In person at Springboard for the Arts, 308 Prince Street, Suite 270, St. Paul, MN.

Next available workshop:
Saturday afternoon, October 30, 2010
1:00 to 4:00 PM Central Daylight Time

Cost:
$45 Advance/$50 Walk-in

Registration is through Springboard for the Arts, www.springboardforthearts.org, 651-292-4381.  To register online, go to the following page:

www.springboardforthearts.org/Workshops/Workshop_Edit.asp?WorkshopID=850

But some things, such as writers’ professional standards and ethics, don’t change over time. Professionalism and integrity look very much the same today as they did 50 years ago—and as they will look in the year 2059. Our tools, media, and language will continue to morph, but we must not alter our commitment to earning the trust and respect of readers, editors, and one another. Here are some expressions of these timeless standards and ethics:

* Be straightforward and honest in all your business dealings.

* Be civil and businesslike at all times—in person, on the phone, and in letters, faxes, and emails—even if the person you’re dealing with is not.

* Be clear about what you want, need, and expect.

* Don’t expect editors and other publishing people to be perfect. Do expect them to treat you fairly, honestly, and with respect. (If someone doesn’t, your best course of action is usually to stop working with them.)

* Ask for, expect, and, if necessary, insist on reasonable fees, terms, and deadlines.

* Never agree to anything you find unacceptable. If a publisher isn’t willing to negotiate a reasonable deal, it’s better to have no deal at all.

* Live up to whatever commitments you make—and expect editors and publishers to do the same. Meet or beat all deadlines.

* Don’t promise what you can’t deliver.

* If you see in advance that you’re not going to be able to deliver what you promised by your deadline, let the appropriate person know immediately.

* When you make a mistake, miss a deadline, or cause a problem, apologize promptly and do what you can to make amends.

* Be willing to make reasonable compromises—but refuse to make unreasonable ones.

* Accompany all submissions with well-written cover letters.

* Properly cite your source whenever you use someone else’s words or ideas.

* Quote all sources as accurately as possible.

* When doing research for a piece of writing, be as thorough, careful, and detailed as necessary.

* Present your credentials truthfully and accurately, but in the most positive light.

* Keep at least one backup copy of everything you write. Ideally, keep three copies—one on your hard drive, a backup on an external hard drive or flash drive, and a paper copy in a file.

* Send a manuscript to editors only when you feel it’s genuinely worthy of publication.

* Do proper market research for each piece you plan to submit for publication.

* Read every publication contract thoroughly, negotiate it carefully (if necessary), and save it in a location that’s easy to access and remember.

* Always make clear, unambiguous agreements—preferably written ones—to cover the publication of your work. If you do make an oral agreement, jot down the terms as you talk; then promptly send your editor a letter, fax, or email that details those terms. Add something like this: “This is my understanding of what we’ve agreed to; if your understanding is different, please let me know.”

* Keep accurate records of all of your submissions, acceptances, and publications.

* Keep an accurate, ongoing account of all your business expenses. (These are normally tax-deductible on your Schedule C. If you have little or no writing income, these deductions can usually be used to reduce your total income from other sources.)

* Don’t be afraid to try new topics, genres, forms, approaches, or markets. If a new or unusual (but worthwhile) opportunity presents itself, go for it.

* Be patient and persistent. The people who succeed in the writing business are those who keep at it for years—often in the face of setbacks and rejection.

* Never threaten a lawsuit except as a next-to-last resort. (The final resort, of course, is actually suing.)

* Never throw away anything you write.

* Write as well as you can.

* When offered advice on a website for writers, consider it seriously—but don’t take it as absolute, unwavering truth.

This list was adapted from my book 30 Steps to Becoming a Writer, which is part of The Complete Writer’s Kit, published by Running Press and copyright 2005 by Scott Edelstein.

A complete list of publishing scams and schemes would fill a small book. Here, however, are the six most common ones:

Vanity presses masquerading as royalty (i.e., real) publishers. Vanity publishers make money not by selling books, but by taking money from writers. There’s nothing wrong with selling writers services such as editing, book design, printing, binding, warehousing, publicity, etc. But when a company misleads writers—or lets them mislead themselves—into thinking they’re being published by an outfit that’s selective in what it publishes, has a sales force, and is capable of selling thousands of copies of each book, it’s a form of slight-of-hand. If someone tells you any of the following lies (and they are indeed lies, though the speaker may actually believe them), they work for a vanity press:
• It’s normal to pay to publish your first book.
• This is how publishing works in the 21st century.
• Without a track record, you can’t get published by a royalty press.
• The big publishers aren’t interested in you unless you’re already famous. (Actually, there’s some truth to this. But what’s wrong with dealing with small or midsize royalty presses?)
• Once you publish your first book—even if you foot the bill for it—it will be much easier to publish your next.

Manuscript critics posing as agents. Anyone can declare themselves a literary agent by setting up a website and printing stationery. However, legitimate book agents make their money by selling books and earning commissions of 15% (TV and film agents earn 10%). A handful of so-called agents make their money otherwise: they require you to buy a critique of your manuscript, for which you will also get the “privilege” of being considered for representation. These ostensible agents rarely make any actual publishing (or film or TV) deals.

Literary agents who charge fees. Any agent who wants money from you to read or submit your manuscript is very likely a scammer. The one exception is an agent who asks you to reimburse them for small, reasonable business expenses, such as the cost of photocopying manuscripts.

Agent/editor scams. The scam goes like this: Wanda declares herself an agent, creates a website and some stationery, and gets listed in some writers’ reference books and/or online agent databases. Her friend Bill, who has some minor editing skills, sets up shop as a freelance editor or “book doctor.” Wanda then encourages new writers to send her their work. She responds with great enthusiasm to each manuscript she receives, telling its author that the book might be a bestseller—and, perhaps, a blockbuster movie starring George Clooney and Julia Roberts. All it needs is some editing, Wanda explains, and she knows just the person: Bill. Wanda urges the writer to get the book edited as quickly as possible, so she can get it swiftly into the hands of editors and film producers. Hopeful and excited, the writer contacts Bill, who offers to do the editing for the special bargain price of $3000 (or $4000 or $5000). Bill does a minor editing job on the book—what a more principled editor might do for about $500. Giddy with dreams of fortune and fame, the writer rushes the book back to Wanda. Wanda responds with a brief, sad email explaining that she won’t be able to represent the book after all; during the few weeks that the editor was at work on the book, the market completely changed. In an even cheesier version of this scam, Wanda doesn’t even bother to do this, but simply refuses delivery of the edited book.

Writing contests with entry fees. Many of these contests are little or nothing more than sponsors’ way of lining their own pockets. Entering a particular contest may be worth your while, IF: entry fees go to partially subsidize the full-fledged publication, promotion, and publicizing of a book; and you’ve got a project that’s a perfect fit for the contest; and the entry fee isn’t exorbitant. But many writing contests offer winners nothing more than small cash prizes—and the losers get only condolence emails. You’re almost always far better off simply submitting your work for publication; this costs you nothing, and puts you in a situation where there are many winners (i.e., everyone whose work is published), not just one or two.

Anthologies of short poems. Dozens of legitimate poetry anthologies are published each year. So are dozens that are built around the following scheme: someone (we’ll call him Hubert) creates a company with a name like The American Society of Poetic Excellence. Hubert places some ads in writers’ websites and magazines that announce the upcoming publication of an anthology with a title such as America’s Finest Poets. The ad encourages writers to submit their work. Hubert responds to every poem (except those that are highly pornographic or violent) with a congratulatory letter or email, explaining that the writer’s poem will be included; that they will not receive any payment or free copies; but they can purchase copies of the anthology at the special pre-publication price of $45 (or $50 or $60) each. Hubert does in fact print and bind this anthology, which contains 3400 short poems printed in tiny type. Most of these poems are terrible. Typically, the anthology isn’t available in any bookstore or other retail outlet, and it doesn’t even have an ISBN or a bar code. Its only purchasers are the contributors themselves.

How can you identify such a scheme? The dead giveaway is that your poem must be no longer than 20 (or 30 or 40) lines. (After all, in order to maximize Hubert’s profits, each poem must take up as little space as possible.) If the call for submissions appears in a display ad rather than in the “Manuscripts Wanted” section of a publication or website, that’s also a sign that this scheme is probably at work.

Caveat scriptor. (Let the writer beware.)

We Americans are obsessive optimists. We think we can achieve anything, if only we learn the right technique, study the right role models, get to know the right people, wear the right clothes, and maintain the right attitude. We imagine there’s a recipe, formula, or step-by-step process for achieving everything.

But it’s a delusion. Were there a simple formula for writing a bestseller, I’d have used it long ago. Ditto for getting on Oprah.

Sure, being an energetic, persistent, and convincing marketer (a la Walt Whitman) will help. But sometimes a book becomes a bestseller in spite of itself. Herman Melville never told anyone about his book Billy Budd, and in fact hid it in a tin breadbox. It was discovered and published only after his death. Then it sold hundreds of thousands of copies, and was made into a movie, three television productions, and a very popular opera. (Melville died before finishing the book, and it reads that way: in my opinion, it needs work.)

There is a tried-and-true system for making a book a bestseller on amazon.com. I learned it myself in a popular class, and I’ve seen it work. But it requires hundreds of hours of planning and labor; it usually drives your book to the top of its category on amazon.com, not to the top of the entire list; it typically does so for only 1-4 days; it normally yields a total of $500-$2000 in added income; and it usually has little or no effect on sales outside of amazon.com.

Is there a reliable method for making the national bestseller lists? Actually, there is: marry a celebrity and then write a book. Of course, this method is simpler to explain than it is to execute.

The closest thing to a formula for creating a book that makes the New York Times or Publishers Weekly bestseller list was developed by Wendy Stehling in the early 1980s. Stehling wasn’t a writer; she was a marketer who decided to apply the principles of marketing household products to book publishing. Stehling knew that the people who bought the most books were middle-class women in their 20s through 50s. So she put together a focus group of these women and asked them, What do you most want in your life? Their most common answer: thin thighs. She also asked, How much time are you willing to spend in pursuit of this goal? The most common answer: 30 days.

Stehling then set to work creating a book (actually a 64-page pamphlet) called Thin Thighs in 30 Days, which Bantam published in 1982. It was a huge and immediate bestseller, selling hundreds of thousands of copies.

Three years later, Stehling published another book, How to Find a Husband in 30 Days. I don’t know if she used the same formula to create it, but it certainly seems as if she did. Unfortunately, Stehling’s second book didn’t do as well as her first. Her own proven, tried-and-true formula wasn’t especially effective the second time around.

As an agent, I’ve represented two bestsellers. Neither book was an attempt to write a bestseller; in fact, in both cases the authors envisioned relatively modest sales in niche markets. Publishers had the same view: all the big houses turned down both books. Each book was ultimately published by a specialty press (i.e., one that publishes books on one or two specific topics) in a small print run. But soon both books took off, selling hundreds of thousands of copies. Today both continue to sell very strongly; ultimately, each will do far better than Thin Thighs in 30 Days. As people in the industry say, both these books have legs.

“Why do I need business cards?” some writers ask. “I do almost all of my business via email, phone, and occasionally snail mail. If someone wants my contact information, I can email it to them. It’s not like there’s something magic about business cards.”

Wrong. There is something magic about business cards. It works like this: if you give someone your contact information in an email, or in a voice mail, or on a piece of paper, most of the time they’ll lose or misplace it. But if you give them a business card, most of the time they’ll save it. This isn’t logical or fair, but it’s how things work: people keep business cards and lose everything else.

Some folks even have special filing systems just for keeping other people’s business cards. Others, like me, file them in old-style rolodexes.

So if someone asks you for detailed contact information, don’t just give it to them. Also mail them three copies of your business card. This is one of a few ways in which snail mail is actually superior to electronic communication.

I’ve gotten at least $50,000 worth of additional business just because I have simple business cards and give them out when the situation warrants it.

Do you have a story of how your business card increased your income or advanced your writing career? Or do you have a story of how not having a business card hurt you professionally?

This shocks and surprises some people, especially if they’re from the south or midwest. To them, calling a stranger by their first name seems pushy and even rude—a bit like offering unsolicited details on your finances or sex life.

But publishing—or, rather, the book, magazine, newspaper, and other industries that make up what we call publishing—is an informal business. Few men wear ties; few women wear business suits. I’ve never had anyone in publishing try to impress me with their car, jewelry, briefcase, or trophy partner. And if someone did try, it wouldn’t work; I’d note their vanity, nor their high-end stuff.

If you do address someone in publishing as Mr. or Ms., you immediately identify yourself as an outsider—and, perhaps, as an amateur. So if you’re uncomfortable with publishing’s high level of informality, get over it. Being too formal or proper could hurt you.

In my 35+ years in this business, I have only once had someone object to my calling them by their first name. That was 14 years ago, and the objection was mild—a small, polite correction added at the end of a cordial letter.

Have you ever riled up someone in publishing by calling them by the first name? Or, more likely, have you ever shut yourself out by not using a first name?

But perhaps 10% of publishers are actively exploitive. They don’t just want a good deal; they want to take everything they can from you and, if possible, give you nothing. Your needs and concerns—as well as any ethical issues—don’t even appear on their radar screens. These organizations act much like people with narcissistic or antisocial personality disorders.

Such publishers typically offer contracts full of unreasonable terms. When writers attempt to negotiate better terms, these publishers either break off all contact or try to get their way through abuse and intimidation. (“That’s the most unprofessional and ignorant request I’ve gotten in over three decades of publishing.”)

When faced with such coercive tactics, the right thing to do is walk away and not look back. Any attempt to work with this organization will only bring you more of the same abuse.

When have you come up against an exploitive publisher, had the presence of mind to walk away, and been glad you did? Would you share your story of integrity and survival here?

But often there is room to move—if you firmly but politely push.

Editor: We’ve never done that before.
You: Fine, but is there some reason why you absolutely can’t do it this time?
Editor: I can’t make that kind of decision. I’d have to go to my boss.
You: Okay, please ask her.
Editor: She’s out of the office until Thursday.
You: No problem. Run it past her at the end of the week, once she’s back.
Editor: Well, okay, but I don’t think she’s going to let me revise our policy.
You: I don’t expect you to revise any policy. I’d just like to make this one change, this one time.

Editor: We don’t normally work that way.
You: Are you saying you’ve never done it any other way for anyone else?
Editor: Well, maybe once or twice, for some well-known people…
You: Okay, then let’s do it one more time.

Editor: This is our standard contract.
You: I know. I’d like to make a few changes, though.
Editor: Most people just sign and return it.
You: They’re welcome to do that. But I have some changes I’d like.
Editor: I hope there aren’t many.
You: I don’t like to belabor contracts, either. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll email you my wish list of changes. Let me know which ones are fine as is and which ones won’t fly under any circumstances. We can quickly discuss whatever changes are left, and finish this deal.

Have you ever pushed back against an editor’s implied “no” and gotten a better deal as a result? If so, would you share the details with this blog’s readers?

Most writers (and most readers) imagine that  acquisition editors decide which manuscripts to turn down and which ones to offer to publish. This isn’t so. Instead, their job is to decide which manuscripts to turn down and which ones to propose to their colleagues.

At 98% of book publishers, no one person has the power to decide what to publish—though any editor can decide what to reject. Final acquisition decisions are made by a group, usually known as an editorial board or publishing board (and routinely shortened to ed board or pub board).

This board typically includes the heads of sales and marketing; the person in charge of subsidiary rights; the person with the title of publisher; and one or more editors. At some publishing houses, other people—the associate publisher, the art director, regional sales directors, etc.—may also be involved.

If an acquisition editor likes your book and wants to publish it, that’s great—but unless they can get a clear consensus from their ed board that the book is a smart buy, it will be rejected. As a result, it’s quite common for writers to get rejection letters that say, “I loved this project and really wanted to do it. Unfortunately, not all of my colleagues felt the same way.”

In practice, this means that:

• If an editor wants to acquire your book, the odds of getting an offer of publication from that editor are about 15%.
• The fate of your book hinges partly on the ability of the editor to convince their colleagues of its merit and profitability. A good acquisitions editor is also a good persuader.
• The people in sales and marketing almost invariably have unilateral veto power. After all, if they feel that a book won’t sell, their lack of enthusiasm will translate into half-hearted efforts to sell the book, which in turn will usually translate into poor sales. They will then point to these poor sales and say, “We told you so.”

Since each book needs to make a profit, the editor championing your book will put together a financial document called a P&L (short for profit and loss statement), which projects the book’s sales, costs, and profit through its first year or two after publication. (The term profit and loss statement is a misnomer, since no editor is going to create projections that show a loss. The Brits, more accurately, call a P&L a costing.)

The somewhat dirty secret behind a typical P&L is that the most important number in it—projected sales for a book’s first year or two after publication—is largely guesswork. Unless the book will be part of an established series or brand, no one really knows how many copies it will sell. In fact, sometimes an editor will put together a P&L for a book, realize that the profit is too small, and bump up the projected sales numbers so that the book looks like a better investment. The numbers in a P&L also partly determine how much of an advance the publisher will offer.

The principle of group decision-making sometimes extends well beyond ed boards. Some smaller publishers don’t have their own retail sales forces, but are instead distributed by larger presses, or by national distributors such as National Book Network or Publishers Group West. Editors at these smaller presses will sometimes go to key people at their distributors and say, “We’re thinking of acquiring this book. Take a look and let us know if you think we should take it on.” It’s not uncommon for publishers of all sizes to do the same thing with buyers at the big bookstore chains such as Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

What about very small publishers—those that are family owned, or that have only a handful of staff people? Generally, the ed board is smaller, but the same principles apply. Even when the editor who likes your book owns the company, they are not likely to overrule their own sales and marketing folks—and they, too, may run prospective acquisitions past their distributors and/or chain-store buyers.

What does all this mean for you in terms of strategy? Three things:

• First, don’t get too excited when you learn that an editor wants to do your book. Until and unless they present a formal offer, all they’ve really said is, “I like what you’ve written.”
• Second, don’t feel too crestfallen if an editor’s interest doesn’t morph into an offer of publication. That transformation only happens about 15% of the time.
• Third, play the percentages. Get your book out to lots and lots and lots of publishers or agents. If, say, one out of ten editors will want to publish your book, and one out of six of those editors will be able to make an offer, then you’re far more likely to succeed if you send out 50 copies than if you send out 20.