Longing for the Good Old Days

There was an interesting article on the demise of the massmarket paperback by the agent Richard Curtis in this month’s newsletter of Novelists Inc. He traces the paperback’s swansong to the disappearance of independent distributors in 1996, and details all the ills that have flowed from that historic restructuring of how books make their way into our local bookstores, grocery stores, and pharmacies.

My first book came out in 1997, which means I missed the days of authors wooing drivers with coffee and donuts in predawn visits to distribution centers (not that I could have participated anyway, since I was living in Australia at the time). I could say “thankfully missed,” because that kind of fake-smiley-you’re-my-buddy schmoozing is not my style. Yet there is no denying that the disappearance of those drivers virtually killed the careers of most new and midlist authors—even those too dignified/stupid to schmooze. Without the drivers’ specialized knowledge of what sold where, outlets started taking the easy way out and simply restricted their buying to the top 10 or 15 bestsellers.

It’s ironic because along with this new distribution network and its increasing promotion of a few bestselling authors, authors are also suffering from the insidious effects of the new computerized tracking of the Numbers. A simple keystroke can now tell editors and booksellers how many copies of Author A’s last book were printed and how many copies of that book sold. Let’s face it: people are lazy cowards. If I’m a bookstore manager and I see that we only sold two copies of Author A’s last book, then that’s probably all I’m going to order of Author A’s new book, no matter how wonderful Author A’s new book might be (unless I see that Author A’s publisher is plunking down a big chunk of money on advertising). It doesn’t matter if Author A’s previous book has a poor sales history because it was a lousy book, or because it had a lousy cover, or because its publisher had so little confidence in it that they only printed 5,000 copies, or because it came out the day of 9/ll. None of that pertinent information is stored in the computer. Just the Numbers.

And then there is the effect of the Internet. The sale of used books has always been a sore point with authors, although there was a time when we consoled ourselves with the thought that used bookstores give readers a chance to take a risk on new authors they might not otherwise try. But now, when the obsessive among us log onto Amazon.com to check our Amazon rankings (more Numbers—and yes, an editor will look at that when deciding on whether on not to buy an author), we see a tantalizing link: New and Used Copies Available from Just $.01! Hhmm. Let’s see. I can buy a new hardcover (remaindered) for $5 including shipping and handling, or I can pay $9+ for a brand new paperback. Talk about a no brainer.

I don’t know what the publishing industry can do about this. I do know what new and midlist authors are doing. Those who were outside the winners’ circle when the gate clanged shut in 1996 are writing under pseudonyms to escape the opprobrium of their previous Numbers. They’re abandoning storycraft and wordsmithing to concentrate on writing fast-paced books with lots of sex and violence, because that’s what attracts publishers and publishers’ marketing departments and those all-important promotion dollars. They’re trying to figure out how they can have a Platform if they didn’t go to Yale or they’re not a movie star. They’re setting up websites, they’re blogging, they’re tap dancing on the corner and waving their arms and screaming Look at me! Read my book!

Ah, for the good old days.

Let’s Do the Twist

I’ve been giving some thought lately to twists. You know, those places in a book or movie where the story takes off in a [hopefully] unanticipated direction, where the reader/audience says, “Wow; I didn’t see that coming.”

It seems to me that twists ought to be quantifiable. I guess it’s the academic in me, always analyzing and trying to compartmentalize things. But what is a twist, at its most basic, except a bit of information the protagonist (and reader) has that turns out to be wrong? Some of the most common twists are:

-Someone the protagonist thinks is a friend turns out to be an enemy.
-Someone the protagonist thinks is an enemy turns out to be a friend.
-Someone we think is dead turns out to be alive.
-Someone we think is alive turns out to really be dead.
-Something believed lost is not really lost.
-A character’s supposed motive is seen to be impossible.
-A character has a motive that was never suspected. (This doesn’t only apply to mysteries; think of romantic comedies where the hero woos a woman on a bet.)
-A family relationship turns out to be different from what was believed (an “aunt” turns out to be a mother, a child discovers he’s adopted, etc)
-A character we think is a man turns out to be a woman, and vice versa

I’m sure there are many, many more variations on the theme. So how about it? What can you add to the list?

A Copyeditor Rant and Two Hurrahs

I appreciate what copyeditors do. I really, really do. They have saved me from all sorts of embarrassment in the past. But pardon me while I vent some spleen over the copyeditor who went through the manuscript of WHY MERMAIDS SING and very conscientiously took out all of the capitalizations of things like the Earl, the Crown, the King, etc, etc. Ghhrrrr.

And, excuse me, but hasn’t everyone heard of Alfred, Lord Tennyson? Thus one should realize that Alfred, Lord Stanton, a baron, should not suddenly be turned into the younger son of a duke by being renamed Lord Alfred Stanton.

And what is it with copyeditors and commas? I really try to conform to my current houses’ standards. Do they want, “Once, he believed…” or “Once he believed…” ? The standards at the various houses seem to change with each copyeditor. I’m now hopelessly confused.

Bah humbug!

On a more upbeat note, two things. I’ve accepted my editor’s offer for the fourth book in the Sebastian St. Cyr series, which I will be starting as soon as Steve and I finish the proposal for our next thriller. But my most exciting news is THEY PICKED UP MY NEXTDOOR NEIGHBOR’S FEMA TRAILER!! Whoohoo.

Mardi Gras, Neighborhood Style

The Driftwood neighborhood parade rolled today. It’s always one of my favorite parades. The floats are simple affairs, mostly slapped together (amid much beer drinking) the night before. The riders are all kids. The marching groups are all local kids (that's a Marching Club, pictured left, which is different from a marching group). Most of the people standing on the curb are local. Did I mention I live in Driftwood?

Against all odds, the Krewe of Driftwood rolled last year, just six months after the storm. They rolled through streets lined with FEMA trailers and PODS and piles of debris. The floats were few in number, the marching groups scraggly, but they rolled, and we all lined up along the streets, many of us in work clothes splattered with paint and drywall compound, and cheered our hearts out.

This year, the FEMA trailers are still there, although much reduced in number. The piles of debris are gone. The gardens are coming back. More than three quarters of the houses are now occupied (if not quite finished). There were more floats, more groups. It still wasn’t back up to what it was pre-K, but we had a great time!

Finished!

I’m feeling cocky today. THE ARCHANGEL PROJECT isn’t due until 1 March, but it’s already in the hands of my agent and when my editor comes back on Monday, she’ll have it, too. That’s an entire month ahead of time. Wow.

Now I turn my attention to the copyedited manuscript of WHY MERMAIDS SING, which has been patiently awaiting me. They’ve given me an amazingly long turnaround time; there have been occasions when publishers have only given me two days.

In addition to that, Steve and I are working on plotting out the next thriller. I’m starting to get dizzy.