Things I am looking forward to: 1. Dinner this week with Weetabix! 2. The COMEDIANS OF COMEDY show at the Vic on Thursday. 3. Slightly colder weather. 4. Having stuff in two anthologies to be published sometime late next year. 5. Getting this last book I’m editing at work off to press. 6. The holidays and all the dippy stuff I will do to enjoy them, savoring them like fat schmoopy sugarplums. Are you with me on this?
Things you should not do: Call me at work. Really it’s just the one thing, but it’s a big thing. I mean, if you are actually part of my life you can call me at work, because of course I gave you the number and we have to figure out what time we’re going to Pequod’s for lunch. Obviously, if you’re someone I work with, you can call me at work. And if you happen to be one of the idly curious souls who randomly call my company with questions about the big weird confusing world of children’s book publishing, questions like, uh, do I need to draw the pictures and stuff? (FYI: no), I tend to forgive you on the premise that you don’t know me and therefore don’t even know not to call me, because of course you don’t know anything; you’re like a lumpy little baby at the beginning of time, and your head is all soft, and you’re usually friendly and harmless enough that I don’t mind taking five minutes to tell you to check out SCBWI or The Purple Crayon.
(And now that you’ve just read this and know not to call? That still means you should not call. Just so you know. Your innocence is over.)
But here I haven’t even gotten to when you should really really not call me at work, so I will tell you now: Do not call me at work if you know who I am and think I can help you get your children’s book published. I don’t know how to stress this enough. This doesn’t happen very often, but each time it’s happened it’s been awkward and disastrous and traumatic, both for me and the Person Who Thought I Could Help Him/Her Get Published. Because Person always wants to take me out to lunch or coffee so that I can see what a totally nice person Person is, and then he/she can tell me his/her idea and I can give a few pointers. But see, this never works, because a.) explaining how to become a published children’s book writer is just too complicated and involved to attempt in the timespan of “coffee,†much less in pointerly fashion; b.) Person invariably isn’t interested in becoming a children’s writer anyway and instead has just an Idea—This One Idea, from which at least three books can be made, and probably also an animated series and a line of interactive toys; and c.) nice gets you nowhere, especially when you’re in truth being kind of pushy.
Because the kicker here is that I work for a publisher where you can actually just send your manuscript, unsolicited and without an agent, and I will read it. Thus when people call at work and try to pitch me something it’s doubly uncomfortable, because either they have no idea their whole weird Glengarry Glen Ross schtick is totally unnecessary—or else they do know, but think that those guidelines we post are for chumps and not for People-with-Ideas like themselves. And if you feel this way, DO NOT CALL ME AT WORK, because, like I said, it will not go well. Like I can’t even bring myself to tell the story of the last Person who called me at work, because it was just that horrible for both of us.
(Well, maybe I will, but another time, with many details changed.)
At the same time, I realize that I do know some stuff about writing and publishing—both from my children’s book job and my own experience with the memoir, and for the past couple years people have been writing me (not calling me at work) with questions, and I actually like to be helpful. So in order to make karmic amends for the rage I feel towards People Who Call Me at Work I think I’ll be posting any advice I may have here on the blog. I know I won’t be able to answer every question, but feel free to ask away about children’s publishing, adult publishing, blog-to-book stuff, whatever. And I’ll give it my best shot. (Tip#1: do not call me at you-know-where.)
So can I call you at work? Just to say hi? Just to tell you I think, that even though we’ve never met, I totally relate to you and think you’re awesome?
I kid, I kid. I henceforth promise never to call you at work. Or anywhere else, really, since I don’t actually know you. :o)
i prefer lou’s.
i also used to work for a publisher, and oh, the AGONY of the unsolicited manuscript with the complicated plot, the cast of thousands, and the long, awkward dialogue. the worst? toss-up between the stories told in verse and the one with the Big Lesson.
why don’t people understand that being nice and working hard don’t automatically translate into work? you have to have actual skills, too!
I was going to tell you that I love Pequod’s and I went there on my lunch break every day for four years and we probably met there so it’s not so weird that I’m commenting on a stranger’s blog. Then I realized that you probably go to the one in Morton Grove and mine is in Lincoln Park and now I made it weirder. Still, Pequod’s rules.
I will never call you at work, home, cell, page you at Walgreen’s to pick up a prescription, text you on your Blackberry or anything, but I’ll ask you a writing question, which will either be utterly annoying or you’ll have pity on me.
What do you do when you’ve had a story accepted for publication (submitted 6/06/06, accepted 2/18/07) for an online journal (banyanreview.com) that was supposed to be in the Winter 2007 issue, then pushed up to the Summer 2007 issue, and then no response after an email was sent to the editor to see when the next issue would be posted (it’s still on Summer 2006)? Should I just assume the site is dead in the water, still active, or resubmit to another publication (but then journals frequently won’t accept concurrent submissions)?
Here’s another question: How do you get rid of drooling old men at the reference desk with strange bodily noises who consistently ask you to look for books or movies about “men who love women too much?†I’d like to tell him to go fuck off, but like librarians aren’t supposed to do that. Supposedly it’s not part of the “reference interview†like we learned in good ol’ library school, but it really should be.
Ooh, good questions!
1. Well, you’ve waited a year, and if you feel like you’ve made a reasonable effort to find out if they’re still active, I’d suggest emailing them to say you’re withdrawing the story, just to cover your ass. Then submit it elsewhere, and I wouldn’t mention that it was previously accepted.
At work, whenever we have a manuscript on hold for a very long time and suddenly want to move forward with it, we always, ALWAYS contact the writer again, just to make sure the story is still available. So if anyone’s still alive over at this journal, they should have contacted you by now.
2. If he’s doing it repeatedly and grossly enough you should talk to your supervisor, because there’s probably recourse for stuff like that. Start writing that shit down!
Thank you, thank you, thank you. Very helpful. And I’ll start writing that shit down – today!
Well, I am personally glad you might be willing to share some of your Children’s Book Publishing (why did I make that all caps?) wisdom w/ us laypersons.
My best friend and I actually have just recently been talking about trying to come up with a children’s book together.
She is an artist w/ a bright, vibrant style. I am not really a writer necessarily, but I’m studying to be a Children’s Librarian and have come to the conclusion that a lot of the books out there for kids well, suck. No offense to your company, you are probably publishing the non-sucky ones. 🙂
Anyway, I figured that between my friend and me, we might could come up w/ something good, or just have fun doing it.
Thanks for allowing me to over-share! At least I did it via email comment and NOT calling you at work…
I’m floored. Do people actually really call you at work? I mean, people (friends or business associates) who aren’t confirming an appointment or other some such? Just cold calling you at work, based on the fact that they tracked you down via the blog?
Do people not know the “don’t call somebody at work unless you have business with them” rule?
Everytime I think that stuff like this is obvious, I see evidence, like this, that it’s not.
At the risk of totally raining on your parade, Jessi: doing a children’s book with your artist friend is one of those things that always sounds like a great idea, but it’s almost impossible to get a book published that way. Publishers are INCREDIBLY particular about art, and just because an artist is talented doesn’t mean he’ll have a style that works with his friend’s story, much less in a competetive children’s market.
I’m so not kidding around with this: people send us stories illustrated by their friends/loved ones/professional-artist-acquaintance-for-hire ALL THE TIME, and in the thousands of manuscripts I’ve seen over ten years I have never, EVER seen an art-story collaboration that’s worked enough well for us to seriously consider publishing. The art may be good, but it doesn’t work. The story may be good, but IT DOESN’T WORK. And it doesn’t work because one of the most important collective decisions the editor and art director and marketing department and publisher make has been taken out of their hands and made instead by two people who (it’s always the case) haven’t ever done this before. So I mean it when I say DON’T DO IT. Click on the Purple Crayon and SCBWI links in my entry if you don’t believe me. I’m sorry to be so THUNDERING IN MY DENOUNCEMENT but I’m trying to save you and your friend time and frustration.
And also: We love children’s librarians and at least half of our best authors are school or public librarians. But please don’t even attempt to publish anything until you’ve read the gazillion resources out there for children’s writing, okay?
Can I call you at work when I’m stuck on a trivia question and I’m all “Wendy McClure would know the answer to this!”? Because that’s totally happened.
BTW, I will never, ever actually do that.
Cool, thanks for sharing the wisdom. So, I have a question for you. How did you get started working in publishing? The reason I ask is because I am having a hard time breaking into it myself, and I’ve really tried. I don’t live in an area with a lot of publishers–but there are three major educational textbook publishers in my city. I have what I think would be decent qualifications (I have an undergrad degree in English and nearly have a Master’s), and I’ve done freelance work editing/proofreading for a fairly big name educational publisher. But I haven’t gotten anywhere yet. I had a couple of interviews for an editorial assistant position, and on the second one, the woman was really nice, but she was just like, “Yeah, this is a glorified secretary job, and I think you’re overqualified.” I don’t really think I am, honestly. Everyone has to start somewhere…I guess I should have taken the opportunity to start talking about how much I like NASCAR or something. This same woman also told me she thought I’d be better off pursuing “compositing” and then tried to explain that, and I still don’t really understand. Think I’d fair any better outside of the Midwest?
I probably went over the question limit here 🙂 Thanks for any thoughts, though.
Laney: it sounds like you’re on the right track with the editing/proofreading experience. If there’s some kind of organization for publishing professionals in your area, I’d suggest checking them out, because I got my first job after going to a networking event.
I know it’s different in New York, and I’m the wrong person to ask about working in publishing there. All I know is: go there only if you want to live in NYC.
The good thing about the Midwest is that there’s no single track towards getting a publishing job–people come from all kinds of backgrounds. So hang in there.
(I’m afraid I have no idea what compositing is, either.)
Hey, that might just be my cousin Jessi up there whose parade got rained on! 😉 I think Wendy gave her some good advice though. (And may I add — you might try some of ye olde University Presses down here, especially if you decide to do a book with a Southern twist on it?)
My question is: How do I get people to stop calling me at work? I mean, like I don’t ever want to get any phone calls, ever. Even work-related. Why can’t they just leave me alone?
Might want to note that it’s also NOT ok for strangers to hunt down your home number so they can call you at 7:30 on a Friday night to talk to you about why their book was rejected. Spooky!
I can so relate, as I was a film editor who was constantly hounded by people with screenplays. My dentist, my gyno, my SHRINK!!! someone even slipped me their screenplay at my mother’s funeral. People suck.
Hey Laney – I work for a major textbook publisher, and one way to get in the industry – and please try not to grimace at this – is by starting off as a rep. I know that our GM prefers to hire editors and marketers who’ve done some time in the field.
But Wendy is full of right when she says networking is key; I got my first job i publishing through a friend-of-a-friend who knew one of my professors. So ask around, find out if you have any connections to publishers in your area.
I HATE when people call me at work, not because they want me to get them published, but because I invariably have to say something like, “yes, that’s a good time for my pap smear,” or “no, i am not having a good fucking day,” and in cubicle culture, you just don’t want to have to say that shit.
OK, speaking of the lack of privacy and general human dignity that comes with cubie culture: my ex used to call me at my craptastic, post-divorce government job to tell me all about the breakthroughs he was having while in his regretfully brief attempt at therapy. My boss was about twelve inches to the left of me, and my boss’s boss was equidistant in the other direction. I’d be all whispery, with my hands cupped around my mouth and the phone, saying, “for the love of god…please don’t call me with this shit at work.” Unspoken: “or ever.”
No offense Wendy, but that came across as just a little cynical to me. This is not to say you don’t know what you’re talking about (10 years in children’s publishing would certainly give you expertise on the subject matter). However, I’m all about the underdog and the “maybe, possibly” in life. How else would/could I be a children’s or young adult librarian and be able to say to kids “You can do anything you set your mind to” if I didn’t REALLY BELIEVE IT?
That said, my best friend and I live 13 states away from one another and are looking forward to collaborating on a project that if it goes nowhere, will still bring us the pleasure of simply working together on a story that we can at least read to our own kids. We are having fun just talking about ideas.
Who cares if it never gets published?
I know you had no way of knowing that this is more of a creative exercise among friends than a real attempt to break into the world of children’s publishing and make millions (ha ha), but I felt the need to share this with you.
And I’m going to keep on keepin’ on w/ the book…but thanks anyway for your input.
No offense Wendy, but that came across as just a little cynical to me. This is not to say you don’t know what you’re talking about (10 years in children’s publishing would certainly give you expertise on the subject matter). However, I’m all about the underdog and the “maybe, possibly” in life. How else would/could I be a children’s or young adult librarian and be able to say to kids “You can do anything you set your mind to” if I didn’t REALLY BELIEVE IT?
That said, my best friend and I live 13 states away from one another and are looking forward to collaborating on a project that if it goes nowhere, will still bring us the pleasure of simply working together on a story that we can at least read to our own kids. We are having fun just talking about ideas.
Who cares if it never gets published?
I know you had no way of knowing that this is more of a creative exercise among friends than a real attempt to break into the world of children’s publishing and make millions (ha ha), but I felt the need to share this with you.
And I’m going to keep on keepin’ on w/ the book…but thanks anyway for your input.
Oh, it IS cynical, but seeing people make the same mistake over and over for 10 years would make you cynical, too, Jessi.
I think it’s great that you’re doing this just as a fun project with your friend; there’s such an emphasis on publishing that the idea of writing something for pure enjoyment gets overlooked; too many people think the only way to validate one’s work is to publish it.
I don’t regret giving you the advice that I did, though, because even if you are doing the book just for fun, inevitably you or your friend will show, just for fun, your just-for-fun project to other people (friends, relatives, etc.,). And I GUARANTEE that these other people will say, “Oh, but why don’t you try to get this published? You should get this published!” And you’ll be able to tell them what I’ve just told you, and maybe they’ll back off and let you have your fun.
And I’m not against telling kids “you can do anything you set your mind to,” but if a 13-year-old kid told you she was running off to join the circus, would you encourage her? Even if you knew, on very good authority, that the circus NEVER hires kids? You’d feel obligated to tell her what you know, even if you knew she didn’t want to hear it…
Ha! Ok, point taken. But I would definitely have to recommend some good books about circus life for when she turns 18 and can legally join the circus…
Kidding, sort of. Happy holidays and much eggnog to you, if you like that sort of thing 🙂
You too! Mmm, eggnog.