As I browse blogs, and go to parties where creative types gather, and talk to a lot of the people I already know, it's clear that the web hasn't tarnished the patina of that holy grail of literary desire: the published book of one's own. I am here to tell you, lustful ones: if you get what you want, you will also get a lot of things you don't want and never anticipated.
Thinking back, my own naiveté embarrasses me. Having spent three years researching and writing a book, never knowing if it would be published but fervently hoping so, I dreamt all kinds of dreams. Even when I caught myself doing that, and really looked at what I was imagining might happen if the book got published - and then reigned myself in, laughing at my fantasies - I still didn't predict the eventual reality with any sort of accuracy.
I was right that Going to Heaven would find a publisher who believed in it, and readers who appreciated it. I was wrong about the publisher's ability to control what happens after the book gets onto the shelves and online: I had no idea whatsoever about the market forces, political decisions, and personal relationships that determine what gets reviewed where, and why; what gets talked up; which books are considered hot and what makes them so. I had no idea about the sums of money that exchange hands in this business, or the schmoozing that goes on, or how much small presses are at the mercy of capitalist pressures from the big companies above them, and their own tenuous cash flows.
My publisher, Soft Skull, is a star in the world of independent publishing; the man at the helm, Richard Nash, is a winner of the Miriam Bass Award for creativity in marketing, and he is a tireless champion of independent publishing and the edgy, often controversial titles he chooses to bring out not because they are going to make anyone, including himself, rich, but because they deserve to be published. Small publishers typically have press runs of a few thousand; I found out the other day, to my surprise, that a lot of university presses often are happy to sell 500 copies of a given book. Authors and publishers have to work together to sell the books, drum up press stories and reviews, and work on unconventional ways of getting the word out about a given title. The books are often distributed through consortiums, since most of these publishers are not large enough to have their own distribution. And while I knew that there had been a lot of consolidation in the publishing world, I didn't know that this was happening to distribution companies too.
So it came as a shock to me to hear, some weeks ago, that the parent company of our own distributor had filed for Chapter 11 - and then as a worse shock that our distributor, the largest and most reputable for independent publishers in America, was thus tied up in a huge bankruptcy as well. The fate of thousands and thousands of warehoused books by scores of authors, as well as months of royalty checks, is up in the air - and, of course, with them, hangs the fate of many independent publishers as well. My book is still selling, and still available, thankfully. I hope I'll see a check one of these days, but I'm not holding my breath.
The other thing I didn't anticipate was the bizarreness of some of the reviews. You, as the author, have no control over how people read your book either - and it's quite astonishing what people find, or don't find, inside it -- and how uncaringly they sometimes express their opinions. I've learned a lot about reading from being a published author; I don't think I will ever read a book, or comment on a book, in quite the same way again, but I hope I've always been aware of the incredible risk any artist takes when they put their work out there in front of the public. That act alone deserves respect. On the other hand, some commenters have thoughtfully disagreed with decisions about what I followed and expanded upon, and what I merely sketched; others have complained of the reverse - that there was too much detail. I anticipated those sorts of comments, and have appreciated them, actually, especially when the critic has acknowledged that an author has to make those decisions based on who the intended audience is. In a complicated work, you can't possibly please everyone, or follow every thread to its full extent; you have to choose, and know you'll be criticized. And even people who were critical about content-decisions have said the book was well written - thank God for that!
But the somewhat negative or ambivalent experiences must be held up alongside the positive ones: the thoughtful, careful, often glowing reviews and responses from many friends and fellow bloggers as well as strangers, and the surprising letters and stories from readers for whom the book opened a door, or eased some pain, or became a way of saying to someone they loved, "Here, this will help you understand how it has been for me." I've been grateful for the stories told to me second-hand, and especially for the occasional phone call or letter from someone I've never met.
The other night I got a call from an Episcopal priest who lived across the street from us when I was three; that family moved away before I can really remember, but kept in touch with my parents at Christmastime. The man on the phone said, "You won't remember me, but I've been so happy to read your book..." and I was able to immediately reassure him that I knew exactly who he was. He is, like my own father, in his early 80s now; his first wife had died; his sons are middle-aged like me. We had a wonderful visit, connected by that brief intersection fifty years ago, but also by a shared love not only of the church, but of a vision for what it can mean, and our two different ways of living that out: he in ordained ministry, and myself as a lay person. He didn't have to find me, and call me, but he did; I won't forget it.
Instead of feeling exalted by all of this, as I suppose I anticipated in my wild moments, I am quite humbled. And, I hope, a little bit wiser.
Wow, that's bad news about the distributor. Can you see now why I'm not perhaps as gung-ho about publishing a book as I should be? I grew up with this stuff, listening to my mother's travails with commercial and university presses. Her best/worst break was to have a book accepted by her favorite publisher, Dodd Mead, only to see the publisher go bankrupt a few months later. Heartbreaking. And the whole thing with reviews, or lack thereof - deeply frustrating that the labor of years can go virtually ignored by all but a few thousand grateful readers.
Posted by: Dave | February 06, 2007 at 08:53 PM
I still think it's worth it, but it's very important to go into it with both eyes open and realistic expectations. I think I was fairly well prepared for all but the bankruptcy, but others were very optimistic - it's easy to get seduced by that. You have to do it because you want to, and because you believe in the worth of the book for whatever readership it gets.
Posted by: beth | February 06, 2007 at 09:06 PM
Very introspective! The bit about the Episcopal priest was quite touching. I would one day get to read your book.
Posted by: Uma Gowrishankar | February 06, 2007 at 11:14 PM
What an eye-opening and sweet post.
My father is 83; he and his friends -- perhaps his generation -- are so much more likely to pick up the phone like that.
Posted by: Peter | February 07, 2007 at 05:44 AM
First things first: that's a great photo! My god, you've got an eye Beth.
That's wretched news about the publisher; they seem like good folks. I'm sorry to hear it.
Somewhere, luckily, I lost my illusions about "making it" as a writer. Very luckily. I saw what the difference was between what I wanted to achieve in my writing, and what the market was interested in. No, it's not as simple as saying "write only to please yourself." After all, there's a tradition you as a writer respond to, there's a community of other writers (mostly long dead) that you have to earn your place in. You're in this conversation with Homer and Samuel Johnson and Beckett and Milosz. You're the little squirt who's been invited to the grown-ups' tables. All kinds of rules apply in terms of what works and what doesn't. It takes experience (and OK, here, I'm just guessing) to really know which rules to break. But you're at the table anyway. It's a privilege to be there.
The publication hoopla is just a whole other thing, out there in a strange world of its own. It has more in common with the making of sausages and with Walmart storerooms than with the writing. That's why they call it an industry. What it does is that it feeds into the writer's insecurities (after all, we write in order to be read, and the industry promises us readers). It tangles up the already tangled strands of fame-hunger and ego and expectation. It's hard to let go of the idea, drilled into us since the ambition first stirred within, that fame marches with good writing as the left boot marches with the right. When people describe someone as a "successful writer" they usually mean something having to do with money. It's nonsense. Success is when you hit the thing true, in such a way that those who get it get it, and those who don't don't. There's nothing wrong with money, but it's a different thing. Ditto with prizes. They're definitely ok if you win. But success is when, with all your senses alert, and your ego in check, you can see that what you've made has answered properly to what you were given. Anyone who's had glimpses of it knows what a wild and enlivening feeling that is. You find that that's the right hunger. Yes, I know I'm preaching to the choir here--heck, I'm preaching to the college of cardinals. :)
I'm currently writing a book--the one I've been serializing on my blog. It will probably find a form in paper and a place in bookshops someday--as is about to happen with my previous book--but if I should ever think that's the measure of the book's success, if I forget that the real prize is the silent interaction between my words and the private reader, well then I'll deserve all the samsara that the thing drags in with it. And, really, why go through all that, when there are rewards like the kind you had, Beth, when the priest called you and thanked you for your work? If that ever happened to me, I'd say: nunc dimittis.
Posted by: Teju | February 07, 2007 at 11:11 AM
"Success is when you hit the thing true, in such a way that those who get it get it, and those who don't don't."
Thank you so much for writing this. As much as I "know" it, I still need to be reminded. The end of your comment brought tears to my eyes.
But I won't go all mushy on you now! Just - thanks.
Posted by: beth | February 07, 2007 at 11:48 AM
Beth, I can echo all of the above and my own experience in the publishing arena coincides too.In recent years, so-called market forces have made the publishing industry more or less indistinguishable from the Walmarts, the supermarketeering, and authors are just another product lined up on shelves along with shampoos and fizzy drinks and instant foods. It wasn't always like this. A highly respected literary agent who's been around a long time recently confided that she wants to blow her brains out when she sees what the bookstores are touting in their "three for two" sales pitches and what is happening in general in the publishing world. No wonder many authors decide to take the self-publishing route even if it means playing the David role to the Goliaths ruling the scene, and there are no classes in slingshot expertise. Still, when something happens like your phone call from the priest, and comments from people who "get it", who respond to the work you've done and take it to their hearts, and who are with you, conversing with you, then it all makes sense and it's worth sticking with it. Carrying on, planning the next book, writing it, and the one after that. I know you'll do this and the audience is there, waiting.
Posted by: Natalie | February 07, 2007 at 02:35 PM
Then there's the brave new world of Print-on-Demand and digital publishing. Amazon uses it now but I forget to what extent. I think Cornell is leading in this area with some spiffy software. In theory, self-publishing is an easy option. Thge warehouse space is freed up for the digital print shop. (I attended a lecture on this topic last month but I don't remember much) here is a link to Penn State Press' Metalmark Books, a digital print-on-demand project - http://www.psupress.psu.edu/books/titles/0-271-02752-5.html
They are reprinting the works of a well known and long dead local (Pa.) folklorist, Henry Shoemaker.
I suggested your book for purchase last summer for this Big Ten research library but see no evidence of an order...will bring it up again.
Posted by: the sylph | February 07, 2007 at 06:08 PM
There are some very positive aspects to this way of publishing but whoever decides to go down this road needs to be prepared to take on a big workload that is going to encroach on their time, energy, mental and financial resources. Being one's own PR and salesperson, unless you happen to have thick skin and the requisite chutzpah, isn't fun. Taking "The God Interviews" round to a few bookshops lately one bookseller said dismissively "ANYONE can publish with POD, why should I take a book that hasn't passed the test of being accepted by a mainstream publisher?"
Posted by: Natalie | February 08, 2007 at 09:14 AM
Thank you Natalie, thank you Sylph.
The answer to that bookseller is "if that's your attitude, then wait ten years and see what the book-selling industry looks like." Who would have predicted the plight that newspapers currently find themselves in? And what was the rationale earlier on? "No news that hasn't passed the test of being vetted by a major newspaper can be considered real news." In a few short years, blogs and online, alternative news websites are completely changing that perception. Distribution and sales of all kinds of published materials are going to change dramatically - they already have - and although we don't see yet quite how it's going to shake out, the upheaval is inevitable. The big-publishing industry is driven by money, not quality - which is not to say that there are wonderfully talented people and insightful editors who are still trying to make sure the cream rises to the top. But the consolidations have made it so that each book published has to recoup so much investment (and so much overhead expense) that publishers can't take risks with creativity or books that appeal to narrow markets. I feel incredibly fortunate that someone did believe in my book enough to back it, but I am also firmly committed to working toward strong alternatives, both in the realm of independent publishing, and web-based distribution of written work and images. When I get discouraged, I try to think of all the great work in decades past that never saw the light of day, because it was created before this technology! It's hard work, but as writers and artists we are actually living in an exciting time.
Posted by: beth | February 08, 2007 at 09:53 AM
i surfed in here from Teju's blog. sorry about the distributer. The few years that I worked in publishing (a very small independent press in NY) disillusioned me. It is so political and so market driven. My favourite thing to do, as an editor, was to go through the "slush pile." Everyone thinks that was a bit sadistic, but that's really where I found some of the best stuff--not that we could accept very many of them since we had very narrow specifications. So, i spent a lot of my work time, on the sly, writing rejection letters with lots of individual feedback, rather than just slapping the form letter in their SASEs. I was very young and very idealistic. If I had stayed in the field, I probably would have soon given that up--it's not a very practical use of time. But, those moments of actual connection with a text and those times when I got to work with an author to shape their novels were my favourite parts of the job. Having to work with wretched material that the publisher accepted/commissioned because of the "market" were some of my least favourite. Life took me in another direction when I got a fellowship to go back to Nigeria for a few years and then I went into academia, but i do sometimes miss publishing. Despite it's nasty points, there's something wonderful about being part of the process of making a book.
Posted by: talatu-carmen | February 09, 2007 at 02:18 AM
Talatu-carmen, welcome and thanks so much for coming over from Teju's, where I've enjoyed and appreciated your thoughtful comments too. I wonder how many sensitive, idealistic people like yourself have been driven out of publishing by the economic dynamics of the business? It makes me grateful for the web where someone like me can edit work at qarrtsiluni, for example, or comment on a talented writer's work, and actually have a chance of being encouraging and helpful while the person also has a chance to have their work read and appreciated. And it works in reverse for me, too.
Posted by: beth | February 09, 2007 at 10:10 AM
I will be silent on the state of publishing, and the persistent narrowing distribution channels. But my silence speaks volumes.... When I've led writing workshops, I prefer to talk about the process and the craft and all that good stuff. Participants are ever impatient to discuss publishing--a lot less fun for me because I don't want to deflate their hopes.
Instead of ranting, I'd rather encourage everyone to read Beth's book. As one who was directly involved in some of the events described, I was most impressed with the accuracy and the grace of her representation.
Posted by: margaret | February 09, 2007 at 01:13 PM
Margaret, thank you so much for your comment and for your very kind words about "Going to Heaven." I'm delighted to know about your blog too, which I'll bookmark, and filled with curiosity about how you were involved and what your feelings are about these events in Episcopalianism and Anglicanism, since clearly you spend a good deal of time in England, and writing about the U.K. and its traditions.
As for publishing - yes, your silence does speak volumes since you have been a published author many times over. I think it is so much more important to write than to be published, and try to encourage people to express themselves. I'm not discouraged about my own work, since it has definitely found an audience. What's happening to the industry is bad, though, and important for aspiring writers to understand if they have their hearts set on publication as a measure of success - which I don't necessarily feel it is.
Posted by: beth | February 09, 2007 at 03:47 PM
Hi Beth, yes I'm sorry to hear about the complex picture of publishing and distribution now affecting your book. I'm glad to say that Amazon.co.uk have copies and I have ordered a few as I'm worried now about not getting it in the future! Panic buying! I'm very much looking forward to reading it and discussing it with friends. I do hope the book finds another course. I guess writers prepare themselves for the process of writing the book and negotiating with publishers but not for protracted and endless complications afterwards. It doesn't feel like a good use of energy at all. But it may be worth it in the end.
Posted by: CdV | February 12, 2007 at 05:48 PM
Hi! Thanks so much for the comment, and for ordering copies of my book...I'm trying my best to be philosophical about it and to look on the bright side. Sometimes that's easier than others, but by and large I'm happy I wrote it and that it's out there doing some good.
I can't tell you how happy I am to hear from you, and to hear that your blog has been spotted again - I just got that news today and haven't had a chance to look. I've missed you.
Posted by: beth | February 12, 2007 at 07:24 PM
Thank you....
Posted by: CdV | February 13, 2007 at 10:21 AM