There’s probably a lot we should catch up on.
Comicon is a good one, coming up next weekend and going on for four freaking days. I should remind you to come see me at that one, certainly.
I should also tell you about my event, May 28th, at The Poisoned Pen with my very talented friend, John Scalzi, which you should also come to, definitely.
I could tell you about Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides and how it was so awful that I’m almost certain it was the event that was supposed to kick off the Rapture that failed to come about today (and as we all know, said Rapture was only delayed by the noble sacrifice of Randy ‘Macho Man’ Savage, may he rest in peace). But Adam Roberts already did that.
Perhaps it’s just a suggestion of my own professionalism that I won’t be talking about those, but rather something else.
I’ve been published for about a year and a half now and they’ve not all been happy moments. There have been times when I didn’t get the success I wanted exactly when I wanted, times when I’ve gotten reviews that hurt, times that I’ve gotten reviews that hurt from people who I really wanted to like the book and times that have made me just stop and stare and think it was a pretty rotten day to be Sam Sykes.
As Brent Weeks once pointed out to me, though, there’s not a lot of fishing for sympathy for these kinds of problems. After all, I’m published. I’m writing. I’m doing what I love and I’m getting paid to do it in enough increments that I can live comfortably. In summation, most of my problems are pretty trifling when I’m faced with one of the bigger issues that comes from this job.
Or, more specifically, people trying to get into this job.
It was when I was talking with a writer’s group on twitter that the mention was made of crushing their dreams and selling their souls to get published. I was a little taken aback by this, despite the fact that it was obviously a joke. Possibly because it was never that hard for me to get published (don’t hit me. DON’T HIT ME). But I think it’s more that I have a hard time grasping the cynicism that comes through this sort of idea that getting published is some malefic black art that can’t be performed without condensed powder of human suffering mixed with the tears of a bride whose husband drops dead on the aisle offered at the Altar of Seventy-Seven Sins and Sons to the Foul Gods of Editing (my editor, Simon Spanton, prefers that I just ship him suffering directly and cut out the middleman, while Lou Anders has pretty much said he’d be fine with a chicken sandwich).
The cynicism that comes with trying, and struggling, to get published, I think, is what defeats more writers than anything else. Writing takes talent, time, persistence, work, luck and a bunch of other stuff that I can’t name right now and I think when cynicism replaces one of those things, it quickly devours the rest and leaves the aspiring authors feeling frustrated, irritated and discouraged. I can totally see why that happens, but I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t really have to be that way.
I’m not saying blind optimism is the route to take, naturally assuming that you’re just so goddamned talented and Buddha loves you so damn much that you just have to get published eventually. But it’s not too far off. See, writing, like anything, is something you get better at as you do it. Keep at it and chances do favor your getting published.
But I think it’s a lot less dangerous to be optimistic than assuming you’re going to fail for not living up to something imaginary. I’m not going to leave it at that, either. So let’s discuss some of the big hurdles we erect for ourselves as writers and how to overcome them…or at least the five biggest ones.
5. “It’s impossible to get published without compromising the integrity of your work to appeal to the masses, so why bother?”
This one I’ll address first because it pretty much goes against the fundamental idea of publishing: people want to read stories. It’s true that you can see a million vampire romance knock-off novels out there right now, just as it was true you could see a million boy wizard magic school novels a few years ago, and it will be true that you’ll see a million knock-offs of misanthropic adventurers meet evangelical underworld forces…cough, cough. Sorry, had something in my throat. It should be noted that a lot of these are the instances of authors wanting to hit it big and jumping on board a train that’s leaving the station, not the publishers issuing a worldwide decree that vampires, and only vampires, shall be published forthwith ’till the lamb lay with the hippo and the fourth moon doth fall from the sky.
It’s also true that a lot of publishers won’t reject the knock-offs that come through their desks, assuming the book is well-written. Keep that in mind, because it’s important: publishers want well-written books. Now, as publishing goes through some severe shake-ups, is a pretty excellent time to be new talent. Publishers are hungry not for the same thing, but things that will endure and give them something to cling to when vampires aren’t popular. This frequently means the unique, the unconventional, the stuff that isn’t obviously going to be a huge hit right off the bat.
Remember that point earlier, though: the book has to be well-written. You can be as crazy as shit so long as you understand plot development, character, technique and grammar. It’s unfair for you to say that the publishing world isn’t ready to handle you when your autobiography about the past lives you’ve led as a chambermaid to the Raptor Buddha are full of spelling errors and use the word “coitus” six times in a single sentence in the prologue.
4. “The publishing industry is incestuous, so new authors don’t have a chance to break in.”
Refer to above. Publishers do want new talent. Publishers also want to give and draw attention to their bestsellers and successful authors. Possibly because it’s kind of insane for them to buy a new author and then neglect him, since that means they’re getting less money, as it is insane for them to push aside and neglect their older authors, since that also means there’s less money.
Believe me, I know how easy it is to see conspiracy where there isn’t any. When things aren’t going your way, when you’ve gotten another rejection slip, when books aren’t moving as fast as you’d like, it’s incredibly cathartic to say “it’s all PATRICK ROTHFUSS’ fault. That guy has a stranglehold on the market and his publishers won’t let anyone else play ball.” That’s ridiculous, of course. Patrick Rothfuss probably didn’t set out to make you fail. I mean, it’s possible that he does have a diabolical lair beneath his humble Wisconsin home from which he directs his publishers to stymie and destroy people he doesn’t like while simultaneously stroking a cat that occasionally gets lost in the depths of his beard, but it’s not likely.
But the other answer is equally unsatisfying. Sometimes, things just don’t work out as well as you’d like them to. It sucks, believe me, but it’s not their fault. It’s probably not even your fault. It’s just…sucky. But “sucky” is just a word (and not a grammatically proper word, either).
3. “The publishing industry is too greedy to let new authors in.”
Same deal as above. You’re totally right in assuming that the publishing industry is slightly greedy. I mean, it’s a business, motherfucker. They want money. You want money. They get money when you get money. They get money by introducing new talent, by helping that talent succeed, by increasing the diversity in the market. The opposite of that is the same authors with the same stuff being read by the same people who will eventually get tired and move onto something else. This is not good business. It’s better business to have those authors for the times when the audience wants those authors and to have newer and different authors when the audience wants those authors.
There is no such thing as a reader that reads only one book. There is no such thing as a publisher that believes otherwise.
2. “Breakout authors set the standard. If I were going to be published, I’d be published now.”
It’s unreasonable to expect that your success will mime other authors’, because it’s unreasonable to expect that any author’s path to success is the same as anyone else’s. Patrick Rothfuss is a big success, yes. It took George R.R. Martin a lot longer to break onto the NYT bestseller list. Some huge authors never do. Some are loved by critics. Some are not. Some do it slowly, some do it awkwardly, some do it quickly and peter out and never come back. Some don’t.
Publishing is not a competitive sport. Trying to judge your own career based off of what other people are doing is not going to help you out a lot. The temptation is there, I know, and it’s instinctual for us to try to figure out where we’re at by looking at the other guy. But it doesn’t really work like that and you’ll only drive yourself crazier by thinking you’re doing terribly because someone else’s career is doing something that yours isn’t.
By the same token, it’s unreasonable to think of the publishers as enemies to be overcome. That’s a pretty shitty way to potentially start a professional relationship with them.
Resist your urges.
1. “It’s hard.”
Fuck yeah, it’s hard! It’s a job! You don’t get to lounge around and wait for the Muse to descend from heaven and elegantly unbutton your pants for you. You’ve gotta be out there. You’ve gotta write when you don’t feel like it, you’ve gotta keep smiling when you’re eating doo doo and you’ve gotta resist the urge to go on a shooting rampage. There are reasons for doing that. None of them should be over books that aren’t being burned in front of you. If they are, you have my permission to open fire and my hope that the judge will accept that as a reasonable defense.
But I’ll tell you this: you better get over it. I’m not saying that as a token to the hard-assed ways of my idol and personal savior, R. Lee Ermey, but rather as a plain truth. The rejection doesn’t stop after you get published. The despair doesn’t always get better. Everything is not sunshine and farts. You’re a writer. You’re a creative person. You will create new problems for yourself. But there will be plenty of people who tell you you can’t do it. Don’t do their work for them.
Shit happens.
Sometimes it’s your fault.
Sometimes it’s not.
Reflect. Think. Figure out what you can do beyond saying “it’s hopeless.” Because it never is and if it truly was, no one would be published.
It’s not about faith or optimism. It’s about logic. If you keep moving, no matter how small the steps you take are, you will get there.
Easy to say.
Hard to do.
No shit.
