BE CAREFUL WHEN FALLING OUT OF PIGEON-HOLES

Excellent example of how not to hook a publisher in this insightful post over on Editorial Ass today. And for once, it's silly agent behaviour, not silly author behaviour. Please read and then return here for my piercing insights.

Clearly the agent in question was clueless. Or you could say that he was actually very clueful: he gave loads of clues but no actual answers.

Let's do some unpicking and see what we can learn. EA says that the category of your book is "perhaps THE most important question for an editor and his/her sales team." It's an important and possibly somewhat shocking lesson. There was you thinking it was your writing or even the story that was the most important. Of course it is, to you and your readers, but you and your readers will never see your book at all if the bookseller doesn't know where to put it.

See, booksellers have a simple system, which you may not like. They have it for a good reason: customers are simple souls who do not wish to look far to find a book. Customers think they know what they like, and don't want to be told otherwise, so they really need to know where they might find it. Fast. You might wish that a bookshop could be a glorious muddle of treasures just waiting to be found serendipitously, with a squeal of glee. "Oh, how wonderful! A part-monograph-part-travel-guide-part-poetry-collection-part-local-history-of-the-inner-hebrides! I normally read sci-fi but this sounds quite delightful." But what real readers want is the exact book that they want (even if they don't know what it is) just THERE, under the label that says "book that you want".

So, first thing to do when you pitch your book is to know what it is. This applies both to covering letters (see on-going competition) and to query letters; it certainly applies when the editor pitches your as yet uncontracted book to the sales/marketing team in the Acquisition Meeting; it also applies when you answer the casual question about your WIP: what's it about? Because before you say it's about a boy and a girl who get lost in the woods, you have to say it's a fairy tale about a boy and girl who get lost in the woods.

If you are innovative enough to have written a book that defies categorisation, be afraid. I did. I wrote a book called Blame My Brain. Now, luckily for me, I never had to pitch it to anyone as I already had a publisher and an agent and all that happened before commissioning was a conversation that went almost literally like this:

Chris (editor): Would you like to write some non-fiction?
Me: Yes.
C: What would you like to write about?
Me: The teenage brain.
C: Good idea.

That afternoon I drafted a one-page plan and wrote the intro, and about three days later she'd come up with an offer.

Yes, I know. You hate me. I don't blame you. But I did take a long, long, long time to get to the point of having an editor trust me that much.

BUT, when it came to the bookshops deciding how to shelve it, then the fun began. Clearly, there is no category in any bookshop called "teenage non-fiction". (There may occasionally be a tiny little bit of a tiny dark shelf very near the floor, and occasionally when there is, I'm on my own in it.) Luckily - understatement - for me, booksellers thought the idea was so strong that they went out of their way to find a place for it but I still can't confidently predict when I go into a bookshop whether I'll find it in teenage/YA fiction, kids' non-fiction, psychology, parenting, popular science, neuroscience, mental illness or Scottish. (I joke not). Yes, this has been a problem. The only reason it was such a commercial success is that we got fab review coverage everywhere and there was nothing else on the market ticking the same boxes (still isn't - yay!); so word of mouth and market position now means that it doesn't matter that no one knows where to shelve it and no one knows where to find it. Well, it matters a bit ...

Anyway, that sort of situation is rare.

So, consider your WIP carefully, lovingly and calculatingly. Which shelf will it go on in the shops? I'll mention this and talk more about it - if I remember - in my Edinburgh Book Festival talk on How To Make a Publisher Say Yes on Aug 19th. (I don't mean it's about how to make a publisher say yes on Aug 19th - I hope a publisher will say yes on many other days as well). And do remember that it will hardly ever go in two sections, much as perhaps it should.

If you write for young people, in which age section of a bookshop will readers find it? I'll talk about the difference between 10-12s and teenage in my talk on Aug 20th. Again, a book that 10-year-olds AND 13-year-olds will love, will not be found in both 9-12 and the teenage sections.

However, there's more to categorisation than what shelf it will go on. We (humankind) like to pigeon-hole things. It's often an unattractive and unhelpful habit. Pigeon-holes are places of safety and comfort, but they are restrictive because you can't easily see out of them. However, while readers continue to be human and want categories, we have to work with them. And, actually, it is helpful when it makes us analyse the elements of our book, to make sure it ticks the right boxes or follows the right rules for that particular category or genre.

So, as well as knowing what section in the shop our book will end up on, we need to know in more detail what sort of book it is, so that we can describe it better and give people (agent, then editor, then marketing, then bookseller, then reader) a clearer idea as to why they might like it. Now, many books don't sit neatly within one pigeon-hole. And that's fine. No one ever said you had to sit neatly in the pigeon-hole. You're allowed to sit on the edge with your legs hanging out - it's a tad dangerous if you've had a bit much to drink, but just be aware of the dangers of alcohol and other substances and you can dangle to your heart's content.

But, while you're allowing your sci-fi book to dabble in romance or your historical novel to veer into magical realism, consider your reader. Are there enough readers out there who will go with you on your strange journey? Is your book like something else (something else successful - and not SO alike that you end up being cited in an anti-plagiarism fracas)? Does it fit a pattern? Are there good reasons why it contains several genre elements? Have you really got the experience to handle more than one? Are you genre-hopping because you haven't got your act together or have you genuinely thought this through?

If your book is a mixture of too many (say, more than two) genres, you are likely to lose readers. You are also likely to show a potential agent or editor that you haven't a clue what you're doing. Now you may well have a clue: you may be about to set a completely new genre-busting target of astonishing, innovative brilliance**: but the first page of your submission is not the place to tell your potential agent/editor this. Allow him to discover your avant-garde brilliance through your writing, not by leaping at him shouting BOO. Remember: eccentric brilliance often looks like crass lunacy at first sight and first sight is often all you get, if you're not careful. Later, the two of you can work out how you're going to pitch your magic to Sales and Marketing, but it will not be by telling them that it's a mixture of eighteen genres and hard to categorise.

** Edited to add: Have just seen a fabulous post by the inimitable Lynn Price, describing the inexcusable ignorance of the author who thought he was writing "literary action/adventure" - go read.

In short:

When you write, first consider your reader.

When you pitch, first consider your bookseller.

When you get your contract, first consider yourself: in my case, buy shoes, chocolate and sparkly wine.

There's no chocolate in that picture, for obvious reasons.

PSEUDO-AGENTS - BEWARE

As you may know, hell hath no fury like me when I see inexcusable ignorance. When people don't know something, that's fine: I am happy to elucidate. Even when people think they know everything but in fact only know a small proportion of everything, I can cope: acerbic elucidation is called for, and acerbic elucidation is my forte. But when someone thinks he/she knows enough about the writing world actually to call himself an AGENT, when that person knows less than mouse-droppings about it, then I get angry. My mouth begins to resemble a guppy's as I struggle to produce any lucid words.

See, I thought an agent was someone who knew about publishing. Like, even anything. Because the ones I know are incredibly knowledgeable about it. (As you'd, er, expect??) Mine, for example, knows exactly to whom anything should be sent and exactly what rights should and shouldn't be offered for exactly what dosh. I ask her a question and she tells me the truth. She knows the ins and outs and the ups and downs and can guide me through minefields and extract the best deal from the situation. It's what she's there for and why I'm delighted to hand over her percentage.

Yay for such agents! They are worth their weight in commission. Even if they are very large. Which mine isn't. (Despite the meal I gave her after the launch party, which included meringues and cream and cheese and voluminous sparkly wine. But I accidentally forgot to offer the chocolates round and so, sadly, must eat them all myself.)

But news has come to me of horrible things that worse-than-useless pseudo-agents can do. Thing is, anyone can be an agent. There's no exam or anything. In recent months, I've heard the occasional story of surprising lack of knowledge on the part of some people who call themselves agents. And I've chosen to ignore it.

Until now. Exercise your imagination for a moment. Suppose there was a vanity published author who was ignorant of every aspect of publishing; suppose that "author" then called himself an agent. To be clear, let's imagine that this is someone who doesn't realise that an author is supposed to be allowed to earn money from writing, who hasn't heard of rights and doesn't know the first thing about even the tiniest part of the publishing process, and who will swallow the line that books shouldn't be edited because "editing diminishes the creative and cathartic flow necessary to the transportation of the real writer" (my arse) - and he thinks he can agent someone else? And now imagine that this was not imaginary ...

Since such crappiness could happen, I need you to know how to choose a proper agent. Believe nothing if you don't believe this: a bad agent is worse than useless and certainly much worse than no agent. A bad agent will destroy your career before it has started and will leave you more stressed than you can imagine an unpublished writer can be. And, as you've probably already discovered, being unpublished is stressful enough.

So, before getting into bed with an agent (do I need to specify that I am not being literal?), ask some questions:

• what other authors does the agent represent?Investigate how well the books have done.
• what previous experience of publishing led to him becoming an agent?
• is this the agent's full-time / only job? If not, why not and how much time and energy will the agent have for you?
• how does the agent sell foreign rights? For example, they might use sub-agents or scouts - but there should be some clear answer to the question. Ask what countries any other clients have been sold into. (Similar question for TV/film rights.)
• what professional bodies is the agent a member of? Investigate them.
• can you see the contract that you would sign with the agent? Get it checked by someone who understands - perhaps another agented author, or the Society of Authors if you are a member, or any other body that you belong to.
• what would be the agent's plan for your career?
• is the agent asking for any money up front? NO! The agent should earn commission - ie a % of your writing income from any work which falls within the scope of the above contract. So, the agent doesn't earn from you before you earn yourself. An agent will not charge a reading fee.

And here are three questions to test the alleged agent's knowledge:

• can the agent explain in clear terms the difference between vanity publishing, self-publishing and mainstream publishing?
• can the agent answer the question: what trends do you see in publishers' attitudes towards this particular genre at the moment?
• how can an agent help an author exploit IPR?
  

That should sort the cream from the rancid yogurt!

If you happen to have a friend or acquaintance who is offering to be your agent in an amateur way, be very cautious. If I were you, I'd think barge-pole, frankly. This could be the end of a beautiful friendship and is unlikely to be the start of a glittering career. Being an agent is not a job for amateurs. Obviously, every agent must start somewhere and acquire a first client - but this can only work if that agent already has substantial experience of dealing with publishing rights in another professional capacity. For example, many agents were publishers / editors for years before they became agents - a very good way into the business.

So, please be very astute and cautious, walking onto an agent's list with eyes wide open. Do not be so desperate or flattered that you leap into a relationship immediately - a bad agent is worse than no agent and much more stressful.

I think I've been pretty calm about all this, in the circs. My first draft included phrases like cockroach vomit but I decided to leave that out, so as not to spoil your breakfast. Ever caring, that's me.

HOW TO BE A REALLY NICE PUBLISHABLE AUTHOR

I'm assuming, of course, that you've already written a wonderful book, perfectly pitched in terms of what the market wants (supposing the market knows what it wants), and that it has a fabulous "hook" which will engage the attention of the most slushed-out editor or agent. I'm assuming, too, that your covering letter is honed, your synopsis crystalline, and that you have diligently researched the best publishers or agents to approach. Oh, and that you are an expert in your genre, and can reel off a dozen current authors whom you admire in that genre. I know I can rely on you ...

At this point, you might understandably be saying, "What?? Isn't my great submission enough? I've got to be NICE too?? What the hell has being nice ever had to do with being an author? I know horrible ones, dirty ones, drunk ones, boring and arrogant ones. God, I even know one so objectionable that no half-decent book festival wants to invite him EVER again." (I do, by the way, but if I tell you I will have to kill you.)

Yes, patently, not all authors are nice. However, they will have pretended to be until they signed the contract and if you are not nice then I recommend you disguise yourself until then.

But "really nice and publishable" is different from being merely nice, which sounds a bit boring. On the other hand, I'm a sucker for nice people and do tend to think they're under-rated. I'm even quite nice myself, not that you'd know it. But I digress.

Here are my almost fail-safe rules for being "really nice and publishable":

1. Do not include any little extras in your submission: no toffees (see here), no photographs (even or especially of you naked, as poor Jane Smith has had to experience) or any of the weird items mentioned on Editorial Anonymous. These things do not amuse the recipient - trust me. They mark you out as an idiot, albeit possibly a nice one, but an idiot all the same. Many idiots are published, I admit, but it's not a good strategy.
   
2. Follow the submission guidelines of each publisher or agent. If they say they want 5,000 words, don't send 10,000. If they want you to hang upside-down for half an hour before breakfast, do it - don't ask why: there will be a reason. It's like your parents saying "because we say so." Reprehensible but the real world.
   
3. Don't phone a self-employed person at the weekend or evening, "because I thought I'd catch you." I prefer not to phone strangers, and I certainly prefer not to be phoned by one. If you phone, do ask if this is a convenient time to call. And if it isn't, piss politely off.
4. Always assume that those you are contacting will think you are the least important and most irritating thing that has happened all year. You may ultimately turn out to be the most wonderful author ever but you cannot force them to believe this yet. Essentially, you have interrupted them doing something which probably IS bringing an income and you must understand that, even if you are brilliant, they are more used to being contacted by idiots / nasty people / useless ignoramuses and they just think you are another one.
5. Do not argue. Ever. The unpublished author is, unlike "the customer", always wrong, until published, and from that point on is still very often wrong but can afford more chocolate to compensate. Humility is the only answer. That and secretly sticking pins in wax models of everyone who has rejected you, given you a negative review or otherwise destroyed your self-esteem.
6. And on that subject, don't be rude. This may seem obvious but I don't know an agent who has not been nastily abused by someone wishing to be taken on as a client. One was recently told to "rot in hell". It's not the way to get them to say yes.
   
7. Be professional at all times: do what you say you will when you say you will. Unless it's illegal.
8. Understand the publishing process, by reading expert blogs (many of which are listed to the right). Your understanding will shine through, and it will be noticed. Publishers and agents prefer to deal with people who understand what's going on. They're too busy to educate you.
   
9. Ignore the gushing praise of your friends and family. Store it in a cosy bit of your brain and do not a) tell your prospective agent / publisher or b) believe it unreservedly. I'm so drained by the way that some people only listen to the many people blindly praising them and don't listen to the rare people giving constructive criticism, that I'm planning a post on "dealing with positivity".
10. Be realistic. In the UK alone there are around 120,000 books published every year; granted that some of these are maps or re-issues of long dead books, or series of home learning workbooks that take about 3 hours to write (I'm not exaggerating - I've written them), but that's a hell of a lot of books that publishers and agents are working on. Yes, working on. So the time they have for reading submissions from agents, let alone the slush-pile, is small. And there are vast numbers of unsolicited MSS landing on their desks all the time. If they can't get round to reading your book within a few weeks or months, it's hardly surprising. You can't condemn them for this but you can offer your work to other publishers while you're waiting for Godot; so do.
11. Understand why books are rejected - it's not necessarily that your book is rubbish. (It might be rubbish, and my agent and publisher friends say that the majority of what they get IS appalling drivel. And badly written drivel at that. But of course, there are gems in there, including very possibly by you and other readers of this blog.) I've talked before about why books are rejected, and will do so again, but meanwhile see a previous post here and also Lynn Price's post here. There's so much more to it than being a good writer - it's got to be the right book at the right time and sent to the right publisher. Which reminds me of an early post on this blog, which I suggest you read if you haven't already.

More about niceness
I haven't talked nearly enough about niceness, other than telling you not to be nasty and rude. Which is a start. But niceness is more important than you think and it's not as fluffy and vapid and boring as it sounds. (Would I be fluffy and vapid and boring?) Humans are social creatures; we react to chemistry; we need to get along. When we work together (as agent / author / publisher) the ability to get along is crucial and can affect the end product. So cultivate a kind of professional niceness, a human integrity and decency, and an understanding of the business you want to enter and of the people within it (including your future readers). Open your mind to the possibility that the way you conduct yourself and interact with people will make a difference to your future, your success and your happiness.

Crikey - at this rate I'll be writing a self-help book. I'd call it "Professional niceness - your journey to personal success." No one would publish it, but so what's new? Which just goes to show that being a really nice and publishable author (which I like to hope that I usually am) is not enough: you've still got to write the right book. And that's the hard bit.