How To Write Magical Words: A Writer's Companion

by Unknown

  Third, there is a lot more to a good editor than talent. A LOT! I’ve had quite a few of them since I sold my first book in 1989. For the purposes of this essay I will use the universal "he," though most NYC editors are female and in their mid to late twenties.

  1. Most NYC editors have a degree in literary arts, often a masters.

  2. My ideal editor has at least five years working under a senior editor in my genre. If I am a bestseller, then I want the senior editor, but I’m not, so I’m not pushing it.

  3. He practically knows (by heart) the Chicago Manual of Style.

  4. He has studied his particular genre back and forth and can quote sales numbers, genre trends, new promo methods, and give me the latest NYC gossip because he is plugged into the scene.

  5. His best friend is the buyer for my genre at B&N, and he dates the buyer for my genre at BAM, and his mother is the buyer for Borders, and he gets along famously with all of them. (None of #5 is likely, but I can hope.)

  6. He knows agents and editors in his field and in other fields. They like him enough to buy him drinks at cons, and to steer clients his way when they dis-cover a gem-of-an-author who is not right for their house. Yes, I’ve known that to happen.

  7. He returns my emails within 24 hours (except weekends and when he is out of town.)

  8. He returns my phone calls within 24 hours (except weekends and when he is out of town.)

  9. He has no fear when it comes to fighting for good slots (this is a place for my books in the publishing lineup for the coming year), good promo money, and the very best PR person in the company’s PR department.

  10. He likes me. And if he doesn’t like me (because we simply don’t connect in that special way), he still works with me as if he is my pal.

  11. He likes my work. Really, this should be number one. An editor who likes my work is a gift from heaven. That is the editor who will fight for promo money and for a better slot in pub dates (see #9). In addition, he will fight for expanded attention from the buyers of the chains, and will coo about my work to other editors from other houses, thus expanding my name recognition in the business, and my likelihood of being asked to do more work.

  I am sure there are more. Feel free to add thoughts about the job and value of a good editor.

  A good editor is worth his weight in gold. They make writers better writers.

  §§§

  A.J. Hartley

  Just to expand on item #4, that being "plugged in" as far as the genre is concerned is key. A good editor has seen it all. He knows what has been done to death and what’s considered the next wave even before readers do. I can’t overestimate the importance of this because there is nothing worse than an editor saying "this is a great book, but such and such a body at such and such a press has just beaten you to it and your work looks stale by comparison." When an editor knows what you are working on, they can spot this kind of problem down the road and get you to redirect. Or they can say, "since you’re writing X, you should read Y to see how to do it and what to avoid." Apart from everything an editor does to help you craft a better book, he or she can be crucial in retooling the book as something you can sell. Much of this is true of a good agent, too.

  David B. Coe

  I’d add "Turns manuscripts around, with extensive revision notes, in a timely way." But I have an editor who meets nearly all of your criteria and NOT that one I just listed, and I’m very happy with him. So I guess it’s not the most important thing. The slow pace can be frustrating, though. And I can think of another editor who was at a major genre house—a terrific editor by all accounts—who was canned and turned to writing and is now enjoying a very successful writing career. But as you indicated, these folks are the exceptions.

  The Ideal Writer

  David B. Coe

  Being a writer is about more than simply putting words down on a page (or up on a screen). There are ways in which we comport ourselves through the writing and publication process that might well make our books more successful, and that will certainly make editors and agents more inclined to work with us. The things I’ve included in this list are things that I have tried myself (with varying degrees of success), and as you work on your books and look to break into the publishing process, you should think about doing them yourself. You’ll notice that the attributes listed below don’t have anything to do with style, or even with process. We all work differently; we all write what we love and what we feel. We deal with "How Do We Write" issues quite a bit at Magical Words. This essay is a little different. (And like Faith, I’ll use the universal "he." No offense intended.)

  1. The Ideal Writer hits his deadlines. Yes, I’m starting at the end here. I’m assuming that the other stuff—the stuff that gets you to the end of the book—has been or will be covered by other essays in this book. But at root, a writer’s job is to write, and finish, a story or book. Deadlines are fluid things in publishing. Manuscripts and production run late all the time, but to the extent that a writer can make his deadlines, he puts himself in good standing with his editors, agent, and publisher. And that’s good.

  2. He also turns in a clean manuscript. What does "clean" mean? Let’s start with what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean "perfect." But it does mean that he takes the time to proofread his work, eliminating typos and other mistakes that shouldn’t need an editor’s attention. Yes, a manuscript will be copyedited and proofed further along in the process. But every mistake the Ideal Writer finds on his own simplifies the production process down the road, and allows the editor and copyeditor to focus on more important matters.

  3. He accepts criticism without ego, without defensiveness, and with an open mind. He understands that the comments he receives from his editor and from his beta readers are not meant as assaults on his creative vision, but rather as attempts by allies and friends to help him make his book as good as it can possibly be. He is not so wedded to any phrase or element of his story that he can’t at least consider changing it to improve the piece.

  4. A corollary to #3, he views the revision stage of writing a book (and yes, he absolutely goes through this stage with every story) as an opportunity to rethink portions of his first draft that might not have worked. In other words, he approaches revisions the way he approaches the first draft: as a creative endeavor rather than simply a corrective one.

  5. He goes out of his way to show his appreciation for the work of the "support staff" of his publishing house(s). I mean the people in the publicity, art, and production departments. These are people who work very hard to make certain that his book looks great and reaches as many readers as possible. They can make or break a book, and they deserve to be treated with respect and courtesy. They are also people who he should want to like him. Ticking them off would be stupid, and yet you’d be amazed by the number of writers who treat them poorly, or ignore them entirely. Don’t be that guy. Along the same lines, he treats his agent and editor as equal partners in his work. He always—ALWAYS—finishes his conversations with his agent and editor the same way: with a "Thank you."

  6. Again, a corollary of sorts to #5. He goes out of his way to be polite to fans, to reply (when he possibly can) to emails and letters from fans. These are the people who buy his books; why would he want to give them the impression that he’s a jerk?

  7. He works hard to publicize his work, understanding that publicists at publishing houses can only do so much for any one author. Book signings, guest blogging, web site maintenance, con appearances—all of these things can build up readership, and since an author’s future writing success is often directly linked to his most recent sales performance, self-promotion is a must.

  8. In helping to market his books, the Ideal Writer makes an effort to get to know workers in his local bookstores. He befriends them, he treats them with respect and courtesy (of course), he tells them about his books, and he offers to sign stock. In short, he forges strong connections with those who are most responsible for hand-selling his books.

/>   9. He does not take too much satisfaction in good reviews, nor does he waste energy in responding to bad reviews. No book can please everyone; and even the worst books get some good reviews. The Ideal Writer writes the best book he can and lets the reviewers do their job.

  10. He gives thanks every day for being able to create characters and worlds and stories, and get paid for it. He remembers that for every writer who is as lucky as he is, there are ten or fifty or a hundred or a thousand others who are just as talented, just as passionate about writing, just as committed to the craft, but who haven’t yet gotten that lucky break.

  §§§

  Kim Harrison

  #11 Understand that the writing arena is just as political as a regular office situation and watch what you do/say around your peers. New York is a very small place, and everyone knows everyone else, so resist the temptation to enjoy yourself too much at a convention.

  Stuart Jaffe

  I’d like to second Kim’s #11 and add that watching what you say/do at a con is also important to fans. I’ve seen some downright horrible behavior from some well-known authors at conventions. They seem to have the attitude that their numbers are so good they can do what they want. To some extent that might be true, but only in the short run. See, I had intended to buy a book by this one author—and if I liked it, I’d probably have gone on to buy several more. To date, this author has made ZERO sales to me. That author’s behavior cost several sales to just me alone. How many other potential sales were lost at that con? In the long run, that author’s numbers might go south because of this type of thing.

  A.J. Hartley

  David, I wonder if you might offer any thoughts on how writers deal with adversity, be that the struggle to get published or the kinds of difficulties that can arise later in your professional career? This last has been a hard year for a lot of people in the business and it can get very depressing. I spoke to David Morrell (famed author of First Blood (among other things) and all-round nice guy) when I was having some problems and his advice (very much from experience) was simple: out-last the nay-sayers. That’s not a direct quote, but it’s in the ball park. I guess that’s what I’d add to your list: persevere. 85% (or something) of success is showing up. So don’t quit, ever. Not if you really want it.

  David B. Coe

  Yes, yes, yes, and yes! All great additions to the list.

  Kim, absolutely; this is crucial. It’s not just a matter of being polite, although that can be hugely helpful. One also has to be discreet. Once, early in my career, I had a con moment that could have destroyed me. Fortunately, the big-name writer I insulted was generous and understanding, and I managed to grovel my way back into his good graces. But that was a lesson I took to heart.

  Stuart, I’ve witnessed some truly boorish behavior from writers whose work I love, and yes, it soured me on their books. It is remarkable that professionals should need to be told, "Don’t be a lout; it might hurt your sales," but it seems that common sense doesn’t always get people there.

  A.J., I probably should have put as my number one, "The Ideal Writer puts his butt in the chair every day and writes, even if it’s just a page or two, regardless of whatever else is happening professionally." Perseverance, refusing to fail, stubborn faith in oneself . . . however you want to phrase it, that is an essential ingredient for success. I think I was so focused on the professional relationships and comportment, that I ignored one of the fundamentals of writing professionally.

  Business Realities for the Beginning Writer

  David B. Coe

  I thought I’d jump in and give you some sense of the economic realities of being a beginning writer, so brace yourselves for a dose of reality. It’s not going to be pretty.

  Let’s start with a little quiz: What do you think is (approximately) the average advance given to a first-time writer of genre fiction? a) $5,000; b) $7,500; c) $10,000; d) $12,500; e) $15,000. Think about it for a while. The answer is coming later.

  So, you’ve won over an agent and together you and she have managed to interest an editor in your book (and we’ll assume that this book is completed). Good for you. Let’s say you get a call from your agent in December and she says, "Congrats! Editor X from Fantasy-Books-R-Us has agreed to publish your book! We’ll have a contract for you soon. Editor X has some changes he wants you to make, but your book is going to be published!"

  You pop open the bubbly, you take your spouse or whoever out to dinner. And you wait. And wait. And wait. Let’s be generous and say that the contracts finally arrive in March, and let’s use the middle figure in our quiz and say that the publisher is offering you a $10,000 advance. You eagerly sign the contract, send it back, and wait for your advance check. Which comes in May (again, we may be a bit generous with this). But your advance check isn’t for $10,000. No, chances are that your advance has been divided into three parts: you get part one upon signing the contract, part two upon delivery and acceptance (D&A) of the manuscript, and part three when the book is finally published. Sometimes advances are divided in half (part on signing, part on D&A), but division into thirds is more typical. So your check is for $3,333.33, right? Well, no. Your agent gets her 15%, so your check is actually for $2,833.33.

  But wait, you say. My book was finished when I sold it, so don’t I also get my D&A advance? And when my laughter subsides, I’ll gently tell you that, no, the key words are "and Acceptance," and as your agent mentioned, Editor X has some changes he wants made to the manuscript. It takes a couple of months, but you eventually get X’s comments and spend several weeks on rewrites. You hand in your manuscript and a month later you get your second check. It’s now September, and believe it or not you’re doing really, really well. You’ve made $5,666.66 this year. Before taxes. (And again, my timeline has been pretty generous.)

  So you’ve handed in your completed manuscript. Congratulations! The book now has to go through copyedits, proofs, and various production processes. And as a beginning writer, you have to expect that you’ll be placed pretty far down the line in the publishing schedule. My first book came out two years after it was first turned in (before I did revisions with my editor), but we’ll continue with the generous timeline and say that your book is published in August of the following year, a bit less than a year after you receive your D&A check. So that year you get your last advance check of $2,833.34.

  Okay, so it’s been about a year and eight months since your agent gave you the good news about your book sale, and you have been paid a total of $8,500.00. But wait! you say again. Now I’ll start earning royalties, right?

  Excuse me. I was laughing again. A few things about royalties. First, that advance you got is more properly referred to as an "advance against royalties", which means that the $10,000 you were paid (of which you received 85%) is money you now need to earn through book sales. How long will it take to earn back $10,000? Well, it certainly won’t happen overnight. Let’s say your book first comes out in hardcover (which is a very good thing to have happen) and its cover price is $25.00. For every copy that sells, you’ll probably get a royalty of about $2.50. So if they print 4,000 hardcovers (that could be a bit high) and you sell every one of them (highly unlikely) your book will earn out before it even goes to paperback. Let’s say you sell 3,000 copies. That would be a good sell through (the ratio of books sold to books printed) of 75% and would leave you only $2,500 short of earning out your advance. Now the book goes to paperback. It sells for $8.00 and you get $0.64 per copy (that’s 8%—pretty standard, although 6% also is common). So when you sell your 3,907th copy of the paperback, you’ll finally have earned out.

  So what kind of timetable are we talking about? Well, generally the paperback comes out about a year after the hardcover, so that paperback comes out in August 2011, and if sales go well, you could sell that 3,907th copy within a month. Let’s say that by the end of September 2011, you’ve sold 5,000 copies. The publisher now owes you $700 (minus your agent’s cut that comes to $595.00). When do you get t
hat? Well, assuming that the publisher is no longer holding back reserves against returns, you could see this money as early as April or May 2012. Yes, that’s right. Most publishers report royalties in 6 month periods: Jan. 1-Jun. 30; Jul. 1-Dec. 31. For the first period you get a royalty report (and hopefully a check) in October or early November; for the second, you get your statement and check the following spring, April or May. So now it’s been three years and five months since you sold your book, and you’ve finally earned additional royalties, pushing your total earnings on this book to $9,095, or an average of $3,031.66 per year.

  A couple of notes: reserve against returns is an evil, evil phrase that I could spend several paragraphs trying to explain. Basically, the publisher bases "sales" numbers on bookstore orders, rather than actual sales. But since bookstores often return any books that don’t sell in a fairly narrow time window, they have to protect themselves against paying out royalties on unsold books. And so they subtract a reserve from the amount owed. In the first royalty reporting period for any given book, that reserve can be as high as 2/3 of all moneys owed. It decreases gradually with each subsequent six-month statement, but it can be hiked up again with each new edition that’s published (so if a paperback version of the book comes out, the reserve can be increased again).