Patrick Scalisi's Blog - Posts Tagged "geeks"
Why is it so Difficult to Write a Good Tie-In Novel?
As readers of my fiction, blog, website and Facebook page know, I am an unequivocal geek. And as a geek, I like geeky things. Like Star Wars. Like Star Trek. Like Magic: The Gathering and the Lord of the Rings. Like superheroes and everything in between.
So what are geeks like me to do when we have exhausted our “primary sources”? When we have watched all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and still want more? When playing Dungeons & Dragons once or twice a week isn’t enough to sate our enthusiasm for the property?
We turn to the “expanded universe.”
We geeks are lucky. Fans of, say, literary fiction can rarely — if ever — boast that they can read tie-in novels or play tie-in games once they’ve finished reading their primary source. Compare that with Firefly, whose 14 episodes are bolstered by comics, games, official companions (not those kind of “companions”!) and even books of scholarly essays.
Yet for all of this expanded universe material, very little of it is any good.
Why is that? Why is it so difficult to write a good — if not excellent — tie-in or expanded universe book?
This strikes me as very strange. After all, most primary source owners (by which I mean the companies that own properties like Star Trek and Magic) are big organizations that should have the clout and financial backing of any New York City publisher. These same companies, though, don’t seem to be using their resources to (a.) hire good storytellers and (b.) ensure that they’re putting out a quality product.
Let’s look at two examples.
In his book, Sometimes the Magic Works , acclaimed fantasy author Terry Brooks talks about his nightmare experience writing the tie-in novel for the movie Hook . Brooks recounts that he was receiving script revisions on a daily basis and that people involved with the film weren’t accessible when he had questions or concerns. Brooks swore he would never do another tie-in book again.
Fast forward to 1999. Brooks is offered the chance to write the novelization of Star Wars Episode One: The Phantom Menace . Brooks only agrees to undertake the project if he has what some might consider unrivaled access to the film: the ability to get in touch with George Lucas and his staff, concept art, ship drawings, scripts, etc. All of these things were provided, and Brooks’ novelization of Episode One, I would argue, is one of the better tie-in or expanded universe books that I’ve read, regardless of how you feel about the film itself.
This may be one reason why tie-in and expanded universe books are rarely up to snuff: bureaucracy. When writers are tasked with getting into the head of another creative person, the writer needs access to that person’s vision of the property. Since Brooks had access to all of LucasFilm for his novelization, the book turned out successful. This wasn’t the case with Hook, where the writer’s access was severely limited.
I want to turn now to my second example. I recently finished reading Ari Marmell’s book Agents of Artifice , a tie-in novel for Magic: The Gathering. For those unaware, Magic is a collectible card game owned by Hasbro, and the Magic novels are put out by Hasbro’s subsidiary Wizards of the Coast (which also owns Dungeons & Dragons). Most people also don’t know that Magic is Hasbro’s most valuable game brand.
Think about that for a second.
Magic is the most popular game brand of a company that owns Monopoly, Angry Birds, Battleship, Clue and so on. In 2012, the game reportedly generated $200 million in revenue for Hasbro.
I feel that it’s necessary to put Magic into this kind of context. Agents of Artifice wasn’t a self-published book. It wasn’t fan fiction. It was a professionally released hardcover put out by a multi-million dollar company. If that’s the case, why does Agents of Artifice have sentences with missing words? With words repeated? With sentences so unclear that they have to be read multiple times to understand the writer’s meaning? The book reads like a second draft that wasn’t edited before being sent to press. Point of view changes from limited omniscient to true omniscient point of view occur mid paragraph, to say nothing of the storytelling structure as a whole. How did Hasbro let this embarrassment reach the market?
Regrettably, no tie-in novelists would comment on the record for this blog post, though I did try to contact a few. Instead, I turned to my friend Nick, who is both an economist and a voracious reader. Not surprisingly, Nick thinks the answer comes down to money.
“Let me opine baselessly and say that I think the reason the quality is so often lacking is due to economics. In a case where the rights-holder is commissioning the work, presumably their reason for doing so is to advance the brand. Hasbro probably doesn't care about telling the story behind G.I. Joe, but they see an opportunity to make money, both directly by selling the book, and indirectly by promoting sales of the toys. It's a purely commercial decision; accordingly, they hire the cheapest author they can find who meets a certain level of quality, which is probably in turn determined by the venerability of the brand (Star Wars will probably have better tie-ins that Andromeda). Essentially, the lowest bidder is the one likely to get the commission, and so the quality of the product is low. In part they can get away with this because they have a built-in market in the form of consumers of the brand; the novel doesn't have to stand on its own merits; it just needs to be good enough that fans will shell out for it.
“There may be some genuine labors of love out there — some of the Star Wars expanded universe novels were pretty decent, if I remember correctly — and sometimes big properties will attract big talent, but this will probably only happen where the rights-holder expects a big profit to justify the big investment.”
I think there’s a lot of truth here. Still, some of the reviews for Agents of Artifice on Goodreads come from people who admittedly don’t or haven’t tried the Magic card game. In the name of advancing the brand and promoting sales, wouldn’t a company like Hasbro want to put its best foot forward for those who have never been exposed to the property before, or perhaps in only a limited way? Wouldn’t a truly kick-ass book be more likely to get someone to go out and buy a stack of Magic cards than a mediocre one?
Sadly, the answer seems as elusive as the Rebel Alliance. I suppose I could lament the fact that money rules the publishing world, but that would be about as useful as spitting in the wind. Instead, I invite readers to share the best tie-in and expanded universe novels that they’ve read, as well as the worst. In publishing, public opinion still does matter, and discerning geeks like me should demand the best of their favorite geeky properties.
So what are geeks like me to do when we have exhausted our “primary sources”? When we have watched all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and still want more? When playing Dungeons & Dragons once or twice a week isn’t enough to sate our enthusiasm for the property?
We turn to the “expanded universe.”
We geeks are lucky. Fans of, say, literary fiction can rarely — if ever — boast that they can read tie-in novels or play tie-in games once they’ve finished reading their primary source. Compare that with Firefly, whose 14 episodes are bolstered by comics, games, official companions (not those kind of “companions”!) and even books of scholarly essays.
Yet for all of this expanded universe material, very little of it is any good.
Why is that? Why is it so difficult to write a good — if not excellent — tie-in or expanded universe book?
This strikes me as very strange. After all, most primary source owners (by which I mean the companies that own properties like Star Trek and Magic) are big organizations that should have the clout and financial backing of any New York City publisher. These same companies, though, don’t seem to be using their resources to (a.) hire good storytellers and (b.) ensure that they’re putting out a quality product.
Let’s look at two examples.
In his book, Sometimes the Magic Works , acclaimed fantasy author Terry Brooks talks about his nightmare experience writing the tie-in novel for the movie Hook . Brooks recounts that he was receiving script revisions on a daily basis and that people involved with the film weren’t accessible when he had questions or concerns. Brooks swore he would never do another tie-in book again.
Fast forward to 1999. Brooks is offered the chance to write the novelization of Star Wars Episode One: The Phantom Menace . Brooks only agrees to undertake the project if he has what some might consider unrivaled access to the film: the ability to get in touch with George Lucas and his staff, concept art, ship drawings, scripts, etc. All of these things were provided, and Brooks’ novelization of Episode One, I would argue, is one of the better tie-in or expanded universe books that I’ve read, regardless of how you feel about the film itself.
This may be one reason why tie-in and expanded universe books are rarely up to snuff: bureaucracy. When writers are tasked with getting into the head of another creative person, the writer needs access to that person’s vision of the property. Since Brooks had access to all of LucasFilm for his novelization, the book turned out successful. This wasn’t the case with Hook, where the writer’s access was severely limited.
I want to turn now to my second example. I recently finished reading Ari Marmell’s book Agents of Artifice , a tie-in novel for Magic: The Gathering. For those unaware, Magic is a collectible card game owned by Hasbro, and the Magic novels are put out by Hasbro’s subsidiary Wizards of the Coast (which also owns Dungeons & Dragons). Most people also don’t know that Magic is Hasbro’s most valuable game brand.
Think about that for a second.
Magic is the most popular game brand of a company that owns Monopoly, Angry Birds, Battleship, Clue and so on. In 2012, the game reportedly generated $200 million in revenue for Hasbro.
I feel that it’s necessary to put Magic into this kind of context. Agents of Artifice wasn’t a self-published book. It wasn’t fan fiction. It was a professionally released hardcover put out by a multi-million dollar company. If that’s the case, why does Agents of Artifice have sentences with missing words? With words repeated? With sentences so unclear that they have to be read multiple times to understand the writer’s meaning? The book reads like a second draft that wasn’t edited before being sent to press. Point of view changes from limited omniscient to true omniscient point of view occur mid paragraph, to say nothing of the storytelling structure as a whole. How did Hasbro let this embarrassment reach the market?
Regrettably, no tie-in novelists would comment on the record for this blog post, though I did try to contact a few. Instead, I turned to my friend Nick, who is both an economist and a voracious reader. Not surprisingly, Nick thinks the answer comes down to money.
“Let me opine baselessly and say that I think the reason the quality is so often lacking is due to economics. In a case where the rights-holder is commissioning the work, presumably their reason for doing so is to advance the brand. Hasbro probably doesn't care about telling the story behind G.I. Joe, but they see an opportunity to make money, both directly by selling the book, and indirectly by promoting sales of the toys. It's a purely commercial decision; accordingly, they hire the cheapest author they can find who meets a certain level of quality, which is probably in turn determined by the venerability of the brand (Star Wars will probably have better tie-ins that Andromeda). Essentially, the lowest bidder is the one likely to get the commission, and so the quality of the product is low. In part they can get away with this because they have a built-in market in the form of consumers of the brand; the novel doesn't have to stand on its own merits; it just needs to be good enough that fans will shell out for it.
“There may be some genuine labors of love out there — some of the Star Wars expanded universe novels were pretty decent, if I remember correctly — and sometimes big properties will attract big talent, but this will probably only happen where the rights-holder expects a big profit to justify the big investment.”
I think there’s a lot of truth here. Still, some of the reviews for Agents of Artifice on Goodreads come from people who admittedly don’t or haven’t tried the Magic card game. In the name of advancing the brand and promoting sales, wouldn’t a company like Hasbro want to put its best foot forward for those who have never been exposed to the property before, or perhaps in only a limited way? Wouldn’t a truly kick-ass book be more likely to get someone to go out and buy a stack of Magic cards than a mediocre one?
Sadly, the answer seems as elusive as the Rebel Alliance. I suppose I could lament the fact that money rules the publishing world, but that would be about as useful as spitting in the wind. Instead, I invite readers to share the best tie-in and expanded universe novels that they’ve read, as well as the worst. In publishing, public opinion still does matter, and discerning geeks like me should demand the best of their favorite geeky properties.
