Give It Up

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch recently printed a rather harrowing first-person account of a writer's encounter with the realities of book publishing, although in this case the most immovable obstacle the writer confronts is the modern-day bookstore. The essay, by Daniel Stolar, is very good, but it ought to put to rest the notion that today's book business, considered generally, is ultimately focused on bringing worthwhile books to the public's attention. Some of the more depressing bits:

When "The Middle of the Night," my first book of fiction, was bought by a New York publisher, my usual delusions of grandeur suddenly didn't seem so delusional. Nearly every day, I received phone calls or e-mails from my agent or my editor or, shortly, my publicist in New York. Clicking over from call-waiting, I would make sure to sound just a little put upon: "I'm really sorry, I gotta take this call, it's my publicist in New York." I took refuge in the fact that I was just telling the truth.

One thing after another prompted a call or e-mail. I came to think of them as my own personal holy trinity - three smart, savvy, obviously well-educated and up-and-coming New Yorkers who had hitched at least some small part of their careers to my words. And every time we talked, they mentioned something specific about my book.

But as the publication date got closer, I detected a subtle shift in their attitude. There was frustration in their voices - not with me, never with me, but with the just-out-of-their-control realities of their own industry, with the puerile demands of the marketplace, with, their tone told me, a book-buying public that could not be counted on to make enlightened choices. From the distance of more than a year, I can appreciate the fine line they were compelled to walk - my ego on one side, all of reality on the other. As it turned out, there would be no grand author tour, almost no print advertising.

I took this as a personal challenge. If I had to do it one person at a time, I would: One person could talk to another person who had a book group or knew Oprah. For years I'd been carefully calibrating the persona with which I'd confront the publishing world, and now it was time to unleash it. I poured over "1001 Ways to Market Your Book" and "How to Increase Your Book Sales Now." These were books mostly for people who had self-published, and I kept them carefully hidden from view, except, of course, when I was self-mockingly showing them off. When I chanced on "The Tipping Point," about how little things could make a big difference in the viral spread of an idea or a product, I knew that it was synchronicity, the universe conspiring with me to make my book the surprise hit of the summer.

What's more, I had a secret weapon that those business-savvy New Yorkers didn't know about - none of them knew my hometown, St. Louis, a place I am ridiculously loyal to, and the setting of six of the eight stories in my collection. They would never understand the character of this metropolitan area of 2.5 million people, where, as the narrator of my first story observes on Page 2, people spend their entire lives asking each other where they went to high school. . .

The final piece of my publicity puzzle would be the dozens of bookstores in the St. Louis area. I set out a multitiered approach: I wrote an initial teaser; I called them all. I told them about my family history and the upcoming coverage in the local media. I sent a postcard of the cover with glowing prepublication reviews on the back. . .

But there was no "The Middle of the Night" on the front tables. None in the New Fiction section or Great Summer Reads. The Local Interest section was all tourist books, photos of St. Louis doors, five different books about the Arch. I made my way to the unceremonious shelves of alphabetized fiction and literature, still, I reminded myself, home to writers I'd worshipped for years. But between Stoker and Stone, there was, predictably at this point, nothing. . .

I called the store's main number on my cell phone. I asked for the same manager by name. She picked up on the first ring.

"Oh, hi, I thought I was calling your voice-mail," I lied. "This is Daniel Stolar; my book just came out from Picador."

Oh yeah, sorry, she said. She'd been in a "conference, computer, tech thing." She asked if my book was about the Arch.

"Well, no. I mean - it's got the Arch on the cover - it's actually fiction, mostly set in St. Louis. I wrote you a couple of letters - remember, my parents were in local politics? I wondered if I could introduce myself."

She said she was very busy.

"I'm right around the corner . . ." I was huddled in her magazine section. "There's a picture of me on the front page of today's Everyday section."

At that point, she said, as I remember: "The truth is, I don't even have time to think about anything else until July, after I'm finished planning for Harry Potter."

"Huh?" I said.

"The midnight release party - we're dividing the whole store into the four houses of Hogwarts for a trivia contest. And we'll be serving Polyjuice Potion and Bertie Botts to everybody in line. . . ."

Although Stolar concludes his piece with some wistful (and self-mocking) hope that the paperback version of his book will get more attention, my advice to him would be just to give it up before he's forced to do some really embarassing things. Perhaps offering sexual favors or to clean up after the next Harry Potter "event"?

We live in an era in which books are "units" to sell just like any other product, and the process of regarding them as such is only going to accelerate. Self-promotion isn't going to help as long as you're only trying to do it within the existing system. Stolar speaks of a "tipping point," but ultimately such a point will be reached within mainstream book publishing itself: Printing books that can't get into bookstores or can't get reviewed will become unsustainable, and fewer books will be published. Unfortunately, the books not getting published will generally be the better ones rather than the trash.

Stolar would probably be better off to offer his book through a website. Perhaps he could start a blog and accrue an audience that would also be willing to take a chance on his book. I can't see that he could do any worse than he already has through enduring the agony he describes. What kind of an audience would he get through selling it via these tactics anyway? Better to cultivate a smaller audience of serious readers who will appreciate his literary efforts than to hawk his book like it was a kitchen appliance.

Everyone with serious literary amibitions, in fact, would be better off giving up on the idea that corpororate book publishing is the way to fulfill those ambitions, that whatever talent you may have will ultimately be recognized, at least by the standards of the marketplace. Build up an audience by doing good work and preserving your integrity. Bypass the exisiting structures that only support a hollowness inside. Maybe at some point a good publisher will want to publish your work and get it into the hands of a few more people who will take it seriously. Maybe not. But if you have to do the dance Daniel Stolar went through, only to accomplish nothing, why would you want to please such undiscerning spectators in the first place?

Comments

[Dan Wickett]

Damn Dan, you're killing me with these links. I suppose it's for the poor bastards like Stolar that there are bloggers like yourself and folks like me, trying to find works worth reading, and sharing, and passing along the information as often as we can until they can find at least a small audience. If nothing else, you've succeeded in getting me to try to find a copy of Stolar's book and see if he won't do an interview for Emerging Writers. As much as I hate reading these, thanks for finding them.

Enjoy,

[Amardeep]

The internet is a good way to build up some awareness, but doing it right takes a *lot* of time and hard work. There are a lot of blogs out there!

I also think the internet has a bit of a caste-system despite itself. The people who succeed with blogging *off the bat* are generally established names. The rest of us have to work at it everyday, and steadily build up a readership.

Other internet channels might might also help him plug into his local constituency: he should also look into literature 'meetups', open mic reading events, and public reading groups that an have internet presence.

Maybe we should drop him an email...

[Stan Izen]

Thanks for pointing this article out. It is heartening to know that it is not just struggling witers like myself who suffer massive disappointment when life does not even come close to living up to our idealized delusions.

[Anon]

Having six books from an esteemed publisher and no "push" for any of them, I prefer to remain anonymous rather than spill the unholy beans the way this poor fellow did. Hope it sold a few copies!

But what you say here is accurate and right. Those of us who are striving to write good books in the mainstream have become a single story: the cautionary tale.

The next step is probably to find out that my "numbers" aren't good enough to sell the next book. Stellar reviews and private efforts simply aren't enough to sustain a book in Conglomerate City, with its celebrity "authors" and huge advances and hands-tied editors.

Keep telling the truth, Dan.

[Robert Nagle]

This first-person account was hilarious. BTW, I worked for a summer in a bookstore and wrote a similar first-person account. I remember a quote from business wonk Peter Drucker: Any bookstore worker who knows how to read anything more than the shelf tag is hopelessly overqualified.

My solution: we ought to have a law (or constitutional amendment) requiring authors to have actually written the books sold under their name. Ghost-written books by celebrities occupy lots of shelf space, promotional dollars and attention from store managers.

I've noticed btw a friend's novel is for sale used on amazon.com for less than a dollar. Rest assured, Dan, that I'll buy any book you write when it reaches that price.

[The Shamrockshire Eagle, editor and sole proprietor of]

"Stolar would probably be better off to offer his book through a
website. Perhaps he could start a blog and accrue an audience that
would also be willing to take a chance on his book."

Well, funnily enough, that's what I'll be doing in a few months
(touch wood). I've already got the book (http://ireland.yi.org ),
the blog (http://shamrockshire.yi.org ), and an audience well into
double figures...

Step 1: write book, build website, print book
...
Step 3: Profit!!

[Dan Green]

"Profit" isn't the point, however, is it? Anyone who wants to be a writer in order to turn a profit is on a fool's errand. Acquiring readers is a different matter, if being taken seriously as a writer is what you want.

[The Shamrockshire Eagle, editor and sole proprietor of]

Dan, haven't you ever seen "South Park"?

Of course no one in their right mind expects to make money writing;
though some *do* end up raking it in.

[Dan Green]

I'm ashamed to say I've never seen South Park.

[The Shamrockshire Eagle, editor and sole proprietor of]

South Park is a American cartoon series, quite funny, for some
reason funnier when dubbed into German. The episode in question
(I've never seen it, I read about it on slashdot.org) features
"Underpant Gnomes", whose business plan is:

1. Steal Underpants
2. [...]
3. Profit!!

Shades of the dot.com bubble, I suspect.

[Kevin Wignall]

Dan, great post and link. I'm sure he's not the only author who's been lured by "The Tipping Point" into believing that anything is possible. In a way, it makes me glad that I live here in England - when my new book comes out in the next couple of weeks in the US, I won't be able to worry about where it is in the bookstores or even "if" it's in the bookstores. That way madness lies. I prefer to focus on the writing, and on the generous emails I receive from readers.
Publishing is about business first, and art second. As writers, we have to put the art first because, as you suggest, if our real interest was in business, we'd all be stockbrokers.

[Ed]

By a strange fluke, I discovered that I still had DSL service on the afternoon before I'm moving, which permits me to weigh in here.

Because of the fragile framework of bookstores and publishing house publicity budgets, it is, without question, up to the author to self-promote. That means having a website that's current and regularly updated, doing the PR work that the publishing house won't spend on a midlist author, networking with other authors to hold readings (and, failing that, setting up the readings himself), getting to know the people behind the counter at your local bookstore, and otherwise becoming visible everywhere. Of course, this sort of visibility comes at the expense of finding time to write. Indeed, it's a full-time job in and of itself.

I suspect Dan would argue that the author is not beholden to such tomfoolery and should consciosuly resist it. Well, in an ideal world, yes. But if a professional writer hopes to remain registered within an audience's minds, it is his obligation to be anywhere and everywhere -- preferably, visiting out-of-the-way cities across the nation or calling up small circulation newspapers (or, as suggested above, literary blogs) until the inevitable moment arrives when the NYTBR covers his latest title, et al. The work, if it is good, will stand up. Or not. But the publicity angle is, for better or worse, a major component of any artistic field. Factor in the need to have your back catalog constatntly in print (by way of regularly producing a new book that sells well so as to justify this) and the free time that an author has becomes as rare as French vintage.

The situation is no different if you are in the film or music industry. Take a look at Morgan (Super Size Me) Sprunick's blog and you'll witness a man whose every minute is consumed by interviews and publicity. Consider the Red Elvises, a band whose profile remains visible because the group is crazy enough to tour like madmen (11 different cities in 11 days -- crazy hard-working folk, those guys).

I feel very bad for Daniel Stolar (and I'll have to pick up his book), but it is his mission to remain visible with whatever resources he has at his disposal. I suspect this article is, in part, one way of doing so.

[Dan Green]

Ed: I probably don't disagree with you as much as you might think. I said in my post that "Self-promotion isn't going to help as long as you're only trying to do it within the existing system." What you describe, it seems to me, is a writer creating his own system. Starting a blog and helping to promote lit blogs in general would be part of creating such a thing. It's pathetic that serious writing in America has come to this, but there it is.

[Dan Wickett]

"Starting a blog and helping to promote lit blogs in general would be part of creating such a thing. It's pathetic that serious writing in America has come to this, but there it is."

Pathetic, but it's really pretty much come to that. The attention that some of the smaller, more literary publishers throw at sites that review books or interview authors, or do any publicity at all for them is pretty scary.

The authors building networks is an idea that I think really needs to take hold. Getting each other readings, book signings, the word of mouth they can bring each other - hell,just the buying of each other's books will help a little bit.

How many stories similar to Stolar's have you read in the past two years? Now compare that to the plethora of stories flooding the wires about unknown writers getting full page ads in the NY Times Book Review and sitting on the couch with Katie Couric. Sad. True.

[anon]

It sounds to me that the author did a fantastic job promoting his book – and got more attention for it early than many titles get - I don't think you can blame him for not trying. The real issue seems to be that Barnes and Noble didn’t take the hardcover. When Barnes and Noble buys a book for national distribution they commit to putting at least one copy of that book into all of their stores – they’re a chain. That the author’s book didn’t end up in their stores suggests that the chain book buyer decided not to buy it. Even if they had bought it, it’s unlikely it would have ended up on the front tables,. It’s a shame (and something his editors should have told him before he found out the hard way) but it happens to books published by big houses all the time.

[Dan Green]

"It’s a shame (and something his editors should have told him before he found out the hard way) but it happens to books published by big houses all the time."

Which is, of course, itself the problem.

[Dan Wickett]

One amazing this is that even with these types of experiences, Stolar's article is coming out just in time for the release of his paperback. How in the hell did this book get a paperback deal with that type of publicity in the first place? Maybe it should have been a clue to the publisher that they had something worth pushing on their hands.

[Robert Nagle]

The irony is that this wonderfully entertaining article about not being able to get his book at his local bookstore may do more to publicize his name than any misguided attempts at self-PR did.

[Dan Wickett]

Actually, I think this may be the greatest example of attempted self-PR yet. I'm sure when he fired off the essay he not only was clearing his mind of the b.s. he'd endured, but was also wildly hoping that it would also garner his book the interest the stores should have originally. I hope he sat next to the information desk at that Barnes and Noble and laughed every time somebody special ordered his collection the next few days.

Enjoy,

[Dan Green]

That he would need to resort to such devices to get his book into readers' hands is, to me, even sadder.

[Francis Ellen]

Does anyone have a link to Daniel Stolar's orginal essay? It's long gone now but I'd really like to read the whole thing.

I'm in a 'situation' here myself; not entirely unrelated. After being turned down by 65 agents (well, one agent and 64 letter openers) I (cringe) self-published.

After making a living from writing for ten years I thought my first novel deserved to see the light of day.

Interestingly, my novel, The Samplist, was reviewed by the Times Literary Supplement this week. I've got reviews from The Guardian, Scotland on Sunday, The Scotsman, the BBC and a few other mags and I've got The New Scientist (yup, it's a novel; and not science fiction) and Classic fm Magazine and few others lined up for the coming months.

I've written to a couple of forums and some people were extremely friendly while others wanted to roast me on a spit for my amateurish suggestion that there was no need to send 'white galleys' ahead of publication (I've only sent regular copies of my book and most places I've tried - all national newspapers and magazines in the UK - have been quite open and helpful).

I have no contacts whatever (I'm tired of reading 'success stories' then finding out that the brother or father of the author "used to be a high ranking official in the Random House 'central office'") but the PR side is going well.

Sales are slow (only a month out there) but the TLS review seems to have opened up the chains. However, marketing inside stores is a real problem (and I have to admit that I once believed that such PR would inevitably lead to hoards of publishing types breaking down my door and stuffing great wads of loot into my pockets).

Never mind, I'm doing the London Book Fair soon and perhaps they'll notice my novel there?

Anyway, I thought the Stolar article was wonderful and I'd love to read the rest. Like him (or perhaps all of us?), I have engaged in many ludicrous success fantasies and plan to engage in a few more until my hopes are finally dashed in this bloody cruel business.

Choice cuts: (I can't help myself, and I live in hopes that a U.S. publisher might see the potential) "Catch-22 with music instead of war... like reading a film." The Arts Show, BBC.

"Part metaphysical fable, part frat house comedy."
Scotland on Sunday.

"At the heart of The Samplist is a portrayal of the love of music and what lies beyond it... something important is being said." Times Literary Supplement.

Is that in bad taste? I can't help myself. I've become a marketing machine and I can't work out what more a (human) browser might want from the prospect of a good yarn.

Francis.

[Robert Nagle]

Ironically, this blogpost contains the longest excerpt from this classic essay. Damn you Wayback machine! Damn you Internet!

Yet another reason why authors should have websites or blogs: to archive old essays!