Jane Friedman's Blog: Jane Friedman, page 57

7 Questions to Design a Better Arc of Change for Your Protagonist

“Sunset Beach Eclipse May 20th 2012” by jimnista is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Today’s post is by book coach, editor and platform expert Heather Davis (@HLeeDavisWriter).

Beginning authors don’t often appreciate the critical importance of a fully formed character arc, nor do they understand the key steps to create a satisfying one.

The good news? This problem is totally fixable.

Here are 7 essential questions I use to help writers create a robust and rewarding arc of change for their protagonist. To help fully explore each question, I will be using Ernest Cline’s adrenaline-packed novel Ready Player One for my examples.

1. What’s the Point you are trying to make with your novel?

Every great novel makes a Point about the world or the human condition. This Point is carefully crafted so that it resonates deeply with readers and takes them on a journey of emotional discovery. The problem for aspiring authors? It’s difficult to reverse engineer that story magic because great novels don’t beat readers over the head with their Point. If the scenes in a novel are like beads on a string (and I really love this analogy) then the Point of the novel is the string itself, joining those beads into a single entity, coursing through the center of everything but nearly invisible most of the time.

In Ready Player One, the Point is “in order to live a meaningful life, that life must be lived authentically and in the real world.”

Yes, this Point sounds super cliche. But that’s alright. In fact, most Points are so universal that they do sound cliche, and, ironically, that is exactly why they resonate so strongly with readers.

2. What are the biggest moments in your protagonist’s past that cause them to feel misaligned with the Point of your novel?

If your protagonist is going to be a great fit for your novel, they need to have a fairly unhealthy relationship with the Point you are trying to make. Why? Because they haven’t actually learned the Point yet. That’s exactly what makes them the ideal protagonist for your novel.

But here’s the tricky part. In order for that unhealthy relationship to be believable to readers, you must create a past that supports and explains it.

In Ready Player One, protagonist Wade Watts chooses virtual reality over the real thing, and his backstory certainly explains that choice. He is a poverty-stricken orphan who lives with an abusive aunt in a dangerous trailer park called the Stacks. His father was shot to death for looting a grocery store when Wade was just a baby, and his mother died of a drug overdose when he was 11 years old. This rich backstory helps readers empathize with Wade’s decision to escape reality.

3. What problems are being created by your protagonist’s past and their resulting misalignment with the Point of the novel?

Once your protagonist has a past that explains their misalignment with the Point of the novel, it is your job to determine all the ways that past is wreaking havoc in the story present. Why? Because these problems will subtly notify readers that your protagonist’s life needs some serious fixing (i.e. an arc of change).

In Ready Player One, the tragic events of Wade’s past have created numerous problems in his life. He has a terrible relationship with his aunt and her boyfriend, he sleeps on the floor of a tiny laundry room, he is bullied at school for being poor, and he has no friends outside of the OASIS. Yes, Wade has problems galore. And all of these problems reinforce Wade’s belief that happiness can only be found in the OASIS—far, far away from the real world.

4. What does your protagonist want?

Now that you know where your protagonist’s arc of change starts and the backstory that supports the need for that change, you must ensure your protagonist has a goal that drives them. That’s right—every protagonist needs a goal. Without a goal, the story is stagnant.

Interestingly, the goal does not necessarily need to be the real antidote to their problems. In fact, it usually isn’t the real antidote.

Usually, the protagonist’s goal centers around something very external because we all tend to guess that external things will make us happy. For example, maybe your protagonist wants a love interest to notice them, or maybe they want to make partner at a law firm, or maybe they want to make their ex-lover miserable.

No matter your protagonist’s goal, both you and your readers know something your protagonist doesn’t know: achieving that external goal isn’t really going to provide the internal reward your protagonist is longing for. Because of this reality, it doesn’t actually matter if your protagonist achieves the external goal or not. Maybe they get what they want, maybe they don’t. Either way, they will learn the Point of the novel and complete their character arc.

In Ready Player One, Wade’s goal has nothing to do with making authentic human connections and living in the real world. Nope—he just wants to find an Easter Egg hidden inside OASIS because that will bring immense wealth.

5. What does your protagonist need?

Your protagonist’s true need is the heart and soul of your novel and your protagonist’s internal arc of change. It is the antidote to all of their problems. After all, your protagonist is internally stuck, and they must change or die (if not physically, at least metaphorically), and your plot is going to help them get unstuck. You will find that the protagonist’s Need is a reflection of the story Point. That’s not an accident, it’s the story’s magic.

In Ready Player One, Wade needs “to create authentic relationships with real people in the real world to find true happiness.” Why? Because Wade lives almost entirely in the OASIS and has no fulfilling relationship in his real life. Even Wade’s best friend, Aech, and his love interest, Art3mis, are known to him only in the OASIS. He is as far from “living authentically and in the real world” as a character can get. Again, readers feel Wade’s struggle deep down in their core. They know he needs a lot more than money to achieve happiness.

6. What external events are ideal to force your protagonist through their arc of change?

Your protagonist doesn’t want to change. They are a stubborn, willful child who would rather stay in their status quo world forever. Why? Because change is hard and inertia feels safer.

That means that you need a plot that will absolutely force them to learn the Point of your novel. This plot should propel your protagonist out of their “normal life” and into a “new life.” Event by event, the plot should give your protagonist no choice but to move through their character arc, changing incrementally along the way. Remember, each event in your novel is actually an argument for the Point you are trying to make.

In Ready Player One, Wade realizes that he can’t find the prized Easter Egg without help from his virtual friends. Soon, however, the bad guys target Wade in real life, forcing him to share more personal information with his friends, and, eventually, leading him to meet those friends in person in order to survive and accomplish his goal.

7. How will your protagonist change by the end of the novel?

In order for readers to feel satisfied by the ending of your novel, the protagonist must have a full and dynamic arc of change. The protagonist should land 180 degrees from where they were at the beginning of the novel. Interestingly, this change doesn’t have to be in their external circumstances. The protagonist’s external circumstances might change for the better, stay the same, or get worse. The important change happens internally.

In Ready Player One, Wade finds the Easter Egg and becomes the richest person on the planet. Externally, he is 180 degrees from where he started. Not bad. But the most important change has taken place internally. By the end of the novel, Wade has realized that true happiness comes from authentic human connection. The final scene shows Wade in the real world, meeting and professing his love to Samantha, the young woman behind the Art3mis avatar. Now that’s a satisfying arc of change.

Final thoughts

The external parts of your novel (i.e. the plot) and the internal parts of your novel (i.e. the protagonist’s arc of change) must be intricately woven together to create a work that truly resonates with readers. It’s okay to rethink and reimagine your story until both aspects of the novel support each other perfectly. Remember, readers might pluck a novel off the shelf because of an awesome premise, but they stick around to watch the protagonist grow and change in meaningful, cohesive ways.

Improve Your Own Storytelling by Analyzing Other People’s

“Taking Notes” by venspired is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Today’s post is by editor Tiffany Yates Martin (@FoxPrintEd). Join us on July 13 for the online class Analyze Story Like an Editor.

One of the best resources an author has in learning the craft is something most writers have done for years: taking in others’ stories. In fact, a love of books and story is likely what drew many writers into the field in the first place.

But expecting casual pleasure reading to automatically strengthen and improve your own writing is like looking at a Monet and thinking you’re learning how to paint a masterwork.

Even if you already read analytically, assessing a story’s strengths and weaknesses—even habitually dissecting books, movies, or shows after reading or viewing (in a way that probably drives your nonwriter friends and loved ones up a wall)—is just step one.

That’s the equivalent of an editor’s first cold read of a story: It gives a good general sense of what’s working well and what areas may benefit from strengthening or developing, but it’s not until the subsequent deep-dive analytical passes that an editor can determine on a practical, granular level what may not be holding together as well as it could, why not, and how an author can make the story as effective as possible.

Attaining that kind of analytical objectivity in your own work is one of the biggest challenges of self-editing. You may be “filling in the blanks,” that unconscious gap between the story on the page and the one that’s vividly in your head.

But learning to analyze books, movies, TV shows, and other forms of story offers you the built-in objectivity of an editor that you may lack with your own work. Once you learn to spot these elements in other people’s stories, it’s vastly easier to see your own with that same objective clarity.

That doesn’t mean you have to break out your red pencil and become Max Perkins. Ironically, objectively analyzing a story’s effectiveness starts with a highly subjective tool you already have at your literal fingertips: yourself and your own reactions.

Step 1: How are you affected?

The first and simplest way to start parsing out what’s making a story effective or not is to notice your own impressions of it. Think of this as the way you might sum up a book or movie or show you especially liked (or didn’t) to a friend: Did you like it? What about it did you like (or not)? Why? It’s like a mini review:

“It was tons of fun—I laughed all the way through, but it has real heart and packs an unexpected punch at the end.”

Try to be as specific and exhaustive as you can at this initial stage of assessment about your reactions to the story. Did the characters feel real, their tribulations and foibles hilariously recognizable and relatable? Did you care what happened to them? Was the plot one great, unexpected twist after another, the situations more and more engaging or precarious? Did you love (or hate) the dialogue, the action, the relationships? Did the story keep you guessing the whole time, surprise you with its ending, leave you feeling satisfied?

Keep asking yourself what stuck with you from the story, what affected you, and how it made you feel. This is the equivalent of the initial cold read a good editor does of a manuscript—what I call “feeling the story.” You’re not thinking too hard about anything at this stage, just paying attention to how the story made you feel.

Once you have your general impressions of the story in mind (or written down, if you work better that way), you can start to circle in a little closer.

Step 2: Where are you affected?

Once you know what’s affecting you, go back through and pinpoint where in the story specifically those feelings and reactions were elicited.

When did you first feel hooked into the character and care what became of her? Was there anywhere you put the book down and didn’t feel strongly compelled to pick it back up (or pressed pause)—or places where you couldn’t stop turning page after page? If you were on the edge of your seat, or felt emotional, or disengaged at any point, where was that in the story?

Identify the specific places where your reactions and impressions were elicited—what part of the story, what scene, what line, even what word. Sticky notes or “flags” can be helpful here to mark these areas (for step three, below).

The key is to be as specific and granular as possible: “I was all-in on the protagonist in act one” is helpful; “The scene in chapter two where we see how careful she is with someone else’s dog while pet-sitting really hooked me” is better; “The moment she tasted the can of dog food before feeding it to her friend’s beloved pet made me love her” is clearest and most useful of all.

Step 3: Why are you affected?

This is where you’ll start to turn your subjective impressions into objective assessment. Your reactions to a story aren’t happening incidentally; good authors use craft techniques intentionally to create the effect they intend. That’s why studying how they do it yields such high rewards in applying these techniques to your own writing.

Using your reactions and the specific places that elicited them, dig deeper: What exactly elicited your reaction, and how did the storyteller achieve that? In answering these questions, be specific and concrete.

Sticking with the (slightly gross) example above, let’s say, for example, that you were won over to the main character by her pre-tasting the dog’s food. Exactly what about that enchanted you—what did it indicate about the character that made you like or care about or invest in her?

Did it suggest she is considerate and respectful of what matters to others? Did it show how seriously she takes being entrusted with something a friend loves, or how conscientious she is about responsibility, or even just how much she loves dogs (more than enough to win over avid dog lovers, trust me)? Did her hilariously awkward, unexpected action indicate to you that she tries incredibly hard to do things right, or finds plucky solutions to unexpected problems, or is willing to do absolutely anything to get a job done?

With your answers you’ve just identified a whole host of techniques you might use in your own writing to make a character come across as relatable or intriguing. Craft tips like “Make readers invest in your main character” may be excellent writing advice, but they’re a bit general and vague.

But actually analyzing in this way how other stories and storytellers do this successfully (or not—paying attention to what doesn’t work in story can be as enlightening as what does) is how you learn, viscerally and concretely, how to put your intentions on the page.

If you learn to notice your own reactions to other people’s stories and dissect every element that causes a response or reaction in you, then you begin to build up a repertoire of techniques to use in your own writing to effectively convey the story you intend to tell. You train your editor brain in a way that makes you a better storyteller—and a better editor of your own work.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, join us on July 13 for the online class Analyze Story Like an Editor.

How (and How Not!) to Write Queer Characters: A Primer

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon

Today’s post is by regular contributor Susan DeFreitas (@manzanitafire), an award-winning author, editor, and book coach. She offers an online course, Story Medicine, designed to help writers use their power as storytellers to support a more just and verdant world.

Recently, I sat down (virtually) with my good friend and colleague Vinnie Kinsella, the editor of Fashionably Late: Gay, Bi, and Trans Men Who Came Out Later in Life, to discuss a subject of interest to any fiction writer who sees themselves as an ally to queer folks: tropes to avoid with LGBTQ+ characters.

It was a lively and far-ranging discussion. I had the honor of being one of the first colleagues Vinnie came out to (later in life, as the title of his essay collection attests), and like any good book nerd, one of the first things he did at that time was to read every book he could find that centered gay narratives.

I remember how frustrated he was at the various fictional storylines he encountered again and again—and I remember the way he found himself speculating on how incredibly unhelpful such stories must be to young queer kids, desperate to find the sort of characters they could see themselves in.

At the end of this month, our full conversation will join the archives of my online course, Story Medicine—but I wanted to make sure I shared some of the key takeaways from that conversation here, in order to make this information as widely available as possible. (Note: This post is primarily aimed at fiction writers who identify as straight.)

Part 1: Tropes to avoid with LGBTQ+ characters1. “Bury Your Gays”

You know that racist story trope, wherein the token Black or Brown character gets killed off in the first half hour of the show? There’s a direct equivalent with queer characters, when the queer character dies early on in the story—and this too is something you want to avoid.

Often, the killing of this queer character is there to spark outrage against the bad guy doing the killing—and often, the gratuitous offing of this character is meant to show us just how deeply the (straight) protagonist cares about said queer person, thereby showing us what a good guy or gal they are. (You know, “save the cat.”)

Regardless, this is a trope you want to avoid, as it tends to send the signal that being queer means being sentenced to a short, tragic life—and, in storytelling terms, it tends to imply that such characters aren’t worth developing into fully three-dimensional, complex characters.

2. Magic Gay Bestie

Here’s another trope with queer characters that has a direct equivalent with race: the trope of the Magic Gay Bestie—which I have so christened because it’s a lot like the trope of the Magic Negro.

The Magic Gay Bestie is the queer best friend of the straight protagonist. They’re not particularly complex, and they don’t seem to have much in the way of goals or desires of their own—they’re just there to sprinkle a little rainbow fairy dust on the protagonist’s life, perhaps offering some sage advice about being yourself or chosen family (you know, Things That Gay People Know), along with a little comic relief.

This too is a trope you want to avoid, because the message this type of character sends is clear: The straight character is the one whose story actually matters.

3. Characterization Via Stereotype

Finally: There’s one approach you want to avoid with any character who hails from a historically marginalized group, and that’s to make every aspect of that person’s characterization point to their status as a member of this historically marginalized group.

For instance: A gay male character who A) is a hairdresser, B) owns a small dog, C) is effeminate, D) is flamboyant, E) speaks with a lisp, F) loves to go clubbing, and G) is a die-hard fan of The Golden Girls.

Do people exist in real life who fit this description? Almost certainly—but as Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward put it in Writing the Other: A Practical Approach, “When every trait you ascribe to a character points to the same group, you’re just promoting a widely held stereotype.”

Here instead are some best practices you can rely on when writing queer characters (and characters from other historically marginalized groups as well).

Part 2: Best practices for writing queer characters1. Don’t Make Them the Sole Representative

When you only have one member of a historically marginalized group in your story, that character is essentially forced to represent that whole group—and however you characterize them, that person will appear to represent the author’s conception of that group as a whole.

The easiest way to avoid this is simply to have more than one character from that same group in your story. Because if you have a bisexual villain in your novel, it will look like you yourself consider bisexuals somewhat nefarious or threatening—unless you have bisexual “good guy” as well. Then it will just look like the world of your novel is full of people of all different types (just like the world we actually live in).

As an added bonus, avoiding the “tokenism” of a single character from this historically marginalized group can also add a note of realism often missing from fictional depictions of all those Magic Gay Besties. Because real queer people tend to, you know, actually have other queer friends.

2. Address Privilege

Remember Magic Gay Bestie? There’s a character like that in the Netflix adaptations of Jenny Han’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, Lucas, one of the boys the protagonist, Lara Jean, had a crush on in junior high, turns out to be gay—and so, rather than connecting romantically in high school (the period in which the story is set), the two reconnect as friends, and Lucas offers sage advice to Lara Jean in choosing among the two suitors she winds up torn between.

To my mind, this depiction manages to avoid Magic Gay Bestie syndrome via a scene in which Lara Jean and Lucas are at a dance: Lara Jean bemoans the difficulty of choosing between these boys she likes so much, and Lucas responds by noting what a privilege it is that she actually has this choice.

In this scene, Lucas goes on to note how few boys at their school are openly gay—the fact that, for him, there really are no choices to be made. Lara Jean responds by essentially saying, “Hang in there—we won’t be stuck in high school forever, and when we get out of here, you’re going to have your pick.”

That scene, to me, is where the story does right by this gay character, by acknowledging his lack of privilege with regard to the straight protagonist. (As an added bonus, this short exchange really supercharges their graduation day, later on in the story, with deep emotion when the camera turns to Lucas.)

3. Characterize Nonstereotypically

Remember our gay male hairdresser with the small dog, who’s flamboyant and effeminate, loves to go clubbing, and adores The Golden Girls? Don’t get me wrong, I love that guy IRL, but…if this is a character in your novel, you’ll probably want to remove at least one of those stereotypically gay male traits, and focus instead on something about them that has nothing to do with the fact that they’re gay.

You might focus on this character’s close relationship with his elderly next-door neighbor, his love for classic Russian literature, his fear of heights, his obsession with near-future dystopian sci fi, whatever—as long as the trait you’re emphasizing is not one typically associated with this character’s historically marginalized group, you’ll be working against stereotype, rather than helping to perpetuate it.

And the added bonus here is this: You’ll just be making them a more interesting, complex, three-dimensional character, period.

3 Common Pitfalls in Memoir Queries

Of all the querying writers in the world, I empathize most with memoirists because of the challenge they uniquely face. Memoir falls into a gray area where some agents/publishers are most interested in seeing you pitch the work like any other nonfiction book (with discussion of platform, market, and media potential), while others would rather have you pitch the work like a novel (that means focusing on story, and your unique voice or style).

Ideally? You have both story and platform to offer.

The good news, if any: Memoirists have a lot of leeway in choosing a pitching strategy that works for them, guided by the strengths of their project. But with freedom comes great responsibility, and it’s easier to get into trouble when there isn’t a tried-and-true formula to follow.

In my 15 years of evaluating queries, here are the three biggest pitfalls I see in memoir queries, regardless of your pitching strategy.

1. The Laundry List Approach

Repeat after me: a list is not a story. A list is not a story.

It can be tempting to list all the quirky things that happen in your book. Or go through a roll call of all the interesting characters. Or mention all the fascinating places the reader will go. Or mention all of the universal themes. It’s as if the writer is hoping that, by listing all these things, the agent/editor will be intrigued enough to read or ask for more. Here’s an example:

Each story—from the murder to a disturbing street encounter, to a missed train in Italy, to meeting my Hollywood actor father—builds upon themes of social class, sexual desire as a cautionary tale, and a longing for safety, through settings from Maine to Los Angeles to Las Vegas, New York City, Santa Fe, Austin, and back to Maine.

But no one really wants to read a book because of a list, no matter how interesting. We are looking for someone to care about, we are looking for a problem or question that intrigues us and that we want to explore with you. The above paragraph can’t be revised fruitfully, because we need key characters—you!—to be acting, feeling, and reacting. Go through your query and look for any list. Strike it. You’ll likely improve things immediately just by eliminating the list. (Novelists, the same is true for you, by the way.)

2. Going Heavy on Theme or Abstraction

Memoirs typically involve big transformations: finding love or losing love, becoming ill or recovering your health, forging a new identity or discovering who you really are. These are big, big concepts deserving of books. But in a query, if you try to emphasize the “big” theme at the heart of your book, or the “big” emotions you’re dealing with, the query will likely fall flat. Here’s an example.

When I lose the very first meaningful job I landed out of college, I am unsure of myself and my future. In addition to being dislodged from a promising career path, I also find myself struggling with drug addiction. At a crossroads in life, a hollowed-out version of my previous self, I search to find my identity.

Queries come alive when they offer vivid, specific details that can help bring your story to life. Ideally, we want mini-scenes that evoke the right emotion, without telling what the emotions are. Here’s a revision.

I spent $64,000 and studied for six years to become a pastor. But my first church assignment goes horribly wrong when my recreational drug use is discovered, and I become barely employable. In fact, I don’t really want to be employable any longer by any church.

To find solace for a while, I become a day laborer working on landscapes. My first job is with an older widow, Eleanor, whose yard, like herself, is in dire need of love and understanding …

3. Focusing on Backstory

With memoir, it’s especially tempting to give considerable background and context about yourself, so that agents and editors can better “understand” you or the memoir and how things came to be how they are today.

But in fact we need exceptionally little information to start with. In fact, it’s almost always better to start in medias res, in the middle of things, and fill in the gaps as we go. I think Denise Massar does a beautiful job with this in her query for Matched, which scored her an agent. Rather than talk about herself, her background, and why she wants to adopt a child, she cuts straight to the chase and starts like this:

“You’ll find your own birth mom,” our lawyer said. “That’s just how it’s done now.”

We advertised ourselves across the country as hopeful adoptive parents, fielding and vetting birth moms by phone. The first to contact us—there would be eight in all—had been raped by two different men. Ashamed and depressed, she’d spent her pregnancy drinking and doing coke. Did we want to adopt her baby, she asked?

Later in the query, we get some tantalizing bits about Massar’s own background, and at this point we’re hooked and want to read the manuscript so we can learn more about her. It turns out Massar herself is adopted. Read the full query here.

Think about the query as similar to going on a blind date. Do you tell your life story from the very beginning? No. Because that is boring even if your life is unique and interesting.

Parting advice

I mentioned earlier there isn’t really a formula for memoir queries. But if I had to offer a default approach, it would be: Make your voice shine and put us in your world, even if it’s just for a small scene or a small moment. Most unpublished memoirists don’t have a big enough platform to merit a book deal on reader reach alone, so pitch based on the strength of your craft and storytelling. Look for the moments you think will be talked about and referenced many years after your memoir is published. Can that be fuel for your query?

Why Agents Don’t Give Feedback—And Where to Get It Instead

Today’s post is by Allison K Williams (@GuerillaMemoir). Join her on Thursday, June 23, for the online class Why Is My Book Getting Rejected?

The long, frustrating process of querying seems so one-sided. Most queries receive form rejections with cryptic phrases like “I didn’t connect” or “just not for me,” or fall into the deep valley of No response means no.

Author after author asks on Twitter, in writing groups and workshops—why can’t they just say what’s wrong? Make a checkbox or a copy-paste? At least tell me, is it the writing or the story or what? It would take thirty seconds!

Well, no. Responding with brief-but-helpful feedback to your query takes maybe 10 minutes, after the agent has read the query and enough of your first pages to know the book is not a fit and why, then copy-paste “Sorry I didn’t believe your hero” or “Vampires are over.” But agents get upwards of 200 queries each week. Two thousand minutes a week is 33 hours. When are they supposed to, you know, work?

That’s the first reason agents don’t give feedback: You aren’t their client. They already have contracts with other authors, legally binding agreements in which they promise to spend their time selling books and furthering careers. They have manuscripts to read, revisions letters to write, editors to pitch, non-responsive editors to follow up with (agents get ghosted, too). Many agents are part-time or have another gig. Often, they tackle their inbox at night or on weekends—and after two years without reliable school and/or childcare, those inboxes are fuller than ever.

Another reason not to give feedback: Agents don’t actually know what’s wrong with your book. They only know where they lost interest in the first pages. Maybe they don’t want to spend time with the hero. But if that problem gets solved on page 50, then “Your hero is unlikeable” could send an author into a long and fruitless revision, when the feedback they really needed was “Cut pages 1–49.”

Query feedback could hurt more than it helps. Maybe they sent a form rejection because the writing isn’t ready, the story is terrible and the format is sloppy—but will saying that inspire an author to take a workshop, get a critique partner or form a writing group? Or just crush their desire to keep writing?

Sometimes they’re wrong about the market. What if this agent writes, “Sorry, vampires are over,” and the author shoulders their sadness, tucks away the book, and stops querying? Maybe next week, another agent has a line on a great new vampire series that will totally revitalize the genre, only the author quit before querying them.

Sometimes there’s nothing you can change. “Didn’t connect” can mean “the book is fine, the writing is fine, the story is fine, but it doesn’t make me want to shriek and call you immediately before another agent spots you.” How many books have you picked up in a store and decided they just didn’t grab you enough to buy? Do you owe each author a critique? Agents work for free until the book sells. Your agent must be so excited about your work that she’s happy to invest her time and reputation and take her lumps if the book doesn’t sell.

I hear authors raging that agents who don’t answer queries promptly are “violating every professional norm.” Exactly whose profession would that be? Because I spent ten years as a circus performer, and my “professional norms” include multi-gender full nudity backstage. Violating my professional norm would be noticing that people are naked instead of getting on with your business. But I sure wouldn’t expect to follow that professional norm in your break room, and you’d be pretty freaked out if I did.

Queries are sales emails. There’s not a professional norm in the world that says we must respond thoughtfully to every sales email. As authors, we’re seeking a partnership to sell our carefully crafted product. But an agent’s primary job is to make money for and with their pre-existing relationships. Making new relationships with future income potential is important but secondary.

There is some feedback you can give yourself on your own query and first pages, for free.

Does the story begin in the first paragraph? Not backstory, not the hero’s description, not world-building, but the actual dramatic arc. Read the first pages of published books in your genre. How does the first action of the book kick off the quest, whether that’s to get sober or get the magic sword?Is the protagonist established as someone readers want to spend time with? Not just a “save the cat” moment establishing their fundamental humanity, but showing what they’re passionately interested in. People who are interested are interesting. Look at those published first pages again—when do you find out the hero’s personal passion? Check your own first pages. What does your hero care deeply about?Are the “rules” of your book clear? Does the reader know what they’re signing up for from page one? If you’re writing suspense, can you point to the first moment of foreboding? If it’s a mystery, when does the first clue appear? If it’s memoir, your voice, format or structure must tell the reader, take my hand and follow me through this—it’ll be worth your while.

Agents generally don’t give feedback. If you’ve gotten feedback specific to your book, that means they thought there was enough promise that it was worth spending precious time and risking a rude response (believe it or not, it happens!) to help you. Cheer for yourself. Revise, if you think it’s true. Then get back to querying.

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, please join us on Thursday, June 23, for the online class Why Is My Book Getting Rejected?

Amazon Ads: Step-by-Step Walk Through for Beginning Authors

Amazon ads have long been a valued (and sometimes expensive) tool for self-published authors and traditional publishers alike to drive visibility and sales. But one key group has always been excluded from placing such ads: traditionally published authors. Such authors must rely on their publishers investing in ads or seek out alternatives, such as Facebook or BookBub. But that changed earlier this year when Amazon opened up their advertising platform to anyone with an Amazon Author Central account (which is, effectively, anyone who has authored a book).

The big challenge with Amazon ads? Return on investment. 

Traditionally published authors typically earn far less than self-published authors per copy. Despite pricing much lower, self-published authors earn more per copy than traditionally published authors, regardless of format. Since Amazon ads can easily cost 50 cents per click or more (with only a small percentage of clicks leading to a sale), it’s obviously challenging to profit off a campaign as a traditionally published author.

The other big challenge: Learning how to run profitable ads in the first place.

This isn’t stuff they teach you in school, and most authors learn how to run Amazon Ads by first buying a course or book, then conducting lots and lots of testing.

Fortunately, I’m delighted to bring you expert Matt Holmes, who has written a long, comprehensive, illustrated post (about 10,000 words long) that will help you set up your first campaign.

I’m not going to lie: there is a lot of terminology to learn and it will likely take you several months to fully understand what works for you (or if it works for all), in addition to investing money you can afford to lose.

What book(s) should you advertise?

A good opportunity for investment might be the first book in a series. Even if a traditionally published author earns only $1 per sale on average, if there are four or five books in the series and the reader goes on to buy the entire series, the advertisement can lead to positive earnings. This means genre fiction authors, who more often write in series, may be better positioned to benefit than, say, a debut author of memoir or fiction.

There might also be an argument for an advertising campaign when sales have died down. Amazon will show customers a book more often if it experiences an uptick in sales or interactions after its initial Amazon sales have started to fall off. Thus, an advertisement can bring a little life back into the book, long after release.

Read Amazon Ads for Authors: A Comprehensive Step-by-Step Guide

Looking for a Beta Reader? Flip That Question Around.

Photo by Ron Lach

Today’s post is by author and editor Kris Spisak (@KrisSpisak).

Where can you find a “beta reader” for your manuscript?

It’s a question that writers often ask when they’re looking for early readers who can share advice on what’s working and what’s not yet there. Professional editors definitely can be transformational partners, but beta readers are often on the front lines of manuscript metamorphosis.

So, where are the beta readers we keep having recommended to us?

Well, to find them, smart writers should flip that question around: Where can you find writers in your genre looking for a beta reader?

Why do I argue for the flip? Two reasons:

Because helping each other is always a good thing (you’re not the only one with this dream!), andBecause the more you practice your editing skills, the stronger you will become as a writer.

Voracious reading of well-written books empowers a storyteller, but so does donning an editorial hat. When we read as editors, it’s not just a matter of enjoyment. It’s an education, both for the writer we are helping and for ourselves.

Practice hones skills. We know that already. The more we write, the better we get. However, the creative journey is more complex than just putting words down onto paper. The revision process is often a less-examined segment of the writer’s life, yet we need practice here too. It is in the revision and editing stages where we cajole our characters to life, amplify the scenes our readers didn’t see coming, and where we spit-polish our language to a shine.

The more we examine entry points into stories and what is working and what isn’t, the more our own storytelling finds its footing.

The more we analyze someone else’s closing pages, the better we understand resolutions and the art of tying up all necessary threads.

Thus, the new question becomes: How can you be an awesome beta reader?

Think about more than grammar, punctuation, and spelling perfection.Think about celebrating strengths just as much as pointing out areas needing more work.When you see an awesome line, celebrate it.When you love a character, let the writer know.When you’re terrified or swooning or utterly fascinated, applaud how the scene is crafted.Think about specific notes that could be helpful to the writer.Where are you confused?Where does the story seem to wander off-focus?Where is a motivation or a plot twist unclear?Where does the story seem slow?When you finish, see if you can articulate what the book was about (the plot) in three sentences or fewer and what you saw as the overarching theme or takeaway. (The writer will be inspired when your understanding matches their own, or if it doesn’t, that too can be telling!)Think about what would be helpful to you if you were the writer receiving feedback.Critique with kindness not brutality.Remember you are in “editor” mode, not a “ghostwriter” tasked with rewriting anything as you would do it.

When you can articulate to someone else why an aspect of a story isn’t working as well as it could, you will come to understand that element of craft in a greater capacity.

When you can pinpoint the moment that you were truly hooked in someone else’s manuscript and why (whether it’s page 1 or perhaps on page 37—hey, that’s what happens in early drafts sometimes), you’ll understand what might be necessary to create that hook in your own story.

While there are many books on how to write, there are far fewer focused on editing and revision. So, yes, read those (I might have a referral for you), but also practice. Practice on your own manuscript and practice with others. You can network and be a creative partner all while transforming your own creative future.

In the Q&As of my fiction editing workshops and webinars, the matter of where one finds a beta reader comes up almost every time.

So, I’ll repeat the answer I always give: Look to local writing communities you can join; look to genre organizations where you can network; look to online groups with solid reputations; look to those you know who read your genre who might have a thoughtful eye. But also look at yourself.

While you may be looking for a beta reader, so many others are too. Beta reading can be so much more than a chore. It can be a creative education. Lean into that. Your future books will be all the better for it.

Is Hybrid Publishing Ethical?

Photo by Karolina Grabowska

Note from Jane: Today’s post is by Meghan Harvey (@meggsaladpdx), Chief Strategy Officer at Girl Friday Productions. Girl Friday is a paid-for publishing service that also runs a hybrid arm, Girl Friday Books.

Last month, I wrote extensively about the nuances of hybrid publishing. It included two hybrid publishing case studies where the authors did earn a profit, which is not typical. Earning that profit required the authors to invest tens of thousands of dollars in printing, marketing and publicity.

I’m publishing Meghan’s perspective because I think she’s right that it’s problematic to equate ethical hybrid publishing with a positive return on investment for the author via book sales alone.

The publishing industry has been arguing for a long time about traditional vs. hybrid vs. self-publishing and which of these avenues are legitimate, and which are not, but a recent UK study that decries hybrid publishing as unethical has ruffled a lot of feathers.

Here’s the basic problem, in my view: these arguments ultimately conflate “ethical publishing” with positive ROI on a per-book basis. I’d like to take a closer look at that foundational premise, its inherent cracks, and offer a different paradigm.

Regardless of who pays for it, this is the cost to produce a book

My operating assumption is that you want to create a quality book—a book that will be on par with the quality of every other book on the shelf next to it. Regardless of who is fronting the investment (the publisher, in the case of a traditional publishing, or an author, in the case of hybrid or self-publishing), it can easily cost upward of $20,000 to create the thing.

Yes, there is variance based on the book’s contents (if you need a fact-check or an index or photo permissions clearance, for example), word count, or printing specifications. There is also a great deal of variance in terms of the pricing you can find these services for—but generally speaking, you’re going to get what you pay for. Good designers and editors have fairly standard rates, so I’m using those here to illustrate what I call the actual cost of producing a high-quality book. If you cross-check these numbers with a traditional publisher, you’ll find they expect to outlay about the same amount when such responsibilities are handled by freelancers.

Three-pass editing (Developmental, Copyediting, Proofreading): $7,500
Cover and custom interior design: $3,000

Finding great editors and designers is an important task—one that many self-publishers have no interest, ability, or time to do. Partnering with a reputable hybrid publisher or a publishing services firm who continually vet their creative partners removes the onus of team curation from the author.

Project management and back cover copywriting: $5,000

Self-publishers can and often do take on their own project management. It takes around 120 hours of professional project management to produce a book, more for the inexperienced. A lot of authors decide this is not how they would like to spend their time and hire out project management accordingly.

Offset print run (let’s assume a relatively small run of 3,500 copies, for example): $8,750

Total creative investment: ~$24,250

These costs do not include marketing and publicity. A full-scale publicity campaign, for example, starts around $10,000. The vast majority of traditionally published authors receive limited marketing and publicity support from their publisher, so regardless of publishing route, the bulk of a book’s marketing and promotion responsibility falls squarely on the author.

The earning potential from a single book

Publishers, as well as many individuals deciding on a hybrid publisher or on self-publishing, are concerned with turning a profit on the project. So, let’s look at how many copies a book needs to sell to earn out the creative investment alone on a paperback with a list price of $18.95.

From $18.95, we subtract the wholesale discount. If the book is being sold into bookstores, 40-55% is standard.Then we subtract the distributor’s cut (18-20%).The hybrid publisher and author split the net revenue (let’s call that $9.23 in this case) along the lines of their specific deal, and these vary widely. Sometimes hybrids take 15%, others take 50% of net revenues. We’ll use 30% for this example, making author earnings ~$6.46/book.

What this means is that, if all your books are sold through the brick-and-mortar channel, you would need to sell around 3,700 copies to break even on your up-front creative and printing investment. (Direct, non-retail-distribution-dependent sales channels earn more per copy.)

This sketch should shed some light on why traditional publishers are increasingly looking to acquire books that will sell more than 5,000 copies. It also suggests why publishers stress the importance of author platform: the author’s direct relationship with readers reduces the need to pile on marketing spend to reach sales goals.

Traditional publishers face ever-increasing printing costs and relatively stagnant retail prices (the market simply will not bear a $30 paperback novel, or even a $20 one). So they have little choice but to recover their margin with bulk rates for larger print runs. In other words, the sales projection threshold for a traditional publishing deal continues to move up, yoking publication to commercialization.

Is producing a book worth doing if it in and of itself is not a profitable project?

There is not a single right answer to this. For some people it is, and for some people it isn’t. A book does not always need to be an ROI-positive event to be worthwhile. Many thought leaders and entrepreneurs write book-production costs off as a marketing expense, since they recognize the legitimizing value of a byline to their authority. A book can function as a lead-gen tool to drive conversion to contract sales; a book can act as a compelling business card that helps net new clients or speaking engagements; a book can drive an individual’s community engagement and retention. Many authors prefer to work in a hybrid or fully assisted self-publishing model because those avenues offer them more control over their work and rights, greater speed to market, and increased potential for return on their intellectual property.

I echo Jane Friedman in saying that “Most writers, regardless of how they publish, are motivated not by money, but some other reason. Prestige, Infamy. Status. Visibility. A million other things.”

This insight applies not only to nonfiction writers, but to novelists, children’s book authors, and memoirists as well, for many of whom producing a high-quality book is a lifelong dream. The value writers get from publishing their book often has little to do with the royalties it generates. As Jane describes in great detail in the aforementioned article, “The writer who makes a living from book sales alone is the exception and not the rule in traditional publishing . . . what most frustrates me, year after year, is why we believe or assume that authors have ever earned a reasonable full-time living from publisher advances or book sales.”

Hybrid publishing is not the best path for everyone. Here’s when it makes sense.

Hybrid publishing is a business model; there is nothing unethical about it as long as everyone is clear on the terms. In a traditional publishing model, the publisher assumes most expenses associated with creating and releasing a book, and therefore takes the lion’s share of the reward or revenue. In most hybrid models, because the author takes most of the financial risk, they should also reap the majority of the royalties. If an author is willing to take on the financial risk for their project and would like to keep 100% of the royalties, they can certainly do that by self-publishing or even choosing a paid-for publishing service that offers 100 percent net.

So why do we need hybrid publishers at all? With the traditional model reducing risk for authors and the self-publishing model increasing stake and earning potential, why would anyone want to work with a hybrid publisher?

A good candidate for hybrid publishing is similar to an author who intentionally chooses to self-publish. However, the distinguishing factor of the hybrid model is national sales representation with brick-and-mortar retailers. What a hybrid publisher brings to the table is that sales muscle that a traditional publisher has, under a model that allows the author to retain control of their content and earnings. For some books this doesn’t matter so much, given that the majority of print books are now purchased online. For some books, the in-store channel is a key discovery point and will significantly contribute to overall sales volume. And for some authors, seeing their book on the shelves of a bookstore is a primary goal.

Measures of ethical practice for a hybrid publisher

To assign ethical purity to traditional publishers on account of their business model ignores the reality that there are bad actors across the industry. As in any industry, business ethics are about a commitment to transparency, integrity, and trustworthiness. Writers do need to beware. Armed with the following questions, writers can confidently select a trustworthy partner.

Does the hybrid publisher or services firm seek out clarity on your goals and idea of success before providing a bid for how they will achieve your vision?Does the hybrid publisher or services firm promise or even imply that you’ll be seeing a return on your investment over the course of a single book launch? If so, can they back that claim up with sales projections to support it? Does this publisher have comparable titles that have sold in the same volume range?Do they ever turn authors away? If so, what is their criteria for turning down a project? It’s a good sign if they turn down projects for which their capabilities do not align with the author’s expected results.Can they provide transparency about your anticipated royalty per book sold, by channel?Look closely at their terminology around distribution. “Distribution” is one of those smoke and mirror terms. If your hybrid publisher is offering distribution for your book but not sales representation, that basically means you will be in their catalog and orderable by booksellers, but buried amongst millions of other titles. Effectively, your books will not get bought into stores without sales representation.Are they transparent about the costs in their bid, as well as the potential for additional elective services? Beware of the bait and switch.The final and most important question to ask: Does your prospective publisher or publishing services firm have the author’s best interest at heart? Does their model reflect that posture? Does their relationship with prior authors reflect that experience? If not, keep looking.

Getting Book Endorsements (Blurbs): What to Remember, Do, Avoid, and Expect

“i like you” by minnepixel is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

Today’s post is by author Barbara Linn Probst.

Seeking blurbs—that is, quotes and endorsements—is a pre-publication task that most writers absolutely hate.

However, unless yours is a front-list title from a major publishing house (in which case the publisher may get the blurbs for you), securing those important words of praise is up to you, the author. Not your agent or editor or publicist. You.

That means you have to ask established authors—people you may not know, who may have no particular reason for wanting to help you—to spend a significant chunk of time reading your book, write nice things about it, and affix their names to it forever-and-ever.

It’s hard to imagine why anyone would say yes to such an audacious request, yet people do, all the time; hardly a book is issued nowadays that doesn’t include a quote or two. The challenge isn’t how to get authors to provide blurbs; it’s how to get them to blurb your book.

With my third novel gearing up for release, I’ve been through the process three times. In some ways, the process has been similar each time, since behavior is shaped by temperament, and I’m still me. In other ways, it’s been different, since I’ve learned from experience (that is, from my mistakes).

I’ve also been on the receiving end of blurb requests. Experiencing the “blurb-seeking” process from the both sides of the desk has been quite illuminating. As I reflect on my responses and behavior as a potential blurber, I have new insight into the impact of my own actions—and, I suspect, the actions of others like me—as a hopeful blurbee.

First, though, some down-to-earth words on the overall subject of those longed-for endorsements.

Whom to ask?

Unless the blessing of a specific expert is sought, I think it’s fair to say (in general) that who blurbs is more important than their exact words. “An engaging read” from a New York Times bestselling author with instant name recognition is, for most readers, more compelling than “one of the most fantastic books ever written” from someone they’ve never heard of. At the same time, getting that New York Times bestselling author to read and praise your book is hardly a slam-dunk.

For most of us, blurb-seeking is a balancing act between the clout of the potential blurber (aiming high) and the likelihood of obtaining a usable quote (aiming safe). Certainly, there’s nothing to be lost—except time—in writing to every famous author you admire in the hope that one of them will come through. On the other hand, there are so many pre-publication tasks that it’s hard to justify spending so much energy on a pursuit that’s unlikely to yield results—and what kind of results? How many blurbs do we actually need? Is quantity just as good as an A-list quote?

Asking high. If we want blurbs from people whose names will add perceived value to our book, it means we have to ask up. That is, we need to ask people who are more established than we are, better known.

But how far up? The higher we go—unless there’s a strong connection, as discussed later—the more the likelihood of a positive outcome diminishes. That may sound pessimistic, but authors are busy and many are understandably wary of affixing their good names to the work of someone they don’t know.

Not all authors are the same, of course, even the famous ones. Some give endorsements freely and frequently; other endorsements are nearly impossible to secure, although that doesn’t necessarily correlate with their perceived value. (By “perceived value,” I mean the weight the endorsement carries when a potential buyer looks at the cover or Amazon page and decides if the book is worth the cost. No judgment on the book’s “true” merit is implied.)

Asking safe. Some people prefer to ask peers—that is, writers they know, perhaps from a critique group or writing community—who are more likely to agree, whether from a sense of fellowship or the hope of reciprocity.

Asking “laterally” saves time and can spare us what can become an anxiety-ridden and depressing experience of silence and rejection, which may bring back unhappy memories of pitching to agents and publishers. Who wants to go through that again? Yet these peer endorsements might not add much to the book’s perceived value—or is any endorsement better than none?

There’s no universal answer to that question. Again, it’s a balancing act between energy, resources, temperament, and goals.

The big question, regardless of whom you ask: How to get to yes?

When I ponder my own experience as the one being asked, a few things stand out. I’m only one person, and hardly a famous one, yet the things that make me say yes or no might not be that different from the things that make others say yes or no.

Each of my yes experiences has been different. In one instance, I had read the person’s previous book and thought it was excellent, so I was primed to expect her new one to be good too. We’d also established a bit of a relationship: we had common acquaintances; she had given me a lead on a blurb for my second book (though it didn’t pan out); and she’d commented on my social media posts. My agreement was likely from the start.

In another instance, the request came from a stranger who had clearly read—and understood—my first novel; she even included a quote from Georgia O’Keeffe that she planned to use for her own book’s epigram. I couldn’t resist having a look at the opening pages, which she attached. I was pleasantly surprised—and hooked. Here, my agreement was unexpected.

When I’ve said no, on the other hand, I’ve nearly always known I would decline as soon as I read the email. Sometimes, it was for a practical reason: because I don’t read ebooks, it won’t work if the person can’t offer a print version. On occasion, the timing was too tight. And at other times, it was the letter itself.

I’ve received several emails that began like this: “Because of all the awards you’ve received, I think you would be a very good person to endorse my book.”

My response is usually: “Oh? And why is that?” If there is nothing in the email to indicate that the sender had read (or liked) either of my novels and felt a resonance, I’m left with a feeling of being used. And that’s a direct path to no.

The first two examples, resulting in yes, were thoughtful and personalized. The last example, resulting in no, was not. A similar request (another no) even included the sentence: “I hope to read one of your novels someday.” Ouch.

What to remember, throughout the process

You’re asking a huge favor. Be grateful, but express your appreciation in deeds, as well as words. That means promoting the person’s book on social media, not just the fact that she’s blurbed you. Be sure you’ve posted glowing reviews of her books (on Amazon, social media, etc.) long before you ask for an endorsement. 

At the same time, don’t apologize for asking. And don’t worry too much about “revealing” that you have, or will seek, additional blurbs and theirs won’t be the only one on the back cover. These authors have been through the blurb-seeking process too; they get it.

Have good manners. Thank the person for her consideration. If she says no, thank her again for her courtesy in letting you know and wish her the best. Don’t argue, bargain, or offer a work-around. It’s a small world, and you might meet each other again.

If she doesn’t reply at all, refrain from nagging unless the person has explicitly asked you to check back. She might be your dream blurber, but after one follow-up (two at most), let it go.

What to do (and avoid doing)

Be concise and professional. The subject line should make it clear what the email is about. Do not be cute or coy.

Give some information about your book, including genre and length so the person will know what she’s committing to, if she agrees. Believe it or not, I’ve received requests that contain absolutely no indication of what the book is about, other than the title!

When I’m the one asking, I usually say that I’m pasting a summary at the end of the email or attaching a one-page summary. Make it easy for the person to get a sense of your work, become intrigued, and want to read more (yup, just like pitching to an agent).

Give her a way to find out more about you. Include a hyperlink to your website and Amazon page (if you have one).

Say when you need the endorsement. Allow enough time (say, a few months).

Be explicit about the fit. When I seek endorsements, I begin by telling the person why I loved her book, with specific examples to show how it’s touched me. Yes, I only ask people whose books I really love; it’s the best way to make a sincere request.

Admiration alone isn’t enough, however. There has to be a clear indication of the fit. You have to tell the person:

Why you’re asking her, specifically, rather than some other Famous AuthorWhy you think she might like your book, specifically, among all the other novels she might endorse. Why do you believe it will resonate with her?

Telling the person how much a quote would mean to you, and how aware you are of how busy she must be, is courteous and appropriate. But it’s rarely enough to get you to yes.

Establish a point of contact. Make it personal. Show that you belong to similar worlds. Without that, it’s hard to get a quote from a busy author who has to make intelligent choices about how she spends her time.

The best kind of contact is a direct one: if you’ve cultivated a relationship over time, talked at a conference, attended one of her events. Shown up for her.

If not, look for a secondary point of contact. Do you have a common friend who can facilitate the introduction? Ask the friend if you can use her name in the email request, and cc her on it. One way to find that “common friend” is to look at the acknowledgement pages of the would-be blurber’s books and see if there is anyone you know on the list.

In a pinch, you can go to a bookstore and look at the new book displays to see whom this person has blurbed recently. “Because you loved X and Y books, I think mine may light a similar spark since it’s also about Z.” At the very least, this shows that you’ve done your homework and makes a case for that crucial fit.

Note: A “point of contact” has to be book-related. The fact that you both grew up in southern New Hampshire or have golden retrievers might be nice, but it’s not sufficient.

Offer choices. To help the person decide, offer to send sample pages and/or a synopsis. Unless the person already knows your work, it’s hard to commit to reading an entire manuscript without a preview.

However, do not attach a Word document of your entire book with your query email; that can appear presumptuous. And do not suggest that the person could “save time” by reading a few sample chapters that you’d be glad to select. If someone asks for that, of course you should agree, but it’s not your place to suggest it.

Offer a print copy/ARC or a digital version/PDF. If you don’t have ARCs yet and time is short, or if you are not going to have ARCs, offer to send a spiral-bound printed version for people who don’t like to read on devices.

If you mail the book, send it first class, not media mail! It’s worth an extra five dollars to make sure it arrives in days, rather than weeks. And always include a cover note that thanks the reader for her time and includes a way to reach you.

What to expect

An immediate yes is rare. Often, the response to your request will be some form of maybe.

There are different kinds of maybe, however. “I can’t get to it until April, will that work?” and “I’ll be glad to have a look” have different implications. In my experience, the former has a decent chance of resulting in a blurb, with flexibility and a bit of persistence; the latter, a slimmer chance.

There’s also the frustrating experience of what I’ll call the prolonged maybe: a series of heartfelt assurances that “I’ll do my best.” Some of the loveliest authors I know have kept me hoping for months with prolonged maybes until, eventually, the deadline passed. It’s possible, of course, that it never was going to become a yes, and the person didn’t want to hurt my feelings or close the relationship. I’ll never know—and it doesn’t matter.

My advice is not to take this kind of neutral placeholder as more encouraging than it really is. Stay in touch and then, when it’s clear that the blurb isn’t happening, thank the person for considering the possibility of a quote and tell her that you’ll ping her on social media when the book is published. That way, you might end up with a social media boost, which is also valuable.

Inevitably, some people will say no—immediately, eventually, or because they never respond.

There are many reasons you might hear no, even if your pitch was great and your book might be great, too.

The person doesn’t have time right now. This might be a polite excuse, or it might really be true. (This can be awkward if you were hoping for an early blurb to use on an ARC, but would still be thrilled with a blurb, later, for the final book. You can try to be honest and offer additional time, but be aware that it might be perceived as pushy and might not make a difference.)She’s working on a book of her own that is similar to yours and doesn’t want to muddy her mind. (Yes, this has happened to me.)She’s just gotten a ton of other blurb requests and has to prioritize those that are from people she knows better. Unlucky timing, but so be it.She believes that blurbing your book will not be good for her own reputation—though she won’t say that directly. Sad, but it happens. I had one person, whose novels I truly loved, express appreciation and interest in mine, and then ask, “Not that it matters, but who is your agent and publisher?” Obviously, it mattered—to her, although not to others I approached. Once I told her, I never heard from her again.The person just didn’t like what she read—although, again, it’s unlikely that you’ll hear this directly. Most often, there will be a radio silence or a last-minute: “So sorry, I just didn’t have time to get to it.” Don’t let it upset you, even as a potential explanation. There’s no book ever written that every single person liked.There are things going on in the person’s life that you have no idea of. In the era of COVID, that is a stronger possibility than ever.

And sometimes, of course, the answer will be yes. When that happens, here are a few things to remember while you’re rejoicing:

Ask her how she would like to be identified on the book cover, Amazon page, press release, etc.Don’t change the quote without permission. Sometimes people will tell you to use whatever part of the quote you like, but you should still let them know (in advance) how the final blurb will read.Send a copy of the final book, later, with a personal note.Pay it forward.And most important…

While stellar blurbs are great to have, they aren’t the only—or even the main—thing that readers care about. In my own research, 750 readers told me that the reasons they buy a book from an unknown author are: the cover and title, the short book description on the back, and recommendations from friends they trust. Not Kirkus reviews or awards or blurbs, and certainly not the logo of the publisher on the spine.

The purpose of blurbs is to help you attract the people who will read, enjoy, and find meaning in your work. They are just one of the many ways to find those people!

The Hybrid Publisher Debate: Do You Have the Right Mindset?

Today’s post is by author Debbie Weiss (@DWeissWriter).

As an author with She Writes Press—my first book comes out this fall—I’ve been following the articles about the costs charged by hybrid and paid-for publishers, and I think they’re missing the key point which is: does this author have the right mindset? The issue, at least to me, isn’t just about the contractual return on investment, but whether the author can make that investment worthwhile.

Publishing today is so much about the author as marketer. Do they already have a huge email list, or a business to which the book adds value, or perhaps a frighteningly cute cat who already has 30,000 Instagram followers and doesn’t mind sharing? The question is, can you be an effective salesperson for your book?

She Writes Press warns that most first books do not make a profit, and specifically recommends that their authors think of writing as a business. All excellent advice that I accepted in theory—until I came up against the fact that I found it far easier to be a task-driven insurance coverage lawyer than a self-starting book promoter.

Being an author means not just writing a book but reaching out to more established authors for blurbs, and developing an advertising strategy on multiple platforms, and asking to be on podcasts, and garnering the attention of influencers. We didn’t have the word “influencer” in my youth, and for that I am grateful. Or maybe I’m just jealous that I will never be one, unless I find a truly photogenic cat or discover a miracle diet.

In short, being an author today means asking people you don’t know to do stuff for you, and as my therapist said in our last session, “Most people don’t feel comfortable asking strangers for things.” As a lawyer, people asked me for things and since that’s the role I went to school for and knew well, I’m far more comfortable advocating for a legal position instead of my own creative work, or even more difficult, trying to promote myself.

This struggle was exemplified by my efforts to put together my first newsletter. I was at a loss for something interesting enough to say that people would want me in their inboxes. Then again I did spend most of my professional life interpreting insurance policies, which is about as interesting as it sounds.

I’ve blogged for years, and even had an essay published in the New York Times Modern Love column, as well as Woman’s Day, Good Housekeeping, Huffington Post and Reader’s Digest, but I never got a real following or many opportunities out of it. So despite years of writing—and trying to get that frowny faced SEO widget on my blog to smile—I have failed to influence.

Like most of the questions posed in my law school classes, the correct answer to whether a hybrid publisher is a good choice is “It depends.” The issue isn’t just whether the publishing contract is economically beneficial, but whether a given writer is someone who can benefit from the opportunity. Do they have the wherewithal and the resources to effectively promote their book? In this arena, chutzpah is a good thing.

Before making a publishing decision, I would recommend any aspiring author do a deep self-analysis about what they are willing, and want, to do in support of their work. This past year, after signing my publishing contract, I wound up moving from my home of almost thirty years to a new place. I also started living with a new partner. All of this has been good for me, but it hasn’t made me the most diligent author-marketer. In retrospect, I should have been more realistic about my life potentially being in flux when my book needed a lot of attention.

Another element missing from the current debate about paid-for publisher options is that not all of them are equal. My publisher provides its authors with an excellent education across many different aspects of publishing. And it includes a like-minded community of writers who are resources, or who sometimes just commiserate over how much time—and yes, money—it takes to be an author today. I appreciate how She Writes offers a comprehensive and professional framework for a motivated author to go after her dreams.

But no publisher can guarantee whether those dreams will come true. Any publishing choice has risks, and a book’s success depends on so many factors, from whether it happens to garner the support of a big influencer (that word again) to the state of the world, which seems to be spinning out of control these past few years. 

In short, grouping all hybrid and paid-for publishers together is far too simplistic, and picking the right publishing option depends on every author’s own thorough self-assessment. Like the legal disclaimers state, individual results may vary.