Oh, you thought that my last post contained my last word on book promotion for first-time authors? Have you been listening to the siren song of the Literature Fairy again?
“Don’t bother to learn anything about how books are actually sold,” she croons into the willing ears of both the about-to-be- and hope-someday-to-be-published alike. “That’s not going to be your job, sugar; your publisher will handle all of that. You’re the author: your only job is to write a terrific book. And if it’s good enough, not only will it inevitably get published; it will inevitably attract thousands of readers.”
Those guffaws you hear bouncing off the rafters, campers, are coming from everyone who has successfully promoted a book written by a non-celebrity within the last five years. Yes, one of the standard advantages of pursuing traditional publishing does indeed lie in having one’s work promoted by a marketing department, but it’s now quite rare that even major publishers do not expect first-time authors to get out there and sell some books. And not merely, as the vast majority of first-time authors expect, by showing up at book signings and interviews set up by the publisher. Increasingly, publishers expect their authors to market their own books independently as well.
Don’t bat those big reindeer eyes at me; I’m not responsible for this sea change. As the literary market has gotten tighter — and as Internet sales have eaten up a greater share of that market — more and more of the burden of reaching potential readers has been shifted to the author.
Which, let’s face it, almost always comes as a gigantic surprise to the happy few getting published for the first time. What savvy self-published writers already know — that the author is the single best advocate for a book — those new to traditional publishing are often stunned to discover is part of their job at all, let alone something that their publishers will expect them to do on an ongoing basis.
Oh, should I have told you to sit down first? Book promotion is not like tag: an author can’t just take one slap out it and then be home free. Even if a writer plans to publish only one book ever — not the usual goal of those who want to make a living at it — reaching and establishing a readership not only takes time up front; a readership also requires maintenance.
Again with the reindeer eyes? What’s upsetting you now? “But Anne,” writers everywhere moan, “I’m a writer, not a marketer! I would have no idea where to start. The most I’d been envisioning was smilingly acknowledging an enthusiastic mob of literature lovers crowding around me at a bookstore, clamoring for me to sign copies of my book. Well, okay, if I’m going to be completely honest about it, I’d also been picturing an interviewer deeply familiar with and impressed by my writing asking me how I got started. I’ve been practicing my answer to that since I was 8 years old!”
That’s charming — make sure to include that last bit in an interview when you’re famous. But the fact is, what most aspiring writers have in mind as authorial book promotion is what well-established and/or celebrity authors do: show up, be gracious, and wax poetic about their craft to those who are already demonstrably interested in their work.
An author trying to attract an audience for a first book seldom enjoys that luxury: as so many books come out in any given year, the simple fact that a work appears within covers does not necessarily attract attention from the reading public at large. (Except, of course, that portion of the reading public that already happens to know and adore you.) Nor, contrary to popular opinion, will just slapping up a website for your book automatically translate into potential readers visiting it. Before readers can flock to your book signings or frequent your website, you’re going to need to flag ‘em down and alert them to the fact that your first book exists.
You’re going to need, in short, to learn to play the publishing world’s reindeer games. At least a little. At least, if you would like your book to sell.
Or you could always become a celebrity between now and when the book comes out, someone whose very name causes people’s heads to snap around and brings the media running. Do let me know how that works out for you.
On the perhaps unwarranted presumption that at least a few of you fine people will be bringing out your books without the advantage of an already-established platform, over the next few months, I’m going to be talking about some authorial promotion strategies. For the moment, though, let’s begin with easy steps. First, I’d like you to get used to the idea that no matter how talented you are — and no matter how often you’ve heard otherwise from followers of the Literature Fairy — if you want your book to be a commercial success, you are going to have to invest some significant effort in letting your target audience know why they will enjoy it so much.
I can feel some of you squirm. I know, I know: commercial success is not the only, or usually the best, measure of a good book. And it’s not at all unusual for a traditionally-published first novel, especially if it’s literary fiction, to sell only a couple of thousand copies. (To put that in perspective, the average self-published book sells about 500 copies, without the help of a publisher’s marketing department.)
I also know that for many, if not most, aspiring writers, the dream of seeing one’s own work in print is far greater in scope and range than the mere desire to make some money from it. That would be nice, too, of course, but the goal here is communication, right?
I’m sympathetic to that view — honestly, I am. But you want people to read your work, right?
In the literary world as it is currently constituted, that means you are going to have to sell some books. Think about it: someone purchased even the copies that end up in public libraries, right? So are the volumes people lend and give to one another. And frankly, everyone who works with books for a living is aware of that; no one, but no one, in the publishing world will think any the less of you as an artist if you exhibit some serious interest in getting out there and pushing some copies.
In fact, quite the opposite. You’d be amazed by how many small-scale authors became big-selling ones by pushing their early works, sometimes one volume at a time. (I’m looking at you, Garth Stein.)
Getting inspired yet? Good. Let’s start brainstorming about what you might say to potential readers — or, as our guest last time described so intriguingly, to managers of small bookstores — in order to encourage them to take a chance on a terrific new book.
To that laudable end, I’d like to encourage you to ponder a question that surprisingly often does not occur to first-time authors: what is special about your book?
No matter how big you make your eyes, you’re going to have to answer that question eventually, Blitzen. Yes, it may be beautifully written, but what else does it offer the reader that no other book currently on the market — say, released within the last five years — offers habitual readers in your chosen book category?
Hands up if your first reaction to that question was defensive. That’s pretty common, I’m sorry to report: instead of hey, tell me what’s great about your book, writers new to the reindeer games frequently hear what makes you think it’s good enough to sell?
But that’s not in fact what this quite standard question is asking. It’s aimed at what any reader will want to know before picking up your baby and considering it for purchase: why will that reader — a reader, lest we forget, who already habitually buys books in your chosen book category — absolutely love this book?
That’s a perfectly reasonable question, Rudolph. Or did you think that mentioning that you were the only reindeer on Santa’s sleigh sporting a red nose would not interest the reader of your memoir, DO NOT BUMP INTO THE CHIMNEY WHEN YOU LAND?
Yet you’d be amazed at how often first-time authors walk into interviews, signings, and other promotional occasions without a ready answer to this obvious question. Indeed, as any regular attendee of bookstore readings could attest, many authors often seem not to have thought about the issue at all. Which is interesting, because knowing not just that a book is good, but why a book is good is indispensable to promoting it well.
Call me zany, but as an interviewer, I tend to zero in on a book’s high points. Admittedly, not all interviewers have the time or the inclination to read a book before interviewing its author (yes, really), so it’s a good idea for an author to be prepared to give both an intriguing description of the book’s premise and some indication of why readers of similar books will like it. (And no, Virginia, because it’s like the books you already read is not a sufficient answer to the latter. In theory, that response could apply equally well to any book in your chosen category, right?)
Yet you’d be flabbergasted how few authors seem to be able to produce either in a pinch — or even to be able to respond well to an interviewer who has read the book’s gushing about its strengths. Those of you who attend book readings and read or see author interviews are already aware of that, right? Too many authors evidently think it’s becoming to act as though an introducer or an interviewer is bringing up a book’s strengths is simply bestowing praise — and what is praise for but to be enjoyed?
Um, sorry, Dasher, but if the person introducing you to potential readers has even the vaguest idea of what she is doing, she’s not saying those things to make you happy. She’s saying them to encourage readers to pick up your book. Wouldn’t it be more becoming, then, as well as substantially better book promotion, if you responded to these overtures as invitations to discuss the book in a manner that might appeal to those readers?
Oh, you hadn’t thought of it that way? Neither had most first-time authors before some kind soul in a marketing department read them the riot act about a lackluster personal appearance. Since I’m fairly confident that we’ve all seen examples of authors lapping up praise like water — and, understandably, as the well-deserved reward of many years of literary struggle — I’d like to show you an example of an author dealing with this type of interview question well. If only for its novelty.
Once again, please join me in welcoming longtime member of the Author! Author! community D. Andrew McChesney, author of the recently-released naval fantasy, Beyond the Ocean’s Edge, available now from Outskirts Press, as well as in e-book form for Kindle and for Nook. For those of you joining us in mid-interview, here’s the blurb:
Is it possible to sail beyond the ocean’s edge to another world? In 1802, Royal Navy Lieutenant Edward Pierce is ashore on half-pay because of the Peace of Amiens. He fortunately gains command of a vessel searching for a lost, legendary island. When the island is found, Pierce and his shipmates discover that it exists in an entirely different but similar world. Exploring the seas around Stone Island, HMS Island Expedition sails headlong into an arena of mistaken identities, violent naval battles, strange truces, dangerous liaisons, international intrigue, superstition, and ancient prophecies.
Now, as an interviewer, I could just have grilled Dave about what is evident in this blurb: this is an action-packed naval adventure, set in a fantasy world. That would have set him up nicely to talk about how his book would appeal to naval adventure and fantasy readers, right? However, since I had read the book — and enjoyed it, by the way — before we filmed this, I went straight to what I feel is a genuinely unusual strength of this novel: the highly realistic feel and meticulous historical detail of the narrative. See how well prepared Dave was to explain those strengths to potential readers.
See what he did there? Dave’s first response to my mentioning his great use of detail was not to blush, or to respond to it as a question about craft — which, while it might interest other writers, might not be a grabber for habitual readers of naval adventure who don’t also write — but to name several other books similar to his. Right away, that establishes his target audience. And then, without sacrificing one whit of authorial charm or humility, he immediately makes it clear to his potential readers that he is an expert in his book’s subject matter.
Well-played reindeer game, sir!
Food for thought, isn’t it, future book promoters? Give some thought to what makes your book special — and the next time you’re daydreaming about being interviewed like a celebrity author, take a swing at coming up with a stellar answer or two of your own. Keep up the good work!
Here’s a thought-provoking question for the holiday season, campers: as a reader, how do you decide which books to buy?
I’m particularly interested in the logic behind picking up books by living authors — because, let’s face it, Dickens and Thackeray are not going to benefit much at this late date from your patronage. Are you, for instance, the type of reader whose purchases lean toward authors whose work you have enjoyed in the past? Do you operate mostly upon recommendations from friends?
Or are you a trawler of award lists, seeking out exciting new voices? Maybe you’re an inveterate reader of online reviews. Another popular route is to wait until a series hits the big time, jumping on the bandwagon at book 2 or 3.
Or, perhaps due to the persistent nagging of someone like your humble correspondent, are you among the minuscule minority of aspiring writers that regard keeping up with the current market in your chosen book category as a necessary — nay, indispensible — part of becoming a professional writer, and thus make a point of conscientiously snapping up its new releases? If you’re particularly saintly (or particularly aware of the logical effects of readers’ habits upon publishing decisions), you might even go out of your way to buy new releases by first-time authors, both on general principle and because savvy aspiring writers are aware that the best way to impress editors with the marketability of first books is for a heck of a lot of them to sell.
Or do you pursue the route embraced by a startlingly high percentage of aspiring writers, not buying books by living authors at all?
Seriously, I’m curious. Depending upon which source one favors for statistical analysis, somewhere between a quarter of a million and a million fresh titles come out each year, many of them by first-time authors. And with the explosion of the self-publishing market, the majority of those books will not have a major publisher’s marketing oomph behind them.
It’s not as though any of us have the resources — or the shelf space — to snap up more than a small fraction, after all. So again, I ask you: out of that bewildering array of titles, how do you decide which few will grace your bookshelves?
While that question is already roiling in your brainpan, allow me to add a follow-up: is that decision more or less complicated if the book you’re considering was self-published? If so, how did you even find out about the book in the first place?
And, if your mental processes are not already groaning under the weight of so many rhetorical questions in a row, let’s flip the question on its head: if you were a self-published author — and I know that a hefty percentage of you have at least considered it — how would you go about influencing a reader’s choice to pick up your book, given the vast array currently available to amaze, educate, and delight the reading public?
I sense some of you clutching your aching heads and moaning, “Oh, God — it’s hard enough to write a book; now I have to market it, too?” but honestly, these are not questions that authors, self-published or otherwise, discuss enough in public. Indeed, quite the opposite: we’ve all seen countless interviews in which successful authors talk about their craft as though the question of how to sell it to readers had never once sullied their creative processes, right? Apparently, the instant these authors typed THE END, the Publication Fairy tapped them on their respective shoulders, snatched the manuscripts from their trembling digits, and plopped them on a bookshelf in a well-established chain of stores. From that point, all the authors had to do was sit back and wait for the positive reviews to roll in — accompanied, naturally, by the monetary rewards that good authors deserve.
Come on, admit it: you’ve harbored this fantasy, too. It’s stunningly pervasive. And that’s fascinating, for in the literary world as we have known it in recent years, authors are routinely expected to promote their own books — and not just by showing up to publisher-arranged signings and interviews. Increasingly, they are their own book publicists.
So I ask you once more: how precisely would you go about it?
Yes, this is a heavy question for the holiday season; I would understand completely if you would prefer to slide it delicately to the back burner while you slipped out for an eggnog latté and a cranberry scone. But on the off chance that some of you haven’t noticed, I’ve devoted my blogging life to talking about the kinds of practical authorial issues that writers often actively avoid examining in serious detail. Or, in many cases, issues that aspiring writers did not know would be, if not crucial, then at least important to their books’ success.
Sensing a vicious circle? Published authors often — indeed, usually — struggle for years or even decades to break into print, then equally often find themselves unprepared to promote their books. Yet due to the pervasive belief in the Publication Fairy, it’s actually quite rare for first-time authors to talk about what they had to do to become so, at least in a forum in which an aspiring writer is likely to hear it. So while they are actually out busting their proverbial humps to sell just a few more volumes to a reading public that — spoiler alert — tends to buy books by authors whose work they already know, their fans frequently receive the impression that those authors’ only contribution to the process involved writing the book in the first place.
A significant achievement, of course: I don’t mean to imply otherwise. But certainly not the only one on a savvy modern author’s résumé. And certainly not the only one that would be beneficial for aspiring writers to see discussed.
That’s doubly true for writers considering self-publishing, of course. While their counterparts in the traditional publishing world have entire marketing departments to tell them what to do (and, surprisingly often, to change their titles, a perennial complaint of first-time authors), those brave and resourceful souls taking the adventurous leap into self-publishing often do so without a clear idea of what kind of environment is likely to greet their landing, if you catch my drift.
For all of these reasons, I am delighted to bring you a wide-ranging discussion with self-published author, blogger, and all-around fab guy D. Andrew McChesney, better known around Author! Author! as thoughtful and incisive inveterate commenter Dave. Here’s the blurb for his exciting naval fantasy — yes, you read that book category correctly — Beyond the Ocean’s Edge, available now from Outskirts Press.
Is it possible to sail beyond the ocean’s edge to another world? In 1802, Royal Navy Lieutenant Edward Pierce is ashore on half-pay because of the Peace of Amiens. He fortunately gains command of a vessel searching for a lost, legendary island. When the island is found, Pierce and his shipmates discover that it exists in an entirely different but similar world. Exploring the seas around Stone Island, HMS Island Expedition sails headlong into an arena of mistaken identities, violent naval battles, strange truces, dangerous liaisons, international intrigue, superstition, and ancient prophecies.
Sounds like quite the rollicking ride, does it not? But quick: on which shelf would you expect to find this in a brick-and-mortar bookstore?
Think that’s a stumper? Try this one on for size: how would you go about reaching the naval adventure and/or fantasy fans eager to read such a story — say, via the Internet? Heck, how would you even find out what sites those readers were already visiting? Or what books they were already reading?
Dave generously agreed to allow me to grill him on these points, as well as many other challenges that frequently come as surprises to traditional and self-published authors alike. Nor is this the first time he has offered his hard-earned insights: as I sincerely hope those of you considering sticking an exploratory toe onto the difficult path of self-publishing will recall, I blandished have last year into guest-blogging about the practical and absorbing task of choosing a press. You may also remember his second place entry for adult fiction in 2010’s Great First Page Made Even Better Competition and first place in the essay category of 2009’s Author! Author! Awards for Expressive Excellence. Heck, he even painted the canvas at the top of this post, providing the genre-nailing image for his book’s cover.
He’s paid his dues, in short, and then some. Let’s hear what he has to say, shall we?
And am I also correct in assuming that the rest of you gaspers planned upon pursuing traditional publishing, but it never occurred to you that some yahoo of an interviewer would expect you to produce a pitch at a moment’s notice? Or that this obligation would not hover over every conversation an author might have for the rest of her natural life?
Common misconceptions, all — born, I suspect, of that ubiquitous belief in the Publishing Fairy. Published authors are expected to pitch their books all the time, and not only in interviews. Anytime one guest-blogs, for instance, it’s simply good marketing strategy to include an engaging, succinct description; you’d be amazed (I know I am) at how many guest-blogging authors simply expect the blog’s host to read the book and produce a description of it. It’s also not at all uncommon for agents and publishing houses to ask writers to crank out pitch-like summaries for promotional purposes — and had you even considered what you might say at a cocktail party when introducing yourself and your book to a stranger?
Oh, stop blushing. To 99% of first-time authors, “So what is your book about?” seems to come as something of a surprise, to put it mildly. The nearly universal expectation that someone who prefers to express himself in writing would constantly be prepared — indeed, eager — to give a verbal pitch anytime, anywhere often comes as a panic attack-inducing shock.
At least the first time around. Word to the wise: give it some thought in advance.
And you might not want to wait until you have a book in press, either. Aspiring writers often seem rather annoyed by the question, too, if the huge, martyred sigh that typically forms their first response to “Oh? You’re a writer? What do you write?” is any indication.
I hate to be the one to break it to you, but hey, it’s my job: from a non-writer’s point of view, this just doesn’t make sense; presumably, you wrote a book because you wanted to communicate. You’re also, one assumes, aware that yours is not — or will not be — the only book available for purchase, as well as cognizant of the fact that books are categorized. So it honestly isn’t all that unreasonable for a bystander to leap to the conclusion that you might want to tell a potential reader what your book is about, at least in general terms.
Oh, stop rolling your eyes. It won’t kill you to make the effort tell that nice person who has expressed interest in your work that you write fantasy, Westerns, books about unusual taxidermy, or what have you. Admittedly, you might find yourself having to explain to some well-meaning soul that whose first response to your saying that you’re writing a novel is “Oh? Fiction or nonfiction?” that novels are fiction, by definition, or that memoirs are always true stories that happened to their authors, but that’s a small price to pay for enchanting a future reader, isn’t it?
Another common misconception about getting a book published: that somebody else is going to do the proofreading. Professional authors are expected to produce clean manuscript copy, period — which is to say: yes, copyeditors do go over manuscripts before they go to press, but ultimately, if a period’s in the wrong place, within the publishing world, it’s ultimately considered the author’s responsibility.
That’s true, incidentally, amongst the reading public as well. Think about how you read published books: if you spot a sentence that does not make sense or an easily-fixable grammatical gaffe, do you find yourself blaming the author or the publishing house? Virtually everyone who notices such things attributes them to the author, alas. Even if you simply made a typo that nobody caught — or if, as is surprisingly common, even if you flagged it in the galleys and it didn’t get fixed in the print file prior to publication — it can harm your reputation.
Had I mentioned that it’s a good idea for everyone, even a writer working with the most conscientious editorial staff at the best publishing house in the world, to read every syllable of a manuscript IN ITS ENTIRETY, IN HARD COPY, and whenever possible OUT LOUD? It truly is the best way to catch those little errors.
For a self-published author, proofreading is even more fraught with peril — and that, too, often comes as a great, big surprise. Those mulling this route often assume that self-publishing means being able to skip steps in the publishing process. Remember, though, that virtually everything that happens to a traditionally published book in order to bring it to successful publication needs to happen to a self-published one, too.
The difference is that in the case of the latter, it’s the author’s responsibility to make sure everything gets done. So one of the most important things to know about a press going into the process is how many of those responsibilities it will be willing to cover — and whether it includes them in the base cost of publishing the book, or charges for them on an ? la carte basis.
Ultimately, though, it is the author readers will hold accountable. I broached the issue with Dave.
Scanning for typos and dropped words is not the only purpose of proofing, however. It’s also an excellent idea to sit down and read one’s own manuscript from cover to cover, as it were, before there are covers slapped upon it. Not as a writer looking for places to revise — and as someone who already knows what’s going to happen next in the plot — but as a reader.
Many, many writers, including established ones, find this exceptionally hard to do, especially the first time they try it: they’re too close to the text. The classic fix for this involves — brace yourselves — tossing the manuscript in a drawer for a year or two, then coming back to it with the fresh eyes enabled by time.
I know: brutal. And for most aspiring writers toying with self-publishing as a potentially less time-consuming means to getting their books out there than finding an agent, having the agent shop the book or proposal around (probably after requested revisions, for a first book), waiting until the book gets picked up by a publishing house (possibly after more requested revisions), working with the acquiring editor and marketing department, waiting again until the book climbs to the top of the print queue, and then seeing it hit the shelves, setting their manuscripts aside until they can develop some distance from the text can seem, well, like just another irritating delay.
Is there a realistic alternative? Here, Dave and I explore the issue.
Does the ambient guffawing indicate that some of you caught that itsy-bitsy editing gaffe? You know, the part where I actually say on the tape that we should edit something out? I thought about asking my video editor to revisit this, but frankly, it has educational value: when an author is being interviewed, it’s helpful to know that somebody else will have control of what does and does not end up in the released version. Sometimes, it’s not what one considers one’s finest moments.
Hey, my nose was itchy. It happens to the best of us.
In other news that may astonish you, virtually every writers’ conference in North America features, if not a full-fledged bookstore (run at large conferences, as often as not, by a major bookstore chain, rather than a local indie), then at least a table upon which works by the authors speaking at the conference will be prominently displayed. Typically, the conference-giving organization gets a cut of the cover price, so do expect to be nudged, and not particularly gently, in the shop’s general direction.
And yes, Virginia, it is considered perfectly acceptable to march up to a speaker with a freshly-purchased copy of his book and ask him to sign it for you. It’s encouraged, in fact. I wouldn’t do it in the line for the lunch buffet or while he’s dashing between seminars to, ahem, refresh himself; just before or after a conference event is the preferred moment. Just be your polite, charming self, and you might make a friend.
Hey, snap out of it, daydreamers: you were picturing yourself as the author in that situation, weren’t you? Think you might be happier when that happy time comes if you’ve given some advance cogitation to what you might say in that particular conversation? Like, for instance, a nice intro to a brief summary of your next book?
And yes, in response to what half of you just thought very loudly: it never ends. The more successful you are as an author, the more often you will have to talk about your work. See why agents and editors might be just a trifle unsympathetic to aspiring writers’ perennial complaints about the difficulties of coming up with a query or pitch? For a professional writer, it’s all part of the job.
Speaking of the job of being a self-published author, let’s get back to that question of how to let readers know that your book exists — and that it’s a book similar to those they already love. As Dave points out, the first step is often to think locally.
Again, we see the multiplicity of benefits stemming from careful video editing. The important thing to know going in is that we’d just been talking about Dave’s successful attempts to convince brick-and-mortar bookstores to carry his novel. I think you’ll find some of his tactics exceedingly clever — and useful.
That actually was not the end of our discussion of Dave’s wily outreach tactics, but just so you know, many blogging programs place length limits on embedded video. That’s helpful for a self-promoting (in the best sense) author to know prior to pulling together video to post on her book’s website: it’s a great idea to include a media kit page, and an even better idea to embed video that a reviewer, fan, and/or shameless friend can easily lift to use on other sites. The simpler you make it to utilize a clip, the more likely others are to do so — and that’s good for you.
While we’re talking about common-sense book promotion etiquette, it’s also a nice touch to offer such clips to blog hosts if you go on a blog tour. Do make sure, though, that it’s not a chore for the blogger to fetch those clips: you’d be stunned at how frequently an author on a blog tour will say dismissively, “Oh, you want a jpeg of the book cover/an author photo/that great book trailer I made at significant expense? Go to my website; you’ll find it there.”
Why is that a problematic response? As any blogger who regularly hosts authors could tell you, it’s a time-consuming endeavor, all the more so if — and I’m sorry to have to bring this up, but it’s a pervasive phenomenon — the author comes to the blogging process unprepared. Since blogging is generally a volunteer activity, usually, bloggers don’t get anything but reflected glory out of allowing an author to promote a recent or upcoming release on their sites, yet you’d be astonished (at least, I hope you would) at how often authors treat their hosts as though they were being paid by the publishing house for their time.
Or so many bloggers surmise from how blithely a new author will often waste it. It’s far from uncommon, for instance, for authors new to web promotion to expect the host to make the effort to track down absolute promotional necessities such as a link to the book’s Amazon page, an image of the book cover, or even the link to the book’s website. All of these things are both absolutely standard requests and easily e-mailed, yet authors often react as though the bloggers requesting them were demons poking them with pitchforks.
And don’t even get me started on how often first-time authors are flabbergasted at being expected to write a guest blog, as opposed to sitting for an interview. As I hope is apparent in our ongoing encounter, interviewing an author well entails quite a bit of advance preparation: a good interviewer must, for instance, have read the book, something bloggers hosting guests don’t always have time to do. Then, too, if the interview was not filmed, the interviewer must write it up afterward; if it was filmed, the video will need to be edited. Which is why, in case any of you had been worrying that Dave and I would catch our death of cold while chatting outside in our shirtsleeves in December in Seattle: one often sees seasonally-inappropriate apparel in author interviews.
That part’s unavoidable, unless you happen to have had the foresight to bundle yourself into a Christmas sweater for your interview in July. (As you see, I did not.) Being the kind of book-promoting author whose very name sends chills of dread down blogger’s spines when subsequent books come out, however, is quite avoidable: your mother was right; being courteous makes people like you.
So, as it happens, does coming to a blog tour already having assembled a modest press kit. What might it contain, you ask with fear and trepidation? Could you stand my suggesting once again that having a brief book description handy can only work to your advantage? A 1- or 2-paragraph bio is also always appreciated; so is an author photo. (Remember, that’s the shot that’s going to be popping up for years in Google searches: take the time to make sure it’s a nice one.) Include a link to your website, if you have one; if you don’t, start a blog. (Yes, really: you want your readers to be able to find you, right?) And, of course, if you would like folks to buy your book, you might want to include a direct link to — wait for it — an online source where that’s possible.
Do I hear some grumbling? “For heaven’s sake!” authors already kind of miffed about having to go on a blog tour huff, “that’s not my job; my publisher’s publicity department should handle that, right? My job ended when I finished writing the book.”
Actually, it didn’t, from your host’s point of view — or, in all likelihood, from your publisher’s. As I may have mentioned, promoting one’s book is now an absolutely routine part of being an author; no one claims that it’s not an onerous endeavor, but that’s hardly the blogger’s fault. And trust me, any blogger you might want to host a stop your promotional tour will have encountered at least one author who has acted petulant about that.
Trust me, you don’t want to be that author: a blogger excited about your book can be an amazingly powerful asset, both at the time of the release and when your next book comes out. Being the author that’s notoriously easy to help is a reputation you should want to cultivate.
That’s even more in your interest if you are a self-published author, of course. Especially if, like Dave, you are planning a series. Fortunately, he knows his business: even with limited time at his disposal, he’s been investing a hefty chunk of in networking — and started doing so well before the book came out.
The following clip also presents an excellent practical demonstration of why one might perhaps wish to batten down one’s hairdo prior to an interview. When we first began filming, there wasn’t a breath of wind. It just goes to show you: in a book interview, anything can happen. And often does, especially in the frame opening a clip.
Here’s the link to Dave’s LiveJournal page; I would strongly encourage those of you beginning to brainstorm ingenious notions for reaching your target audience to check out how he talks about his writing to potential readers — and to other writers. First-time authors often forget — or don’t realize — that people who write books are also people who buy them, and by truckload; aspiring writers are, after all, among the most dedicated readers out there.
To put it a bit more bluntly: if it’s reasonable to expect that readers already fond of books like yours would be the logical readership for — wait for it — your book, isn’t wouldn’t it follow as night the day that those who write books like yours might be similarly inclined?
If the sheer amount of authorial effort involved in promoting one’s own book is making your head spin, well, you’re gaining an accurate impression. I cannot possibly stress sufficiently how much it will be to your advantage not to be clinging to unrealistic expectations on this point when you have a book coming out. As anyone who has seen a good book garner strong reviews then founder after a few weeks of sales would be only too unhappy to tell you, the overwhelming majority of first-time authors wake up on release day believing that their books will sell well without their having to devote significant time and resources to promoting them.
Even with great reviews — and remember, many print publications have standing policies against reviewing self-published books — authors generally have to put in quite a bit of both time and effort for their books to sell well. Readers can’t buy books unless they know about them, after all.
But let’s face it: in traditional publishing, few advances for first books are large enough to permit the author’s quitting her day job — and in self-publishing, that day job is usually paying for the book to come out. It’s very, very easy for an eager first-time author to drop from exhaustion.
So what’s a time-strapped author to do — and what on earth was I doing when the still shot got snapped? Glad you asked.
I don’t want to engage in too much set-up for the next segment, although it will be our last for the day. Dave and I talked also talked at length about craft and characterization, but for the mental health of my beloved readers, I thought it might be a good idea to wait to allow all of this potentially rather overwhelming array of marketing information to sink in a bit before we moved on.
Also, blame my sense of drama — the first viewers of this interview, new authors all, gasped audibly at an insight that pops out near the beginning of this section. I’m inclined to let it speak for itself, except to say: those of you contemplating writing series might want to bookmark this clip. Every series writer I know has wished that he knew about this sooner.
Surprised to hear that book promotion involves so much bookkeeping? Virtually every first-time author is, to some extent. I’m afraid there’s no way around that, short of hiring an extensive staff, but I can tell you from experience that the better organized your list of whom to contact when your book comes out — you have already started maintaining one, right? — the simpler your life will be in the months before the release. Keep it current.
Why? Well, think about it: will you have the time or energy to be scrambling to find people’s new addresses the day before your first book comes out? Even if you have the stamina of Superman, is that really the way you will want to be celebrating the release?
While you are firmly picturing that joyous-yet-nerve-wracking eventuality, I shall tiptoe away for the day. More of my interview with Dave McChesney follows next time, of course. In the meantime, please share your own book promotion bright ideas and concerns — and, as always, keep up the good work!
Here, as promised, is the companion piece to yesterday’s back-by-popular-demand guest post: Joel Derfner’s lovely piece on revamping his comic memoir voice for his second book. I thought it might come in handy in case, say, anyone might be thinking about entering the Humor or Memoir categories of our recently-announced literary contest.
As those of you familiar with the labyrinthine coilings of my mind may already have suspected, I have an ulterior motive for reposting these two helpful bits of professional insight. Writing comedy well is a heck of a lot harder than it looks. And, as also-hilarious memoirist Bob Tarte shared with us yesterday, contrary to popular belief, even the most effortless-sounding humorous voice is not equally applicable to every story.
Or, to break would-be humorists’ hearts a bit more thoroughly: sometimes, just being a funny person who happens to be able to write well isn’t enough to make a reader laugh.
Or even smile wanly. At the risk of repeating myself — fatal to a comic voice on the page, yet a sitcom and skit comedy staple — just because an event is funny in real life does not mean it will automatically generate yucks on the printed page. Ditto with jokes that slay ‘em when told out loud and/or anecdotes that have left one’s kith and kin gasping with helpless laughter for years.
Comedy in a book is not, in short, exempt from the demands of craft. And if you’re going to listen to anyone (other than, naturally, your humble correspondent) on the craft of being funny, you might as well listen to the best, I always say.
I was thinking just the other day about how hard it is for humor writers new to the craft to be able to tell whether material that has been, as previously noted, killing ‘em at cocktail parties is working on the page. An acquaintance of mine — a friend of a friend of a friend, to be precise — walked up to me at a recent social function that may or may not have had anything to do with the 236th anniversary of the founding of our nation, yanked out her iPad, and demanded that I tell her if something she had just written was funny enough to get published.
If your jaw is currently grazing the ground at the very idea of bearding someone in the publishing industry this way, I can only assume that you don’t attend social functions with us much. Baseball may be the national pastime, but aspiring writers’ leaping out from behind tables of canap?s to demand professional feedback on the spot from authors, agents, and editors surely runs a close second.
Because it’s not as though, “Could I make a living as a comedy writer?” isn’t a question that can be answered after a 32-second perusal of a rough draft thrust under one’s nose while fireworks are going off, after all. It’s not the kind of question someone who actually does make a living at it might want to give some serious consideration or anything.
But a friend is a friend (or at least a friend of a friend of a friend is…well, you know), and frankly, I was curious — this is not someone I have ever actually heard tell a joke. Or recount an anecdote with humor and verve. Or, indeed, talk about anything with a sense of whimsy. Yet still waters have occasionally been known to run hilarious; if this person was funny on the page, I would be genuinely pleased.
So I peered at the piece on the screen: an anecdote about a party suspiciously like the one at which we were currently mingling. Single-spaced, in ten-point type, no less. And not, I’m afraid, remotely amusing.
I attempted to hand the iPad back to her, but she wouldn’t take it. “I think it needs a bit more work,” I suggested gently. “It’s awfully hard to break into the humor market. Also, you might want to let your humor sit for a bit before you run it by others — right after something funny happens in reality, it can be hard to get all of it down on the page. It’s just too easy to assume that the reader is seeing what you still have fresh in your mind.”
She looked back at me unblinkingly. “But you didn’t laugh. You must not have read it closely enough.”
In response to that fresh thud of jaws on the parquet: this is a more common type of response to professional feedback than one might think. She wasn’t unfunny; I was merely distracted. Or incompetent. Take two!
“I have a better idea.” I forced her fingers around the edges of the iPad. “Why don’t you read it out loud to me? That way, I can get a better sense of the tone you have in mind.”
Which, of course, is a completely unfair test of written humor — it’s not as though the author can stand next to a reader, bawling in his ear, “No, you read that wrong.” I, however, was thirsting for a piece of that watermelon on the other side of the patio, far, far away from the insistent lady trying to make me work on my day off.
She read it. In a passable impression of Jerry Seinfeld’s voice. I still didn’t laugh.
“Ah, I see,” I told her, edging toward the rapidly-disappearing watermelon. “You were probably thinking of this in your favorite comedian or sitcom character’s cadence. Since the reader won’t be, though, that’s always a dangerous strategy in print.” In the interest of scoring some melon, I did not add that sounding like a ten-year-old sitcom is not typically the best way to impress an agent that represents comic writing today. “There’s a professional trick for that: the more you can sound like you on the page, the less likely your humor writing is to fall prey to this common trap.”
I could have said more, but by then, the “Ooh!” and “Ahh!” of the fireworks-watchers would have drowned out further speech. While her head was turned, I snuck away. The last slice of watermelon was in fact very nice.
What, if anything, do I expect you to take away from this grisly little anecdote, other than the undeniable fact that chilled watermelon is popular on hot summer nights? Well, first, just because a pro is nice to a writer that accosts her at a social function — which, as I MAY have mentioned, happens all the time — doesn’t mean that the pro doesn’t resent it. Asking someone who reads for a living to peruse your work gratis is not all that dissimilar to expecting a doctor to perform an appendectomy while standing in line for a buffet at a wedding: we could both do it if it were an emergency, but honestly, wouldn’t it be more considerate to call our offices during business hours and make an appointment? The results in both instances are substantially less likely to leave a scar.
Second — and here’s the part that’s most applicable to Joel’s post — while part of every writer’s learning curve involves shortening the differential between the scene he’s envisioning and what’s actually on the page, that gap tends to be a bit wider for comic scenes. My accoster was actually pretty wise to seek outside feedback. Her mistake (other than timing the request) lay in not having enough faith in her own comic vision to present the scene from her unique perspective.
Why is that a problem, necessarily? Because the last time I checked, the world already had a Jerry Seinfeld. For my fellow party-goer to make a name for herself as a humorist, she was going to need to develop her own voice, not his.
With all of that firmly in mind, please join me in re-welcoming someone who actually is as funny in real life as he is on the page, Joel Derfner. Enjoy!
And no, you didn’t misread the blurb on the cover: it’s that Elton John. The little bird that flies around telling people things told me that he liked the original release of Joel’s memoir so much that he volunteered to blurb the second edition.
If you prefer not to receive your news from passing waterfowl, you can read a fuller account of this remarkable publication story in Joel’s earlier guest post on book promotion. While we’re on the subject of guest posts, Joel also charmed the Author! Author! community with an exceedingly useful guest post on obtaining permission to use song lyrics in your books, should any of you be contemplating setting foot on that particular Yellow Brick Road. (Or were you under the impression that memoirs and novels could quote songs willy-nilly? Au contraire, mon frère.)
Mssr. John was not the only one to fall in love with Joel’s deeply human, devastatingly honest, and often howlingly funny voice. I already knew how amusing and insightful Joel was before the book came out, yet as the neighbors that did not move away instantly at the sight can attest, certain sections of this book made me rush into the street, tap-dancing with glee. Sparklers may or may not have been involved.
Was I that hard up at the time for some humorous memoir? you ask, bemused. No, thank you, I write, read, and edit funny memoir all the time. What separated Joel’s first book from, well, everything else was not merely how consistently diverting it was — not an easy trick, with a life fully and well lived — but how unblinkingly truthful it was.
Yes, those of you rolling your eyes? “Oh, come on, Anne,” the memoir-jaded snort. “The whole point of memoir is that it’s true, isn’t it?”
Ah, but there’s true in the sense of having actually occurred — and true that sends shivers through your membranes because it shows you life in a way you had not seen it on a page before. There’s true that reads plausibly — and true that makes the reader gasp, “Wow, my therapist does not know me as well as I now know this memoirist.” And, as any memoir editor worth her salt and/or pepper could tell you, there’s true that’s well-written — and there’s true that’s so prettily phrased that one’s socks, shoes, and pinky rings get blown off.
Or, at the very least, that causes one to go running out into the street, looking for an innocent bystander to whom to read a particularly striking passage. (My neighborhood used to be so quiet before I met Joel.)
I’m certainly not the only professional reader that felt this way when his bombshell of a first memoir came out, incidentally. Some other bon mots from those that know about such things:
In a culture where we disguise vulnerability with physical perfection and material success, Derfner skewers heartache with Wildean wit . . . [Derfner is] the next No?l Coward.? — Out.com
“Searing” — Washington Blade
“Derfner’s writing is perfect. . . . He’s your best friend. He’s your brother. He is you.? — EDGE Los Angeles
“Sometimes hilarious, sometimes poignant, always clever, and unpredictable.? — Philadelphia Gay News
What’s that you say? You’d like me to stop telling you the man can write and let him get on with showing you same? Reasonable enough. Let’s start with the publisher’s blurb for Swish:
Joel Derfner is gayer than you.
Don’t feel too bad about it, though, because he has made being gayer than you his life’s work. At summer day camp, when he was six, Derfner tried to sign up for needlepoint and flower arranging, but the camp counselors wouldn’t let him, because, they said, those activities were for girls only. Derfner, just to be contrary, embarked that very day on a solemn and sacred quest: to become the gayest person ever. Along the way he has become a fierce knitter, an even fiercer musical theater composer, and so totally the fiercest step aerobics instructor (just ask him—he’ll tell you himself).
In Swish, Derfner takes his readers on a flamboyant adventure along the glitter-strewn road from fabulous to divine. Whether he’s confronting the demons of his past at a GLBT summer camp, using the Internet to meet men — many, many men — or plunging headfirst (and nearly naked) into the shady world of go-go dancing, he reveals himself with every gayer-than-thou flourish to be not just a stylish explorer but also a fearless one. So fearless, in fact, that when he sneaks into a conference for people who want to cure themselves of their homosexuality, he turns the experience into one of the most fascinating, deeply moving chapters of the book. Derfner, like King Arthur, Christopher Columbus, and Indiana Jones — but with a better haircut and a much deeper commitment to fad diets — is a hero destined for legend.
Written with wicked humor and keen insight, Swish is at once a hilarious look at contemporary ideas about gay culture and a poignant exploration of identity that will speak to all readers — gay, straight, and in between.
Here again, we smack head-first into that bugbear of memoirists everywhere, the distinction between true and true. All of these statements are factually accurate about the book, but what struck me most about Joel’s memoir, what set my membranes humming, my feet tap-dancing, and my neighbors scurrying into the street to see why I was shouting is not mentioned in this blurb.
What’s missing, in my view? The fact — oh, okay, my opinion — that this is one of the best memoirs ever written on how darned hard it is to be a smart, sensitive human being in a world that habitually rewards neither.
And that, my friends, is what has made this book among the most tattered on my memoir shelf. Occasionally, life will throw a meandering curveball that knocks one of Joel’s beautifully-phrased insights out of my at this point stuffed-to-bursting memory vaults, sending me rushing right back to the text.
Oh, and in the spirit of this series, I should add: the guy’s paid his dues as a writer, and then some. He’s done it with wit, humor, and perseverance in the face of some pretty long odds. All of which has not only garnered my completely ungrudging respect (and you of all people know how high my threshold for grudge-free respect is), but a feeling that somewhere up there in the Muses’ palace, the Ladies in Charge have already reserved some serious shelf space for Joel’s subsequent literary achievements.
Ah, but there’s the rub, isn’t it? After a debut memoir like that, what precisely does one do for an encore?
I asked Joel that question, and rather than fleeing with the flailing arms and piercing screams such a seemingly flippant but subversively difficult question deserves, he gave it the alternately serious and humorous literary attention that has caused me to come to think of him as the memoirist little brother the Muses should have seen to it that I had. (With all requisite apologies to the nonfiction author big brother with whom they actually provided me — oh, you thought my parents would have put up with offspring that didn’t write?)
Here, then, is his response, and I have to say, I wish I had read it before I first sat down to write a memoir. In my checkered experience, it’s not only true — it’s true. Take it away, Joel!
Wait, that wasn’t Joel. Although, come to think of it, I’ve never seen him and Judy Garland in a room together. I’ve never seen Superman and Joel in a room together either, though, so…hey, wait a minute…
Here, then, is Joel as his usual charming self — and his usual wise self vis-? -vis the difficult path of the memoirists. Five, six, seven, eight!
I’m about to sign a contract for the publication of my second real book, whose working title is Lawfully Wedded Husband: How I Tried to Destroy America With my Gay Marriage.
When my last book, Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever and What Ended Up Happening Instead, came out, many reviewers praised its combination of funny and wistful. It “bounce[d] back and forth,”? wrote one, “from tender and touching and deeply sad to wildly funny, sometimes in the space of a paragraph, or even a single sentence.”?
Yes! I thought when I read this. It’s a good thing this reviewer has a distinctive name, because now I can look him up online and stalk him and make him fall in love with me and then we can be happy together for the rest of our lives.
Part of what had allowed me so to bounce back and forth in Swish was that I was incredibly, incredibly depressed. I hadn’t been quite on the verge of suicide while writing the book, but I had certainly been within spitting distance, and I’d found it easy somehow to reach inside, touch a raw, exposed nerve, and twist it until something funny came out and I started crying.
I began Swish in 2005, and it was published in 2008. At some point in 2009, my agent said to me, “Joel, I need another book from you.” (I realize this sounds incredibly glamorous, but really I’d just begged her for a meeting because all I’d been able to afford for months was Taco Bell and I was hoping she would at least take me to TGIFridays or something.) (She didn’t.) So I said, “Okay, no problem, I’ll start working on another book.” My boyfriend had just proposed to me, and the issue of marriage equality seemed topical enough to be worth writing about, so I went home, turned my computer on, and started typing.
After an hour or so, I looked at what I’d written, realized it wasn’t interesting at all, deleted it, went to the bodega on the corner, bought a couple candy bars, came back, ate them both, and started over again.
A couple hours later, I looked at what I’d written, realized it wasn’t true at all, deleted it, went to the bodega on the corner, bought five candy bars, came back, ate them all, and spent the rest of the evening staring morosely at the television, because I had a very serious problem:
I was no longer unhappy enough.
In the years between 2005 and 2009, I had made a great many positive changes in my life, including but not limited to getting a therapist, going on massive doses of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, and moving in with my boyfriend, and all those nerves that had been so raw and exposed before now had a modicum of protective covering. My two-candy-bar attempt had been uninteresting because I hadn’t been twisting any nerves; my five-candy-bar attempt had been dishonest because I was only pretending to twist nerves that weren’t in fact twistable, at least not in the way to which I was accustomed in writing.
My muse had disappeared.
Please don’t think for a second that I’m saying you have to be unhappy to write well. It wasn’t my writing that had suffered, you see; it was my subject matter.
I came quickly to think of this as the Tolstoy problem. Even if you haven’t read Anna Karenina you’re probably familiar with its famous opening sentence, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”?
It was easy to write with deep sadness and wild humor when that was all I had, and I had them in my own way, and could convey them with idiosyncratic verve.
But what was I going to write now? “?I cooked my boyfriend dinner. It was yummy. Then we watched Tabatha’s Salon Takeover and went to sleep. I love him.”? Who would want to read that for even a page, much less an entire book? I certainly wouldn’t.
But if I faked it–”?I cooked spaghetti for my boyfriend and accidentally used only one clove of garlic instead of two in the spaghetti sauce and he didn’t say anything about it so now I’m lying awake staring at my ceiling trying to figure out whether he didn’t notice or he noticed but didn’t want to say anything about it because it was the last straw and he’s going to break up with me tomorrow”?–well, that could work for a paragraph or two, maybe even a few pages, but it wasn’t true, and I knew there was no way I could sustain it for an entire book.
So what was I going to do?
This question paralyzed me for about a year. Occasionally I would sit down and start writing something, trying to be both interesting and honest, fail, and then stop thinking about it for another month or two, because not thinking about it allowed me to avoid discovering I could no longer write.
The problem was that not thinking about it was great as a strategy to avoid discovering I could no longer write, but as a strategy to write it left something to be desired. If the only way to avoid confronting my inability to write was refusing to write, then the whole thing sort of turned in on itself until everything collapsed and at some point the bodega was going to run out of candy bars.
So I figured, okay, why don’t I ease into this by writing about the issue itself first, not about my own experiences? If you’re quoting legal statutes you can hardly be expected to be wildly funny and deeply sad.
So I started with a sort of analytical/philosophical/whateverical chapter, and went from there. And as I wrote, I tried to find ways to touch and twist indirectly those nerves to which I no longer had easy access.
I think I’ve succeeded, to some degree. I think that when this book is at its best I’m able to explore things about feeling alone even in a relationship, about what a relationship can’t give you, about the difference between expectation and reality.
I’m sorry not to have a better or clearer way to talk about how I was about to get started again or what those indirect ways are. I think it’s because I’m still in the middle of the story–the story of me writing this book, I mean, not the story the book is telling–and I don’t have the perspective I need to understand what I’m doing differently.
I’m still very afraid that this book isn’t as good as my last one, because its sadness isn’t as deep nor its humor as wild. One reason I went with this particular publisher, though, was that the editor said he liked this book more than Swish, which was incredibly heartening, because it allowed me to hope that whatever I’ve replaced twisting raw nerves with might be equally valuable, or even more valuable–to hope that I’ve found a way, all unawares, to skirt the Tolstoy problem.
And if that’s the case, then, if I’m lucky enough to be invited to post again on this blog in a few years, maybe I can tell you how I did it.
Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever and Gay Haiku author Joel Derfner is from South Carolina, where his great-grandmother had an affair with George Gershwin. After fleeing the south as soon as he possibly could, he got a B.A. in linguistics from Harvard. A year after he graduated, his thesis on the Abkhaz language was shown to be completely wrong, as the word he had been translating as “who” turned out to be not a noun but a verb. Realizing that linguistics was not his m?tier, he moved to New York to get an M.F.A. in musical theater writing from the Tisch School of the Arts.
Musicals for which he has written the scores have been produced in London, New York, and various cities in between (going counterclockwise). In an attempt to become the gayest person ever, he joined Cheer New York, New York’s gay and lesbian cheerleading squad, but eventually he had to leave because he was too depressed. In desperation, he started knitting and teaching aerobics, though not at the same time. He hopes to come to a bad end.
And no, you didn’t misread the blurb on the cover: it’s that Elton John. The little bird that flies around telling people things told me that he liked the original release of Joel’s memoir so much that he volunteered to blurb the second edition.
If you prefer not to receive your news from passing waterfowl, you can read a fuller account of this remarkable publication story in Joel’s earlier guest post on book promotion. While we’re on the subject of guest posts, Joel also charmed the Author! Author! community with an exceedingly useful guest post on obtaining permission to use song lyrics in your books, should any of you be contemplating setting foot on that particular Yellow Brick Road. (Or were you under the impression that memoirs and novels could quote songs willy-nilly? Au contraire, mon fr?re.)
Mssr. John was not the only one to fall in love with Joel’s deeply human, devastatingly honest, and often howlingly funny voice. I already knew how amusing and insightful Joel was before the book came out, yet as the neighbors that did not move away instantly at the sight can attest, certain sections of this book made me rush into the street, tap-dancing with glee. Sparklers may or may not have been involved.
Was I that hard up at the time for some humorous memoir? you ask, bemused. No, thank you, I write, read, and edit funny memoir all the time. What separated Joel’s first book from, well, everything else was not merely how consistently diverting it was — not an easy trick, with a life fully and well lived — but how unblinkingly truthful it was.
Yes, those of you rolling your eyes? “Oh, come on, Anne,” the memoir-jaded snort. “The whole point of memoir is that it’s true, isn’t it?”
Ah, but there’s true in the sense of having actually occurred — and true that sends shivers through your membranes because it shows you life in a way you had not seen it on a page before. There’s true that reads plausibly — and true that makes the reader gasp, “Wow, my therapist does not know me as well as I now know this memoirist.” And, as any memoir editor worth her salt and/or pepper could tell you, there’s true that’s well-written — and there’s true that’s so prettily phrased that one’s socks, shoes, and pinky rings get blown off.
Or, at the very least, that causes one to go running out into the street, looking for an innocent bystander to whom to read a particularly striking passage. (My neighborhood used to be so quiet before I met Joel.)
I’m certainly not the only professional reader that felt this way when his bombshell of a first memoir came out, incidentally. Some other bon mots from those that know about such things:
In a culture where we disguise vulnerability with physical perfection and material success, Derfner skewers heartache with Wildean wit . . . [Derfner is] the next No?l Coward.?Out.com
“Searing.” — Washington Blade
“Derfner’s writing is perfect. . . . He’s your best friend. He’s your brother. He is you.” — EDGE Los Angeles
“Sometimes hilarious, sometimes poignant, always clever, and unpredictable.” — Philadelphia Gay News
What’s that you say? You’d like me to stop telling you the man can write and let him get on with showing you same? Reasonable enough. Let’s start with the publisher’s blurb for Swish:
Joel Derfner is gayer than you.
Don’t feel too bad about it, though, because he has made being gayer than you his life’s work. At summer day camp, when he was six, Derfner tried to sign up for needlepoint and flower arranging, but the camp counselors wouldn’t let him, because, they said, those activities were for girls only. Derfner, just to be contrary, embarked that very day on a solemn and sacred quest: to become the gayest person ever. Along the way he has become a fierce knitter, an even fiercer musical theater composer, and so totally the fiercest step aerobics instructor (just ask him — he’ll tell you himself).
In Swish, Derfner takes his readers on a flamboyant adventure along the glitter-strewn road from fabulous to divine. Whether he’s confronting the demons of his past at a GLBT summer camp, using the Internet to meet men — many, many men — or plunging headfirst (and nearly naked) into the shady world of go-go dancing, he reveals himself with every gayer-than-thou flourish to be not just a stylish explorer but also a fearless one. So fearless, in fact, that when he sneaks into a conference for people who want to cure themselves of their homosexuality, he turns the experience into one of the most fascinating, deeply moving chapters of the book. Derfner, like King Arthur, Christopher Columbus, and Indiana Jones–but with a better haircut and a much deeper commitment to fad diets–is a hero destined for legend.
Written with wicked humor and keen insight, Swish is at once a hilarious look at contemporary ideas about gay culture and a poignant exploration of identity that will speak to all readers–gay, straight, and in between.
Here again, we smack head-first into that bugbear of memoirists everywhere, the distinction between true and true. All of these statements are factually accurate about the book, but what struck me most about Joel’s memoir, what set my membranes humming, my feet tap-dancing, and my neighbors scurrying into the street to see why I was shouting is not mentioned in this blurb.
What’s missing, in my view? The fact — oh, okay, my opinion — that this is one of the best memoirs ever written on how darned hard it is to be a smart, sensitive human being in a world that habitually rewards neither.
And that, my friends, is what has made this book among the most tattered on my memoir shelf. Occasionally, life will throw a meandering curveball that knocks one of Joel’s beautifully-phrased insights out of my at this point stuffed-to-bursting memory vaults, sending me rushing right back to the text.
Oh, and in the spirit of this series, I should add: the guy’s paid his dues as a writer, and then some. He’s done it with wit, humor, and perseverance in the face of some pretty long odds. All of which has not only garnered my completely ungrudging respect (and you of all people know how high my threshold for grudge-free respect is), but a feeling that somewhere up there in the Muses’ palace, the Ladies in Charge have already reserved some serious shelf space for Joel’s subsequent literary achievements.
Ah, but there’s the rub, isn’t it? After a debut memoir like that, what precisely does one do for an encore?
I asked Joel that question, and rather than fleeing with the flailing arms and piercing screams such a seemingly flippant but subversively difficult question deserves, he gave it the alternately serious and humorous literary attention that has caused me to come to think of him as the memoirist little brother the Muses should have seen to it that I had. (With all requisite apologies to the nonfiction author big brother with whom they actually provided me — oh, you thought my parents would have put up with offspring that didn’t write?)
Here, then, is his response, and I have to say, I wish I had read it before I first sat down to write a memoir. In my checkered experience, it’s not only true — it’s true. Take it away, Joel!
Wait, that wasn’t Joel. Although, come to think of it, I’ve never seen him and Judy Garland in a room together. I’ve never seen Superman and Joel in a room together either, though, so…hey, wait a minute…
Here, then, is Joel as his usual charming self — and his usual wise self vis-?-vis the difficult path of the memoirists. Five, six, seven, eight!
I’m about to sign a contract for the publication of my second real book, whose working title is Lawfully Wedded Husband: How I Tried to Destroy America With my Gay Marriage.
When my last book, Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever and What Ended Up Happening Instead, came out, many reviewers praised its combination of funny and wistful. It “bounce[d] back and forth,”? wrote one, “from tender and touching and deeply sad to wildly funny, sometimes in the space of a paragraph, or even a single sentence.”?
Yes! I thought when I read this. It’s a good thing this reviewer has a distinctive name, because now I can look him up online and stalk him and make him fall in love with me and then we can be happy together for the rest of our lives.
Part of what had allowed me so to bounce back and forth in Swish was that I was incredibly, incredibly depressed. I hadn’t been quite on the verge of suicide while writing the book, but I had certainly been within spitting distance, and I’d found it easy somehow to reach inside, touch a raw, exposed nerve, and twist it until something funny came out and I started crying.
I began Swish in 2005, and it was published in 2008. At some point in 2009, my agent said to me, “Joel, I need another book from you.” (I realize this sounds incredibly glamorous, but really I’d just begged her for a meeting because all I’d been able to afford for months was Taco Bell and I was hoping she would at least take me to TGIFridays or something.) (She didn’t.) So I said, “Okay, no problem, I’ll start working on another book.” My boyfriend had just proposed to me, and the issue of marriage equality seemed topical enough to be worth writing about, so I went home, turned my computer on, and started typing.
After an hour or so, I looked at what I’d written, realized it wasn’t interesting at all, deleted it, went to the bodega on the corner, bought a couple candy bars, came back, ate them both, and started over again.
A couple hours later, I looked at what I’d written, realized it wasn’t true at all, deleted it, went to the bodega on the corner, bought five candy bars, came back, ate them all, and spent the rest of the evening staring morosely at the television, because I had a very serious problem:
I was no longer unhappy enough.
In the years between 2005 and 2009, I had made a great many positive changes in my life, including but not limited to getting a therapist, going on massive doses of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, and moving in with my boyfriend, and all those nerves that had been so raw and exposed before now had a modicum of protective covering. My two-candy-bar attempt had been uninteresting because I hadn’t been twisting any nerves; my five-candy-bar attempt had been dishonest because I was only pretending to twist nerves that weren’t in fact twistable, at least not in the way to which I was accustomed in writing.
My muse had disappeared.
Please don’t think for a second that I’m saying you have to be unhappy to write well. It wasn’t my writing that had suffered, you see; it was my subject matter.
I came quickly to think of this as the Tolstoy problem. Even if you haven’t read Anna Karenina you’re probably familiar with its famous opening sentence, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”?
It was easy to write with deep sadness and wild humor when that was all I had, and I had them in my own way, and could convey them with idiosyncratic verve.
But what was I going to write now? “I cooked my boyfriend dinner. It was yummy. Then we watched Tabatha’s Salon Takeover and went to sleep. I love him.” Who would want to read that for even a page, much less an entire book? I certainly wouldn’t.
But if I faked it–”I cooked spaghetti for my boyfriend and accidentally used only one clove of garlic instead of two in the spaghetti sauce and he didn’t say anything about it so now I’m lying awake staring at my ceiling trying to figure out whether he didn’t notice or he noticed but didn’t want to say anything about it because it was the last straw and he’s going to break up with me tomorrow” — well, that could work for a paragraph or two, maybe even a few pages, but it wasn’t true, and I knew there was no way I could sustain it for an entire book.
So what was I going to do?
This question paralyzed me for about a year. Occasionally I would sit down and start writing something, trying to be both interesting and honest, fail, and then stop thinking about it for another month or two, because not thinking about it allowed me to avoid discovering I could no longer write.
The problem was that not thinking about it was great as a strategy to avoid discovering I could no longer write, but as a strategy to write it left something to be desired. If the only way to avoid confronting my inability to write was refusing to write, then the whole thing sort of turned in on itself until everything collapsed and at some point the bodega was going to run out of candy bars.
So I figured, okay, why don’t I ease into this by writing about the issue itself first, not about my own experiences? If you’re quoting legal statutes you can hardly be expected to be wildly funny and deeply sad.
So I started with a sort of analytical/philosophical/whateverical chapter, and went from there. And as I wrote, I tried to find ways to touch and twist indirectly those nerves to which I no longer had easy access.
I think I’ve succeeded, to some degree. I think that when this book is at its best I’m able to explore things about feeling alone even in a relationship, about what a relationship can’t give you, about the difference between expectation and reality.
I’m sorry not to have a better or clearer way to talk about how I was about to get started again or what those indirect ways are. I think it’s because I’m still in the middle of the story–the story of me writing this book, I mean, not the story the book is telling–and I don’t have the perspective I need to understand what I’m doing differently.
I’m still very afraid that this book isn’t as good as my last one, because its sadness isn’t as deep nor its humor as wild. One reason I went with this particular publisher, though, was that the editor said he liked this book more than Swish, which was incredibly heartening, because it allowed me to hope that whatever I’ve replaced twisting raw nerves with might be equally valuable, or even more valuable–to hope that I’ve found a way, all unawares, to skirt the Tolstoy problem.
And if that’s the case, then, if I’m lucky enough to be invited to post again on this blog in a few years, maybe I can tell you how I did it.
Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever and Gay Haiku author Joel Derfner is from South Carolina, where his great-grandmother had an affair with George Gershwin. After fleeing the south as soon as he possibly could, he got a B.A. in linguistics from Harvard. A year after he graduated, his thesis on the Abkhaz language was shown to be completely wrong, as the word he had been translating as “who” turned out to be not a noun but a verb. Realizing that linguistics was not his m?tier, he moved to New York to get an M.F.A. in musical theater writing from the Tisch School of the Arts.
Musicals for which he has written the scores have been produced in London, New York, and various cities in between (going counterclockwise). In an attempt to become the gayest person ever, he joined Cheer New York, New York’s gay and lesbian cheerleading squad, but eventually he had to leave because he was too depressed. In desperation, he started knitting and teaching aerobics, though not at the same time. He hopes to come to a bad end.
Before I introduce today’s installment in our guest blog series by hardworking authors about the ins and outs of moving smoothly from one book to the next, let me ask you: is this not one of the best, most mood-evocative book covers you have ever seen?
It is, for those of you reading this in some strange universe in which the Internet does not come with pictures, the cover art for the always-hilarious Bob Tarte‘s latest foray into memoir, Kitty Cornered. I’m going to have a lot to say in praise of Bob — for my money, one of the consistently funniest memoirists working in American English, and certainly one of the best documenters of the wackiness of life — but first, let’s talk about why this is such a tremendously good book cover.
Actually, scratch that, so to speak: before we slide into first, allow me to pause a moment to let you in on how I know for a fact that this is an unusually eye-catching book cover: my 13-year-old neighbor was absolutely riveted by it when he visited the other day. Not only did he instantly pounce upon the book and begin leafing through it — the moment he walked into my library, he made what can only be called a beeline for it.
Actually ran to get his I’m sorry to report grubby paws upon that book. As if it were — sorry, but it must be said — catnip.
Now that’s a cover that does its job, and then some. Kudos to the marketing and art departments at Algonquin Press for a magnificent achievement in a notoriously difficult medium.
Fair warning: if read this book in a public place, be prepared for total strangers to come running up to you and ask what on earth you’re reading. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. If I were planning into, say, a crowded writers’ conference anytime soon and wanted to make some friends fast, I would nonchalantly tote this book under my arm. (Again, well done, Algonquin.)
Why am I so impressed by this cover? Well, you try to come up with a photo that makes that winsome kitty appear intent upon beating Godzilla in a race to stomp on Tokyo. It provides a great twist on the expected. But that’s not the only reason I like it: it’s rare that a cover captures the spirit of the book within this well. That mad-eyed cat, combined with the offbeat lettering, tell the reader pretty plainly that this is going to be — and having read the book, I’m not too afraid of going out on an interpretive limb here — an uproarious memoir about living with a small battalion of marauding cats.
Which, as luck would have it, is precisely what the book is about. Check out the publisher’s blurb:
Bob Tarte had his first encounter with a cat when he was two and a half years old. He should have learned his lesson then, from Fluffy. But as he says, I listened to my heart instead, and that always leads to trouble.” In this tell-all of how the Tarte household grew from one recalcitrant cat to six — including a hard-to-manage stray named Frannie–Tarte confesses to allowing these interlopers to shape his and his wife’s life, from their dining habits to their sleeping arrangements to the placement and furriness of their furniture.
But more than that, Bob begins seeing Frannie and the other cats as unlikely instructors in the art of achieving contentment, even in the face of illness and injury. Bewitched by the unknowable nature of domesticated cats, he realizes that sometimes wildness and mystery are exactly what he needs.
With the winning humor and uncanny ability to capture the soul of the animal world that made Enslaved by Ducks a success, Tarte shows us that life with animals gives us a way out of our narrow human perspective to glimpse something larger, more enduring, and more grounded in the simplicities of love–and catnip.
Just between us, Bob has a pretty great eye for image composition himself. I would highly encourage those of you interested in marvelous critter pics to check out his Facebook page and/or follow me on Twitter @BobTarte; he posts new bird and beast photos there with charming regularity.
Of course, authors seldom have any direct say over their cover art — you knew that, right? — but they do often provide their author photos. Bob always has superlative ones. Check out his latest:
Bob with Maynard and Frannie
Doesn’t leave you in much doubt about the subject matter of his memoir, does it? Nor does it leave his platform in question: the guy obviously knows cats.
Again, that’s good promotional strategy: what’s more boring than the standard-issue, flatteringly-lit jacket photo? I say hear, hear for author photos that actually make the author look like he might have some real-world experience with his subject matter. And isn’t it a perennial source of astonishment how few author photos actually do?
But all of that is secondary to the purpose of this series: to blandish hardworking, successful authors into sharing their thoughts on something we literary types virtually never talk about amongst ourselves, the difficult task of switching gears — and sometimes authorial voices — between books. That’s a rather strange topic to avoid, from my perspective, because if one is going to be a working author, one presumably will need to tinker with one’s original voice to fit the next story.
Oh. you thought the Voice Fairy stole with little cat feet into writing studios across this fine land of ours, whacking established authors on their august noggins, and twittering, “There, my dear — write away!”
Obviously, that’s not happening — but let’s face it, writers new to writing humor often believe something almost as implausible. They (and, if the author does her job right, her readership) often labor under the mistaken impression that a funny voice pops out of a gifted storyteller as spontaneously as breathing. Or — sacre bleu! — that all a person that’s good at telling amusing anecdotes has to do is provide a transcript of what she might sound like in a bar, and poof! Hilarity ensues.
Cue the Humor Fairy. You’ll find her in the dressing room she shares with the Pathos Pixie, the Dialogue Dervish, and the Opening Grabber Genie.
Mind if I inject a little reality into that fantasy? Yes, a great humorous memoir voice will come across on the page as effortless, but a truly fine, memorable, and in Bob’s case simultaneously side-splitting and deeply honest voice doesn’t happen all by itself. It takes work. And throughout this series, I’m going to be asking authors to be generous and brave enough to talk about that often-difficult process.
I’m particularly delighted to be able to bring you Bob’s thoughts on the process. Not only is he a well-recognized master of spinning a yarn, but he also had to mine his creativity to fine-tune his already quite successful voice to a new breed of story.
And no, I’m not going to cut out the cat puns anytime soon, but thanks for asking.
As tempted as I am to let the cat out of the bag (don’t say I didn’t warn you), far be it from me to stand between a gifted storyteller and his audience. I suspect, though, that what follows will be even more instructive — and even more fun — if I give you a swift guided tour of Bob’s earlier work, on the off chance that some of you have not yet had the opportunity to become familiar with Bob’s work (or perchance missed his earlier guest blogs on developing a unique authorial voice for memoir and dealing with reader expectations).
When Bob Tarte left the city of Grand Rapids, Michigan for the country, he was thinking peace and quiet. He’d write his music reviews in the solitude of his rural home on the outskirts of everything.
Then he married Linda. She wanted a rabbit. How much trouble, he thought, could a bunny be?
Well, after the bunny chewed his way through the electrical wires and then hid inside the wall, Bob realized that he had been outwitted. But that was just the beginning. There were parrots, more rabbits, then ducks and African geese. The orphaned turkeys stranded on a nearby road. The abandoned starlings. The sad duck for sale for 25 cents.
Bob suddenly found himself constructing pens, cages, barriers, buying feed, clearing duck waste, spoonfeeding at mealtime. One day he realized that he no longer had a life of quiet serenity, but that he’d become a servant to a relentlessly demanding family: Stanley Sue, a gender-switching African grey parrot; Hector, a cantankerous shoulder-sitting Muscovy duck; Howard, an amorous ring-neck dove; and a motley crew of others. Somehow, against every instinct in him, Bob had unwittingly become their slave.
He read all the classic animal books — The Parrot Who Owns Me, The Dog who Rescues Cats, Arnie the Darling Starling, That Quail Robert, The Cat Who Came for Christmas — about the joys of animals, the touching moments. But none revealed what it was really like to live with an unruly menagerie.
Bob Tarte’s witty account reveals the truth of animal ownership: who really owns who, the complicated logistics of accommodating many species under one roof, the intricate routines that evolve, and ultimately, the distinct and insistent personalities of every animal in the house – and on its perimeter. Writing as someone who’s been ambushed by the way in which animals — even cranky ones — can wend their way into one’s heart, Bob Tarte is James Herriot by way of Bill Bryson.
Bob Tarte’s second book, Fowl Weather, returns us to the Michigan house where pandemonium is the governing principle, and where 39 animals rule the roost. But as things seem to spiral out of control, as his parents age and his mother’s grasp on reality loosens as she battles Alzheimer’s disease, Bob unexpectedly finds support from the gaggle of animals around him. They provide, in their irrational fashion, models for how to live.
It is their alien presences, their sense of humor, and their unpredictable behaviors that both drive Bob crazy and paradoxically return him to sanity. Whether it’s the knot-tying African grey parrot, the overweight cat who’s trained Bob to hold her water bowl just above the floor, or the duck who bests Bob in a shoving match, this is the menagerie, along with his endlessly optimistic wife Linda, that teaches him about the chaos that’s a necessary part of life.
No less demanding than the animals are the people who torment Bob and Linda. There’s the master gardener who steps on plants, the pet sitter applicant who never met an animal he didn’t want to butcher, and a woman Bob hasn’t seen since elementary school who suddenly butts into his life.
With the same biting humor and ability to capture the soul of the animal world that made Enslaved by Ducks such a rousing success, Bob Tarte shows us that life with animals gives us a way out of our small human perspectives to glimpse something larger, more enduring, and more wholly grounded in the simplicities of love — even across species lines.
With both of those intriguing premises firmly in mind, let’s see what words of wisdom on strategizing voice are wiggling on the end of the string that’s…I mean, let’s get on with stalking…wait — fireman, what’s that up in that nearby tree?
Oh, I give up. Please join me in welcoming back Bob Tarte!
I had big, fat, goose-size hopes for Enslaved by Ducks back in 2003. In my fantasies, the book would become such a huge honking success that I could spend the rest of my days humming cheerily as I effortlessly churned out sequels.
Unfortunately, I had overestimated the clout of readers who kept ducks as pets. The total population of duck owners in the US probably couldn’t fill a single theater in a shopping mall multiplex. In fact, they probably couldn’t fill a jumbo popcorn tub. So their enthusiasm only got me so far. Enslaved by Ducks sold steadily, but slowly. I wanted to do better.
For my second book, I decided that I would break out of the traditional pet book mold and vault into the ample lap of the general public. I didn’t take the ducks, geese, parrots, rabbits, cats, and other critters out of Fowl Weather. Instead I wrote about how they affected my life during a stressful period of time in which I lost my dad, my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, and ghost cats haunted our basement. The result was a book that some folks thought was the funniest thing that they had ever read and others decided was mega-depressing.
NPR’s Nancy Pearl occupied the former camp, and thanks to her enthusiastic January 22, 2008 “Under the Radar” review on Morning Edition, Fowl Weather was briefly the sixty-third best selling book on all of Amazon. But after that it sunk like a rock tied to an anvil, never making it out of hardcover — even as Enslaved by Ducks gradually waddled into its thirteenth paperback printing in 2012.
So what went wrong with my sequel? Lots of things. Pushing the animals even slightly into the background wasn’t the smartest approach, since critters were what my readers wanted. And the subject matter was dark compared to Enslaved by Ducks. Because there were so many narrative threads and no single string strong enough to hang a catchy subtitle on, Fowl Weather also proved to be tricky to market. Death and Alzheimer’s weren’t suitable subjects for a humorous back cover blurb. And the non-waterfowl-owning segment of the population that had enjoyed Enslaved by Ducks presumably spotted the duckling on the cover of Fowl Weather and decided that it was a rerun.
In other words, Fowl Weather was simultaneously too different and too similar to my first book. It took me years to figure out how to follow it up, even though the solution lay right under my nose. It was as close as the nearest litter box.
It took me twice as long to write Kitty Cornered as it had to write either of my first two books. It didn’t start out as a cat book. I kept trying to find new ways to write about our birds and other pets. While the cats kept clawing their way into the narrative, I never even considered making them the subjects of a book, because I couldn’t shake loose of the image of myself as the duck guy. I couldn’t shake loose of any good ideas, either. In an attempt to add some verve to a sagging repertoire of avian anecdotes, I concocted an increasingly unlikely series of devices, culminating in — I’m embarrassed to admit — a goose egg crystal ball that revealed incidents from my pre-pet past. This didn’t work out any better than it sounds here.
Fortunately a skittish white-and-black stray cat showed up to rescue me from author’s oblivion. As soon as I decided to write about this complicated little being that we named Frannie, I felt as if a huge goose-size burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I incorporated the strongest aspects of my first two books into Kitty Cornered, keeping the sunny-to-partly-cloudy tone of Enslaved by Ducks and the overlapping narratives of Fowl Weather, all the time returning the focus to Frannie as I wrote about all six cats.
My re-invention as a cat guy seems to have worked. Kitty Cornered was on the independent bookstore indie bestseller list during its first two weeks on the shelves, and when it was just short of a month old, it went into a second printing. Naturally, I’m hoping that it continues to gain momentum. It sure would be great to be able to knock out a couple of sequels, you know?
Bob Tarteand his wife Linda live on the edge of a shoe-sucking swamp near the West Michigan village of Lowell. When not fending off mosquitoes during temperate months and chipping ice out of plastic wading pools in the depths of winter, Bob writes books about his pets.
Emmy Award-winning actress Patricia Heaton has taken on an option on the dramatic rights to Enslaved by Ducks. Fowl Weather was selected as an “Under The Radar” book for 2008 by Nancy Pearl on NPR’s Morning Edition.
Bob wrote the Technobeat world music review column for The Beat magazine from 1989 to 2009. He has also written for The New York Times, The Boston Globe, and The Miami New Times newspapers.
Bob also hosts a podcast for PetLifeRadio.com called What Were You Thinking? that’s supposedly about “exotic pets” as a general topic, but the show just as often turns into a chronicle of life with his own troublesome critters.
Bob and Linda currently serve the whims of parrots, ducks, geese, parakeets, a rabbit, doves, cats, and hens. They also raise and release orphan songbirds (including woodpeckers) for the Wildlife Rehab Center, Ltd. in Grand Rapids and have the scars to prove it.
Ah, the first long weekend of the warm months, a time perfect for relaxing with family, dawdling on a beach, and/or driving that 50+ miles that news organizations always seem so excited to report U.S. residents are planning on embarking upon this weekend every year. Or so I’m told. I wouldn’t know about it, really: writers tend to spend long weekends working on their books. If their kith and kin are out relaxing, beach-combing, or getting stuck in traffic, how would we know? We’re where we always are whenever we can grab a spare minute: wrestling with story, plot, and characterization.
God bless us all, every one.
In that spirit of laudable endeavor, I’ve planned a two-sided treat of all of you stalwart souls plugging away at your computers this weekend, rather than roasting something hefty on a gas-powered grill. Beginning today, I shall be posting a series of guest blogs by hardworking authors about the ins and outs of constructing a series — or making that always surprisingly tough transition from a first book to a second.
Emphasis on hardworking: in pulling together this series, I made a point of asking authors that had paid their dues, and then some. These are the folks that did everything right for years on end. In these days of ostensible overnight successes and surprise bestsellers by authors who have privately been working feverishly for ten or twenty years on craft, I think it’s vital for aspiring writers to understand that publishing is one of the few artistic endeavors where slow and steady not only wins the race in the long run, but tends to produce better books.
This pair is among the most dedicated mystery-writing teams on the planet — and lest you think that’s an exaggeration, let me hasten to add that they live in two different hemispheres, presenting collaboration challenges of which stateside co-authors can only have shuddering nightmares. Yet when I contacted Stan to begimplore ask him to contribute a post to this series on series-writing — and reached him the day before he and his collaborator were slated to complete their fourth novel — he not only instantly said yes, but asked how best to focus the post to assist those of you in the Author! Author! community currently writing series.
That’s what I like to see in an author: generosity, professionalism, and a strong understanding that being an author means being part of a writing community. One never stops paying dues to that community, admittedly, but the rewards are pretty delightful.
Something else I like to see in authors that this team has in spades, doubled and redoubled: a talent for keeping the reader constantly guessing. I’m not the only one to recognize this rare gift, either: their most recent release, Death of the Mantis (also available as an audio book at Audiobookstand), has been racking up accolades like Lincoln logs since its release last year. An entirely representative sample:
Shortlisted for Edgar — Best paperback original Shortlisted for A Minnesota Book Award — Genre Fiction Shortlisted for a Barry — Best paperback original The Strand Magazine 12 best mysteries of 2011. Library Journal top 10 mysteries for 2011
“Impossible to put down, this immensely readable third entry from (Michael Stanley) delivers the goods. Kubu’s painstaking detecting skills make him a sort of Hercule Poirot of the desert.”
“…a must-read for anyone who enjoys clever plotting, terrific writing, and a fascinating glimpse of today’s Africa.”
Charles Todd, New York Times bestselling mystery author
“…the best book yet in one of the best series going… I loved this book.”
Timothy Hallinan, author of The Queen of Patpong and A Nail Through the Heart
“…the best book I’ve read in a very long time…DEATH OF THE MANTIS is a fantastic read. Brilliant!”
Louise Penny, multiple award-winning author of the Inspector Gamache mysteries
Is this where I get to say I told you so? Seriously, in my humble, notoriously-critical-of-English-prose opinion, this is their best book so far. Take a gander at the publisher’s blurb:
Surrounded by a group of Bushmen, a ranger at a game reserve in the Kalahari is discovered at the bottom of a ravine. At first it is assumed that he fell, but it turns out that he was attacked. Although they claim to have chanced upon the injured man, the Bushmen are arrested.
Khumanego, Kubu’s Bushman school friend and now an advocate for the Bushman people, approaches Kubu and asks him to intervene. Khumanego claims the men are innocent and that their arrest is due to racist antagonism from the local police. Kubu investigates the case, resulting in the release of the suspects. But then another man is found murdered in a similar fashion — this time a visitor from neighboring Namibia. The body is discovered by another touring Namibian — an odd coincidence in Kubu’s view — motivating him to follow the clues to Namibia.
Then a third man is murdered and Kubu realizes that the key to the mystery must lie in the depths of the Kalahari itself. And there it is unraveled in a most unpleasant way…
One of the things I like best about Stan and Michael’s work — and in case I haven’t yet made it clear, there are many, many things I like about it — is the impeccable level of detail. These are the kings of show, don’t tell, and that, my friends, takes serious research in a series like this.
I felt some of you twitching at the mention of the r-word, but honestly, you would not believe how often our old pal, Millicent the agency screener, sees stories with mystery storylines (and, let’s face it, many, if not most, fiction storylines contain mysteries of one sort or another) that practically shout, “Hey, Millie, this manuscript needs a fact-checker!” Although experts abound in fiction, it’s actually rare that a protagonist wielding major credentials comes across as genuinely credible.
So says the lady with the Ph.D. Half the doctorate-sporting characters floating around the fictional ether make me cringe with embarrassment and make me want to mail my diploma back to the university. (Then I remember how very becoming my royal purple doctoral Renaissance cap is, and I resist. I worked hard to look that good.)
Speaking of looking good, I am also not the only professional reader that has noticed Stan and Michael’s incredibly nuanced attention to detail. Take a gander at some reviews by those who know stories about Africa far better than I do:
“The information on the Bushmen…is fascinating. Stanley does an exceedingly good job of presenting their plight and culture in an interesting and sympathetic manner. He also conveys the other characters, both black and white, in rich, multi-layered dimensions… a very readable novel that offers fascinating reflections on life in modern Botswana.”
The Canberra Times, November 5, 2011
“…DEATH OF THE MANTIS is a wonderful piece of work, a novel that is quietly perfect in every way…one of those rare books that transcends its rich genre. While there is a mystery at its core, it is also a study of the human condition, of the best and worst of people who do what they do for the best and worst of reasons. And Kubu is one of the best friends you will make between the pages of a book.”
Yes, those are the kinds of plaudits of which every writer dreams, but let me tell you, it did not come without a tremendous amount of persistent, hard work. These are authors that built their writer’s tool kits, just as you are doing now, and my, has it paid off.
Bear that in mind, please, whenever you find your faith in your writing teetering a bit. It can be done. But you’re going to have to pay your dues — and it’s going to be a lot of hard work.
Join me, please, in welcoming a team of authors that help show all of us why this endeavor is so worthwhile. Take it away, Stan and Michael!
When we started writing our first book in 2003, we had no idea that it was going to turn into a series. We actually had no idea that we would even finish the book. This was our first venture into writing fiction, so we were complete novices.
Our initial idea had formed about 15 years earlier when we and four friends were on a flying safari in Botswana. (Stanley is a private pilot) One evening we saw a pack of hyenas attack and kill a wildebeest. By morning there was nothing left except the horns and hooves. Yes, hyenas eat the bones as well as the flesh.
That evening, over a glass or two of wine, we had the idea that should we ever want to get rid of a body, we would leave it out for hyenas. No body, no case!
When we eventually decided to write a novel with that as the premise, our opening scene had a professor (of Ecology) and a game ranger stumbling upon a hyena just before it finished devouring the remains of a human being. The perfect murder was no longer perfect.
You may wonder why there was a professor with the game ranger. Well, we’d been told that we should write what we knew. We were both professors, so we planned to have our professor be our protagonist. However, even in third world countries like Botswana, where our mysteries are set, the police need to be involved. So we sent a Botswana Police detective, David “Kubu” Bengu, from the country’s capital, Gaborone, to the remote tourist camp where the remains of the body lay waiting. By the time Kubu arrived at the camp, he had taken over as the main character.
This was our first lesson — authors aren’t always in charge of the novels they write. Sometimes, the characters take over.
Researching the Okavango Delta in a local dugout, called a mokoro
It took us three years to finish our manuscript. We quite liked it, so decided to try to have it published. After considerable research, it became obvious that we needed an agent to represent us. After some of the usual disappointments, we eventually found an excellent agent in New York. To our complete surprise, she sold the book, titled A CARRION DEATH, to HarperCollins. To our greater surprise, she actually sold a two-book contract.
Yikes! That meant we had to write a second book with the same protagonist, Detective Kubu.
By the way, Kubu means hippopotamus in his native language, Setswana, the common language of Botswana. Hippos are large, normally placid, and the most dangerous mammals in Africa. So Kubu is a large man. He enjoys eating a great deal and loves good wine, when he can afford it. Surprisingly, he is also happily married. Like hippos, he is slow to anger, but when crossed is very dangerous.
Little did we realize what additional difficulties would surface as we started on the second book. Some became apparent as soon as we started plotting, others sneaked up on us at unexpected times during the writing. Here are some issues we discovered during the course of writing our second book, titled THE SECOND DEATH OF GOODLUCK TINUBU in North America, and A DEADLY TRADE elsewhere.
First, the characters from the first book who carried over to the second would have to be adequately introduced for readers who hadn’t read A CARRION DEATH. But not overly so, otherwise readers who had started with A CARRION DEATH may be bored with the repetition.
This wasn’t easy. For example, in A CARRION DEATH, Kubu recalls a time when he went into the desert with a Bushman friend of his, Khumanego. It was Khumanego who taught Kubu to see what was behind the obvious — that what appeared to be a boring patch of sand was actually a world teeming with interesting flora and fauna.
It was this experience that caused Kubu to want to become a detective. In the second book, we obviously needed to provide new readers with the same background, but it had to be done carefully so as not to put previous Kubu readers off. This is obviously true of all characters.
Establishing a sense of place
Second, even though the action in THE SECOND DEATH OF GOODLUCK TINUBU takes place only a few years after that in A CARRION DEATH, the characters needed to evolve. People who read a series in order want to see characters, particularly the protagonist, grow. They want to see the impact of important events on character and outlook. One thing we did in the second book was to put Kubu’s wife in danger, which allowed us to show a different side of Kubu’s normally placid character.
Third, and perhaps the most difficult, we had to remember all the habits, looks, interactions, etc., of the characters in the first book, so we didn’t contradict ourselves in the second. One of the unexpected revelations from our initial book tour was how well many readers knew A CARRION DEATH. We often felt that they knew more than we did — and they certainly remembered more of the detail than we did. So we realized that any slips would be caught immediately by our eagle-eyed readers.
We couldn’t afford to have Kubu look or behave fundamentally differently in the second book — the habits he had shown in the first book needed to carry over. Similarly he couldn’t interact differently with the people in his life — boss, wife, parents, and colleagues — except because of the ways he had matured. For example, because of the passage of time and because of his successes as a detective, the previously prickly relationship with his boss, Director Mabaku, has mellowed a little. Mabaku continues to be testy, but slivers of softness begin to show.
So, as we wrote THE SECOND DEATH OF GOODLUCK TINUBU, we found ourselves going back to A CARRION DEATH time and time again to ensure that we were getting things right.
A supporting character in Chobe National Park
Then we started the third book, DEATH OF THE MANTIS, and most of the issues discussed above grew in importance. How could we make Kubu, for example, interesting to those people who had already read two books about him? Obviously, he continues to have success as a detective, but we did two things differently.
First, he is now a father — unexpectedly, I might say. This provided us the chance to bring out a previously untapped aspect of his character, namely how to deal with pressures at home, as well as pressures at work. It also allowed us to explore some quirks in his character. Specifically, parts of his traditional upbringing clash with his self-image of being a liberated New Age man.
Second, through his own fault, blinded by assumptions, Kubu finds himself in a situation that nearly ends his life. How does he handle himself as he realizes he has been a fool and, as a consequence, is likely to die?
We also realized that it would have been a very good idea to build a biography of the main characters as we wrote. That would have made it easy to find out such things as how much does he weigh, how old is he, what schools did he go to, what did his parents do before retirement, when did he get married, and so on and so on? It would also help us to keep track of when things happened in our characters’ lives, particularly Kubu’s. When did the various cases take place? What was he doing in his private life at the time? How long has he been married? Has he aged chronologically in our books as time has passed?
As we write, we have to know or have access to this sort of information, otherwise we make mistakes. And one thing I can promise is that there will be numerous readers who will catch the errors.
Actually, in order to make our writing easier, we are seriously considering trying to find someone who would prepare a biography for us, perhaps as part of a university project or paper. We think it would be an interesting project.
On the fly in pursuit of new material at Tsodilo Hills
We have just finished writing the fourth Kubu mystery, tentatively called POTIONS OF DEATH. Again the same issues arise. How does one write a book that will be the fourth in a series for some and the first for others? I think we now have shifted the balance a little towards first-time readers — the book has to be compelling on its own.
We hope, of course, that new readers will like it enough that they will go back and read the earlier books. Readers of our earlier books, fortunately for us, really like Kubu and his family, and look forward to new ones. So far, we have had no pushback that later books are repetitious.
How did we maintain interest for series’ readers in POTIONS OF DEATH? Among other things, we introduced the first female detective into the Botswana Criminal Investigation Department — a woman who is driven to bring to justice witch doctors who sell potions made from body parts of people they have killed. Her obsession is fueled by the fact that one of her childhood friends was murdered for just such a reason.
In real life, this is something that happens in parts of Africa, and prosecutions are few and far between because the clients are usually influential politicians or businessmen and because of the very real fear amongst the police that any witch doctor under suspicion would cast a spell on them.
In some ways, we have concerns about how the whole notion of witch doctors will be received by Western readers. We hope the story is not pooh-poohed. The reality is, of course, that witch doctors are real. And many, if not most, people in Africa believe in them, to the extent that there are instances of people dying purely because they believed a spell had been put on them.
Bushman painting at Tsodilo
The final issue that we keep in mind is not to be formulaic. We think interest in a series will wane if readers feel that our new books are basically the same as earlier ones. Our way around this is to change the backstory for each book. A CARRION DEATH is a mystery built on the back-story of blood diamonds. The background of THE SECOND DEATH OF GOODLUCK TINUBU is the nasty civil war in Rhodesia in the 1970s and the impact it had on neighboring countries. DEATH OF THE MANTIS puts Kubu in the middle of the fight for survival of the traditional Bushman peoples of Botswana, and POTIONS OF DEATH is about witch doctors who kill people.
These different back-stories allow us to move the location of the mysteries to different parts of Botswana, as well as providing totally different motivations and environments for the characters and stories.
We are about to start the fifth Detective Kubu mystery. This time, Kubu will be involved in the unpleasant results of a cultural clash between the local Batswana people and Chinese laborers who have been brought in to build paved roads. This is another issue of contemporary significance. Throughout Africa, the Chinese are bartering construction projects for access to Africa’s resource riches — oil, iron, coal, gold, diamonds, platinum, etc. Almost everywhere you travel in Africa today, you will see Chinese people. Our observation is that they do not integrate well or easily with local communities — a perfect back-story for murder and mayhem.
Tim and Vaughn Pearson with Nosipho Qolo showing off Kubu t-shirts
Our last comment about writing a series concerns the protagonist. He or she has to be able to keep readers’ attention over many books. If, after your first book, your main character hasn’t garnered your readers’ affection, or at least attention, you may find a series difficult to sustain. Think about Agatha Christie’s Hercules Poirot, Lee Child’s Jack Reacher, Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus, Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch, etc. It is almost always the case that it is these characters that make people continue reading the series, not the plots or stories, although these may also be appealing.
We lucked into Kubu — our readers have a real passion for him and can’t wait to find out about his next exploits, about his family life, and whether any of his diets will ever be successful. Please visit our website at http://www.detectivekubu.com to find out more about Kubu and his colleagues. You can also sign up for a newsletter we send out a few times a year.
By the way, if you are going to write a series, a website is an excellent way to keep faithful readers up to date with what is happening to their favorite character. Browse through our site to see how we provide additional information about ourselves, about upcoming books and events, as well as photos and stories related to our books.
We wish you good luck (which is usually needed) and good writing.
Both are retired professors who have worked in academia and business. They were both born in South Africa. Michael is a mathematician, specializing in geological remote sensing. He lives in Johannesburg, South Africa, and is a tournament bridge player. Stanley is an educational psychologist, specializing in the application of computers to teaching and learning, and a pilot. He splits his time between Knysna, South Africa, and Minneapolis in the United States. He is an avid golfer.
Their first novel, A CARRION DEATH, featuring Detective David “Kubu” Bengu, was published in 2008 and received critical acclaim. The Los Angeles Times listed it as one of its top ten crime novels of 2008. It is a nominee for the Minnesota Book Award, Strand Magazine’s Critics Award for Best First Novel, and Mystery Readers International Macavity Award for Best First Novel.