Today I saw, for the fourth time in a week, someone saying to someone else, “You shouldn’t make a goal of getting published. You should only make goals that are in your control. So, you can make a goal of ‘I will finish my novel,’ or ‘I will submit this for publication,’ but you can’t make a goal that you will get published.”

Excuse me while I put on my cranky pants.

Why not? True, if you make goals that are outside of your control, you might be disappointed, and that’s too bad. But what the heck is the point of a goal? If the point of having goals is to be motivated, you need to know how you work. If you are the kind of person who gives up (or who is set back) when you face disappointment, then yes, make rational goals so you can cheer yourself on.

Me, I’m not. If I fail to make my goals, I shrug, because I know they contain an aspirational element. But my goals are there to motivate me, and let me tell you, back before I was published, I was not motivated by the prospect of sending fifteen queries to agents. That would have been a sucky goal for me, because it meant nothing to me. I didn’t want something I could check off a box so I could feel like I was making forward progress. I wanted something I could strive for. It wasn’t the prospect of submitting my book to a publisher that made me stay up until 3 AM some of those mornings, polishing scenes.

My goal was that I wanted to be published (in fact, my goal was more irrational than mere publication). Was this a goal that was in my control? No. But I worked like hell for it, and for a damned good reason. That’s how I work. That’s how I motivate myself. For me, setting piddly little goals that are in my control feels like… an office job. “Today, I will send five letters.” This does not motivate me.

Pfft. Today, I will do everything I can do to make my dreams come true, not chase down some arbitrary predetermined thing that I know I can do. (True confession: I see little point in making a goal of doing things that I already know I can do. I realize people differ, which is why I’m good with people who make rational goals–I just don’t want them telling me, and people like me, that what they’re doing is crazy. Of course it is crazy–but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.)

I have goals for the future that are insane–I know I will never get them. I have goals for the future that are somewhat possible. I can’t think of a single thing that I call a “goal” that is readily doable.

So, seriously. Don’t edit other people’s goals by telling them they aren’t good goals. And if someone is editing your goals, and it feels weird, just tell them to get out of your hair. I’m not saying that you have to write your goals all irrational-like, like me, but for heaven’s sake, if your goal is to get published, and someone tells you that’s not a good goal, the proper response is: “Why not? It’s what I want.” And don’t let them push you around. You know you better than they do.

Rant over. For now.

There is an unspoken rule in publishing that you should not criticize publishing professionals. I am going to criticize publishing professionals, and I am going to do it because I think that what is happening is wrong and unethical. Some of the people I am going to criticize, I will say in advance, I have heard glowing things about–marvelously awesome things–and so please keep this in mind. Even marvelously awesome people do things that cross ethical boundaries.

The Association of Author’s Representatives has a canon of ethics, which states (among many other things): “Members shall not represent both buyer and seller in the same transaction.”

The basic idea is this: If you advise someone, and you are in a position of trust, you should not compromise that position of trust by steering them towards options where what you want and what they want do not coincide. For instance, a financial adviser should not steer her clients to invest in a company owned by her brother-in-law: The clients just want to make money, but the financial adviser is emotionally involved with the company, and perhaps will not be able to emotionally separate herself from the prospect of helping her brother-in-law get his company off the ground. Even if the financial adviser believes she is operating on a perfectly rational level, and is willing to invest her own money to get the company off the ground, she can never be sure that her emotional involvement does not color her picture. The end result is that to avoid any appearance of ethical lapses–and to protect herself from emotional influences that are so subterranean that even she can’t detect them–a wise adviser avoids such issues entirely by never, ever steering clients towards investments where she, or her loved ones, will profit personally.

The same is true for agents. An agent is an author’s most zealous advocate. She fights for every aspect of her clients’ careers. A great agent monitors print run, coop, marketing. She pushes for foreign sales. When you go back to contract, she asks for more money, better royalty rates, a bigger push in marketing. An author trusts her agent explicitly–and it’s easy to do so, because an author and an agent have interests that are wholly aligned. You want to make more money as an author; your agent wants to make more money as an agent. She gets 15% of what you get. Her interest is your interest: to sell as many books to as many people as possible.

When we were deciding between publishing houses, my agent helped lay out the pros and cons for me of all my options. We talked about our biggest worries with each one, and I believed that she was pushing to get the very best offer we could from every house, so that I could make an informed decision. I knew that she wanted to get the best for me, because (a) my agent is the kind of perfectionist who would never let anything stop her, and (b) it was never in her interest to do anything else.

This stops being true if your agent is either a publisher herself, or is so intertwined with the publisher that you cannot distinguish between them. And, sadly, this is the second time this year I’ve seen agents who have morphed themselves from agents. The first is Lori Perkins, whose clients are sold to a publisher in which she holds a financial interest, Ravenous Romance. Lori Perkins has explained that she doesn’t take a commission on those sales to Ravenous from her clients–but all that this accomplishes is that now she truly has no financial interest in doing what is right for her clients. She has no interest in fighting for an extra 2% royalty rate, or a higher advance for her clients, because now she isn’t even getting paid for that.

The second is the Waxman Agency, which recently announced Diversion Books, an electronic press. Diversion Books has already published books written by Waxman Agency clients. And I have to ask: Really? If your agency owns a publishing house, do you really think you won’t be biased–just a little–in negotiating contracts with your clients? Will you really be able to tell your clients, “Yes, I think that it’s best if you publish with us, versus a more established e-publisher like Samhain?” without having the teensiest bit of bias? Can you evaluate your chances of success–logically and dispassionately, the way you would for an author choosing between publishing houses? Will you fight yourself for the best royalty rate? Will you be asking hard questions of yourself? If you produce a horrendous cover, will you call yourself up and say, “Honey, no. We have to lose the mullet,” or will you be the one to placate the author? Can you really wear both those hats?

Don’t get me wrong. I have several friends who have Holly Root of the Waxman Agency as an agent, and they universally sing her praises. I have heard nothing but good things about her. But for me, this would be an instant deal-breaker.

I don’t think these people mean to screw their clients. I honestly believe that the Waxman Agency really does think that this is, in fact, a good thing for their clients, an additional opportunity that their clients can avail themselves of. None of the people I have named are bad people. None of them are perfidious jerks, trying to do their clients wrong. But all of them have put themselves in the way of temptation. They have complicated straight-forward interests. And smart people who zealously represent their clients don’t do that. That’s the point of rules of ethics: to steer you away from temptation, even the ones that are so subterranean you might not recognize them.

I understand that publishing is changing and that the role of agent will see revamping over the next few decades. But the one thing I can say for sure is this: If the role of agent morphs into the role of publisher, the person needs to stop calling themselves an “agent.” If there is anything–anything at all–that stands in the way of an agent zealously representing her client, that person has ceased to be an agent. They may be a publisher. They may be a full-service book-packager with editorial add ons. They may still be something very valuable in the publishing world–don’t get me wrong–I understand where all of this is coming from. They may be visionaries in publishing.

But what they are not doing is zealously representing their clients’ interests. If there is any financial issue that stands as a roadblock between your client’s best interests and your own, you’re not 100% an agent any longer, and that is a problem.

So, what do I think you should do about this, if you’re looking for an agent? My best advice is to look for an agent who is a member of AAR. The Association of Author’s Representatives has a smart canon of ethics. It’s not a guarantee–there are always liars, or people who bend the rules–but look for someone who values that canon.

I know that this post is not going to make everyone happy. I’m sorry for that–but the truth of the matter is this. If you’re going to pay someone 15% of your work, you deserve full value for your money. And someone who is conflicted about that–or is willing to enter into such conflicts–in my mind is not worth the price.

But I have something to say about entitlement, and I don’t even have to think about it to write it down, so here goes.

In the last handful of weeks, I saw an instance in which an agent accused a writer of “entitlement.” The agent in question is Lori Perkins; the post is here if you are interested. I mention this, but I don’t mean to single out Lori Perkins in this post as the sole source of bad behavior; there were a number of people who have done similar-ish things in the past that have grated on my nerves. This is just the one that pushed me over the edge.

In any event, in the post in question, this agent labeled a writer as “entitled” because he sent two polite inquiries about a partial sent out in July. One inquiry was sent in November, at which point he was told that he would get a response sometime in December. The second inquiry was sent in February.

“Entitlement” is one of those words that has a certain morality embedded in it by implication. That is, if you say someone is “entitled,” in modern times we mean “this person is acting as if they are owed something, when they in fact are not.” In other words, when we say someone is “entitled” we usually mean that they are falsely entitled. Leaving off that modifier in regular speech means that certain things often go unspoken. That is: if you say someone is “entitled” you should also explain what is false about their sense of entitlement. Because there is nothing blameworthy about someone acting as if they are owed something, when, in fact, they are owed something.

In this case, the gentleman in question had not heard anything on the pages he sent to the agent for over six months. He did not insist that the agent in question read them instantly; he asked instead for an update on his status, and was roundly berated for that. And I just want to take a step aback and say… wait, what? In what sense is a person ever not entitled to ask about partials sent at the request of an agent, and not answered? How is asking for a status update, in a polite manner, ever indicative of a false sense of entitlement? And what does it say about the agent in question, that she thinks that the author did not deserve even this bare courtesy?

So let’s start with the basics. No, you are not entitled to be a diva. You should not expect agents to drop everything to meet your every need, before you’re signed as a client–but we’re not talking about that kind of person. We’re talking about the average writer. We’re talking about someone perhaps like the gentleman featured on Lori Perkins’s blog, or maybe someone like you.

You wrote a book. You submitted it to an agent. Now you’re getting a little worried. Maybe your book isn’t there yet. Maybe your characterization is not zipping. Maybe your plot could be more original. Maybe your query letter has a howling clunker in it. Maybe it does. The last I checked, those things didn’t turn you into a piece of granite, unworthy of basic human civility. And an agent–a good agent–knows that even if this book isn’t there yet, you might move on to book #2 or #3 or #4, and one day, your book will be there. In any event, at a bare minimum, you are one of the very few people who had the courage and stamina to write a whole book.

You are entitled to someone who thinks of you as a potentially valuable asset, who starts off what might be a long, profitable relationship with a sense of professionalism and respect. It is not too much to ask that if an agent says she will get back to you in ten weeks, that at the end of ten weeks you can send a status update asking for more details. And if she responds, “I haven’t gotten to it yet; give me another month,” it is not completely beyond the pale to ask for another update several months later, and if that person fails to respond that time, to e-mail her boss to see if she is still around. You are entitled to civility and professionalism.

You get what you see with agents. If someone doesn’t treat writers with respect on her blog or on twitter, chances are she doesn’t magically morph into someone who treats her clients with respect once she signs them. And yes, you can tell. My agent? She respects writers–even the ones who aren’t there yet. You can tell from her blog, and the effort she goes through to educate people about the query process and the business of publishing. She’s not the only one. Take the late, lamented Miss Snark (aka Janet Reid, aka the Query Shark). She respects writers, too, and you can feel it, even though her tone is quite different. Nathan Bransford? Ditto. Jim McCarthy? You betcha.

Want to know how to judge an agent? Pay attention to how they make you feel as a writer. And anyone who makes you think you’re an insignificant worm, and you’re falsely entitled merely because you think you deserve common courtesy?

Run away. Run away now.

Because if there’s one thing you are entitled to, it is an agent who thinks you have something to offer her.

I’m a teacher, so I’ve written letters of recommendation.  For some students, I have no difficulty writing good things.  But 66% of the people who have asked me for letters of recommendation have been in the bottom half of the class I’ve taught.  Some never came to office hours or asked a question in class.  “I’ll write you a letter,” I would say dubiously, “but is there anyone who could write you a more enthusiastic letter?” (sidenote: Every single one of those people said, “No, there isn’t. I need you to do it.” That sound you hear is my heart breaking.)

I have also read literally hundreds, if not thousands, of letters of recommendations. I have read only one letter that ever contained bad things about a student.  (“John,” this extremely famous person wrote, “is a whiny baby. He makes appointments and never shows up to them. I told him I wouldn’t recommend him, but he listed me on a form and now career services keeps badgering me. I wish him ill.”)

The rest of them, though, are not necessarily helpful to the student. I know this, because I have written those letters. I am entirely positive.  I am also entirely truthful. I tell people in advance that if they have other options, they should use them, and I will do my best… The letter may say good things, but when the good things it highlights are trivial (“I love Lisa’s hair ribbons! They brighten my class!”), it doesn’t do much to recommend the person’s intellectual capacity.

Authors, talking publicly about their covers, are the same way.  An author cannot honestly say, “I hate my cover” in part because she doesn’t want to hurt sales and marketing’s feelings, and also in part because even if she hates her cover, she doesn’t want to point out the flaws in it to anyone who might otherwise buy the book. Saying “hate my cover” is akin to saying “Don’t buy my book.”  So what an author does instead of voicing her discontent, if she is honest, is praise the hair ribbons. And that’s a significant tell.

Here is an enthusiastic recommendation of a cover: Justine Larbalestier talking about her Australian cover. Here is what Justine says about her Australian cover for Liar:

I love it more than I can say. It captures the book so perfectly. I asked for something spare, iconic, cool and dark. Possibly a typographical treatment. Bruno exceeded my expectations by miles. I keep staring at it cause it makes me so very happy.

Notice how three of those six sentences start with “I.”  “I love it more than I can say.”  “I keep staring at it cause it makes me so very happy.”  The rest all talk about her feelings about the cover as well: “It captures the book so perfectly.”  “Bruno exceeded my expectations.”  This is a real, positive recommendation from an author.  She loves it.  She keeps staring at it.

Now let’s take Justine’s post on the U.S. cover. It’s a little longer, and needs a little more decoding, but notice what Justine never mentions:

This cover was so well received by sales and marketing at Bloomsbury that for the first time in my career a cover for one of my books became the image used for the front of the catalogue. Front of the catalogue! One of my books! Pretty cool, huh?

Translation: Sales likes it.

Apparently all the big booksellers went crazy for it. My agent says it was a huge hit in Bologna. And at TLA many librarians and teenagers told me they adore this cover. In fact one girl said she thinks the US cover of Liar is the best cover she’s ever seen! Wasn’t that sweet of her?

Translation: Other people besides sales like it.

It was designed by Danielle Delaney the genius responsible for the paperback cover of How To Ditch Your Fairy. Have I mentioned that’s my fave cover I’ve ever had?

Translation: I’ve liked other covers that this artist has done.

Here’s hoping this cover helps Liar fly off the shelves in North America!

Translation: I at least hope we get hair ribbons, because if this cover doesn’t sell books, it’s doing nothing for me.

Nowhere in this post does Justine say she likes the cover.  What she says is very careful weasel-wording, disguised as an endorsement, when in fact she very carefully doesn’t say a word in support of the cover.  Not one sentence begins with “I.” Instead, she mentions a lot of other people who like it.  Next time an author talks about her cover, pay attention to what she doesn’t say.  If she doesn’t say “I love it!” she probably doesn’t love it.

For the record: I love the covers for both my novella and my debut novel. This is not intended as self-referential in the slightest. I love my covers. When my publisher sent my cover for Proof, I printed it off and wrapped it around another book just to see what it would look like (Elizabeth Hoyt’s To Beguile A Beast, by the way, for good luck.) And it looked fabulous. I wanted to buy it right then and there.

Goal: Have links to a number of different websites so that users can purchase books from the vendor of their choice, instead of funneling them into one or two options.

Here’s how you can use the same thing on your website.  Caveats: You need a website that runs PHP.  (If your website can run wordpress, it can run PHP.  These days, almost everything can.)

Here’s what you need to do (after the jump).

1. Create a file.  You might call it “isbngenerator.php” and the file should contain this:

<?php

   $isbn=rtrim($isbn);

   //make sure we have a properly formed isbn10 or isbn13
   if (strlen($isbn)==13) {

      $isbnprefix=substr($isbn, 0, 3);
      $isbnlast10=substr($isbn,3);
      $isbn10first9=substr($isbn, 3, 9);

      //calculate isbn10 checkdigit from isbn13;

      $sum = ( (int)substr($isbnlast10,0,1)*10 + (int)substr($isbnlast10, 1, 1)*9
          + (int)substr($isbnlast10, 2, 1)*8  + (int)substr($isbnlast10, 3, 1)*7
          + (int)substr($isbnlast10, 4, 1)*6 + (int)substr($isbnlast10, 5, 1)*5
          + (int)substr($isbnlast10, 6, 1)*4 + (int)substr($isbnlast10, 7, 1)*3
          + (int)substr($isbnlast10, 8, 1)*2);

      $checkdigit = 11 - $sum % 11;
   if ($checkdigit==10)
     $checkdigit = 'X';
   }
else { exit("<h3>Buy this from your favorite bookstore!</h3>"); }

?>

 <b>ISBN-10</b>: <?php echo $isbn10first9 . $checkdigit; ?><br>
<b>ISBN-13</b>: <?php echo $isbnprefix . '-' . $isbnlast10; ?> </p><p>
<h3>Buy it Online</h3><hr><p>
<a href="http://www.borders.com/online/store/TitleDetail?defaultSearchView=List&sku=<?=$isbn10first9?><?=$checkdigit?>">borders</a> |
<a href="http://www.indiebound.org/book/<?=$isbn?>">indiebound</a> |
<a href="http://www.booksamillion.com/product/<?=$isbn?>">b-a-m</a> <br>
<a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbninquiry.asp?ean=<?=$isbn?>">b &amp; n</a> |
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ISBN=<?=$isbn10first9?><?=$checkdigit?>">amazon</a> |
<a href="http://www.powells.com/biblio?isbn=<?=$isbn?>">powell&rsquo;s</a><br>
<a href="http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/browse/book/isbn/<?=$isbn?>">book depository</a> |
<a href="http://www.vromansbookstore.com/book/<?=$isbn?>">vroman&rsquo;s</a><p>

I realize the blog formatting is cutting off the edge of those links, so you can download a .txt file containing the code here.

2. You need an ISBN.  In fact, you need an ISBN-13, and so I’m really sorry to say that this is not going to work hugely well (at present) with people who have an older backlist. I’ll try to retrofit at some point but I have to admit that this was written very selfishly with the 2009 or 2010 debut author in mind.  So let’s say you have your ISBN-13, and let’s say that it’s this: 978-0-373-77427-2.

Then, what you need to do is insert in the php webpage (if you don’t have php webpages, none of this is going to work!) where you want those links to appear is this:

<?php

$isbn='9780373774272';

include('isbngenerator.php');

?>

Part of me is vaguely uneasy about the variable-scope thing, but whatever.

That will automagically generate this text:

ISBN-10: 0373774273

ISBN-13: 978-0373774272

Buy it Online

---

borders | indiebound | b-a-m

b & n | amazon | powell’s

book depository | vroman’s

Suitable for a sidebar.  You can mess with the styling by adding it to the php file or styling with CSS.  As you can see from mine, I’ve done a bit of additional styling beyond what I have.

If this is totally greek to you… you should send it to the person who does your web pages and ask them to play with it.

1. I bought three copies from My Bookstore and More.
2. I asked the winners what file format they wanted.
3. They told me. I downloaded the file from Samhain Publishing in the requested format, and sent it on to them.

Why could I do this? No DRM.  If Samhain had used DRM on their files, I would not have been able to host a giveaway on my website.  Samhain would have lost three sales, and a tiny portion of my itty-bitty spotlight.  DRM doesn’t prevent piracy; pirates can crack any form of DRM in about five seconds, and they have no compunction doing so, because hello, they are pirates. They eat DRM for breakfast. There isn’t an e-book format out there that can’t be cracked, and once it’s cracked once, the now DRM-free format can be served up on pirate sites.

So what does DRM do?  It makes it impossible for law-abiding people to make legitimate use of files that we purchase (one legitimate use: creating buzz about a title by hosting a giveaway).  DRM doesn’t stop piracy. It stops legitimate purchases.

DRM is the equivalent of trying to prevent teen pregnancy by teaching kids the rhythm method: Not only does it not work, but teaching it is counter-productive.

A quick reminder: It is still “Love your DRM-free Werestag” Week!

But reading–and book-selling–doesn’t work that way.  There aren’t enough slots available for everyone to get published, but there are more slots available than you have friends–many more slots.  So you, and your friends, can all get published.  Now everyone, and everyone’s friends, cannot.  But there’s no reason to think that your friends are your competition.

Case in point: Two years ago, Avon ran a contest.  I entered that contest because I heard about it on Eloisa James’s bulletin board; I continued to enter that contest because of the fun and camaraderie that I found from the participants on that bulletin board.  There were 14 of us, and we banded together to critique each other’s entries, to give out virtual hugs when mean comments were made, and to celebrate each other’s successes.  We ended up calling ourselves the Chocolate Mafia.  Not all of those 14 women went on to try and write full-length romance with the hopes of publication.  By my count, I think only 9 of them did.  (I think.)  Of those nine, five now have publishing contracts: Tessa Dare, Sara Lindsey, me, and — as of a handful of days ago, Maggie Robinson and Tiffany Chalmers.

Here’s the deal announcement for Tiffany’s debut, HIDDEN BEAUTY:

Tiffany Chalmer’s debut historical romance HIDDEN BEAUTY, in which a gently raised Victorian English beauty is sold by her debtridden husband into a harem, then purchased by the Marquess she’s always loved but now must reject for the safety of her young son, to Monique Patterson at St. Martin’s, in a pre-empt, in a three-book deal, by Helen Breitwieser at Cornerstone Literary (World).

And here’s Maggie Robinson’s PARADISE:

Maggie Robinson’s PARADISE, in which an honorable man in the market for a virtuous wife must address the complication of his late Uncle’s ward, who he discovers was also his late Uncle’s mistress, the subject of an erotic book called The Education of a Young Lady of Doubtful Virtue and the woman who makes him forget all his good intentions, to Kate Seaver at Berkley Heat, in a nice deal, in a two-book deal, for publication in Summer 2010, by Laura Bradford at Bradford Literary Agency.

Congratulations, ladies!  And squee!!!! I cannot wait to see these books on the shelves.  Remember, all your friends really can get published.  It’s not a competition.

What the rationale was for this, I can’t say.  But it makes me sad and angry.

Thing that makes me angry #1: The books that have been censored by Amazon include Annie Proulx’s Brokeback Mountain, Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness, and Alex Beecroft’s False Colors–none of which could be considered even remotely pornographic or obscene.  These are books about gay people, not books about gay sex, and censoring these books contributes to, and is indicative of, one of the worst and most invidious forms of discrimination against gays: the sexualization of gays, treating everything that has to do with gay people as if it has to do with sex.  It doesn’t, and this makes me so angry that I could spit.

Thing that makes me angry #2: Censoring books just because they happen to be about sex.  The books I write would not fall under Amazon’s censorship ban–today–but if I fall silent about it now, might they one day?  Perhaps.  But even if nothing will ever happen to me, things are happening now to people I consider friends.  My good friend Jackie Barbosa–who writes lovely, sensual, emotional romances which happen to also be erotic–whose first print book, Behind the Red Door, is scheduled for release on June 1–used to show up on Amazon when you searched for her name, “Jackie Barbosa.”  Now she doesn’t.  Do a search for her name, and you get “product not found.”  And she’s not alone.  Hundreds of books have lost their sales rankings and have simply ceased to exist when you do an Amazon search.

It’s as if these people don’t exist, as if they are no longer persons or authors to Amazon.  You wouldn’t type in the name “Jackie Barbosa” if you weren’t looking for Jackie Barbosa–who or what is this censorship trying to serve?  If you know who Jackie is, it’s not “family friendly” for Amazon to pretend she doesn’t exist.  And I’ve seen Jackie work so hard for her print release, and I know that this book is good–so what is it going to mean if people can’t find it?  Its sales, for her, are crucial in determining what happens for her future career.

This is barbaric.  It’s dehumanizing.  It makes me feel sick to my stomach.  Amazon, WTF?

EDITED SOMEWHAT LATER TO ADD:

Lady Chatterley’s Lover has been deranked.  Fanny Hill has been deranked.  Books about lesbian parenting have been deranked.  Mein Kampf has not been deranked.  Books about training dogs to fight have not been deranked.

I do not think that Mein Kampf should be deranked, or that books about dog-fighting should be either.  I think this demonstrates the dangers of going down the dark path of censorship.  Even if you don’t care about erotic romance or GLBT books, this should make you feel sick.  What if Amazon had decided that they didn’t want to offend Jews by offering them books about Christianity, and they deranked the King James Version of the Holy Bible, or Pope John Paul II’s In My Own Words?  What if they didn’t want to offend Obama supporters and deranked Bill O’Reilly?  What if they deranked the Koran so as not to make children think about terrorism, and deranked all holocaust books because some people think it didn’t happen, and deranked The Origin of Species because people don’t agree on evolution?

Part of being a free society means that we are sometimes going to see things we do not agree with.  It is a blessing, not a weakness.  And it’s not okay just because it happens to someone else.

I am strongly, firmly, against all content-based restrictions imposed on book browsing, purchasing, and buying.

She says, basically, no, you idiot (okay, she does not call me an idiot, but what she says is so patently true that when I read it I felt like one!), you weren’t making your book less marketable.  You were making it more compelling, and compelling is marketable.  What you were really doing was making contest judges tell you your book was not marketable.

I have to admit when I read what she said it felt like someone had given me a not-so-gentle tap upside the head, and I suddenly realized I’d been looking at the world sideways.  Because, of course, she is completely right and I was wrong.

(Diana Peterfreund, incidentally, is a fabulous writer–if you haven’t read her Secret Society Girl series, you really should do so.  They’re absolutely fantastic, and I can’t wait for Tap & Gown.)

But in thinking about it since, I’ve come to this conclusion.  The “market” is a vague and amorphous thing, which writers would dearly love to dissect and quantify.  It seems mostly inexplicable, and so the parts that can be explicated get an undue share of attention.  And so when I was thinking about the “market” for books, I tended to focus on the parts that are easiest to specify.  So, for instance, someone might say that vampires and werewolves are doing well in the market.  Today, actually, they might say something like, the market for vampires and werewolves is saturated, and people are moving into fae and angels.  I hear people talk about “writing to market,” as in, young adults are selling, maybe I will write a young adult.  When I first started writing historical romance, all I heard was that the “market” for historicals was dead and that paranormals were the big thing.

This sort of scatter-shot description of what is selling and what is not is certainly part of what makes up the “market”: It’s a big picture of what is being bought.  But the mistake I made was  because it’s so big picture, it doesn’t necessarily tell you if your particular book is marketable.  It’s not a description of the “market” by itself; it’s market prognostication.  For instance, there is a market for paranormal romance.  There is a market for historicals.  There is a market for vampire stories that involve teenage boys.  Readers are hungry for a particular type of story, and let us face it is easier to sell those stories.  People will even break that down, and tell you that there is a large market for historicals involving dukes that are set in England, but there is a very tiny market for historicals involving cowhands set in 18th century Mexico.  One hears second-hand stories, even, about New York Times bestselling authors who want to write certain books, but are not allowed to do so by their editors on the theory that the time period or character in question is not marketable enough.

But the other thing you hear is the frustratingly vague answer you get from agents and editors when they are asked what they’re looking for.  Because while sometimes they will say, “Gosh, I’d really love to find a great story about a werestag,” most of the time, the answers they give look something like this:  I’m looking for compelling books.  Books you can’t put down.  Good books.  Books with a strong voice.  And of course, that seems like it’s no help, because nobody sets out to spend a year of their life writing a bad book that is not compelling, written in a grating, painful style, which readers must set down every other page just to prevent eye-bleed.  Nobody sits down and says, “yes, I am going to produce a book that cannot be saved.”

The market for compelling books is always strong, but it’s harder to talk about than the market for the former, and so when people talk about “market” it tends to focus on the stuff that’s easy.  Vampires.  Weredeer.  That kind of thing.  So the portion of the market that is easy to prognosticate over will overshadow the “compelling” part in discourse.  Which is why I was shocked to discover that “compelling” trumps market prognostication.

(And to be fair, I am not writing a story about cowhands set in 18th century Mexico, and so while I don’t think that my hook was as marketable as some other hooks I’ve seen, I wasn’t starting at ground zero.)

I suspect the two complement each other.  If your compelling book fits into an identifiable marketing niche that is selling well–for instance, if it fits into the “teenage vampire” category–that will help it sell.  The harder it is to place your book in a section of a bookstore, or within a genre niche, the more compelling it will have to be to sell.  But I suspect there’s a sweet spot–because I think it would be very difficult to write a truly compelling book that was written only with market prognostication in mind.

Here’s the blurb:

It’s Not the Hottest Genre, So How Do Debut Historical Romance Authors Get Six-Figure Deals? (PUBLISHING)
Speakers: Helen Breitwieser, Courtney Milan, Kristin Nelson, Sherry Thomas, Tracy Anne Warren, and Tessa Dare
Two agents and their debut historical romance clients, who were initially bought for six figures, discuss the how and the why behind these big deals.

There are a lot of other exciting workshops that I can see on the list, too.