Writers Gotta' Write

 By Thomas Kies

In a recent blog that’s gone viral written by Elle Griffin for the website www.Elysianpress.com, she refers to the time when Penguin Random House tried to buy Simon and Schuster in 2022.  The government brought a case against the merger saying that it would create a publishing monopoly and a judge ruled that the $2.2 billion acquisition could not take place. 

During the trial, a number of publishing houses and literary agencies testified, and some interesting numbers came to light. 

Ms. Griffin, in an essay that she wrote in 2020, stated, “only 268 titles sold more than 100,000 copies, and 96 percent of books sold less than 1,000 copies.”

Madeline Mcintosh, CEO of Penguin Random House US, when asked how many authors over a four-year period sold 500,000 units…she answered 50.  

The upshot of Ms. Giffin’s blog is that publishing houses gamble by buying books and paying low advances in the hopes that one of them will be that lightning in a bottle and hit it big.  The big advances are paid to celebrities like Brittney Spears and Prince Harry who have recognizable names, and the publishers feel are a comfortable bet. 

Now, admittedly, the numbers from Penguin Random House/Simon Schuster trial were meant to be depressing.  The reality is that more books are selling now than ever before.  Numbers that were tossed around in the trail were based on calendar years and not necessarily during the lifetime of the book.  It was a trial.  Isn’t everything about a trial depressing?

Books don’t go bad like vegetables or fruit.  My first book, RANDOM ROAD, continues to sell in bookstores to this day and it’s been around for seven years. Will any of my books make me rich?  Nah…not in money.  

Don’t kid yourself, getting published the traditional way is still hard.  Finding an agent, then finding a publisher, then getting bookshelf space and a place in libraries, getting the marketing message out…it’s all a slog. And even when you do, there’s no guarantee about anything.

Bottomline, publishing is a business.  They’re not in it to lose money, although, don’t kid yourself, many books do. 

But there are many publishing platforms and I know many writers who are happy using those publishing avenues.

There’s a joy when you hold one of your own books in your hands. There’s nothing quite like the feeling you get when someone tells you how much they enjoyed what you’ve written.  There’s an indescribably elation when you see one of your books on the bookshelf of library or in a bookstore. 

Before I was published, I had dreams of flying to New York, being picked up at the airport in a limo, being treated to lunch, then hustled off to a standing room only book signing.  Well...that doesn't happen.  At least to most of us.   

I recall that early in my writing career, I did a book signing and one person showed up.  That keeps you humble.  But to keep perspective, Don Winslow (if you don't know him, read him...he's terrific) in one of his first book signings, had one person buy his first book.  That person happened to be the owner of the bookstore, Barbara Peters who owns the Poisoned Pen Bookstore in Arizona (and was my first publisher). 

I advise the students who take my creative writing class that writers gotta write.  We do it because we love it.  We do it because we want to tell stories.  We do it because we’ve got something to say.

To paraphrase a friend of mine, a wonderful writer by the name of Jeffrey Siger, “Writing is a hard way to make a living.  But it’s a great way to make a life.”

Proofing and Public Speaking

By Johnny D. Boggs

Yesterday was one of those days I dread.

First, I had to get the final proof of a forthcoming novel for Kensington titled Longhorns East – shameless self-promotion – back to the production manager.

That’s never fun. Well, it’s fun to know that you’ll have a book coming out – in September – but that also leads to all sorts of stress.

Did I hit my goal? … Am I catching everything that needs fixing? … Does it read the way I want it to read. … Bigger question: Will anybody actually want to read this? I mean, it’s about a cattle drive to New York City and it opens in 1840 England! … It’s also my first original trade paperback. If the sales aren’t there, that’s when novelists get dropped.

There’s no job security in this business.

And you never know what the reading public will like and buy.

For me, the deadline for final corrections is more nerve-racking than the deadline for filing the manuscript. I’m confident that copy editors and main editors will catch the silly mistakes, question the parts that need questioning, offer erudite suggestions (or orders) and turn what I’ve written into something better.

But once I send in the final fixes, it’s all over but the worrying.

And then there was the rest of the day.

I had to give a talk for the Friends of the Santa Fe Public Library on the newest nonfiction book, American Newspaper Journalists on Film: Portrayals of the Press During the Sound Era (McFarland), at the Santa Fe Woman’s Club.

I know. It’s not that big of a deal. And I speak in public often. Have for decades. I’ve acted in theater (still waiting for some company to announce auditions for Mary Chase’s Harvey (Elwood P. Dowd or any part!), Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee’s Inherit the Wind (the Reverend Jeremiah Brown) or Sam Shepard’s True West (either brother, but I’ll do the producer, too). I’ve been a talking head on documentary television shows. I get interviewed by newspaper reporters and magazine writers fairly often.

Besides, this is a library fundraiser, and I’ll do anything to help libraries. But then, paranoid as most authors are, I worry about trivial things like How Many People Will Show Up (maybe more this time, since they serve alcohol) … What Kinds Of Questions Will They Ask? … And I have to give a talk. Keep them entertained. Remember not to say anything that will turn them off. But what if they don’t laugh at my jokes?

High pressure. Maybe even more pressure than writing a Western novel that opens in England and focuses on a pre-Civil War cattle drive from Texas to New York City.

It’s a lot less stressful sitting in a room all day just typing ... with nothing to disturb you but doggies that demand attention and spam telephone calls that interrupt your train of thought.

But – and I tell every beginning author this when I’m speaking to beginning authors (which I have to do March 26 for New Mexico Writers):

It’s part of the job.

Tucson Festival of Books

By Johnny D. Boggs

I have been swamped with deadlines, assignments and shoveling snow. But here’s some great news:

March 4-5 is just around the corner.

Because that weekend, I’ll be at the Tucson Festival of Books. For a writer, or a reader, there is no better place to be.

If you haven’t been to Tucson for this festival, you are missing something special.

I was invited to speak on a panel with the great Jane Candia Coleman at the inaugural event in 2009. Remember …? The economic downturn, the longest since World War II. I wondered who would show up to listen to authors or buy books.

Who turned up? Well, 50,000 book lovers and 450 authors/presenters. And an amazing 800 volunteers.

I haven’t missed one since. Nor have many attendees.

The festival has drawn more than 100,000 in subsequent years. Last year, the first since the COVID shutdown (canceled in 2020, virtual in 2021), concern about who would return faded fast. The event, always free to the public and held on the University of Arizona campus, was packed again. Maybe not the record 140,000 of 2019, but those two days were awesome.

Generally, I help staff a booth for Western Writers of America, but sneak away to catch a panel or two if I can. Most years I either moderate or speak on a panel. This year, I’m doing both.

Talk about exciting. I share a Saturday panel about film history books, “Lights! Camera! America!,” with Kirk Ellis and Alan K. Rode (moderated by film scholar Andrew Patrick Nelson) and on Sunday I moderate “Visions of the West” with Kathryn Wilder, Emma Zimmerman and Pulitzer Prize finalist Ted Conover.

But the real treat is talking to nonwriters, wannabe writers, colleagues, friends and literary icons about writing, process, books, literature. I can’t wait to pick Ted Conover’s brain.

Hey, I spend most days and nights alone in an office writing, rewriting, rewriting, rewriting and sweating. Then wondering is anyone really going to read that? Does anybody still read?

Well, the Tucson Festival of Books is a morale booster for any writer. Oh, sure, most of those 100,000 attendees probably won’t have much interest in what I write. But they are proof that people are still interested in literature.

I’ll drive home March 5 excited, ready to step back inside that office for another lonely year. The adrenaline from Tucson will keep me going till 2024.

Hope to you there.

All Fall Down

 

Who knew that 2021 would be a continuation of 2020? One strange event after another. A couple of weeks ago we had a freak April snowstorm in Fort Collins that played thunder with our trees. It was a heavy snow that coated limbs until they broke under the strain. 

Above is a photo of the old apple tree in the yard at St. Luke's Episcopal Church. The trunk was neatly split into four equal pieces. There's no salvaging that kind of destruction. The whole tree was carted away. 

After reading recent posts in Type M, I was struck by the wary tone of my blogmates. 

One of the most consistent complaints I've heard about 2020 is everything slowed down creatively. It took forever to produce a page, a paragraph, or even a simple sentence. 

One of my biggest self-disappointments is a feeling that I wasted last year. I could have reorganized my paperwork, or produced short stories, or sewn up all my fabric. Instead I read and read and read, and binged on a lot of worthless TV. 

Some of my friends came out in fabulous physical shape. They walked and exercised and became healthier. I could have done that. 

Could have, would have, should have. If 2021 is going to be more of the same, this time I will  get my act together. 

Bookaholics

Several days ago something went south with a tooth. The old filling decided to leave or I chipped it. Whatever. Yesterday it began to ache and I called the dentist for an emergency appointment before the pain became immobilizing.

The office could work me in immediately. I hastily assembled everything I would need. Insurance cards, check book, credit cards, glasses, keys, and most important of all — a book. In this case it was one I was reading for the Western Writers Contemporary Novel contest.

Books play so many important functions in my life I hardly know where to begin the list. I was highly amused by Aline's recent post where she said, "I taught myself to read at four and to this day I feel a sort of panic if I'm going to be stuck somewhere with nothing to read."

Right! And double that if it involves any medical procedures. If there is a short waiting time for a routine appointment often the magazines strewn around the office are sufficient and I catch up on all the latest scandals roiling Hollywood. I take in the Red Carpet fashions and mentally join the praise or criticism flung at the glitterati who can afford $10,000 gowns.

But yesterday's dental visit involved a crown, a great deal of money (even with dental insurance) and a long, long procedure. Turned out they could make the crown right there in the office.

Ironically, despite the unexpected expense, and my usual concern over reactions to medications, my very first thought was, "Thank goodness I brought a book." Then my second thought was, "What if I finish it before I get out of here?"

Books distract me. It's how I cope with anxiety.

I hate dental appointments. After reclining in the chair and finishing a volley of x-rays I propped the book on my lap and the instant the hygienist, dental assistant, or doctor left the room to fetch needles, compounds — god only knows what else — I read. The book made everything tolerable if not pleasant.

Books are also how I take myself in hand when I'm overwhelmed, (often) and have way too much work to do (often) I pick up a book and decide after I've finished a chapter I will do xxxx and then read another chapter or scene. Somewhere along the line work seems manageable and I'm merrily humming away. Then when I've finished a decent chunk I reward myself with another chapter.

So I'm a bookaholic! Want to make something of it? Through the blessing of libraries and free book exchanges no criminal gangs are involved with feeding my addiction. Other than encouraging my tendency toward sloth there's no risk to my soul and books keep me so very very happy.

Precious Possession

Our family gives an extraordinary number of books for Christmas. During one lazy Christmas vacation day a couple of weeks ago, we discussed the importance of libraries in our lives. We fondly remembered favorite books from our past and traded library stories. We recalled librarians we had known.

I'm a passionate advocate for interlibrary loan. Without that service I could not do academic research. I can locate microfilmed newspapers and obscure documents and have them mailed to my local library. When I heard of library closings or of students doing strictly on-line research I rise up to argue in favor of hitting the stacks.

The problem with using Google or other search engines rather than supplementing with library research is that on-line is too narrowly focused. By going to the library we are free to explore books that would be overlooked otherwise. It's an opportunity to expand creativity and make connections.

During this discussion, my grandson, John Crockett won the prize for library devotion. He's a junior at Colby College in Maine. He reached for his wallet and pulled out his very first library card. He received it when he was in kindergarten and had proudly signed his name.

This will be short tonight as I'm behind on a manuscript, but I just wanted our readers to know that libraries are alive and well and deeply embedded in the heart of America.