Originality vs. Marketability

One of the worst things you can call a novel is “derivative.” Authors take pride in being creative. Although at the deep core there are only a few basic story types out there—some say twelve, some say three, some say seven, I say who cares?—each storyteller has the ability, maybe even the obligation, to spin it in a unique way. After all, what’s the point in flagellating a narrative equine that is already thoroughly deceased? No one wants his or her work viewed as a rip-off. Even when it is meant as a compliment, when a reader says, “this reminded me of [well-known book],” it’s hard not to take that as a bit of an insult. So we struggle to find new, fresh ways to tell inventive, imaginative stories unlike what’s already out there, stories that fill a space that’s not already filled. We are determined to be different. It’s practically an artistic requirement.

AND YET . . . in seeking representation, the author may find himself or herself stumbling up against a rather infuriating and perhaps unexpected obstacle: agents and publishers want a sure thing. You can hardly blame them. They are trying to make a living in a tough business.

Pretend you were putting on a fund-raising event for a charitable cause about which you care deeply. If your goal is to make money, do you sell a familiar and popular thing, like cookies and chocolate bars? Or do you offer fermented octopus nuggets infused with effervescent rutabaga vinegar and suspended in nitrogen-fluffed mango gravy foam? Your exquisitely refined culinary stylings might strike a connoisseur as acts of inspired gastronomic genius, but how much cash do you think you are going to rake in to save the old community dance hall, Skippy?

Your story might be weirdly brilliant and brilliantly weird, and you might be able to truthfully claim that no one has ever seen anything quite like it before, but 99% of prospective agents and publishers are likely to focus unfavorably on the “weird” part.

The novelist might even be affronted to be asked to name some other books that are similar to the work being considered! Sometimes, even confining yourself to a genre label can sting a little. Most of us like to think of our work as transcending, warping, and blurring those kinds of distinctions. The “right” answer, from a business/marketing standpoint, would be to name five wildly successful bestsellers virtually identical to this title, and a neat, easily defined set of demographic parameters (such as males between 24-38 who live in the Midwest, have two years of college, shop at Target, own a dog, and watch the Discovery Channel). Publishers want to focus those advertising dollars like a laser beam on classifiable segments of the population. Agents want to sell manuscripts to publishers; it’s their job to entice them with something they think they can sell to actual book-purchasers.

The wrong answer, on the other hand, is “what do you mean, what’s it like?? It’s not ‘like’ anything! If I thought this book was similar to something else, I’d change it!”

There is no simple solution for this paradox. The savvy author negotiates the swamp by emphasizing the various ways in which this book can be positively compared to other well known, successful books. The dialogue is reminiscent of THIS, the action is evocative of THAT, the plot follows an analogous structure HERE and explores equivalent themes THERE. “Readers who enjoyed [book A] might also enjoy this for the style and tone,” you could say. “Readers who found the symbolism of [book B] might like the way this story uses coded allusions.”

Then again, if you’ve written something that really is a shameless knockoff, separated from unalloyed plagiarism only by the flimsiest of legal technicalities, then you’ll have an easier road to follow in this regard. Barry Motter and the Magical Chalice of Bogshorts is likely to have an unmistakable appeal to a certain kind of publishing house looking to make a quick buck. But for most of us, that’s not the goal. So tell your story, craft and refine it to the highest essence of what it can be through a thousand rounds of edits, re-writes, and improvements, and be proud of that. And if in the end it’s just too strange for an agent or a publisher to take an interest in it, well, good for you!

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My author page:
www.AustinScottCollins.com

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