One year ago I attended the London Author Fair. The aim was
to put authors in direct contact with literary agents and experts in the
publishing industry to learn more about how it all works. This was my
experience:
London was stupidly busy as I expected. When I got the London
Victoria train station, the first thing I did was pay 30p (50 cents) to pee.
Welcome to the big city. Next, I quickly looked over the routes for the
Undergound and made my way to an escalator heading for the Piccadilly line. The
moving staircase was extremely long and steep — like taking a ride into the
bowels of hell. Adjacent to my downward spiral were two escalator going up. The
thousand faces going the other way hardly looked angelic on the way to heaven,
but at least they were heading in that direction. Halfway down my descent, an
announcement was made that the Holborn Station was closed due to a person under
the train. There are times I think it would be wise for the London Transport
Authority to lie.
I made my way to an inconspicuous building, The Hospital Club,
in Covent Garden. I looked smart in my baby pink sweater with black pants,
complemented with my newly highlighted hair. If I didn't get a publishing deal
I still might have gotten lucky in the men's room.
As I checked in, the organizers insisted I don my pre-printed
author identification tag, but I was reluctant. After all, I was there to learn
and absorb information and didn't want to be distracted by an endless stream of
autograph hunters. Fortunately, everyone respected my privacy and I was not hounded
or asked for one autograph the entire day.
The fair was spread over three floors with various workshops and
seminars such as: Marketing Your Book, Discoverability, Working with a Literary
Agent, Book Cover Design and much more spread throughout the building. Because
of the logistics, it was difficult to judge, but I would guess there were
somewhere between 300-500 people in attendance.
I grabbed a free coffee and stuffed two free coffee mugs in my
free "London Author Fair" canvas bag before heading to the seminar
room in the basement. Black velvet curtains blacked out everything around the
audience except for the panel of literary agent on the stage. They each spoke
about the changes in the book industry and the rise of the self-publishing
market. The more they spoke, the more my heart sunk.
Superb writing is not the most important element in the publishing
industry. An amazing story, is. They still expect anything submitted to them to
be error-free, but story concept may outweigh the odd missed comma. An agency
receives circa 100 submissions A DAY. So what makes your story so AMAZING? That's
what one has to convey in one page.
Besides being an amazing story (they did use those exact words
repeatedly), it has to be marketable. If the publisher doesn't think they can
capture 5% of the market with it, they're not interested. They all confessed
that there are some fantastic stories out there, but no place in the market for
them, so they get passed over. Celebrities get rushed to the top because publishers
know that will sell. They already have a "platform" so it's far less
of a gamble. Even if you would manage to get picked up by a mainstream
publisher, they still choose to put their marketing money into a name where
they know will get a return.
When an agent takes on you and your story, it may take him or her
a year to sell it to a publisher. Then it may take another year to get it into
print, and the chances of striking it big are slim. It is a slow process unless
you happened to be lucky enough to sleep with Mr. or Mrs. Obama — in that case
they would rush you into print the following week.
My moment of glory came from stumping the panel — but I didn't
want to stump them, I wanted answers. When they asked for questions from the
floor, I raised my hand and I was identified as the man in the back wearing the
pink sweater, and invited to ask my question. I rose and took the mike.
"Most submission guidelines request a one to two page
synopsis. So if I have to whittle my 80-90,000 word manuscript into 200-400
words, what is the most important thing to focus on and what can be left
out?" The man in the pink sweater sat down as a collective gasp rippled
through the audience.
The panel remained silent. Really silent. Finally, the chairperson
commented, "Well, that shut them up." One of the agents remarked,
"I hate questions like that." After more humming and haa-ing from the
panel of experts, it was agreed that writing a synopsis is an art and skill in
its own right. They conceded that it was not easy, then admitted that many
times they don't even get read unless they are excited by the covering letter
and the first three chapters. So the man in the pink sweater still doesn't know
how to write an effective synopsis.
I requested, and was granted, a slot to try and sell my book idea
to an agent for her to take me on as a client. After causing disarray to the
panel, it was time to go make my pitch to the agent. This would be my defining
fifteen minutes of fame. I was pleased to have a woman agent to pitch to. I
usually connected well with women. We sat down and I handed her my
presentation: Cover letter, synopsis, and the first three chapters of my latest
novel, Forbidden
Trouble.
As she looked over my papers, I remained respectfully quiet.
"Go on," she said, "we only have fifteen minutes, start making
your pitch." Damn multi-tasker. It was a little unnerving to talk about my
yet to be discovered bestseller while the master of my destiny was not looking
at me. My blue eyes are my greatest asset above the belt. You should see my
legs. Anyway… I pitched. By this time, she had made it to the first paragraph
of the novel.
"Why I remained
heterosexual was beyond me. I found the good looking chicks, but they either
turned lesbian on me or wouldn't leave their shithead husbands. At least gay
guys didn't have women trouble."
Her jaw dropped. "That's some opening," she remarked,
yet void of any reaction. I couldn't read her.
So I shrugged. "It was either that or 'It was a dark and stormy
night.'"
I smiled. She didn't. Oh shit.
My time with her went quickly. Perhaps she was in shock by a guy
in a pink sweater writing a heterosexual romance.
Then she gave her advice: She said I shouldn't have been pitching
that novel, I should have pitch my current WIP. My current work should cut all
ties from my past books to prove I can write fresh material and not count on
past characters or settings to fall back on. Write third person, not first. I
took exception to that advise. She kept repeating how difficult and limiting
first person is, which I realize. That's why I have studied it in-depth and am
well versed in the pitfalls and traps, as well as the do's and don't's. But she
seemed to be making the assumption without reading my work. And 108,000 words
was far too long. I should be aiming for 70,000.
My time was up and I felt slightly more dejected, but I was there
to learn, not to be discovered — not yet, anyway.
So, that leaves self-publishing. Being a self-published author
means one has to be an entrepreneur: Marketer, Salesperson, Twitterer,
Goodreads Reader, Facebooker, Public Speaker, Blogger… who the hell has time to
write?
So my journey to enlightenment ended in the conclusion that there
is no easy way — which I knew. But after
speaking to the experts, it seems to have become even more difficult.
As I boarded the train for the journey home, at least the
conductor smiled at me – then I noticed the pink handkerchief streaming from
his back pocket…