Okay, you've finished a manuscript that you want to see published. You haven't invested half of your lifetime into writing witty newspaper columns, or brilliant short stories, or anything that would give you what might be called a track record of publication. But you've got this manuscript stacked on top of your printer, right? And you can feel New York calling...
“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."
Be bold intelligently, though. Plan it. Don't just go flailing around.
Be sure you've written the best manuscript you can. Re-write it. Re-write it again. Give it time. Everyone's in a hurry these days, as if success by next Friday will make or break you. It won't. When I started my first book, I thought I'd knock something out, quick and easy, but I wasn't terribly far along before I realized that this book would someday come out with my name on it -- did I want it to be easy, or good?
Check into the marketplace. I joined Sisters in Crime fairly early and went to the local LA chapter meetings whenever I could, particularly if there were author-speakers scheduled. It's inspiring to hear how somebody else did it, and you can start to get a notion of "breaking-in" strategies that might work for you.
You've already decided that you're aiming for New York. The next big question, then, would be: agent or no agent? There are people who've gotten published from the 'slush pile,' but I don't know any of them. I looked at everything I'd learned about the business and chose to pursue getting an agent. "Isn't that hard? Doesn't that take time?" Yes and yes.
Regional agent or New York agent? That's a personal decision. Any agent can get your work into a New York publishing house -- the question is whether he or she can get it read by someone whom he or she knows, whom he or she has reason to believe likes your kind of book. Many of the regional agents have great New York editor contacts and keep up with all the in-house changes -- in this instant-information age, with phone, fax, and email, that's not as difficult as it used to be. "Aren't deals still made over lunch in New York City?" Yes. Probably not very often, however, for an unpublished writer -- which leads us to our next point.
Step back from your manuscript and analyze yourself. Who are you? "But wait -- it isn't about me, it's about my work!" Um, sort of. For an unknown author, it's also quite a bit about you. Any editor who likes your work has to "pitch" it to the Big Publisher Boss before it's a deal. The Big Publisher Boss is being constantly lobbied by all the other in-house editors to okay their acquisitions, and there's only so much money to go around. Why should the Big Publisher Boss okay you? Check your attributes -- what is there about you that would help sell your book? Do you hold the same job as your protagonist, or did you once? That would be a selling point; it lends authenticity. Have you researched a lot? Do you have unusual hobbies? Do you belong to large organizations? Have you held office? (I'm leaving out "Have you slept with any politicians?" because, if so, you’ve probably already gotten a lucrative contract, and it's probably not really a mystery you've written...
Write an interesting query letter. That sounds so simple, but... after carefully crafting (and re-crafting) a very sensible, businesslike note that said enough (but not too much) about me and the book, I got the best advice I think I've ever received. A non-writer friend who was reading it over for me, said, "CJ, the agency already knows why you're sending them a query letter -- they get a hundred of these a week. You don't need to waste time telling them that, you just need more pizzazz, something to set you apart." I didn't run right out to buy chocolates to enclose for the agency, or confetti, or anything else that, frankly, I'd think would annoy them. I thought about it a while, and then there it was: she was right, I'm a writer. They do know why I'm approaching them. What I needed was to demonstrate -- in the query letter -- how I write mysteries. I needed a quick hook. I sent out a total of seventeen query letters ( well, sixteen, since I don't count the one where the agent had just died, because I'm sure he would have otherwise loved it), and out of those sixteen, I got four requests to see Bait -- the start of the Meg Gills crime novel series published by Scribner in hardcover and Harper in paperback.
Lastly, and most importantly, believe in yourself and give yourself time. You don't have to be an overnight success. You can get nitty-gritty advice in lots of places about how to write cover letters, how to pick agents, how to pace your novel, etc., and I encourage you to do all of that. I'm talking right now about less-tangible things. Being published (especially being published by New York) is an exhilarating experience, validating, freeing, all the wonderful things you’ve ever heard or imagined. It's also incredibly stressful. Don't let it eat you alive.
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If you've written a book, you believe in magic. I don't care how hard-nosed you are, I don't care how hard-boiled your writing is or isn't -- if you've written a book, you believe in magic. You've created a world, you've wrestled with demons, you’ve fought on through the despair. That's really good training for the business world of publishing, by the way, especially the wrestling-with-demons part.
Most of the time we forget that to be a writer is to be an artist -- a sensitive, delicate soul. It's not easy to remember that about yourself, particularly when you've finally broken through, finally been given your chance after years of struggling in the under-appreciated trenches. Now you’ve been picked and you must succeed! You will succeed. The New York publishing world, though, is a business world. Books are products. Sales figures dictate almost everything. The Big Five use what I call the "Magic Bean Theory" of publishing. There's sufficient seed money, say, for twenty-five new writers this season. They scatter the twenty-five magic beans out there in the soil, give 'em each a little bit of water and sunlight, and then whichever one turns into the Magic Beanstalk is the one that they love. Keep that one. Pull out the rest. Sow more magic beans next season.
It's not evil, it's business, but it's very hard on the artistic soul. I've seen authors break their hearts and their bank accounts trying to beat the odds, frantically watering their own patch of ground in an effort to grow, jealously watching the other beans' progress. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. A large number of writers who were here when I came on five years ago aren't publishing anymore.
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The title of this essay is "How To Break Into New York Publishing From Nothing," but what I want you to remember is that we are never "nothing." If you've finished a manuscript, you've already accomplished more than most people dream of. You've held down your jobs, you've paid your bills, you've loved your spouse, put in your time with your kids if you have them, and you've finished writing a book. Many people say they’re going to write something someday, but you actually did it. You aren't weak. You're strong.
So hold on to that knowledge of strength and go take on New York. You can do it if you want to -- just be careful with your delicate, artistic self along the way. Don't get bitter. Don't get jealous. Don't get caught up in the apparent need to succeed. I'll be over here cheering you on, because, me, I don't believe in beanstalks and bean counters -- I believe in the incredible power of dreams and real people. You go, author!
"Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it."
--Johann W. Goethe