Do I Have A Best-seller? You Can Tell me the Truth

Writers approach me, describe their book or send me a sample and ask “Is this publishable work? Do I have a best-seller? Tell me the truth!”

I can tell you if I think your idea has market potential. I can tell you whether I laughed or  cried and wanted to keep reading your manuscript.

But then people say, again, “Tell me the truth. It’s okay, I can handle it. Does this book deserve to be published?”

So here is the truth. Books, like people, do not get the fate they deserve. Horrible books have won readers.  Astonishingly good books remain unpublished and unread.

I usually say, “Would you be glad you wrote this book if you knew no publisher will buy it?”

It happened to me. My agent loved my book and was confident she could sell it–but six months later no publisher had signed on.

In the past, the story ended there. You might look for another agent to represent that particular book. You might self-publish, as I did, on Lulu and later through Amazon. I was delighted to see my book in paperback and hardcover and e-reader form, and pleased by many positive responses from readers. My name did not become famous nor my pockets fill. But I am still glad I did it.

You have an advantage if you can sell your book to a name-brand publisher, but big sales are only likely if that publishing house decides to turn you and your book into a star. The publishing world–not readers–decide who wins this game.

Occasionally we hear about self-published books that rise via word of mouth. One way or another, you will need a good book, luck, and time to do considerable publicity.

As the publishing world changes, the best advice to writers hasn’t changed. Write a book because you want to. Try to get it to readers any way you can. Don’t count on justice.

Why Should I Pay?

We live in a world where we hear that the best things in life are free–and yet we pay money for more and more goods. Once upon a time, you’d never have paid for water, right? Now, we believe that the only good water comes in a bottle and costs at least a $2.00.

I live in New York City, which has an excellent water supply and I love that. It’s a luxury. I don’t need to pay for water.

So why should you pay for responses to your writing?

Because, alas, good critiques don’t flow from any city taps. You can find generous writing groups and friends and family who will give you precious help. But you won’t get serious copy-editing or line-editing from friends. It’s a skill. I charge from 4 cents to 10 cents a word, depending on what you want and need and can afford and I spend my work hours working for you, not a half hour before I run to the gym.

As for critiques, you don’t want too much advice and you don’t want bad advice. Sometimes we just need a magical word or two from a friend, or a kind stranger on the train. And sometimes we need concentrated professional help–whether to massage your stiff neck, redirect your career, perfect your tennis game, or preserve your marriage. The choice here is not all that different. Do you want “tips” or hours of expertise?

I read a funny comment on a writers’ list-serve this morning: Marry an editor! It’s true: Writers need people in their lives who will give them huge amounts of time and attention.

Paying doesn’t guarantee excellence. But paying should mean that you will both be focused on the job. You may find that you up your game when your cash is on the line. Ask yourself: Will I do my best to deliver a publishable manuscript? Will I make good use of the response I get? It’s an investment.

On the other end, a professional editor wants your good word-of-mouth to grow her business and should see her work for you as part of her mission in life. A good editor knows she’s damn good and will prove it to you. She has a bigger stake than a volunteer.

So I’d recommend that you get all the free help you can, and then hire an editor if you can afford one. I also take my own advice. For my own novel, I paid. Every writer needs an editor. Better writers need better ones.

Your Readers Are Out There

We’ve all heard big talkers include every detail and ramble, making their listeners work too hard. And we’ve all heard good storytellers, who make you eager to hear the next word.

Writers feel the presence of their readers.

If you’re already an easy talker, you may find that it’s not as easy to write–but you’re still half-way there. You may need to talk into a tape recorder and pull out the best parts when you listen to your recording.

If you’re shy in person, you may find that speaking to invisible readers frees you up. It sometimes helps to imagine one particular reader–an author you admire, a high-school English teacher, a loved one who has passed away, or your own grandchild grown up.

When I kept a diary as a child, I was conscious that I was writing for my future self. I even wrote, “Someday you will be grownup reading this and know what you like when you were child.”

Today, I don’t think of my future self when I write. I think of various readers in my life, and I remember the voices of other writers.

Your readers are out there, if you can feel them. Feeling your readers doesn’t mean you expect your book to be a best-seller. It means you care about the act of reading. If someone reads your written words, she’ll hear that you imagined her.

You can tell when someone is talking to you–or talking to themselves. It’s not all that different.