It's conference season, and the Diva is beat. Expect hot and cold running typos in the posts over the next two months or so.
Before you craft a query letter, or pitch an editor, be sure you know what genre your manuscript fits into. Stick with ONE genre in your pitch. Each genre carries its own set of editorial expectations. If you've prepared me for a paranormal fantasy, then I expect the end product to fall within the boundaries of the genre you defined in your query or pitch.
Yes, I've seen well-written projects that defy genre placement. I've fallen in love with a few. I've also been around long enough to know that such projects seldom make money--especially when coming from first-time authors. It's sad, it sucks, but it's true.
If I can't convince the powers that be that your book will turn my house a profit, it won't be going to print, no matter how much I love it. In order to build the case for any project that captures my heart, my market analysis will be based on the previous successes of books very similar to the one I'm trying to push into print.
I'm constantly amazed how many letters I get from authors who have crafted novel length projects, but can't manage to define the genre their project fits into.
Text in Transit provides a great place to begin when trying to decide how to best describe your project. If you have any idea about where your manuscript belongs in the literary scheme of things, figure it out long before you type the words, Dear Editor.
Taking the time to know your genre. Writing within the rules of that genre makes it easier for me to build a case for your book should I happen to fall in love with it.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Thinking of Breaking Rules?
Rule breaking fiction never fails to delight an editor--in the rare event that it works.
The following passage is quoted from Peter Reinhart's book, Bread Upon the Waters. I've chosen to share it here because it presents a universal truth that applies to anyone wishing to breathe life into a creative vision:
Shortly before he died, the great martial artist, Bruce Lee, developed his own technique of fighting called Jeet Koon Do, based on formless, spontaneous intuitive movements. The few people who had the opportunity to study with him claim that it was the most brilliant form of martial arts ever devised. Lee refused to teach it to anyone unless he had already achieved a black belt or its equivalent in a traditional school of karate, kung fu, tae kwon do, aikido, judo, or jujitso. He said, "I cannot teach you to go beyond form until you have mastered form".
That bears repeating.
"I cannot teach you to go beyond form until you have mastered form."
Enough said.
end note: For the commenter on the Waiting to Exhale post who wanted to know what I meant by "white space", I meant just that. Space that is white--no text at all. White space allows the reader time to fill in the blanks and digest what's come before.
There is an art to knowing how much the reader needs, and when. White space demands very from genre to genre. I hope this clarifies it for you.
The following passage is quoted from Peter Reinhart's book, Bread Upon the Waters. I've chosen to share it here because it presents a universal truth that applies to anyone wishing to breathe life into a creative vision:
Shortly before he died, the great martial artist, Bruce Lee, developed his own technique of fighting called Jeet Koon Do, based on formless, spontaneous intuitive movements. The few people who had the opportunity to study with him claim that it was the most brilliant form of martial arts ever devised. Lee refused to teach it to anyone unless he had already achieved a black belt or its equivalent in a traditional school of karate, kung fu, tae kwon do, aikido, judo, or jujitso. He said, "I cannot teach you to go beyond form until you have mastered form".
That bears repeating.
"I cannot teach you to go beyond form until you have mastered form."
Enough said.
end note: For the commenter on the Waiting to Exhale post who wanted to know what I meant by "white space", I meant just that. Space that is white--no text at all. White space allows the reader time to fill in the blanks and digest what's come before.
There is an art to knowing how much the reader needs, and when. White space demands very from genre to genre. I hope this clarifies it for you.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
You. Unforgettable You.
A recent discussion on 101 Reasons to Stop Writing inspired today's post. If you haven't read this blog, I highly recommend it.
I'm getting ready to make a new author an offer. I'm just praying one of the big guys hasn't snapped her up first, because in my opinion, her manuscript has some serious mainstream appeal.
This acquisition represents a big venture for our little publishing house. This book will mark our first venture into YA fiction. Natch, I'm excited.
I almost hesitate to mention that this is her first book-length manuscript. Before the blogs begin buzzing with news of a "first shot wonder", I want to tell you that we are a small, niche publisher. We can take the time to make editing indulgences that larger publishers can't. With that said, this author's path to publication has taken eighteen months since her luminous query first fell on my desk.
That query reached into my heart and grabbed on hard. It didn't turn my head on the basis of the story concept, but for the author's voice. The attached synopsis did a stellar job of carrying that voice through. To tell the truth, by the time I'd gotten past Dear Slushpile Diva, I would have fallen on my knees and offered to publish the woman's grocery list.
The Demon of Harsh Reality piped in about then and reminded the Diva that such a move would cause acquisitions to send Diva straight to the unemployment line. Diva likes her little vine-covered cottage. In an uber-abundance of caution, Diva crossed her fingers and requested a partial.
When the requested materials came, a brief reading confirmed that the presentation of story was unfocused, but the concept was compelling in a Disney film kind of way. The author's voice remained pure and delightful throughout. I still wanted to pub her, but the best voice in the world still needs the support of a compelling story, particularly for a first time author.
I asked to see the full. In the end, the voice was amazing, but the story still felt soft. Too soft.
I requested revisions, but didn't commit myself. I urged the author not to let my suggestions alter her voice. We went through this process three times. The author stepped up to the plate every time. But in the end, the reason I was drawn to--and eventually offered to publish--this writer's book was her voice. It felt contagious. I yearned to read more.
If you dream of writing, do whatever it takes to find your unique voice. Once you find it, stick to it. In my opinion, the rest of what there is to know about writing for publication can be acquired through diligence and hard, hard work. A signature voice is what makes you, as a writer, unforgettable. It makes editors remember your name. It lights them up inside when they hear that you've got something new to offer them.
Book recommendations: They're old, but they're good if you're prowling to find your voice:
Bird by Bird, Writing Down the Bones, Writing and Being
I'm getting ready to make a new author an offer. I'm just praying one of the big guys hasn't snapped her up first, because in my opinion, her manuscript has some serious mainstream appeal.
This acquisition represents a big venture for our little publishing house. This book will mark our first venture into YA fiction. Natch, I'm excited.
I almost hesitate to mention that this is her first book-length manuscript. Before the blogs begin buzzing with news of a "first shot wonder", I want to tell you that we are a small, niche publisher. We can take the time to make editing indulgences that larger publishers can't. With that said, this author's path to publication has taken eighteen months since her luminous query first fell on my desk.
That query reached into my heart and grabbed on hard. It didn't turn my head on the basis of the story concept, but for the author's voice. The attached synopsis did a stellar job of carrying that voice through. To tell the truth, by the time I'd gotten past Dear Slushpile Diva, I would have fallen on my knees and offered to publish the woman's grocery list.
The Demon of Harsh Reality piped in about then and reminded the Diva that such a move would cause acquisitions to send Diva straight to the unemployment line. Diva likes her little vine-covered cottage. In an uber-abundance of caution, Diva crossed her fingers and requested a partial.
When the requested materials came, a brief reading confirmed that the presentation of story was unfocused, but the concept was compelling in a Disney film kind of way. The author's voice remained pure and delightful throughout. I still wanted to pub her, but the best voice in the world still needs the support of a compelling story, particularly for a first time author.
I asked to see the full. In the end, the voice was amazing, but the story still felt soft. Too soft.
I requested revisions, but didn't commit myself. I urged the author not to let my suggestions alter her voice. We went through this process three times. The author stepped up to the plate every time. But in the end, the reason I was drawn to--and eventually offered to publish--this writer's book was her voice. It felt contagious. I yearned to read more.
If you dream of writing, do whatever it takes to find your unique voice. Once you find it, stick to it. In my opinion, the rest of what there is to know about writing for publication can be acquired through diligence and hard, hard work. A signature voice is what makes you, as a writer, unforgettable. It makes editors remember your name. It lights them up inside when they hear that you've got something new to offer them.
Book recommendations: They're old, but they're good if you're prowling to find your voice:
Bird by Bird, Writing Down the Bones, Writing and Being
Friday, March 16, 2007
Happy Characters Need not Apply
Happy characters bore the Slushpile Diva.
I want to see a protag raked over the coals at least once by the end of page one. Otherwise, there had better be some stellar writing going on to drag me to page two. By page three, I promise you that the grace period is over if I'm not seeing you, the writer, kicking some major protag butt.
Too many writers fall back to a prologue to bolster a ho-hum beginning. If you're a beginner, I don't recommend it. Its a very difficult technique to use well. It smacks of "easy way out". It also makes it very easy for me to reject your project.
I want to see a protag raked over the coals at least once by the end of page one. Otherwise, there had better be some stellar writing going on to drag me to page two. By page three, I promise you that the grace period is over if I'm not seeing you, the writer, kicking some major protag butt.
Too many writers fall back to a prologue to bolster a ho-hum beginning. If you're a beginner, I don't recommend it. Its a very difficult technique to use well. It smacks of "easy way out". It also makes it very easy for me to reject your project.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Waiting to Exhale
What's the first thing I do when culling the slush pile?
I read the first paragraph of the manuscript. If it catches my eye, I leaf through the pages, on the hunt for white space. If there isn't enough, I don't read further.
What's the message for the writer? White space is to writing as the dramatic pause is to acting. Readers need breathing room. Give it to them.
Editors like a nice breath of fresh air now and again, too. White space tells me a writer has paid close attention to the juxtaposition of action/dialogue/description. It begs me to look further.
Open to a few random pages of books most like the ones you aspire to write. Examine the ratio of white space as compared to text rich paragraphs. Make sure your manuscript has at least as much white space. Err on the side of more if you can. It might just make the difference between getting read and getting auto-rejected.
I read the first paragraph of the manuscript. If it catches my eye, I leaf through the pages, on the hunt for white space. If there isn't enough, I don't read further.
What's the message for the writer? White space is to writing as the dramatic pause is to acting. Readers need breathing room. Give it to them.
Editors like a nice breath of fresh air now and again, too. White space tells me a writer has paid close attention to the juxtaposition of action/dialogue/description. It begs me to look further.
Open to a few random pages of books most like the ones you aspire to write. Examine the ratio of white space as compared to text rich paragraphs. Make sure your manuscript has at least as much white space. Err on the side of more if you can. It might just make the difference between getting read and getting auto-rejected.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Dude. Read the Guidelines
I can't believe how many authors fail to read submission guidelines.
I am a niche publisher. If the next Dean Koontz blockbuster fell across my desk today, I'd reject it.
Believe me, after the author got over licking the wounds from my "no thanks", the author would thank me for my rejection later.
I have no expertise in marketing horror. I would not be doing a writer any favors by attempting to market such work, unless the story's action miraculously made it fall within the realm of my established "niche".
The content I am seeking is narrow in it's scope. Save yourself some from needless rejection dejection.
Read the guidelines.
We do not make exceptions. No matter how good your book or writing is, the content we publish is selected to appeal to a very specific audience.
Repeat after me: niche publishers do not deviate from their niche.
No, there is no wiggle room.
Trust me on this.
I am a niche publisher. If the next Dean Koontz blockbuster fell across my desk today, I'd reject it.
Believe me, after the author got over licking the wounds from my "no thanks", the author would thank me for my rejection later.
I have no expertise in marketing horror. I would not be doing a writer any favors by attempting to market such work, unless the story's action miraculously made it fall within the realm of my established "niche".
The content I am seeking is narrow in it's scope. Save yourself some from needless rejection dejection.
Read the guidelines.
We do not make exceptions. No matter how good your book or writing is, the content we publish is selected to appeal to a very specific audience.
Repeat after me: niche publishers do not deviate from their niche.
No, there is no wiggle room.
Trust me on this.
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