just what's on my mind.
The moral of the story is, Never ask what hot dogs are made out of.
Last night was the last Mystery Writing class. Jerrilyn talked about the realities of the business (something she did on Sunday at the Sisters In Crime thing too), which are, basically: you're not going to get rich at this game unless you write a thriller or some other "big" book that a publisher can push in a big way, or until the fifth or sixth mystery novel in your series, provided your reader base keeps growing.
If it doesn't grow, you're lucky to get to number 5. Some writers are getting dropped earlier than that.
She told us about the difference between being a paperback original and going into hardback: publishers print 15000-18000 paperbacks of a new author, as opposed to 2000-3000 hardbacks. If you sell 60% of the printing, you're doing great. You get 8% of the purchase price: 50 cents per paperback, 2 dollars per hardback. If you get a $5000 advance on your first paperback book, don't expect any royalty checks. Ditto $2000 on your first hardback. (Jerrilyn thinks you should start with paperbacks and then build your audience to move into hardback at book 5.)
One of the things she said she does is invest her very small advance in publicity--going to mystery conventions such as Bouchercon, getting on-line, etc. A writer on Sunday mentioned sending promotional materials to independent mystery bookstores all over the country.
Writers, of course, don't want to do this. Writers want to sit in their houses, spin their little tales, hand the manuscript to the mailman (not that you can do this anymore; anything over a few ounces has to be taken to a post office), and go back to their little writing cubicles.
But that's not the way it goes these days, if ever. You have to sell your product these days, no one's going to do it for you. It's just like having a career in the private sector these days--you are responsible for your own career.
How did you hear about the last author you picked up? An author you'd bought before? Someone you saw at a convention? Someone you heard on-line?
The author has to get her name out in front of people any way she can, so that when you, the reader, goes to the bookstore and sees her name, you'll think, "Hey, there's a familiar name." Because if x number of people buy book 1, and then two-thirds of those people buy book 2, plus y number of new readers...your readership grows.
There are lots of screenwriters who want the same thing: to sit in their houses, write their screenplays, ship them off to Hollywood, get a big check in the mail, and not have to do anything else. They don't want to move to Los Angeles--"I can write anywhere!"
Well, that's true. You just can't have a career anywhere. You probably don't have to move to LA until something major happens (unless you want to work in TV--then you have to live in LA, no questions). But unless you're William Goldman, you probably have to move here. Yes, there are people who are not million-dollar writers who live in other places--and most of them are usually scrambling to make sure people in Hollywood remember their names and think of them.
Why? Because unless you have a huge spec sale, you get to know the people in town by going on meetings. Over and over and over. You get to know the peons, they get to know you. And as they move up, you move up. You get assignments--you have to get those, not your agent. Your agent can send you in for meetings to talk about assignments, but you have to sell your ability to perform. And a lot of those meetings ask you for your "take" on the project--you think about the story idea and come up with the way you'd do it.
Are you going to fly in from Peoria to take a bunch of those meetings? When they want to meet with you the next day? Or are you going to say, I have to wait for the SuperSaver fare and I'll be there in three weeks?
They might wait. Of course, if they love you that much, they'll pay for your ticket.
That's why Darin and I are here. Well, that and the fact that we hated being separated while I was at school. So I can network and meet people and do plenty of stuff I couldn't do up north.
After class last night I hung out with Jerrilyn and Jorge, talking about the mystery business. Whose stuff we liked in class, the state of publishing, other authors we should check out. Jerrilyn and Jorge talked about some of the other people from their Mystery Writing class who are just finishing their novels now, six years later. But they finished, which is the first step.
I had to park in Eastern Siberia--a busy night at the CityWalk, I guess--and Jerrilyn asked if I wanted her to drive me to my car. "I'll be fine," I said. "Plenty of gangbangers around to protect me from the serial killers."
Tonight Darin and I watched Pirates of Silicon Valley, the TNT movie about the early days of Apple and Microsoft. I've had a ton of people tell me they thought the movie made Steve Jobs look bad and Bill Gates look good. I'd love to know what cut of the movie they watched: the one I saw made them both look bad.
Michele asked me to explain Steve Jobs to her. Since I've never met the man--saw him once, at Andy Herzfeld's birthday party--I couldn't say, but I told her of the rumored "Steve Jobs Reality Distortion Field," which allows Steve to live in a world of his own making. The difference between him and many others is that he gets other people to believe in his version of the world. I suspect he does this by having perfect confidence and enthusiasm in anything he does and says. That's a rare skill--imagine if you had no doubts about any undertaking you were starting. That sort of confidence comes through, particularly if you beat other people over the head with it.
But this is speculation. Maybe he's just a manic-depressive loonie like the rest of us.
The answer to Monday's question: Jiang Zemin is the President of China. Isn't it much easier when I don't mention the UN?
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Copyright 1999 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com