Posted on 12/10/2009
RtP: Book contracts should be embarked upon like marriages. As Jane Austen shows us, every woman is best served in marriage by saying no at the beginning. The men as, the women say no, the men have to try again with better offers; all end up happy. And everyone knows Jane Austen would serve for almost anything.
By: moonrat,
on 9/29/2009
Late last night, Robert and I were both still at work. He called me into his office and told me to sit, then gestured to the little black single-serving coffee maker by his phone. "Want a cup?" he asked.
"Um, ok," I said. I'm not the kind of person who should be drinking coffee after 10 am but I was already pretty nervous about what he wanted to talk about and didn't think declining was a good idea.
"Do you take milk?"
"Yes," I said apprehensively. Was he keeping milk under his desk? If so, how long had it been there? But then I saw the non-dairy creamer on the bookshelf and relaxed--a little.
I watched him plunk in the coffee pod over a mug he had produced from some dusty corner and stab the "brew" button with all the slow-motion precision of one's grandfather. "Well, we have a lot to talk about," he said. "We did not have very good news today, did we."
"Not really," I said. I was a nervous wreck; I had received what we'll call an unpromising piece of information about a book of mine that's supposed to be coming out in a couple months, and I was particularly worried about how I was going to get us out of the jam.
"Well," he said, placing the full hot coffee cup in front of him and popping the top of the non-dairy creamer open. "Bad things happen; people lie; reviews fall through. We hemmorhage cash over things we were sure would work beautifully, and just hope we make enough off of our strong backlists to survive. I'm not saying we want bad things to happen," he continued, tapping an awful lot of surprisingly gelatinous creamer into the cup in front of him, "nor should weexpect them necessarily, but we shouldn't fear them." He looked pensively into the coffee, where the non-dairy creamer floated stubbornly on top in two amoeba-esque clumps, then removed his glasses, folded one leg down, and submerged the lenses into the coffee, stirring briskly. When the coffee was good and... blended, I guess you'd say, he withdrew the glasses and tapped them observantly on the rim of the mug, then looked up to catch my eye. "What's the matter? Oh no, did you say you didn't want cream?"
"No, cream's great," I assured him, and took the proffered cup.
"Yes, well, as I was saying," he continued, pushing the glasses back up his formidable nose, "I have been in publishing a long, long time. I have published many books that failed, but I do not fear failure. You simply can't fear failure." He paused. "Are you afraid of failure?"
"More than anything in the world," I answered, before I could think it through.
"Huhn." Robert peered at me. A tear of coffee ran down his cheek and made a brown circle on his lemon-colored shirt. "Huhn. Well. This has been very interesting." He clasped his hands. "Well, you answered honestly, which is good. But tell me, what good does fear of failure do you?"
"It helps you pre-empt the worst case scenario," I replied.
"No, no, this isn't a rhetoric exercise," he said. "I want you to think about that, whether being afraid of failure really helps you. It must be awfully exhausting."
"It is," I said, thinking of the tightness in my torso and the wrinkles accumulating on my forehead, the anxiety and scrambling each week, the churlish re-editing and re-re-editing, the arteries hardening in my chest. I raised my swirling duatone coffee to my mouth. I figured the consequences of my fears had to be worse for me than the consequences of the coffee.
Now that I've spent the night thinking about it, I think that Robert's advice to me about being a book publisher really applies to anyone who wants to work in the industry in any capacity--but perhaps especially to writers. To sustain a state of high tension and desperation--you know, the kind the whole submission process usually creates--is not only physically exhausting, it's creatively exhausting. It also makes us less likely to make wise decisions when we're presented with opportunities. Paychecks aside--and let's face it, even the best-paid among us would-be publishing/published peeps don't make THAT much money--I think we survive by letting go of a fear of failure. Our desperation makes us lose sight of what we got into this for--in many cases, to write. Writing is the joy, and if you are joyful you have not failed. We should be happy when good things come about, but not live in fear that they won't.
Easier said than done, of course. But I'm going to make a conscious effort going forward.
By: moonrat,
on 9/17/2009
RtP: There are two kinds of people in this world: the kind that build bridges, and the kind that walk over bridges without ever thinking about how they got there.
Hm. I know which kind I hope to be...
By: moonrat,
on 9/1/2009
Sales Manager: We need really awesome blurbs to make this one work. We should get T.C. Boyle, Umberto Eco, and Saul Bellow, definitely.
RtP: You got it. I can get those.
Publicist: Saul Bellow is dead.
Sales Manager: He is?
RtP: Yes, he died about 4 years ago. But I can still get a blurb from him.
[Robert's got friends in HIGH places, apparently.]
By: moonrat,
on 7/15/2009
RtP: "Modesty will get you ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE. Except in life."
By: moonrat,
on 6/26/2009
RtP: Sometimes you just have to say no. You can't go around appeasing agents all the time. That's what happened at Munich, and look what that got us. You can't suck up to Hitler, you can't suck up to agents. Neville Chamberlain would have been a terrible publisher.
[Because you know Robert loves him some Hitler analogies.]
By: moonrat,
on 3/3/2009
Production Manager: While XXX is out, we can have an intern check over the page proofs.
Robert the Publisher: Can an intern do that on its own?
By: moonrat,
on 1/28/2009
Marketing Director: We really did everything we could for that book. We're not sure where it went wrong.
Robert the Publisher: Yes, well, as they say, failure is an orphan and success has many parents.
[My personal experience--failure is one of those situations where a maternity/paternity test might be in order, what with all the blame-passing. And as for success, they do say it takes a village to raise a child!]
By: moonrat,
on 2/13/2008
[raised as a topic of conversation during editorial meeting] "I have a theory. It goes like this. When a woman wants to attract a man, she tells him all sorts of things about herself that make her sound like the kind of person she thinks he wants. But then, as a little bit of time goes by, the truth always comes out!" Always on the cutting edge of science, that Robert.
By: Betsy Bird,
on 3/25/2007
Nothing short of small sharp crowbars keeps me from reading children's books and only children's books for pleasure these days. Now Oz and Ends and bookshelves of doom have conspired to inform me of a book that I simply must read and pronto. I've already placed a hold on it (though there are a paltry 2 copies in all the New York Public Library system). Growl. Fidget. Grumph.
AHAHAHA. Robert's gems are always exactly that :). I'm sure Jane would approve!
Does this mean an agent is a marriage broker?
As a married man, I can attest to the truthfulness of this statement.
However, is the agent like the cool friend that introduced me to the Musses?
yep... agree...on another note.
How about the Kirkus news?
Could it be true? The Wicked Witch is dead?
Haha. Love it.
Wow, I must be a complete sucker - I said yes to my hubby right away. However, 14 years later I can still say it's the best decision I ever made!
Okay, about to betray my slipshod reading and/or thinking here... I was nodding along with this all the way up to the last sentence. But I don't get the "Jane Austen would serve for anything" bit.
Help?
Who knew that Robert was an Austen expert? He continues to dazzle us with his brilliance and matchmatking skills. ;-).
. I'm sure Jane would approve!
Work from home India