections about the workshops and classes you want to attend -- and if it turns out not to be great, feel free to change to another class. Set some basic goals for what you want to accomplish at the conference -- who you want to meet, what you want to learn. Make sure your expectations are realistic before attending. If your goal is "to sign with an agent and land my first book deal," you might be setting the bar a bit high. (You can't really expect an agent to sign you up after a ten-minute appointment.) Instead, think about taking steps forward -- learning things, meeting people, improving your craft. Make appointments with editors and agents, but feel free to simply ask them to review your work and make suggestions for improving. If you're bringing a proposal to pitch, spend time polishing it. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, so make your words sing. The majority of stuff editors will see at a writing conference isn't really done -- it's started, and the author assumes editors will be able to recognize true genius amidst the half-baked words on the page. You can stand out by having a well-done proposal and sample chapters. And by all means, when you're at a conference go talk to people. Even if you're the shy, creative type, make a point of introducing yourself to people at meals, talking over coffee, being part of the discussions in the classes. Finding like-minded writers is one of the best aspects of a writing conference. 

Sharon asked this: "My friend wants to be a freelance editor. What advice would you have for her?"

Right now it's a tough time to be a freelancer in book publishing. The economy is down, it's really hit publishers hard, and there are a lot of out-of-work editors and writers who are trying to freelance. (I just spoke with a publisher at a conference who told me she's got a long list of good freelance editors she can't use.) So that's the bad news. The good news is that if your friend is willing to move away from book publishing, there are plenty of opportunities. Every company on the planet is putting together content for their website, and somebody has to write and edit all those pages. Consider talking with businesses (or with the marketing and ad agencies that assist businesses) about providing writing and editorial help. 

One thing that has long been true in publishing is that good copyeditors are hard to find (and even harder to keep, since they generally get bored and want to move on to substantive editing). If you're well-grounded in grammar, can spell well, and have a basic sense of what makes writing work, you might consider taking a class in copyediting, either online or through a local college. Emerson University, long a leader in programs for those interested in publishing and communication, now offers a certificate in copyediting, with classes in grammar, clarity, fact-checking, indexing, and using bias-free language. I think the best introduction to the role is still the Dummy's book -- Copyediting and Proofreading for Dummies, which I liked so much I used as a textbook in the Intro to Editing class I taught. If you're a boring, anal person who doesn't mind going over mind-numbing details, doing the soul-sucking work of a copy editor (you can tell how much I enjoy it), then get some training so you really understand the role. Then write to book publishers and ask if you can take their copyediting test, which should get you on their list of CE's to try on a project. 

Remember, most of the publishers axed their CE's, so they send out most of their text to be copyedited by freelancers. Magazines also do this to an extent, though the growth area is web-based text, which I'm sure you've noticed is apparently all being edited by nine year olds who failed spelling. 

Working as a freelance substantive editor pays more, but also requires more complexity. A nonfiction editor needs to understand what makes a good book, how to clarify scope and sequence, and how to keep the author concise while still allowing her to sound like herself. A fiction editor has to understand characterization, plotting, conflict, and pacing. These are learned skills that take time (and, in my opinion, are best learned by working with an experienced editor). Of course, that Bowker study that was cited earlier in this post brings a thought to mind... We're being told there are now more POD and self-published books available than there are books offered through regular royalty-paying publishers. If that's the case, there is a LOT of crap out there in desperate need of editing. So there's certainly a future for those with good word skills, who are willing to reach out to all those lousy writers looking for someone to help them improve their work. 

The Google Book Settlement

I've had more than twenty people write to ask my opinion of the Google book settlement. Some thoughts...

1. In case you don't know, Google was taking out-of-print (oop) books and digitalizing them. They made a big hoopla out of this, as though they were doing all these authors a favor by making hard-to-find titles available for everyone. There's certainly benefit in making oop books available, but there was also a problem: those books weren't in the public domain yet. So one could argue (with good reason, in my opinion) that Google was intruding on the authors' rights by making those books available without a signed contract with the creator. The Author's Guild shared that sentiment, sued Google, and together the two sides worked out a resolution. 

2. I was not really a huge fan of the whole Google settlement. In my view, the United States has the greatest intellectual property rights laws in the history of the world, so why do a shortcut because one organization decides to sue? I mean, we already have a resolution method in place -- it's called "negotiation and contract," and we use it all the time in publishing. Still, it's a reasonable argument to suggest that this settlement moves a lot of author careers forward by making their work available again. Google will be doing two things... First, they'll make the title, table of contents, and a sample number of pages available online for anybody to check out. That should lead to a lot of digitalized or print-on-demand books being ordered by consumers in the near future. Second, they will simply offer the digital books to universities and libraries for free. That's the basics of the settlement.

3. This may come as a shock to you, but there's money involved. Imagine -- our cozy little corner of the world, people were trying to take advantage of authors. I'm stunned. (Yawn.) This was nothing more than a blatant power-grab by Google, and at least this settlement means authors have the potential to make something. It ain't much, but it's better than nothing (which is what you were going to get if Google had been allowed to do this unrestrained). The settlement sets up a book registry to resolve disputes and watchdog the process, but it basically looks like this -- if you own the rights to your book, you'll get 100% of the income, minus the Book Registry's fee; if the book is oop but the rights remain with the publisher, all monies will be split half and half; and if the book is long oop (published before 1987) but rights have never reverted,the income will be split 65% to the author and 35% to the publisher. 

4. So what do you do as an author? If your book is still in print, you don't have to do anything. Your publisher will complete the process, and the terms of your book contract will apply. If you have a book that's out of print, you have three choices... You can opt in to the settlement (and therefore relinquish your right to sue Google if they've already digitalized your book), or opt out (good luck suing Google), or you can do nothing, in which case the Justice Department will eventually treat you as though you opted in. To me, this is a no-brainer -- opt in. The only reason to opt out is to sue Google independently, and that looks like a Herculean task. 

5. What are the benefits of opting in? You'll share in all revenues your book earns. If people read a portion of your book and like it, they can purchase a digital (or, somewhere down the road, a POD copy), making you money. If people print out pages at the local library, they'll pay a rights fee and you'll get that money. If someone creates an ad that includes your book, you'll make some money. If your book is included in some library or university subscription service at some point, you'll make money. In other words, all those rights that currently earn you nothing could begin to earn you an income at some point. That's the big reason to opt in. 

6. What do I need to do? If you have a book that is oop, check to see if the rights have reverted to you. If so, you should go to the Google site (www.googlebooksettlement.com) and register your books. You want to make sure they know you own the rights -- that way if there is any revenue in the future, you'll get paid. If you have a book that is still under contract with a publisher, your publishing house will work out the details with Google for the future digitalizing of your work. And one important thing to note: If you own the rights to a book that Google has already digitalized without your permission, you're eligible to receive a cash payment from them. It's only about $60, but that'll buy you a decent dinner, and you probably weren't making anything on it anyway.

7. Can't my agent take care of this for me? Nope. The agent isn't the rights holder. You are. He or she helps you manage your rights, but the rights are yours. It's in your best interest to set up an account and manage your Book Registry information. 

8. Is the Google Book Settlement the same thing as the Google Book Search? No, it is not, and that seems to be confusing people. The "search" aspect is something your publisher may do with Google -- it allows them to make the text of your book searchable through Google. Not all the publishers are participating, since some simply don't want to be partnering with Google at this point. But these are two completely different initiatives that involve both "books" and "Google."

There's been a ton of debate over this, and we're not done. The Justice department is reviewing the whole schlamozzle, and has said it will issue a ruling in October. Again, this isn't a perfect resolution, but given the choices, I think authors should opt in. I want to quote my friend Steve Laube, a very good literary agent who wanted his authors to understand why he's supportive of the Google settlement. He noted that he was researching a topic and, through Google, found a book that spoke to his need: "It's not piracy but obscurity that is the danger to the writer. I looked up a nonfiction book recently, found the information I needed on a page, just like I would have done at a library... I was able to retype the quote and the appropriate citation and bibliographic info. I almost bought the book and may still do so. But I would not have been able to find the information I needed without Google Book Search." 

If you need more detailed information, you should talk it over with your agent. I'll try to answer some questions in my "comments" section below, but again, I think the best choice for an author in this situation is to opt in to the settlement. Hope this helps. 

Chip

Questions from Novelists

I've been away at a writing conference, and have fallen behind in my Q&A work. So let's get back up to speed with a heapin' hunk o' fiction questions...

Heidi asked, "In your opinion, is it better to see first-person or third-person POV novels for a first-time novelist?"

I'm not one who gets too worked up about first-or-third POV, Heidi. A good novelist can use either one. However, I can tell you from experience that many first-person novels from beginning writers suffer from an overuse of the "I-verb" syndrome. ("I started... I walked... I ate... I moved... I handed... I answered...") That endless parade of I-verbs creates a really dull novel. First-person fiction can be great, but in my view it's harder to master than third person. 

On a related note, Dana wrote, "Is it true most publishers don't want first-person novels?"

No, I don't think it's true. Again, writing an excellent first-person novel is simply harder to do well, so publishers probably have set the bar a bit higher. But some of the best fiction on the market is done in first person, and publishers still buy first-person novels. (Two favorite authors of mine, Ross Thomas and John D. MacDonald, wrote nearly everything from the first-person point of view. Bridget Jones Diary was a wildly successful first-person novel.) 

Cara sent in this: "How many POV's should a new novelist have in women's contemporary fiction? I've heard we should use two for romance and one or two for general fiction. (I'm asking because my work in progress has one main character, but three other storylines that each require chapters from their POV. I'm wondering if that will make my novel harder to sell.)"

Interesting question, since it seems to suggest there are hard and fast rules to be followed in contemporary fiction. While there are certainly rules to follow in genre literature (for example, if you're writing contemporary romance, you've got to have your woman meet her man early; if you're writing a cozy mystery, the crime needs to take place early in the novel; etc.), in general fiction you don't have all those same strictures. I've read contemporary fiction that had several POV's working. However, let's get real: The more POV's in the novel, the harder it is to make it work. In my view, it will take an experienced hand to craft a great novel with multiple points of view. Having four POV's in one novel might be a lot to ask a new novelist to do. So, yeah, in the big picture, that might make your novel harder to sell. That doesn't mean I think you should give up on the idea (I haven't seen your work, so I have no idea how well you handle it), it just means you should be aware that you've given yourself a tough task. 

Kathy wrote to ask, "At the beginning of many novels, I see the author often state 'this is a work of fiction, and any similarities to real events is coincidental.' Since writers don't live in a vacuum, and often write about what they know, how important is this disclaimer? If I write about the donut shop in my hometown, am I in danger of being sued?"

You ever watch "Law and Order" on TV? At the beginning of every episode, they offer a warning that the story you're about to see is a work of fiction, and any similarities to persons or events in the real world is strictly coincidental. The writers are clearly inspired by what they see in the newspaper headlines, but they take some basic plot ideas and weave a completely fictional story around them. If they simply stole someone else's ideas, they would be violating the individual's right to privacy, as well as infringing on another's copyright. Your novel has the same limitations. We've all written stories with people or places or events that had some connection to our past, and you're free to include places and events that are genuine and bring a dose of reality to your book. But if you were to interview your friend, steal her story, and create a novelized account of her life, you would be in violation of the law. You need her expressed permission to tell her personal story. Instead you take that character and you reshape it a bit. You make sure not to slander anyone, or make a real person look bad. You change the details so that nobody could explore your story and know immediately who you were talking about. (I'm not a lawyer, so I'm not giving legal advice here. If you need legal advice, by all means consult an attorney. I've had more than one lawyer explain the argument of reasonability in novels -- If a reasonable person were to read the story, would they know who you were talking about? And would they assume you were trying to assassinate that individual's character?) I doubt the donut shop is going to sue you, since you're free to include such details in your novel. But I'd stay away from using the real names of the owners, and having them poison customers with cyanide-laced donuts. That's the sort of thing donut-shop owners frown upon. 

Melissa asked, "When will CBA publishers get away from having their covers filled with young women looking forlorn, bereft, and staring off into the distance? Whenever I step into the Christian fiction aisle at my local bookstore, I have a sea of young women staring at me desperately."

Covers are like women's suits -- one style will come in, gain popularity, and suddenly everybody wants to look that way. But in a while the whole "sameness" problem will make them seem passe', and a new look will come along. You're right -- there are a lot of forlorn-looking young women gracing the covers of religious novels right now. That will pass. Of course, some of us wouldn't mind having a sea of beautiful young women staring at us longingly...

Anton wants to know, "Do you think it helps a novelist to enter a contest or win an award?"

Hard to say. Certainly it can't hurt that an author wins a Faulkner Award, or a short story writer is handed an O. Henry Prize. Doubtless it causes the publisher to pay a bit more attention to the proposal, assuming the contest is widely respected. But does it actually help the publisher decide whether or not to publish your novel? I doubt it. That work will have to stand on its own. Still, it's not a bad thing for a  debut novelist to read "Winner of the ____ Prize" on the cover. Perhaps one of the issues is the award itself -- I know a number of writers are thrilled with the Genesis Award handed out by ACFW. I'm a huge fan of ACFW as an organization, and think they put on a wonderful conference, but I don't think publishers take the Genesis competition seriously. It's too new. Perhaps that will change in the future, but right now I don't think winning the Genesis does much to enhance an author's career. Of course, that doesn't mean an author should refrain from entering. Entering a contest might be exactly what a writer needs to get over the hump and finish the manuscript. It's no doubt a great form of self-motivation. But does it help in terms of getting a deal? I don't think so. 

Vera asked, "I just finished writing a manuscript set in 12th-century Europe, but my friends have told me it's a waste of time. Are medieval books selling?"

You wouldn't write a book just because somebody said it was a hot category, right? I mean, just because somebody said to you, "Amish books are hot, vampire books are selling like crazy, and sci-fi is growing, " I doubt you'd race out of the room to create a novel about an Amish girl sent into space and attacked by vampires. You don't spend a lot of time chasing the market. Instead, you write the story you've been given. So if you feel passionate about a medieval novel, then you should probably write the medieval novel. No, that's not a particularly hot time period at the moment, but that doesn't mean it's a bad idea. Perhaps, if your novel is very strong, you'll stand out for being different. (And yes, there's a limit to this advice. If all the publishers are saying, "Don't send me biblical fiction," then don't expect to get a contract for your novel about Noah and the Ark. I think there's a difference between "being true to your calling" and "banging your head against the wall." I just don't see publishers being adamant about hating all things medieval.) 

Don sent me this: "I'm a novelist, trying to land my debut book. The first publisher I sent it to called me back to say they were interested. They are a small, independent house with a good track record in my genre. The editor said they were in the midst of producing several books, and that he'd call me in six weeks. It's been about eight weeks and I haven't heard from him. Would I seem too eager if I were to drop a note and ask for an update?"

Nothing wrong with that, Don. Asking for an update after a couple months seems reasonable enough. I'd drop them a friendly email that says, "Well, it's been a few weeks, so I just thought I'd check back to see if you need anything else from me." Keep it friendly. Don't whine. Things take time, especially in this lousy economy. And don't threaten ("I'm thinking of taking my book elsewhere"). That's a sure way to turn off a publisher. 

Anna asked, "What do you think of a novelist posting the first chapter on a blog, in order to try and attract reader attention?"

I think it's better in theory than it is in practice. I keep hearing about authors doing this, but I'm not sure it really builds their readership. In many ways, it's like self-publishing -- you only do it if you know how to sell the book. If you've got some fantastic method of getting readers to visit your site, then I don't see what it would hurt to post a chapter. It might get some readers clamoring for more. But if you don't have a plan for attracting readers, the chapter just sits there, unread, and offers publishers the message "nobody wants to read this." 

Daniel wrote, "I've heard about the importance of nonfiction authors developing media platforms to support their work. How does a novelist develop a platform?"

I used to never get publishers asking about novelist platforms. Now it happens frequently. Times are hard, and they're looking for every angle they can get. I'd like to think a novelist will still be judged solely on his or her words, but the reality is that publishers want novelists who have a lot of touchpoints with potential readers. So if you speak to groups, or appear on TV, or host a radio show, or have a newspaper column, or write a popular blog, or regularly have a column on a website or e-zine -- all those things put you in touch with potential readers. If you are part of a big organization, or have ties to celebrities, those relationships can help you get noticed. As a novelist, you have to think like a publisher, capture names and emails, and be in touch with people. That sort of thing is no longer limited to nonfiction writers. As a novelist, a long list of potential readers will move you ahead of other fiction writers who can't demonstrate a platform. 

Got a question about publishing or writing? Send it along and I'll try to answer it. 

A twisty little story from Sandra about the writing journey ...

Recently I was driving to work thinking about my day when two words caught my eye... ESTATE SALE.

Figuring it was a sign (okay, it was a sign) I convinced myself I could take a few minutes out of my day to do something different. I'm not a collector of stuff just to have it, but I was suddenly in the mood to hunt for treasure.  An old typewriter whose parts I could turn into the shadow box collage I keep envisioning on my office wall. An old ink bottle to contain posies. Or an old blanket for our new dog's basket. You know. The kinds of things you never go shopping for ...

I arrived and saw people walking away empty handed - not a good sign. But, I'd spent the time and gas getting there, so figured what the heck and pulled to the curb.

On my way up the sidewalk I overheard two people talking about getting their names on the list. There's a list? I passed by them, smiling and waving, then felt their stares on my back as I turned toward the front door.

That should have been my first clue, but thoughts of discovering an old Underwood or Olivetti pulled me along and I walked through the front door like I belonged there.

I. DID. NOT. BELONG. THERE.

I was barely a step inside the door when I heard the quick pace of heels on hardwood followed by scolding from a beehived, aproned woman shouting "NOT UNTIL NINE! DIDN'T YOU SEE THE LIST?"

Again with the list.  I backed out, pulled the door closed, then noticed it. Flapping in the breeze at my feet was a sheet of paper clipped to a board, filled with two columns of names. Ah. 

I started to bend over to see what I'd missed when a small throng barreled toward me. "Did you just walk right in?" Asked one woman who looked like she needed to go back to bed and start over.

"Yeah," I said. Obviously, was what I wanted to say, didn't you just watch me do so?

"BUT THERE'S A LIST!" she shouted, pointing at my feet. Pointing out my offense.

Another woman complained, eyes bulging, "I drove all the way across town this morning and I've been here since 6:30. You CAN'T just walk in there."

Clearly I was on someone else's turf and didn't know the rules. I felt like maybe if I just snapped my heels together ...

Instead, I muttered "sorry" and dug my keys from my pocket to signal my imminent departure.

"You're leaving? Don't you want to put your name on THE LIST?"

Uh, no, lady. You and your wild monkeys have succeeded in scaring me away. I picked up my pace and retreated to the safety of my car.

I drove away reckoning that that was one of the more bizarre experiences I'd ever had. But once the green fog started lifting from my head, I decided there must be some unwritten Estate Sale Rule Book I'd never been privy to. Then I wondered -- if I'd known there were rules, standards, expectations ... would I have bothered?

All day long I couldn't shake the absurdity of my great estate sale blunder. And it got me thinking about how many people start, innocently enough, on the writing journey deciding it's worth a try; just an easy side trip along their way to somewhere else.

Based on the queries and submissions we receive, I'm sad to say there is a staggering amount of evidence that tons of folks don't bother figuring out the rules of the writing road. Don't think to read between the signs along the way and think about what they're getting into. They see the promise of treasure and plunge ahead, ignoring guidelines, books on craft, the market.

I often contend that the “rules” may not be obvious, but that they are not that hard to figure out. Still, I have to believe there are writers who are earnest in their mission, but who are genuinely innocent in their ignorance. It's those people I thought about as I tried to learn from my misguided quest. 

How many of us, pointy hats or not, don't bother stopping people in their tracks as they skip innocently (yes, sometimes stupidly) along the yellow brick road, to say "hey you, the one with the manuscript in the basket ... uh, let me give you a couple hints how this whole process works."

If you're one who figured it out for yourself, the temptation might be to respond "Yeah, well, I did it the hard way. No one saved me from embarrassment and ridicule. They'll learn. Besides, if I help them, they may just get what I'm after ..."

I'll spare you the continued analogy. The likening of Christians to the Munchkins and those freaky Lollipop Kids. Glenda to the Holy Spirit. How the Wizard (should that really be capitalized?) we serve expects us to help each other. How the wicked witch and her crafty minions ... oh, I said I'd spare you. Sorry.

Okay, anyway, here's my point. With conference season upon us, I'd like to challenge you -- especially now as the road is twistier and harder than ever to tread upon - to please look out for one another. Seek opportunities to help new writers figure out the unspoken rules. Step a little out of your way to gently correct folks if you see them unknowingly blundering their way with visions of emeralds dancing in their heads.

Look for chances to pull someone aside and say "hey, this is where you start, this is how it works. Yes it's hard and twisty, and you will meet many perils and face fearful things along the way. But, if you pay attention, you'll learn much along the way."

Who knows. In the end, your help may be just the thing to keep the house from falling down upon you both.

And the winner is...

Wow. I must say, there are a LOT of bad poets out there. In case you didn't read them, this year's entries in our annual Bad Poetry Contest brought us verses about dead cats, naked cucumbers, and constipation (keep pushing, anita). Jimmy Jacobson brought us zombies, and one deep thinker offered his thoughts on "Ned the Hamster." Sensitive and reflective author Cathy West, ruminating on the industry, penned these moving words: Dear Writer, as you think you are, I shall tell you kindly from afar, You Suck. You're awful. Terrible. And you stink too." 

It's exactly that type of thoughtful work that has made my annual Bad Poetry Contest such a popular stop for those people in the industry with serious drug problems -- er, I mean, for people in the industry with a serious appreciation for deep and meaningful what-have-you. If you're not aware, I do this every year the week of my birthday, and it's turned into a spiritually enriching time for people to write things such as Sina'i's deep thoughts on life: Puppies. Rainbows. Golden poop. 

That's it. The entire poem. I have no idea what it actually means, but in my life I've had my share of each -- sometimes all at once, I suppose. And it's that sort of mindless tripe our college lit professors drilled into us, explaining how the words of sensitive poets reach out across the miles to unite us all in, um, something. (I could never stay awake in poetry class, so I'm not sure what it's uniting us in. World peace, or membership in the Trilateral Commission or something. But that's not the point.) The point is that we got to see some really, really bad poetry here. 

Oh sure -- there were some folks who don't get it. There are those who are purposefully funny. Some write bad country-western lyrics. Others feel a deep need to write something akin to "Chip's birthday makes him so old, I hope my poem is really bold." Those people won't win THIS poetry contest. (Those people will no doubt wind up in hell, but that's for another blog.) The best bad poetry is reflective but purposefully shallow. Thoughtful, but only for someone with the brains of a cocker spaniel. It takes itself seriously, but doesn't seem to realize the rest of the world thinks it was written by a thirteen-year-old girl. And it's THESE folks who stood out in a crowd, declaring, "I'm a bad poet, and I want the world to know!"

So, after much debate and a couple very tasty birthday margaritas, I present to you our TOP TEN BAD POEMS OF 2009...

10. Nicole's The Bad Dump was not only truly wretched, it contained this image: 

Now I lie on the heap with the refuse of other broken hearts.

Shredded plastic bags and full diapers.

Dumped like me. 

Not everyone can offer such a tasteless picture. It will long be there, lodged like a stone in the kidney of my mind. Nice work, Nicole.

9. I really wanted to give this spot to my daughter, Molly MacGregor, who brought us an epic poem from Iceland (a country she's never visited), or to my sister, Cindy MacGregor, who has been to Iceland but, for reasons I'll never know, chose instead to write references to Frank Zappa's "Moving to Montana." However, new Federal Bad Poetry Laws prohibit me from offering them a spot on my top ten list. So instead, this will have to go to Daniel Gereige, who lives in Australia and couldn't figure out that the Annual Bad Poetry Contest is a joke. So he wrote in to tell us all to buy a copy of his new book,which he said contains "deeply enlightened poetry." I just want you to stop and think about that for a moment... He's so remarkable dense he thought this contest was worth joining to enhance his career, but he claims to have written something that's not only enlightened, but DEEPLY enlightened. Uh-huh. I'm hoping by now his mom has taken him aside and explained all this to him. You win the stupid award. 

8. Any poem that contains such thoughts as "I'm deeper than the stain Embedded deep in the carpet" is sure to capture some attention, and Melissa Kerkhoff's paean to her own wonderfulness reminds me of being back at Patrick T. Brown Junior High. As she puts it to eloquently, "I'm not bound by simple rules Like poetry having consistent rhythm and rhyme." You rock, gurlfriend!

7. The fake depth and underlying anger of Stephen came out extraordinarily bad in his poem for the advent season: "Endless, endless are the tears that drop like sweet and sour sauce from an overfilled plate on the long walk between buffet line and a corner table where I sit alone." Not only does he promise to form words "with Scrabble tiles and hot-glue each word to your cubicle wall," but he offers this profound bit of cultural insight: "Sighing, sighing, sighing, sighing, and then finally remembering to inhale to keep from fainting like a first-time author on Oprah's couch." Terrible. Really bad. I salute you, Stephen. 

6. In the top group must be included the melodious meanderings of Hajid Kirduz Mesechnohech, who brought us this bit of doggerel: 

Then did Hajid lace up sneakers,

take swig of fermented goatsmilk,

and straighten best red-tasseled hat.

He took wooden harp from pack and 

began to sing song of salt and

barbed cockroach of Adlu-Haziz.

Soon Bildar was weeping like small

castrated goatling. "Please stay and 

sing songs all my days," he outcried.

"Nay," spake Hajid. "But you can buy

book or CD from my website." 

Then handed business card to snake.

I think we all can pretend to get a deep and meaningful lesson from those words. [insert nod here]

5. Demain Farnworth's The Don Juan of Motor City made everyone's top five. The judges were particularly impressed with his deep imagery: "I'm spicy like taco meat." Nice.

4. Last year's winner, MEC, came back with another bit of adolescent-inspired meaningfulness, including these lines:

I was me, so was she,

that dead body in the car.

I could not understand

why they left her alone

so long they forgot her

and she died right there

and only a few rings on her toes

to identify who she was.

I liked the heart one best. 

Not bad enough to win our Grand Prize, but a really awful poem none the less, MEC.

 3. Kay Day won third place by bringing a sensitive note to the proceedings with:

Someday I will once again

walk in the brightness

of happiness

I will walk like a girl who is happy

like a girl with ballet slippers on her feet

and I will think only of love and joy

rainbows and kittens

Someday when my precious boy stops puking. 

Awful! A Truly Bad Poem, Kay. Fabulously bad. Thanks for your participation. 

2. In second place (and it's always important to have a strong second place finisher, since should our first place winner be unable to fulfill the demands we place on the champion, the second place person is responsible to poke fun at the schmuck) is the immortal Fred Gippler, for this total stinker: 

Blue

The color of rainbows.

The color of her soft lips as she drove us to Taco Bell.

That

Last 

Time

Never forgotten, the moment, frozen in the infinite voice of space, as she chewed

the chalupa:

"Jim, I don't love you."

My name was Tony.

Couldn't.

Finish.

My Seven Layer Burrito. 

The statement couldn't be taken back -- it stood there between us, as real and solid

as a unicorn. 

Bean dip dripped from her malformed chin onto my uncle's Gameboy.

My

Finnish

Uncle

Travis was his name.

My name was Tony.

There's something deeply stupid about that poem, so that it just sort of stays with you. Keep taking the medicine, Fred. 

1. And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, the winner of our Grand Prize (which this year is a lava lamp from Spencer Gifts)... RON BENSON for his truly retch-inducing poem about fish! Here it is, in case you missed it and need something to help you lose that lunch:

Walleye eludes me.

Slimy catfish, full of industrial toxins, jump at my lures.

Sucker carp, all bulding doleful eyes and slate brick scales, raise their fins to beg,

"Catch me! Catch me!"

A bluegill volunteers itself. Surrenders to my will.

But my heart is not satisfied. 

Walleye eludes me.

Why, oh why did I pay ten dollars

to register for the Freeland Walleye Festival Fishing Tournament?

Why, oh why did it rain all day that Friday?

Why, oh why did my nightcrawlers overheat in the car window,

congealing into a mass of gray flesh,

taunting me with their lifeless forms,

laughing from their Purgatory of worms?

Walleye eludes me. 

My wife says, "Curse the walleye and die!"

But I've spent too much already.

The license

The rod and reel

The tackle and the box to hold it

The really, really big boat

I must fight on. I must endure. I must be victorious. I must. 

Others pass by on the right and on the left.

They hoist their larder high, rubbing it in my face. 

"They're biting tonight!" they shout.

"You can catch 'em in your hands!" they scream. 

"My two-year-old caught a ten pounder!" one particularly large round specimen brags.

I fantasize about big hooks and poles

Big stinky fishermen being landed with big nets,

De-scaled, gutted, coated with corn meal and friend delicately. 

Walleye eludes me. 

Consider the deepfulness. Ponder the reflectivosity. Meditate on how long the guy worked on a Really Bad Poem. I'm WITH you, Ron -- walleye eludes me, too, and I don't even fish. And that's why you're the winner of this year's grand prize. The lava lamp will NOT elude you, my friend. You are the 2009 Bad Poetry Champion. Take your bow. 

chip

The 2009 Bad Poetry Contest Continues

This is the place for bad poetry. In case you're wondering what it is we're doing, we take one week out of each year (the week of my birthday) and try something different. Normally authors are sending in questions about writing and publishing, and I try to bring some wisdom to bear on the issue at hand. But the first week of May we set aside to share one of my stupid passions -- bad poetry. I don't mean poetry that is simply juvenile or moronic, but the kind that offers faux depth, atrocious metaphors, and really stupid self-awareness. 

Some poems will be well designed, like this example from novelist Ginger Garrett:

Ode To A Fallen Friend

O, gentle green frog
Now spreading red
Five miles per hour was fast
Enough

Others will focus on deepfulness and reflectivosity, such as this nice bit of barfiness from Kay Day: 

my heart is heavy
weighed down like it has a big boulder from Rocky Mountain National Park on it
It pulls me down into a pit of sorrow and sadness
like a well full of tears and sadness
The sun is shining like a super bright star
but in my heart
it is black
like darkness without the sun

Someday I will once again
walk in the brightness 
of happiness
I will walk like a girl who is happy
like a girl with ballet slippers on her feet
and I will think only of love and joy
rainbows and kittens

Someday when my precious boy stops puking. 

Wonderfully bad! The longing, the desire, the pondering vomit. A fabulously bad bit of poetry. Or consider this piece of existential BS from the aptly-named Fred Gippler:

Blue
The color of rainbows. 
The color of her soft lips as she drove us to Taco Bell.
That
Last
Time
Never forgotten, the moment, frozen in the infinite void of space, as she chewed the chalupa: 
"Jim, I don't love you."
My name was Tony.
Couldn't.
Finish.
My Seven Layer Burrito.
The statement couldn't be taken back--it stood there between us, as real and solid as a unicorn.
Bean dip dripped from her malformed chin onto my uncle's GameBoy.
My
Finnish
Uncle
Travis was his name.
My name was Tony.

This sort of truly bad art doesn't come along every week (thank God).  A close look at submissions this year will turn up such great titles as "The Ballad of Ned the Hamster" and "The Don Juan of Motor City" (which offer the vomitous line, "I'm spicy like taco meat"). Past wieners of the contest have included "Blind Puppy on the Freeway" and "Doctor Jesus." And today you can join this illustrious company. 

So... it's your turn. Go to the "comments" section and type some tripe. Feel free to check the last post for all the truly awful bits of doggerel that have come before you. Don't feel you have to write about writing. And don't write me a birthday poem. Just sit down, take some drugs, and start constipating. You'll be entering the great brotherhood of Bad Poets. And, as announced today on national TV, this year's winner will receive a genuine Spencer Gifts Lava Lamp. As Bob Eubanks likes to say, "a grand prize selected ESPECIALLY for you." Don't just sit there -- begin thy bad poetics! 

(Oh, and a note... if you get to the end of the "comments" section, you'll see a faint arrow. Clicking on that will take you to the next page of bad poems. Several people have written to say they can't find the arrow, so they can only read the first few submissions. Those people have clearly been drinking heavily. Slow down. This isn't a race, it's a meandering walk through the warped minds of creative nutjobs. Enjoy yourself.)

Chip 

Announcing the 2009 Bad Poetry Contest

In the lobby of the Deadham Community Theater is a painting of a bald man, done all in greens and grays, with mushrooms floating in the air all around him. One look at it makes you think, "Wow... this is BAD." 

And that's exactly what it is, since the painting hangs in The Museum of Bad Art, located in a theater lobby in Deadham, Massachusetts. It's proven so popular the curator has opened a second venue, at the Somerville Theater, just outside Cambridge. There are bad portraits, wild colors, out-of-sync angles, and even a shockingly bad copy of the Mona Lisa, done in bright green and magenta, with what appears to be Frankenstein in a dress. (The title? Mana Lisa.) 

Interviewed recently in American Way Magazine, Louise Reilly Sacco, the Permanent Acting Interim Executive Director of the Museum of Bad Art, was quick to explain that not everything can be easily labeled "bad." For example, cutesy tourist art doesn't qualify, nor does simple paint-by-numbers stuff, children's art, or the prints you buy at K-Mart. And having no talent apparently disqualifies you from creating "truly bad," since anyone who has attended a karaoke bar knows there is a difference between lacking ability and true awfulness."From the works of talented artists that have gone awry to works of exuberant, although crude , execution by artists barely in control of the brush," noted Sacco in her interview, "what they all have in common is a special quality that sets them apart in one way or another from the merely incompetent." Badness, thy name is faux depth.

In other words, to create genuine Bad Art, one must have some sort of Bad Artistic Vision, and take it seriously, and study the craft... and THEN still produce a pile of poop. THAT is what we can call truly bad art. And it is in that spirit that I announce our annual Bad Poetry Contest of 2009! For those not in the know, we do this every May, as a way to celebrate my birthday. Just go to the bottom of this blog, hit "comment," and post some lousy bit of doggerel. The goal is not to send me a stupid birthday poem ("Happy Birthday, o' Chip o' mine, Hope this finds you well and fine..."), but to get writers to use their creative talents to explore the depth of true awfulness. We want over-the-top emotion. Bad metaphors. Deepfulness. Reflectivosity. Show us that poetic bent!

This contest has grown out of my belief that inside every poet is the same message, which can subtly be summed up this way: Hey! Look at me! I'm sensitive and nobody understands me! So I'll show you how deep I am by writing some poetry! 

Well don't worry, my deep and meaningful friends -- Uncle Chippy is here for you. In fact, I was also once accused of being sensitive and artistic, until I grew up and stopped whining. Therefore, I've set aside this week just for you. Right now, YOU can be published! ON MY BLOG! Just think of it... You can sit down, create, contemplate your navel, and, um, do whatever it is poets do while the rest of us are out earning a living (take drugs? watch reruns of Law And Order?). Then send it in and you're entered in the contest. Everything counts -- your cutesy couplets, horrible haiku, retch-producing refrains. Write and send, my dear ones. 

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled metaphors yearning to breathe free. The hopeless haiku of your teeming shore, etc etc. Lift that lamp beside the golden door and write something. Don't delay! Start constipating now! We only do this for a week, once a year. And the best news of all: The winner, chosen each year by a team of experts (consisting of my best friend Mike and I, usually after drinking too much Guinness), will receive a GRAND PRIZE: A genuine Lava Lamp from Spencer Gifts! Something that sort of sums up the whole Bad Art experience! Try to contain your excitement. 

Last year's winner brought us a very hip "Jesus Rap," that included these immortal words:

Dr. Jesus
I'm feeling ill
How about you give me
A salvation pill?

He said to me
that very day
with me in your life
you'll be A-OKAY!

The winning author was only 23 years old (though I know you'll find that hard to believe). It's exactly those sorts of life-changing lyrics that makes me believe in the future of Bad Art. (sniff. honk!) Oh...please keep in mind that there are only a handful of words that rhyme with love. The short lists includes dove, glove, shove, above, and right-ho-guv. Note that anyone using the word "wuv" as child's version of "love" will be hunted down and forced to read the Complete Works of Dan Brown. 

So you're on the clock. There'll be no more questions about proposals. No reflecting on the Google settlement this week. No more posting about how wonderful our Hero President Bush was. We give that all a rest for a few days, as we enter Bad Poetry Week. Join us! Go to the "comments" section and send us your best (or your worst, depending).

Chip (who is about to hit 51)

 

PS: In case you're really a poet, and you've missed the point here, we're looking for BAD poetry. The more hideous, smarmy, self-righteous, sappy, or obtuse, the better. Don't expect me to represent it -- if you're too sensitive to notice, there's no money to be made in poetry, so my looking at your crud won't do you any good in the market. Sorry.

Proposals - a few thoughts from Sandra on why and how

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and aside from the fact that I'm stuck in bed with the most wicked head cold I've ever had, it's a perfect day here in our neck of the woods.  Speaking of perfect, let me answer a few questions in regard to proposals -- one area where my perfectionist tendencies run amok. Just last week two editors mentioned that my proposals are among the best they've ever received. So, I think I'm well qualified to answer a few proposal questions.  So, Here goes ...

Anna wrote and asked "I'm having trouble trying to decide where to focus. I started putting together a proposal for my second novel, but I'm sure I'll go back and tweak the story some when I start editing it. I feel like I have to have it complete and ready to go before I bother with a proposal. Do I completely edit and polish the novel at this point, or do I dive into creating a strong proposal?

After a novel is finished, it's best, if you can, to let it set for some time before going back to edit it. So, in answer to your question regarding what to do next, I'd say dive into creating the strongest proposal you know how, then spend more time going back through it and making sure it is clean, presentable, factual, current, and well organized.

Katherine wants to know:  "Should I include sales figures for my previous books in my proposal? My first novel sold pretty well, and the second was about the same. But my publisher decided to pull back from the specific category of fiction I write and so I'm thinking I'll probably look into getting an agent and that I'll probably land with a different publisher. How important will sales figures be to them?"

First off, congratulations on the sales of your first and second novels, Katherine. As "pretty well" could mean considerably different things to different publishers, and sales history is one of the first questions out of editors mouths these days, now would be a good time to round up a current figure so you can be prepared to answer that as specifically as you can - either to your new agent or to any editors you might have the opportunity to pitch your work. And, there's no use in trying to mask sales figures as most agents and editors are able to access the facts with a phone call or email. So just be honest. It is what it is. If you had a particular issue (one of the authors I represent "lost" two editors and her agent to maternity leave prior to the release of a book and she's still recovering from lost momentum) most editors will understand -- if the writing holds up, of course. I'd say, though, if you're looking for an agent, leave these details up to him or her to discuss. Yeah, I know ... we get to have all the fun.

Mason got a little whiny, but his concern is pretty universal, so I'll humor him. He said "I'm trying to make sense of all the information I've gathered for putting together a proposal. It seems like it could go on for pages and pages! Why do they ask for so much? "

Okay, look. There are tons of books on crafting proposals and even more websites and samples floating around on websites. We have a fiction proposal on our website which leans toward the technical side, but they don't all have to be that way. One thing I always try to keep in mind when I'm advising authors (or sometimes helping them) with proposals is that editors are busy and overwhelmed. They need good information put together in a manner which makes it easy to find the specific details they will need if/when they're discussing your project with their counterparts or presenting it in a pub meeting. So yes, the sections you see in a sample proposal can seem confusing and a bit like you're being asked to jump through hoops, but if you're willing to make their jobs easier, trust me, you and your work will stand out and they'll appreciate you for it. 

Having said all that, personally, here's a framework for how I like to see proposals organized:

INTRODUCTORY INFORMATION

Basic overview info to help orient the reviewer to your project. Genre, category, setting, word count, status (finished or not), brief author intro.

CONTENT SUMMARY
What is the book about? This is a one paragraph (or one sentence, if you can do it) handle at this point - not the full synopsis.

AUTHOR/MARKETING
Why is the author the one person in the universe qualified to write this book and what are his/her plans for helping the publisher promote and sell it?

MARKET
Who are the specific consumers likely to plunk down their hard earned cash to buy your book?

SAMPLE CHAPTERS
Answers the question - can the author really write?

SYNOPSIS
For fiction, I like for this to follow the sample chapters so the editor has a chance to get the same first impression a reader would. Hard to do if they've looked through the synopsis first.

Different editors look for different information first. Some like to see right away if they recognize the author before they go any further. Some jump right to the bottom and read a few lines to see if the person can write. Still others want to know how the book fits in the marketplace and how this author/project compares to what's already out there. If the information and supporting elements are easy to find and deliver answers to their key questions, that's really what most editors want initially. The reason publishers need so much covered in a proposal is that this is often all they have to go on when they are making decisions in meetings about which projects to potentially make an offer on. And the editor who is presenting it is often taking a bit of a risk.

By the time it reaches the final decision stage, typically editors will have already gone through the discovery phase and answered several questions for themselves. Yes, they look at the sample chapters, but they rarely convince a publishing committee to make a "yes" decision (i.e. take a business risk) solely on the writing alone. It happens, but, like I said they often need, especially for newer authors who may not be widely recognized, good support information to help them sell it the project in-house.

Gary said "It seems to me that editors should just read the manuscript and see if they like it before they ask authors to spend so much time putting together a proposal."

Sometimes that happens, Gary. But usually only if it's recommended by an agent the editor trusts. I don't know an editor who enjoys reading sample chapters just for reading pleasure. Trust me, like us, they all have stacks of recommended books they'd really rather curl up with.

Look. A good proposal answers a few very important questions upfront. Does the written material really match what the query promised? Is there enough information, overall, to help me come to an informed decision on this? Should I bother to discuss this with my fellow editors? Try to get this on the agenda for the next  pub board? Does it compete with that other idea I'd had in mind to bring up this month? Should I round file the whole thing and tell the author they'd be better off making a living scraping gum off the bottom of chairs at Burger King?

Deciding whether they love your writing is important, Gary, but it's often the what you put in the material leading up to the sample chapters that convinces an editor it's worth their time (or not) to read it.

Thanks for asking. Feel free to reply with further questions and we'll do our best.

Stay Healthy, and Happy Spring!