2 posts tagged “novels”

Today I received an e-mail containing the announcement of a former editor at a New York Publisher, stating that the editor would be reviewing 500 manuscripts for the next 6-8 months.  Those interested could e-mail the editor at the address given in the announcement and receive guidelines.

Curious, and having heard of this up-coming announcement, requested the guidelines.

To my astonishment the guidelines included a $500 fee for reading each manuscript from which the submitting writer would receive a critique of their work.  The purpose of the critique and the fee, ultimately the submission, according to the guidelines is to give the submitting writing a clear sense of how their submission might fare if sent to a publishing house and feedback on where the writer needs to focus her or his attention in refining their submission—again for the larger goal of submitting the work to a publisher for publication.

I was surprised by the $500 fee because for that amount of money an interested person could take a class at say Gotham Writers Workshops or better yet, the would be author could choose from a range of short story and novel courses, all within the price range of $175- $500, classes that last from eight weeks to six months during which the writer submits stories on line to a published and season author of short stories and/or novels and receives not just critique but detailed lessons/lectures and assignments on the craft of writing.

The question was pretty clear to me:  Does one want to pay $500 for feedback given from having read 500 manuscripts or $500 or less for the experience of learning to write?

And the answer to that is also simple:  The latter is the better bargain by far.

I do not hold any ill sentiments toward the former publishing editor for offering such a service.  She has simply joined the ranks of many who already offer this service at much higher fees.

What did strike me as interesting was the great anticipation with which would be writers seeking publication held toward this editor’s announcement.  It was if many saw this as their lucky break.

I can’t exactly criticize these writers eager for publication in their hope of receiving some sort of boost in their career and desire. What left me downhearted was that in the flurry of excitement toward this editor’s announcement, nothing was ever said of why the editor had chosen to commit herself to read 500 manuscripts—better yet what she was looking to gain.

Perhaps this is a mercenary question that I propose.  But seeing one’s work come to print is costly—not only from the publisher’s end, but for the writer as well.  And much of that money must be committed to years, often decades, before a publishing editor will even look at your work. In other words, would be authors must commit to learning how to write and how to improve their writing. And that costs not just time, but also money.

That money can be spent in a myriad of ways, writing groups facilitated by established writers and poets, on-line classes facilitated by those who have made a career in the fields of writing an publishing, writing workshops where one’s work is critiqued over a period of one or two weeks, or MFA programs.  The field is wide open with much to choose from if one wants to truly learn.

But learning involves writing and re-writing—writing stories to present to one’s teacher and peers, and then more writing, after receiving comments and critique to learn how to correct one’s mistakes and refine one’s ability to craft and structure stories.

I received 4 more e-mails after receiving the guidelines from the editor who is to read 500 manuscripts. Those subsequent e-mails contained critiques of various stories.  The authors of these stories went unnamed. The critiques for the novels ranged from comments on dialogue, to suggestions for theme, and critiques on plot.  

The editor, as most in the publishing field who are good at what they do, presented in explicit form just what was not working in the various stories, and what each author needed to attend in revising their story.
Alas, what was not present, was how to amend the suggested challenges—the true stuff of writing--revision--the work that each writer has and at some point must face on the way to the forum of publication--the ability to recognize, foresee, avoid, correct, the pitfalls that plague any and every writer.

That was not included in the critiques. That is what classes teach.

In all my years of writing, to craft my stories and then writing to improve my skills at crafting stories no one ever talked about the amount of writing a published author must do in an effort to publicize her or his works.

Perhaps that is because when I started writing stories, and in the years that followed wherein I labored at refining my skills at crafting fiction, no one, at least not those of us in my writing classes, realized the grasp that the internet would take on our lives, as both consumers, and anyone working to reach consumers.

I began writing seriously twelve years ago, although unbeknownst to me my apprenticeship in the field had actually begun three years prior.

During the years since, we in America have gone from exhibiting a continuum of timidity toward conducting basic social functions of meeting other individuals on-line among the few trailblazers who jumped at the opportunity to conduct various financial matters over the internet, to a society that now lives, breathes, learns and creates and communicates with family and community on-line.  
                                                                      
The internet is what connects us with the world, like it or not, and our dreams, and ourselves.  No reputable businessperson would attempt to sell anything today without first establishing an internet presence. Whenever we hear of someone, whether by word-of-mouth, over the radio or see them on television, we look to the internet for information that legitimizes what we have been told.  No longer do the traditional forms of media, newspapers, television, and magazines satiate our appetites always craving to know the latest on who is who and what is going on about them.

Yet the internet and its assistance to authors, especially fiction writers, is rarely, if ever discussed in writing circles, and little to none in institutions teaching us to refine our skills at creating stories—MFA Programs in Writing and the like. Even the non-traditional, low-residency programs, speak little of it--academic institutions where the use of the internet maintains of the viability and usage of such programs, speak little of this important and vital information we must acquire, better yet, develop a working knowledge of how it intersects with and influences our ability as aspiring writers to sell our product—stories, novels, essays, poems, etc.

Why is this?

I suppose as with any and everyone, change forces us to look at ourselves, and what we are about. More importantly it asks of us who we are, and tests the fiber of our commitment to what it is we say we are about.

The internet puts literary artists to the test. How much are we willing to part with the words we craft and hone into stories and essays, both conveying our thoughts and feelings toward the larger effort of getting our message out to the world? Or did we choose this art form as a way to work out the question of identity at the expense of readers who purchase our books?