Preserving Your Literary Legacy

We hardly had but a minute to absorb the earth-shattering publishing news that Harper Lee's second novel will be published this summer, before social media was buzzing with questions : How could the manuscript go missing for 50 years? Who discovered it? Why now? And more importantly: Did the 88-year-old Ms. Lee, who is reportedly deaf and nearly blind provide adequate consent to having her work published?

Many of these questions have come from Ms. Lee's fans, whose interest in preserving her legacy has trumped their curiosity about reading this long-lost manuscript. I suspect Ms. Lee's representatives will have a lot of questions to answer before the public is satisfied that the beloved writer is not being fleeced. We should all be so lucky to have such loyal fans.

Whether or not Ms. Lee's manuscript is being handled properly, this situation should sound a warning bell to all of us who write. We need to think about the work we've produced--both published and unpublished--and how we want it handled when we are no longer around or unable to make decisions on our own.

Protecting Your Legacy

As we age, acquire property, and start a family, we are often encouraged to create a will and sign advanced care directives. The reason behind estate planning is to protect your assets for your heirs, but even more importantly, to assist your heirs in decision making. You may not realize it, but your creative works--even unfinished ones--are potential assets. Therefore, it's important to include them in your estate planning. Often, our literary heirs are people who don't know the first thing about the publishing business. It only makes sense to put a plan in place that helps them in the decision-making process. Literary estate planning is about more than just posthumous sales, it's about protecting your reputation.

Think about the unpublished works kicking around in your drawer right now. Do you have the first draft of a short story? Maybe it looks complete to the casual observer, but it's not up to your standards of quality and you plan on revising it. Would you want your heirs to publish it?  Maybe you have an editor you trust, who knows your style and vision. Would you trust them enough to revise it for publication? Or maybe the thought of anyone reading your unfinished story is horrifying and you'd rather have all copies of it destroyed.

What about a half-written novel? Would you be comfortable with having it published as-is, or would you want someone to finish it for you? Maybe you wouldn't want it published as a novel, but wouldn't mind if finished chapters were published as short stories.

What about published works? Would you want your work turned into a movie or a TV series? A stage production? A video game? What about merchandizing? Would you authorize someone to write a sequel on your behalf?

Would you want your characters made into action figures?

Right now, while you're of sound mind and body, think of your most trusted advisors. Who cares more about the quality of your work than the money it produces? At least one of these advisors should be named among those who will have decision-making power over your estate, preferably as your literary executor.

Put It In Writing

Once you have given a little thought to your literary legacy, you need to find good counsel. If you have many manuscripts and books, it might make sense to hire an attorney that is familiar with publishing law. If you're like me and your oeuvre is less extensive, you can simply add a rider to your will detailing how you would like your works handled.

Discuss Your Intentions

Like any good estate plan, it's better to discuss your intentions openly with your spouse, dependents, executor, agent, etc. than to rely just on the will. Be honest and clear about how you want your works handled and what kinds of decisions would align with your values.

Organize Your Papers

Did you know that your rough drafts, notes, and correspondence might be valuable some day? Special collections and universities often purchase and archive these papers for research purposes. Or maybe you'll have plans to donate your papers to a particular organization. Gather all your materials relating to a particular project and store each project's papers in a well-labeled sturdy banker's box in a cool, dry, secure place. Be sure to let your loved ones know where they can find it.


Have you thought about your literary legacy? What steps have you taken to protect it?

Will Write For Food

I'm a latecomer to artist/musician Amanda Palmer's TED talk, but her thoughts on the changing relationship between artists and fans may be even more relevant now than it was in 2013. In her talk, Ms. Palmer argues that artists shouldn't sell their work--instead, they should give it away for free and trust that their fans will be generous enough to support them.

Ms. Palmer gives numerous touching examples from her own life where this patron/artist model has worked for her: an immigrant family that gave up their beds for the night so her crew could have a place to stay; a nurse that drove across town to deliver a neti pot when Ms. Palmer requested one on Twitter; a sheepish downloader who handed her a $10 bill by way of apology. It's clear that Ms. Palmer has many fans and this system really works for her.

I love her message of allowing people into your life and not being afraid to ask for help. I'm a firm believer that most people have generous hearts and jump at the chance to help when given the opportunity. I admire the close relationships she's developed with her fans and how she uses social media to connect with them.

Still, I have to admit I'm struggling a bit with the overall message. Somehow, it feels like this barter-economy cheapens art.

Part of the reason why the music and publishing industries are experiencing growing pains is that no one can seem to agree on how much a creative work is worth.  Even Hachette and Amazon can't agree on the price of an ebook. We can price out the cost of paper, bindings, and distribution to determine the physical cost of production, but when the book is turned into a digital format it becomes immaterial. We are forced to put a value exclusively on the content.

How do we quantify the personal experience, the imagination, the skill that goes into writing a book? Even if we determined that a writer should only be reimbursed an hourly wage--say, for the sake of argument, a paltry $1 per hour--most books would costs thousands of dollars to produce. As a culture, we view the artist's time as free, and by extension, their work, too. We balk at $24 hardcovers and $12 ebooks, but happily fork over the same amount for a meal out, alcoholic drinks, or another t-shirt that we probably don't need.

Ms. Palmer touches upon an economic truth--an object's value is based on what someone is willing to pay for it. Sadly, a great many of us have decided that we don't want to pay much at all for books or music. Has our collective attitude toward artists gotten so low that Ms. Palmer's barter system looks like a viable option? Why must the artistic economy be any different than any other form of commerce? When we see the doctor, he doesn't treat us for free in hopes that we'll offer him a chicken dinner in exchange. At a store we don't grab a pair of jeans off the rack and offer the cashier what we think it's worth. Shouldn't we view artists and their works with the same respect?

What do you think? Is Amanda Palmer's patronage model a clever solution to a shifting paradigm    or does it devalue art?

The Curse of the Six-Figure Advance

Don't let anyone fool you--writing is NOT its own reward.

Writing is fulfilling, fun at times, and most of us would do it for free (shhhh...don't tell anyone), but a large part of the reward is putting our work out into the world and seeing what comes back. We need to see some positive results, something that tells us our time and effort are worth it, something that keeps us motivated on those days when it feels like the story is going nowhere and we don't think we have the will to carry on.

Among the markers we writers use to gauge our success (for better or worse) are bestseller lists, awards, movie and TV deals, glowing reviews from publications and fans alike, and blurbs from famous people. Oh yeah--and that little thing called a book advance. The single, most concrete measure of the worth of our words. The fact that any publisher would pay to put our words into print is a pretty heady thing, but when a publisher decides they are willing to pay a lot for it, well, that's the stuff of writers' dreams.

The bigger the advance, the better, right? Not necessarily. In fact, sometimes a bigger advance can be a bigger headache.

Before I delve into the reasons why a big advance can be problematic, it's important to understand how publishers determine what to pay for a book in the first place. When it comes to a first-time authors with no track record, it's anybody's guess how many copies of their book will sell. Publishers look at trends, the sales of similar titles, the current marketplace, and then make their best guess. That's right, guess. No one knows which books will hit the bestseller lists and which ones will tank. It's all a crap shoot. So the publisher takes a guess and makes an offer based on that guess. If another publishing company is interested in acquiring the same book they will also make a bid, driving up the price of the advance. Then it becomes not just a game of how well they think the book will sell, but how much money they're willing to risk in order to get the book. As the price goes up, the author gets more and more excited. He may feel this is a reflection of the value of his work, when really it's a competition between publishers to see who will "win" the book. The problem is, it may not be an accurate reflection of potential sales.

Oh, sure, in the short term, a big advance is a wonderful thing. It's lots of money in your pocket that you get to keep no matter how your book sells. It also means lots of publicity--a big book deal is often published in the trades, garnering attention well before publication. The publisher is more likely to make the book a higher priority on their list. And--let's admit it--being in the "six-figure club" just feels fantastic. It's like joining the major leagues.

Over the long term, though, the author's sales might fail to live up to that big advance. In fact, the vast majority of books will fail to earn out their advances. It may not seem like a big deal, I suppose, considering that you've already received a nice paycheck, but what happens when you try to get your second book published? You now have a track record. When a publisher considers buying your next book, they are going to look at your sales. Here, the size of your previous advance matters--a lot.

For instance, let's compare two authors--Author A and Author B. Author A received an average-sized advance of $20,000, while Author B received $100,000. Both earned $30,000 on sales. Who looks better on paper? Author A--she earned out her advance and collected an additional $10,000 in royalties. Her next contract offer is likely to go up considerably.

While Author B sold the same amount of books, his statement shows he still needs another $70,000 in sales to equal his advance. This shows up as a negative $70,000 in total sales. It's likely Author B's next offer will go way down, closer to the sales amount. Some publishers might not even want to take a chance on the next book. And yet both authors had the same earnings. The only difference is that Author B's publisher arbitrarily gave him a higher advance. 

So what's the take away from this? Should you say "No, thank you!" when a publisher makes you a big offer? Of course not! It's free money--are you crazy? What you need to understand is that a big advance does not automatically translate into big sales. Likewise, not being able to live up to your advance is not an indication of failure. On the flip side, a small advance need not feel like a failure, either. In other words, it's a numbers game and nothing more. The game may not always work in your favor, but it's not necessarily your fault. Don't use it to gauge your value as a writer.

Promises, Promises

Ok, Promising Writers, this post is going to be a major buzzkill. So if you don't think you're in the mood for a reality check, then you may want to duck out now. But if you can handle it--and I think you can--it might be worth your while.

The purpose of this blog is to offer encouragement and advice, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I made everything about the publishing business seem peachy keen, now would I? Every now and again it's important to manage expectations. If you know what to expect, then you aren't so crushed when something unpleasant happens. And it will. It happens to everyone.

Getting published is incredibly exciting, especially for the first time. When I got my first gig as a ghostwriter I was so thrilled I could hardly sleep for weeks. Several years later I developed my own series (ON THE ROAD) that briefly captured the attention of a television production company. I ran on pure adrenaline for months. I count the day my agent sold my first literary adult novel to Simon & Schuster (THE GREATEST MAN IN CEDAR HOLE) as one of the best days of my life.

In the early stages of any deal, there's definitely a honeymoon period when everyone is swooning over your work. Editors and sales staff will praise you. If there is buzz about your manuscript, movie producers might come calling. There might be talk about media appearances, tours, promotions, contests, bestsellers' lists, on and on. It is so easy to be swept up in all the excitement--but don't. I'm sorry to say that much of what is promised or merely mentioned probably will not happen.

So many things can happen that appear to be a sure thing then just dry right up. I once thought I had a twelve book series sold that ended up being cut down to four due to a personnel change in the publishing house. I've been contacted by TV/movie producers who seemed very interested and then never contacted me again. I've heard many publicity campaigns that never came to fruition. One of my foreign publishers thought I might make the bestseller list in that country and my book tanked. I've been told, for sure, that my book was going to be featured in a magazine that virtually makes bestsellers, only to have it cut just before publication. My first big disappointment crushed me for a long time. When the last one happened, I celebrated my 'almost' victory by going out to dinner. I ordered a martini and toasted the magazine that nearly put my name on the literary map.

Cynics like to demonize publishers, but I've hardly encountered anyone in the business that I haven't liked. Nearly everyone I've met is professional, dedicated, and their love of books is very real. So is their excitement when they come upon a project they really love. They, too, can get carried away. They might want to give you all the resources they can to give your book a push, but corporate demands, budgets, and shifting priorities can get in the way. Things just happen. And the truth is, even the best editors really can't predict what will resonate with the public and become a bestseller. A lot of it is largely out of their hands.

So, how can you insulate yourself against disappointment?

Expect the Unexpected. Yes, things will go wrong. To you. To everyone. That's life.

Set Your Expectations Low. It's okay to get excited about potential good news--as long as you keep it in perspective. There's rarely a quick path to wealth and stardom.

Don't Count on Anything Until It's Signed, Sealed, Delivered. Your contract is not valid until it's signed by both parties. Consider any talk of publicity, celebrity blurbs, movie deals, etc. to be merely idle chit-chat until something is actually happening toward that goal. Even then, don't consider it real until it has actually happened. Seriously.

Don't Spend a Dime Until the Check Clears. Tattoo this one on your arm so you don't forget. I used to work in the accounting office of a literary agency and I can't tell you how many authors got themselves in a bind by spending money they didn't have. So what if you just signed a contract for $100,000 advance? It could take months for the publisher to cut you a check. Don't spend a dime until it's actually in your bank account.  And then, if you're really smart, you'll sock away a portion for taxes and save the rest until your manuscript is finished, delivered, and approved. Do you know what happens in that rare instance that the publisher doesn't like your finished work or that you fail to deliver it? You have to give the money back! Not so easy to do, once you've spent it.

Be Grateful. Even when things go wrong, be happy and humble about the things that do go right. Because they will. Many things will go right, things you would never expect. A bookseller might fall in love with your book and spread the word about it. You might win an award. A high-profile newspaper might give you a rave review. A town you've never heard of might choose your book as a community read and ask you to speak. You might become a celebrity in a foreign country.

Prepare yourself. Anything can happen. That's half the fun.

Super Ghostwriter--Part I

Let’s re-open that age-old superhero debate that for some reason never grows tired—if you could have the power of invisibility or the power of flight, which would you choose? If you said invisibility (the right answer, by the way), and you are also trying to figure out how to break into the publishing business, then you might want to consider ghostwriting.

I spent most of my 20’s moonlighting as a ghostwriter for a series of popular teen books. The pay was decent (but not enough to live on), the schedule was rigorous, and the glory was minimal. But I learned a hell of a lot about discipline, cultivated relationships with editors, developed a reputation as a professional person, and came to understand quite a bit about the business. After six years of ghosting, I felt as though I had learned just as much about writing as I had in college, and was equipped to develop and sell my own teen series.

In order to be a good ghostwriter, you have to be comfortable with invisibility. Your writing must be seamless, conforming into a pre-determined style to execute a story that someone else created. You have to understand that you are merely fulfilling someone else’s vision and that they will get all of the glory and most of the money. You must love the product as though it were your own, because readers can smell insincerity from a mile away.

Even within the strict framework of ghostwriting, there plenty of opportunities for creativity. As long as the dialogue is consistent with the character, it’s all yours. You may be given major plot points, but there is often a lot of leeway as to how you get from point A to point B.

And even being invisible has its moments of quiet glory. Once I was in a bookstore, loitering in the teen section to see “my” book on the shelves and I saw a girl looking at a copy. She read a little and decided to buy it. A small part of me wanted to tap her on the shoulder and tell her I wrote it (as if she’d believe me) but I didn’t. It was thrilling enough to know someone was about to read my words.

In my next few posts, I’ll talk about what a ghosting job is like and how to go about getting one of your own. It’s easier than you might think.