Oh, don’t worry, readers. I’m not going to abandon you, so no need for tears. Clearly, blogging is worth it for us here at DGLM, and I’ll explain why in a bit.
Earlier this week, I was intrigued by this blog post from author Livia Blackburne (via Galleycat). In it, she wrote about the major issue that blogging authors have: they often wind up writing not for their readers, but for other writers. It’s a great community to become a part of, but I’ll be honest, it’s not exactly what agents and publishers had in mind when we so fervently recommended that every author needed to be blogging. In fact, if you’ve heard me speak at a conference in the past year, you’ve probably heard me talk about authors finding the right ways to promote their books online–and I’ve suggested that most authors not blog. If your posts are only going to reach other authors, I honestly don’t think it’s worth the time to maintain a blog, since that time could be spent doing something more effective to either reach readers or create something new. It’s all about audience, and authors often lose sight of exactly who that is.
But Livia took things one step further in a follow-up post, suggesting ways in which authors might actually reach out to their readers directly. She even references a DGLM client who has done an amazing job of developing an audience all on his own, John Locke. Early on, he figured out who his reader was, going so far as to create a psychological profile, and then crafted blog posts to appeal to that reader. It may seem calculated, but it’s smart. (And, for anyone writing commercial fiction, it’s important that your books appeal to that same reader, though that’s for another blog post!) For those of you writing fiction and blogging, I suggest it’s something that you very seriously ponder.
So, back to us. We actually thought about our audience when we retooled our blog a while back. We discussed who our readers were: aspiring authors, clients, and a smattering of other people. We now focus our blog posts to appeal to those groups, which has raised our blogging profile. We’ve got a more cohesive, more appealing product. We’ve improved our reach by understanding our audience.
For those of you that blog, have you thought about audience? Are you building a blog following by reaching out to your readers?
Recently, I’ve encountered some challenges with my clients regarding genre. Very often, an editor considering a manuscript will pass if they feel that it doesn’t fit neatly into a specific genre. This can be challenging for writers, but it’s something to seriously consider, as it can often make or break a deal. This piece in Writer’s Relief lays it all out very nicely.
Have you ever encountered difficulty with adhering to a genre?
Dude, I totally had to blog about this piece I saw in The Guardian via yesterday’s Shelf Awareness. Yep, forget the Agatha Christie you pictured sitting in an English drawing room sketching out mysteries over scones and tea—turns out Agatha was one gnarly babe, catching tasty waves at Waikiki long before the Beach Boys were a glimmer in their daddy’s eye.
Not to read too much into this piece (that might harsh my mellow), but you’ve gotta love stories of writers trying things that seem completely at odds with their literary personae. I’m always stoked to be reminded that curiosity is a writer’s best friend, even if the experience doesn’t end up as direct material for a book—as The Guardian notes, Miss Marple never exactly shredded a fat wave…
So while chasing tubes may not be your thing, I do hope you’ll find time this summer to indulge in a totally rad, totally counterintuitive pursuit—who knows, you might end up as, er, the world’s greatest mystery writer!
As one whose manners could always use improvement (well, table manners at least), I’m usually hesitant to weigh in on questions of etiquette. However, I got some emails this weeks that I thought were worth discussing…
Perhaps the only benefit of the recent heat wave is that things were quiet enough for me to catch up on submissions. Typically, I respond to queries with my standard form rejection, which I think is polite and honest in that it gives the ultimate reason why we chose not to take on any author’s work—we just don’t think we can sell it. Hence, when I do get an email back, it’s usually an equally polite thank-you note or a query about a new project, which I’m always happy to look at.
However, this time around I got a few replies from authors letting me know that while they were waiting for my answer, they either signed with another agent or got themselves a publishing deal. To which I say, congratulations… but why are you telling me this now, instead of when the interest in your project actually happened? Is it just to fill me in? Or is it to chastise me for being too slow? To show that my rejection doesn’t matter, since things worked out anyway?
Regardless of your motivation, telling me your news after you get the rejection means I just wasted time considering a project that wasn’t available anymore. So, a simple request: if you’ve got a submission with me and something develops, send me an email and tell me at the time—I’d love the opportunity to compete for your affection. (That’s why you initially queried me, right?) And if the message is that you’re withdrawing your work from consideration, then at least I can give you a genuine congrats!
Every once in a while, when they let me out of my cage and into the general population, I get to attend conferences and meet some wonderful aspiring authors. One of my favorite things to do is attend agent pitch sessions—most recently at this year’s Thriller Fest—where authors have the opportunity to discuss their material, gain advice, and ask agents if they are willing to accept submissions. It’s always exciting and fast-paced, and even though the brain can feel somewhat mushy after two non-stop hours of pitches, I find it to be very rewarding in various ways.
With all this in mind, today I thought I’d give some recommendations on how to make the most of those precious few minutes a writer has with an agent:
Practice reciting a concise synopsis of your work. You shouldn’t (and shouldn’t need) to cover every single plot point or every detail about every character in your novel.
Do your research. It’s often a good idea to know a little bit about the agents you’ll be meeting with before the pitch session. It should go without saying that this is the easiest way to avoid pitching your young adult novel to the agent who only represents non-fiction.
Relax and enjoy! I have had to stop more than one author mid-sentence, hands and voices shaking, and ask them to take a deep breath and start over. Pitching to an agent is understandably petrifying, but at the end of the day, we’re people too. We aren’t going to criticize your work, or laugh in your face, or make you cry. I promise.
Have any of you out there attended pitch sessions? What have been your general opinions and experiences?
I’m just back from my vacation, spent in Italy (I’ll give you a moment to be jealous), but I’ve still got vacation on the brain. I’m very much back at work, busier than ever–Jim wasn’t kidding about that publishing summer–it’s not that my brain is still on vacation. Rather, I was realizing just how much I needed that vacation, and how recharged and refreshed I feel coming back. I’ve been pestering (nicely!) editors left and right, and I’ve been having a bunch of creative calls with authors, and I feel like I’m really firing on all cylinders.
In setting up a time to talk about his manuscript, an author mentioned that the time it took for me to read and formulate my thoughts was time he needed off. And while authors are often eager to hear what their editors think about their latest draft, I know that many of them relish the time off while they wait.In our constantly-connected world, and in a business where work and personal time tend to run together, I think all of us could benefit from some real vacation time. For agents and editors, that means time spent not answering calls and emails or editing manuscripts or copy, and for authors that means not just stepping away from a manuscript (something everyone needs to do sometimes!), but also from Facebook and Twitter and Goodreads and Amazon and blogging and worrying and comparing and kvetching. Taking a break from both the craft and the business helps us gain perspective, which we often sorely lack. That perspective can lead to new insights on a plot, character or scene, and it can also lead to new personal insight. And if nothing else, a break often leaves one excited to return to the work, more energized than before.
Do you employ breaks, big or small? Or do you feel yourself suffering from the 24/7, always on culture? How do you find time to get away?
Advice is everywhere, coming at us constantly from all directions—friends, family members; wanted, unwanted; sometimes it’s helpful, sometimes it’s not; very often it’s unavoidable. But it’s everywhere! And if there’s one thing we try to do on this blog—often and (we hope) well—it’s offering advice that will inform, educate, and encourage our readers in what they do. At the end of the day, it’s one of the main reasons we’re on here to begin with.
But, admittedly, not all advice is alike. Because honestly? You shouldn’t actually remove all the commas from your work; and you shouldn’t have to only “write what you know.” And frankly? it is okay to put a work-in-progress aside temporarily if the writing isn’t coming easily; and no.. there doesn’t have to be conflict on every single page.
So today I ask you: in your writing endeavors, have you been the victim of unwanted advice? And if so, what’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever received?
My inbox of unread queries is always in flux. It constantly ebbs and flows, the number of submissions on any given day ranging from only a handful to dozens. Either way, it’s something that I am continually immersed in, always reading and looking for the next great thing.
But lately, it seems things have hit a slump. In most of the queries that I read, the writer isn’t giving me the most thrilling aspect of their book, the crucial element that should make me desperate to ask for more pages. In other cases, it’s unclear if that pivotal element is even there.
This is not to say that every query I’m reading is an automatic rejection, not even close. But I guess I wish that something would cross my computer screen that not only makes me instantly excited and interested, but also shows that the writer is doubly excited and practically tripping over themselves to tell me.
Maybe this is asking a lot, and I know that putting together the all-important query can be daunting, but if you want me, or any agent, to be interested in your book, be excited about it, let it show, and get us excited about it too.
Further to Jane’s post discussing the selling process, I thought it might be interesting to take a closer look at pitch letters: first, a writer’s successful query letter, one that prompted to me to request the material and sign journalist Jason Ryan as a client; next, my pitch letter to the editors to whom I submitted his proposal; and finally, the jacket copy that the publishing house drafted to pitch the book (ultimately titled Jackpot: High Times, High Seas, and the Sting That Launched the War on Drugs) to readers. All three are a bit different, and each is calibrated to its recipient.
1) Query Letter:
Ms. Papin,
This is Jason Ryan, a journalist in South Carolina and former reporter for The State newspaper- the state’s largest daily and capital city paper. I’m seeking representation for my first book, ‘Jackpot,’ and was impressed by your representation of Arab authors and your ‘hands-on’ work ethic. I think your eclectic tastes might facilitate an interest in my unique journalistic endeavor, a narrative concerning smugglers whose sole connection to the Arab world was their fondness for Turkish hash. My nonfiction narrative, ‘Jackpot,’ details the rise and fall of fraternity brothers who, in a decade, smuggled more than $1 billion of marijuana and hashish into the United States aboard sailboats. ‘Jackpot’ also spotlights an age of innocence in drug trafficking, when violence was not ubiquitous.
‘Jackpot’ is the country’s greatest untold marijuana tale, and its twists and turns rival the slickest Hollywood screenplay. Two disaffected men from South Carolina rose to the top of the East Coast drug smuggling underworld with the help of their band of “gentlemen smugglers”- a now extinct breed of drug running rogues defined by their college educations, nonviolent business methods and love for the sea. The smugglers’ adventures involved jailbreaks, transatlantic smuggling flotillas, and dangerous overlaps with international armed conflicts. It all came to an end when the government unleashed a task force known as Operation Jackpot.
While the smugglers themselves have an amazing tale, so do the government agents involved in Operation Jackpot. Their task force fought a pioneering battle in President Ronald Reagan’s War on Drugs, using new civil seizure laws and financial evidence to help take down South Carolina’s elusive gentlemen smugglers, men whose nicknames included “Rolex,” “Flash” and “Bob the Boss.”
“Jackpot” is the tale of two groups of men, both cunning and fearless, yet diametrically opposed. On one side was a set of seafaring smugglers with a slipping grip on America’s fast-fading hippie culture. On the other side was a band of investigators empowered by Reagan conservatism that sidestepped bureaucratic hurdles, expanded prosecutorial power and chased drug kingpins to the corners of the earth, sometimes going undercover. Their clash commenced as America underwent a sea change in its attitude toward recreational drug use, severely criminalizing substances long tolerated.
I’ve spent the last year researching Operation Jackpot and interviewing those involved on both sides of the law. I am currently contacting a select group of literary agencies regarding my book. I’m happy to provide a more detailed proposal if you’re interested.
Sincerely,
Jason Ryan
In Jason’s letter above, what leapt out at me was the original research he’d done—a year’s worth of legwork. True crime, as this book might be loosely categorized, is not a genre in which I often work, nor do I count the debate surrounding the legalization of marijuana as one near to my heart, but his query seemed to contain the elements of a great story, one that had a colorful regional focus but national implications, and an author who, as it turned out, had both the access and the ability to capture it
2) My pitch letter:
Dear Editor,
I am pleased to send you Jackpot; the true story of the rise and fall of a ring of “gentlemen smugglers,” a colorful and incorrigible cadre of good ol’ boys, bon vivants, and drug traffickers who made a fortune, lived a fantasy and became the targets of one of the most extensive and ambitious anti-drug operations ever launched in the United States. Operation Jackpot was the opening volley in newly-elected President Reagan’s War on Drugs; its fascinating story captures a watershed moment in American political and popular culture, when hippies gave way to preppies, kids learned to “just say no,” and a group of seafaring sybarites became Public Enemy Number One.
In the late seventies and early eighties, the gentleman smugglers sailed a veritable flotilla of drug-laden luxury sailboats across the Caribbean, through the Mediterranean, and across the Atlantic, ultimately unloading almost a billion dollars worth of marijuana and hashish along the South Carolina coast, relying on the same sleepy islands and labyrinthine waterways favored by the rum runners and privateers who preceded them.
The ringleaders were native sons of the Palmetto State, and depending on who was asked, Les Riley, Barry Foy and their comrades were local boys made good—or promising young men gone irretrievably bad. The college-educated scions of middle-class and well-to-do families, they traded in conventional careers for a lifestyle flush with adventure, high times, and cash. Lots and lots of cash. Yet lucrative as it was, they steered clear of the burgeoning cocaine trade and the culture of brutality that surrounded it; these men eschewed violence as much as they loved pleasure, and in an instance of life imitating art (or perhaps art imitating life), endeavored to live the lyrics to a Jimmy Buffet song. Their idyll would not, however, last forever: greed, lust, hurricanes, and the occasional disaster at sea caught up with them—and eventually, so did the law. Led by an exceptionally ambitious US Attorney named Henry Dargan McMaster, what ensued was a cat-and-mouse game played out against a backdrop of tropical islands and quiet bayous, crumbling plantations, as well as a vicious civil war (Lebanon) and a US invasion (Grenada).
Author Jason Ryan is a journalist who lives in South Carolina; long fascinated by the Jackpot case, he has gained unprecedented access to both the smugglers and the law enforcement agents who brought them to justice. I hope you find the story as compelling as I did, and will want to add it to your list.
With all good wishes,
Jessica Papin
In my letter, I tried to stress the “bigger” story, and tie the specific misdeeds and exploits of the drug smugglers to the cultural and political moment in American history. As a kid during the both the Carter and Reagan administrations, I noted the vast political shift, as Carter’s “malaise” gave way to Reagan’s sunnier (and arguably less accurate) vision of the USA. Nancy Reagan’s ubiquitous Just Say No Campaign was, at least for me, an essential part of the zeitgeist. I also try to layout the bones of the basic conflict: smugglers versus US attorney McMaster, who brought a whole new raft of tools to bear on the “kingpins.” Speaking as a former editor who pitched projects to my colleagues, I remember the utility of a pitch letter that helped to position a project, and could sometimes even be cribbed down the line for catalog or jacket copy, so I always try and write the sort of letter I liked to get.
3) Jacket Copy:
In the late 1970s and early 1980s, a cadre of freewheeling, Southern pot smugglers lived at the crossroads of Miami Vice and a Jimmy Buffett song. In less than a decade, these irrepressible adventurers unloaded nearly a billion dollars worth of marijuana and hashish through the eastern seaboard’s marshes. Then came their undoing: Operation Jackpot, one of the largest drug investigations ever launched and an opening volley in Ronald Reagan’s War on Drugs.
In Jackpot, author Jason Ryan takes us back to the heady days before drug smuggling was synonymous with deadly gunplay. During this golden age of marijuana trafficking, the country’s most prominent kingpins were a group of wayward and fun-loving Southern gentlemen who forsook college educations to sail drug-laden luxury sailboats across the Mediterranean, the Atlantic, and the Caribbean. Les Riley, Barry Foy, and their comrades eschewed violence as much as they loved pleasure, and it was greed, lust, and disaster at sea that ultimately caught up with them, along with the law.
In a cat-and-mouse game played out in exotic locations across the globe, the smugglers sailed through hurricanes, broke out of jail and survived encounters with armed militants in Colombia, Grenada and Lebanon. Based on years of research and interviews with imprisoned and recently released smugglers and the law enforcement agents who tracked them down, Jackpot does for marijuana smuggling what Blow and Snowblind did for the cocaine trade.
The actual jacket copy is shorter, punchier, and more profligate in its pop culture references. Odd as it sounds, the combination of Jimmy Buffet and Miami Vice positions the book pretty accurately. Here, the emphasis is on the big story, but also the colorful adventures of the smugglers themselves, and the text is juicier, studded with interesting details. In addition, the flap copy draws an oblique contrast between the content of most contemporary drug trafficking stories—the bloody, brutal, and horrific reports from warring cartels in Mexico—and the nonviolent approach that these smugglers took. In all three letters, however, the first task of the writer is to be interesting—all three of us are hoping to attract a reader. You can judge for yourselves whether you think we succeed.
Just when I think I have it down as far as whether the Kindle, the NOOK, or the iPad is what I want to use to read my books on, things change. In fact, these changes can be really dizzying and confusing.
Both the “All-New NOOK” and the Kobo Touch have a number of similarities and some differences. But both of them have features that make them more attractive to the reader than the Kindle. This of course will force Amazon and the other manufacturers of e-readers to improve their products, and on and on and on. And even though many of these are becoming less expensive, they are still an investment of sorts, and how many do each of us really need?
I guess my question is, which e-reader do I buy next? I have used my Kindle successfully for two or three years and am feeling it is time for an upgrade. But I am totally confused by all of the choices available.
I am searching for opinions and advice. What would you choose?
August 04, 2011 
Michael 