There Are No Shortcuts. Also . . . Buy My Book!
First thing’s first, Playthings of the Gods, that ebook anthology which includes my story “The Long Summer,” was released today! It’s available here, at Drollerie Press’s book store. If you buy a copy, do let me know what you think! In case you couldn’t tell, I love feedback!
Secondly, I stumbled across something I wanted to talk about with the blogging world today, something that felt appropriate for Typing Tuesdays. As work has been slow this month, I’ve been casually perusing freelancing sites, hoping to pick up a little editing or proofreading work. And today I found a job posting which flat out dismayed me.
It was from a formerly self-published writer, asking for help getting his novel published. But he didn’t want editing help. In fact, he specifically said (several times) that editing advice “would not endear” you to him. Instead, he wants someone to research agents and publishers, submit to them using personalized query letters, and then “get him published.” He said that marketing one’s own work is “icky” (a strange attitude for a self-published writer, but, uh, okay). And he specifically stated that he wants to pay someone with personal connections to agents or publishers to “put his work in the hands of the people who count.” He included a writing sample.
It was, of course, objectively awful.
I wish I could write to the guy and send him in the direction of Absolute Write or Preditors and Editors or one of the other multitude of sites out there that detail precisely what a writer needs to do to get his or her work published. But of course, step one is to be willing to take criticism. And this guy clearly isn’t.
In his job posting, the writer mentioned how he felt “weary” of submissions and query letters. I get him–really, I do. It’s absolutely exhausting. I sent out hundreds of submissions and queries last year, and don’t really have much to show for it.
But at the same time, I’ve been editing. Rewriting. Revising. Reading books on craft. Talking about plotting with my critique group. And I’ve grown–oh, how I’ve grown!
Last week, when all that buzz was going around about Amanda Hocking, successful self-published writer, I had a momentary lapse in patience. For a moment, I considered throwing one of my shelved novels up on Amazon under a pseudonym. I thought that maybe I could earn a few bucks from it.
So I opened up The Stone Sorter, a book I unsuccessfully queried just about a year ago, and began reading through it to see if it would be ready for that sort of thing. I remembered it being pretty good–clean, at least.
Uh.
Well, it wasn’t bad; I have enough pride in my writing to know that I’m not a bad writer. There were some charming bits. But it was poorly paced in places, and the world building was woefully underdeveloped and there were lapses in logic that I hand-waved away. Sure, I’ve read worse books, some even released by mainstream publishers (yes, Virginia, bad books do exist). But it’s not the kind of book I’d really want to go public with. I think I’ve written better–I think I’m writing better now.
In short, I can see why all those agents rejected it. And it’s not because they’re meanies, or they have it out for me. It’s not because I lacked personal connections.
It’s because my work could have used more work.
I’m glad to say I’ve grown since then. I hope I’ll continue growing, learning to pin down this elusive, bookish stuff. I hope the stuff I’m writing at fifty is better than the stuff I’ll write at thirty.
But this kind of growth doesn’t happen if you’re not humble. It doesn’t happen if you’re not willing to find people who will tell you the hard truths about your writing. You can’t just magically pay people to make your problems go away. And that’s a good thing, really. For the readers. And for yourself. The world doesn’t need bad books, ones that attain publication through shortcuts or tricks. It needs good books. Books that are the output of writers willing to work hard.
There are no shortcuts. At least none worth taking.
Phoebe
Phoebe is a 20-something writer who lives in New York State with her husband and cat. She is a dork, not a geek or a nerd.
Her debut novel, Starglass, will be released from Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers in Summer 2013.
8 comments
Yeah. Great post. It always stings when I read people say “You have to be willing to take criticism,” because being an eternal pessimist, I always remember the worst bits of criticism I have received and use that as an example of the criticism I should be able to take. I mean the completely invalid stuff, like the stuff this dude leveled at me a few years ago. I cringe from that. Then I think, No, wait, wait, she means the stuff that made me go “AHA.” That kind of criticism. Which, in a way, feels as good as the writing itself. Or it launches you into better, deeper levels of writing.
Oh, of course I don't mean that kind of criticism! At the same time, I think that if you're not distanced from your work yet, it can be frustratingly difficult to tell the difference between what's helpful and useful and what isn't. I think distancing is the key–but of course, it's never easy to achieve that distance!
I think the most important thing, definitely, is the ability to take criticism. I had an awful moment of this about half a year ago, maybe a little longer. I read and critique a friend's books (she has a debut coming out in April), and have for a while. I asked her to read the start of something new I was working on. While she didn't intend, obviously, for me to get upset, the truth is, I did. Her response to my new novel start was blunt, honest, and, to be frank, brutal. And I got mad. Really mad. I don't know why, because I'm usually really good at taking criticism and sitting back on it and waiting and then going back to my work knowing what I need to take from the criticism and what I didn't. I actually still don't agree with what she was telling me about the piece, though I have began re-working it and trying it over. But I reacted badly. I think that it taught me a lot though, about taking criticism and using it to grow. The problem I have now is that I seriously wish for some agent or editor criticism! I mean, friends, fellow writers, yes, that helps, but I'd love it if just one person I query who requests comes back with something like, this isn't working and here's why.
I think it's always, always hard to hear criticism–and I think we've all had moments where we take it poorly. I do my best to assume that it's well intentioned, and to sit on the advice for awhile without reacting (because therein lies madness! Especially if you dive into editing without perspective), but of course, that doesn't always work. It's a process, I guess. I can only hope it gets easier with time–I'd rather not be going nuclear every time I get a negative review!
Do you submit short stories at all? There are some great magazines that give personal feedback (Shimmer is one), and I've always found that that little line or two of personalized attention makes such a huge difference in how I feel about it. Sending stuff into the void is the worst!
Congrats on your published story!
I can't believe that job posting is real! Does he seriously think he can get published if someone else does all the work? What's going to happen when his agent or editor (if he gets one) want him to make changes to his manuscript? Will he have someone else edit it? Ridiculous.
You're right. Critique is important and you can't take any shortcuts. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes to make your book the best it can be.
Thanks, Ghenet!
I think this person really does believe that his prose is so precious that it couldn’t possibly be improved–that there’s just some conspiracy that keeps the world from recognizing his brilliance. Which is really sad, at its core, particularly because there’s no teaching people like that. They just shut down. Frustrating.
I know a few friends/authors just like the man you descibed above. It baffles me. It almost angers me (not super angry, but enough) that there are people out there who don’t want to put forth the required work to be successful–they want it handed to them. I have two friends that have decided to go the indy publishing route, which is fine, nothing wrong with it whatsoever (I’m contemplating it if I can’t break into the taditional publishing scene after a couple years), but they will NOT have their stuff professionaly edited, they insist on creating their own covers, and refuse to have beta readers. (One friend is a little more open to having readers, but she only wants to hear what is good about the novel. She falls apart otherwise). It’s frustrating. There are good Indy published books out there, but the ones such as my friends, give the name a bad rap. Becoming tradionally published requires a thick skin and a willingness to be open to suggestions–to know what works and what doesn’t. It’s not going to be easy by any means. I know that. But boy, it’s sure gonna be a heck of a ride
Found you from the YA Highway and now I’m a happy follower.
Thanks for the comment, Angela!
I think you're right that these writers–who sometimes, but not always, are people who head into self publishing or indie publishing–give the rest of us a bad name. Just last week I was reading an insulting post a self-published writer put on her blog about a (very mild and professional) negative review! While sometimes big-time authors behave badly, too, it troubles me when people can't steel themselves to criticism. What are they going to do when they get reviews? When unhappy readers encounter their work? Isn't that stuff just part and parcel of being a writer?