Archive for June, 2008

It’s a bit early for the announcement, but my Tobias Wolff Award-nominated short story The Love Life of Tigers will be appearing in the Spring ‘09 issue of the Bellingham Review. I’m thrilled because BR is a great journal, and The Love Life of Tigers is the fastest short story I’ve ever written. Six months ago I woke up from a dream, sat at my laptop, and recorded the dream events before they faded. I should outsource to my subconscious more often.

In other way-too-early-to-be-mentioning-it publication news, I’m writing a long piece on the work of horror maestro John Carpenter, for the film mag Penny Blood. For years I’ve wanted to write something on Carpenter, but the timing never worked. Now it does. Look for the article sometime in the fall of this year. I’ll keep you posted.

It’s a bit past its interwebs shelf-life, but footage of the quadruped robot known as Big Dog is worth a look if you missed it the first time.

Creepy? A little. Especially when a human bully kicks the poor thing and it rights itself and soldiers on. But I like this robot because it makes the future seem that much closer. Like when they put Big Dog on a football field…I didn’t know quadruped robots could run that fast.

What does this thing do that a well-trained mule cannot? Nothing, unless you count delivering explosive payload. No one wants to see a mule blown up, so Big Dog has already cornered a niche.

I initially scoffed when my former agent Marly Rusoff suggested I attend a publicity seminar for authors. My reasons for scoffing were fueled by ego and insecurity (sides of the same coin, of course), but Ms. Rusoff is a publishing genius, so I figured what the hell. Something good had to come out of four hours in a room with publicists, agents, and media coaches. And lunch was included.

The seminar was called “Book Promotion 101,” created and moderated by the lovely Bella Stander, an incredibly bright, refreshingly blunt publicity guru who has the courage to blast apart authorly pretensions and replace those shattered delusions with good sense. Before Bella I thought my job as a writer began and ended with writing books. After Bella, I realized self-publicity isn’t something done by hacks or desperate salesmen—it’s as crucial a part of the publishing process as finding an agent, selling your book to a publisher, and making sure they spell your name right.

I recently spoke with Bella and it turned into an impromptu Q&A, which made me realize the world needs a proper Bella Stander Q&A. So I fired off some questions, she fired back some answers, and now I’m firing them to you.

M: What made you decide to hold seminars on book marketing and publicity? What skills do you bring to this field?
B: As a writer for Publishers Weekly and other publications, I’d interviewed authors who didn’t know how to talk about their books, and as a program moderator for the Virginia Festival of the Book I’d seen (and been embarrassed by) authors who were lousy readers and didn’t know how to comport themselves during a panel discussion. One year at the Festival, over the course of two dinners with more than twenty authors, the conversation mostly revolved around publicity: what publishers were–and especially weren’t!–doing for the authors’ books, and what they were doing themselves. One of the company put me in touch with an author who was on the board of the New Hampshire Writers’ Project. We got to talking about publicity, during which I expressed my usual strong opinions. She asked me if I’d like to conduct a publicity workshop sometime for the NHWP. I said, “Nah, I don’t know enough. You need a real expert.” She said, “Well, if you think of someone who could do it, let me know.” But it was as though a spore had been planted in my brain; I just couldn’t stop thinking about what authors needed to know about publicity, but nobody was telling them. A few days later, I called back the author in New Hampshire and said, “I could teach that workshop.” She told me to send her a proposal, which I did–the first proposal I’d ever written. The board approved it, and so I taught the first Book Promotion 101 workshop in Concord, NH, in October 2002.

M: Give me a few of the big mistakes authors make, once their book deal is signed.
B: Not thinking of their book-writing as a business. Writing is art, but once you sell your writing, you’re in business. Which means that you have to spend time on sales, accounting and marketing/publicity, and you have to have a marketing plan.

b) Obsessing about publicity before the manuscript is done. Finish writing the book, then figure out how you’re going to promote it.

c) Assuming that their publisher is going to take care of all promotion/publicity, and so not thinking about it until just before pub date (or after–gack!) , when it’s too late.

d) Assuming that their publisher is going to do nothing about promotion/publicity, and so pestering their agent/editor/inhouse publicist with endless questions/suggestions, stepping on publicist’s toes by duplicating her work and pitching bookstores and media without telling her beforehand.

M: Which do you feel is more important: an author capable of doing his/her own kick-ass publicity, or an author who hires the right kick-ass publicist?
B: It’s not an either/or question; both are important. It all depends on the book and the author–and how much time, effort and money the author is willing and able to spend. The point is to have the kick-ass publicity, whether it’s from the author, the inhouse publicist, a freelance publicist, or–best of all–a combination of the three.

M: Some well-known writers think an author shouldn’t waste his/her time handling the publicity/marketing side of publishing, that they should only focus on writing books and leave the rest to the pros. How do you feel about this?
B: That may be fine for well-known writers, but these days it’s hard to become one without being savvy about publicity and marketing. John Grisham has “people” for that sort of thing now, but when he started out as a writer he drove around the South, from bookstore to bookstore, with a trunkful of books in his car. By the way, contrary to popular opinion, author self-promotion isn’t new; see my blog posts The Very Model of a Modern Major Author I and The Very Model of a Modern Major Author II.

M: Are big publishing houses necessarily better than smaller houses? What are some of the advantages/disadvantages for either one?
B: It all depends. A big house has the resources and clout to get a lot of attention for a book and author–multi-city tour, media blitz, advertising, etc. But that happens with very few books; “midlist” books can get lost in the shuffle. But if an overlooked book does break out of the pack, the house can pony up to help it along. With a smaller house, each book may get more attention, however there may not be enough money or publicity staff to give it the push it needs. In general, the smaller the publisher (except for Algonquin Books, which has one of the best publicity teams anywhere), the more publicity work for the author.

M: What sort of help should an author expect from his/her in-house publicist? Should the author worry about stepping on the publicist’s toes?
B: How much help the inhouse publicist can give depends on the publisher, the publicist and the author. A great way to get help is to first ask the publicist what you can do to make her job easier. For example, the pub probably won’t write the copy for your website, but if you’re friendly and helpful, and ask at the right time (i.e., not first thing Monday morning or last thing on Friday), she may help you tweak it. Even if you think your pub is an incompetent slug, you should take care not to step on her toes, per 2d) above. If you have a problem with your pub, try to work it out with her first. Don’t start out by going over her head to her boss, your editor, or worst of all, your agent.

M: Do you agree that all publicity is good publicity?
B: Ask Margaret B. Jones (aka Peggy Seltzer), whose gang memoir, LOVE AND CONSEQUENCES, was exposed as a fraud after a feature about her ran in the New York Times.

M: With so many websites, and so many authors, and so many books, what’s your take on “anti-marketing”; i.e. being the one author who doesn’t have a website. Is it a new form of guerrilla marketing, or short-sighted idiocy?
B: I’d hate to call authors who don’t have a website idiots, but I’d say they’re short-sighted. For an author, not having a website is like not having a telephone. It makes it more difficult for journalists and event planners to get in contact, and it’s a dead-end for readers who want to learn more about the author of the wonderful book they just read. I have interviews on my writing website (www.bellastander.com) with a couple of authors who don’t have their own sites, and you wouldn’t believe how many emails I’ve forwarded them over the years from readers, event organizers and even a long-lost cousin.

I have not been lost in the throes of my next book. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about my next book. It’s just…well, it’s just sitting there. Waiting for me to finish editing.

Editing what? Editing various unfinished projects–a few short stories, some articles, the latest draft of my Elvis book. It sounds kitschy, doesn’t it? Elvis book. Of course kitsch isn’t my thing–my pop culture obsession remains in the present, not the past–and there was a time when Elvis wasn’t kitsch. You could argue all mega-successful artists eventually become kitsch. Merchandising does that to the things we love. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

I’ll be hanging out with the G4 AOTS crew at the Comic-Con, and here’s the premise:

The Revolution Will Be Televised…Courtesy of Stickam

In ages past, between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the Wachowski Brothers lost all street cred, the San Diego Comic-Con was the provenance of geeks. Of course geeks doesn’t mean anything now, other than a caricature of intensely-devoted, whip-smart creative types (and of course the old meaning of geek—a circus performer who bites off the heads of live animals—is long forgotten). But we’ll use geek because it’s the best we can do, and in that spirit, the true geek ownership of Comic-con—the LARPing, comic book-obsessing, action-figure collecting otaku hounds with their fingers perpetually stained Doritos-orange and their heads crammed with encyclopedic knowledge of canceled sci-fi shows—is long lost.

The Comic-Con has been co-opted, and finally, after all these years, CEO’s have discovered the economic power of niche marketing. It’s about damn time. Didn’t we tell you that Iron Man would kill? That Conan was tailor-made for gaming? That Miyuzaki was better than Disney?

We who suffered through the days of Commodore 64 and Intellivision have seen our patience rewarded. Generation X is now Generation X-Play. The jocks of our youth who saw gaming as a hobby for the weak now watch their beloved professional athletes competing in Madden tournaments. Graphic novels inch their way toward literary acceptance. Geek has gone chic.

Tracing the etiology of this seismic cultural shift is tricky—video game technology improved, a dearth of fresh ideas led to the comic book/Hollywood crossover, tech prices decreased—but to find the source of this geek-to-chic shift you have to start with its revolutionaries. And so we arrive at G4. More specifically, we arrive at G4’s signature program, Attack of the Show…

Dear Micah-

I’ve asked several authors this question and haven’t yet heard a good answer: How do you come up with your ideas? How do you ensure that the ideas you’ve come up with haven’t been used by someone else?

I’m always afraid that one of my stories has been written by someone else, and I’ll be accused of plagiarism. Since there’s no way to read every short story out there, I wonder if this has already happened.

Thanks for listening,

Shannon

You haven’t heard a good answer because there is no good answer. I can’t summon ideas—they arrive on their own schedule. The most persistent ones are put to paper. The rest are filed away for possible future use.

(Sometimes I get an idea that is both persistent and awful, like a lousy song that keeps repeating in my head. Here’s the most recent: owner of heavy metal record store is contacted by a former Nazi scientist, to help retrieve a lost amulet with supposed magical powers. One year that idea has been pestering me. So I’m posting it, and giving you all permission to take that idea and make it into your masterpiece.)

As for the fear of plagiarism…don’t worry. Let’s say that by some wild chance your story bears similarity to a previously published piece by, oh, I don’t know, John Cheever. Let’s say you have similar characters (the disaffected husband and his shrewish wife), a similar setting (cabana in the Florida Keys), and even a similar resolution (disaffected husband realizes his existential futility and goes for a walk on the beach, never to return). Despite all that, your two stories will still be completely different. Why? Because writing is a sum of infinite variables.

I do like your question, though, because it contains a unique idea: the author’s doppelganger, which now that I think about it isn’t so unique. Stephen King did a story like that. The one where Johnny Depp played the author. Right?

But if you’re still worried that somewhere in the world, someone published a story that you’ve already written, use that fear to spur your reading. Tell yourself you’re researching potential doppelgangers, and grab a book of Cheever’s stories.

It’s a gray, rainy day in Boston so I’ll end this post on a pithy note: All art is homage, anyway.