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Mike Allen edits the anthology series Clockwork Phoenix and the poetry journal Mythic Delirium. His story “The Button Bin” is a 2008 Nebula Award nominee.
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Aelliana Caylon has endured, and won the love of a pilot she adores. But even happy endings can be flawed…
Nebula Awards Weekend
The Forty-Seventh Nebula Awards Weekend will be held Thursday through Sunday, May 17 to May 20, 2012 at the Hyatt Regency Crystal City in Arlington, Virginia, near Reagan National Airport.
We honor Connie Willis as our Grand Master!
To register, click on “Registration” in the menu to the immediate left. Then scroll down to the bottom of the page and click on the “Register” button.
Tours, workshops and panels are available for registered attendees (the number of people who can be accommodated on the tours and workshops is limited.) Active and Associate SFWA members may nominate works, until February 15th, for the awards to be presented at the May 19th Nebula Awards Weekend Banquet. Hour long interviews and readings will be recorded by Jim Freund for his Hour of the Wolf radio show broadcast on WBAI (99.5FM) in New York City.
Jon Williams is our Toastmaster (he will also conduct a half-day Writers Workshop on Friday morning.) Mike Fincke is our Keynote Speaker.
The Mass Autographing Session on Friday, May 18th will be followed by a reception to honor the nominees and other honorees.
You don’t have to be a nominee, a member of SFWA, or even a writer to participate in the weekend. Registration for the 2012 Nebula Awards Weekend is open now. The cost for the Nebula Awards Banquet is $75.00 per person. The cost to register is $50.00 for a SFWA Member and $60.00 for a non-SFWA Member until February 29, 2012. Rates for registration will be higher as the date of the event draws closer.
Results from the 2010 Nebula Awards (presented 2011).
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Thursday, July 9th, 2009
From our sister site, nebulaawards.com, comes an interview with Nebula nominee, Richard Bowes who was nominated for his novelette “If Angels Fight.”
When you were a kid, did you ever imagine that you’d be a writer?
Writing wasn’t that alien a career when I was growing up. My father was an editor and ended up writing high school textbooks. My mother wrote for TV in Boston in the 1950’s. A couple of her uncles were well known Irish authors. One of them was Liam O’Flaherty who wrote the Informer.
I’d had a lot of problems in school – dyslexia among other things. If something really interested me I’d read it compulsively. Otherwise it was slow torture. But I could always talk and always write – express myself in words.
When I was in my late teens I decided that I wanted to write and my parents were good with it. There was no immediate way they could see me getting killed writing – unlike some of my other interests. Unfortunately once I decided to write, I froze and couldn’t write at all.
I’d flunked out of the first college I’d gone to. At the next one I took a writing class and the teacher Mark Eisenstein was great at getting blocked kids started. Years later I wrote a novella called “My Life in Speculative Fiction” about that time and that experience. It’s in my collection Streetcar Dreams and Other Midnight Fancies and in an earlier out-of-print collection Transfigured Night and Other Stories.
Check out the whole interview.
Tags: interview, Nebula, Richard Bowes
Posted in Nebula Awards, SFWA Blog | Comments Off
Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
by members of the Contract Committee
This .pdf document is an annotation of the Amazon Kindle contract as it was posted on Amazon’s Web site (downloaded in February, 2008). Members of the SFWA Contract Committee compiled these annotations solely as an educational service to SFWA members. It is not legal advice and may not be relied on as such.
Our annotations consist of yellow-highlighting particular passages, then describing issues raised by the passage (using blue indented text). In a few cases we present new language (in blue highlight) that is relevant to an issue we raise.
We welcome comments or suggestions, particularly if Amazon amends the Kindle contract.
Tags: Amazon, business, contracts, internet, Kindle, online
Posted in Contracts and Copyrights, Information Center, Sample Contracts, SFWA Blog, The Business of Writing | 5 Comments »
Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
Montreal – There will indeed be a writers’ workshop at Anticipation 2009, Worldcon, in Montreal this August. The workshop sessions are two hours long and scheduled at various times on various days.
Entry fee is $20 plus $2.58 in taxes, Canadian. This cost is to defray costs of the workshop. You pay the fee when you’re notified that you have a slot and not before. Instructions will be emailed to entrants directly.
There are a limited number of slots available and right now, it’s one slot per customer, no multiple submissions.
Maximum length is 10,000 words, including any synopsis of the rest of a novel, novella, etc. Shorter lengths, including flash, are fine, even encouraged, but only one story.
Genre: science fiction, fantasy, horror, the usual for a Worldcon
Type: short story or novel excerpt
Language: English or French
We will also consider entries for critique of non-fiction critical essays on the subject of genre, same length requirements.
The entries will be distributed in advance so the window to get space in the workshop won’t be open for very long.
Official details will be forthcoming on the Anticipation website (http://www.anticipationsf.ca) and through other avenues of communication. You can also email writers-workshop@anticipationsf.ca directly to request a slot now.
Oz Whiston
Creative Writing Track Programming
Tags: Catherynne M. Valente, David Levine, Delia Sherman, Lawrence Schoen, Mary Robinette Kowal, Mike Shepherd Moscoe, Nancy Kress, Rich Chwedyk, Tony Pi, workshop, Worldcon
Posted in SFWA Blog | 3 Comments »
Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
It is important to understand that the SFWA website has two different areas, the main website and the discussion forums. Each area uses a different username and password. The most common problem is getting the usernames and passwords mixed up.
Q. How do I tell which is which?
If that is not the problem, read on.
My username and password are correct, why can’t I log on?
Typically, this is related to your setting for cookies. The SFWA website requires accepting two third-party cookies. If the website keeps returning you to the same page, without letting you login, then this is almost certainly the problem. We have a tutorial on how to adjust your browser, safely, to allow using the main SFWA site.
My username and password are correct, why can’t I log on?
Again, this is usually related to cookies.
Posted in FAQ | Comments Off
Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
It is important to understand that the SFWA website has two different areas, the main website and the discussion forums. Each area uses a different username and password. These instructions are for changing your password on the main SFWA website.
Tags: FAQ, password
Posted in FAQ | Comments Off
Tuesday, July 7th, 2009
Today the board of directors of SFWA unanimously voted to add Apex Magazine to the list of SFWA qualifying markets. When Apex moved online in June of 2008, one of editor Jason Sizemore’s reasons was to be able to pay his authors SFWA pro-rates and to get them a wider audience.
Apex is known for its blend of Science-fiction and horror, garnering regular nominations on the Stoker ballot. They have published SFWA authors such as Jennifer Pelland, Glenn Lewis Gillette, and Ben Bova.
Short fiction published with Apex from June, 2008 forward are now qualifying sales for membership with SFWA. Congratulations to Jason, the entire editorial staff at Apex Magazine and their writers!
Tags: Apex Magazine, Ben Bova, Glenn Lewis Gillette, Jennifer Pelland, qualifying market
Posted in SFWA Blog, Where to Submit Short Stories | 1 Comment »
Tuesday, July 7th, 2009
Portland – Three novels and two collections of short stories written by Pacific Northwest writers are finalists for the 11th Endeavour Award and the $1,000.00 honorarium that accompanies it. The winner will be announced November 27 at OryCon, Oregon’s annual science fiction convention.
The finalists for 2009 are: “Anathem” by Seattle, WA, writer Neal Stephenson; “Ill Met in the Arena” by Dave Duncan, who lives in Victoria, BC; “Long Walks, Last Flights and Other Stories” by Ranier, OR, SFWA Member Ken Scholes, “Space Magic” by SFWA Member David Levine of Portland, OR; and “A World Too Near” by SFWA Member Kay Kenyon, of Wenatchee, WA.
The annual Endeavour Award honors a distinguished science fiction or fantasy book, either a novel or a single-author collection of stories, created by a writer living in the Pacific Northwest. Entries are read by seven readers randomly selected from a panel of local fans and readers. The five highest scoring books then go to three judges, who are all professional writers or editors. Books entered for the 2009 Award were published during 2008.
The judges for the 2008 Award are Joe Haldeman, John Helfers, and Sarah Zettel.
Joe Haldeman divides his time between Florida and Massachusetts, where he teaches writing at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He has published nearly 30 novels or collections of his stories and poetry. Haldeman’s work has won the top awards in Science Fiction repeatedly — winning the Hugo Award five times and the Nebula Award four times. His best-known novels are likely “The Forever War” and “The Forever Peace.” He is a lifetime member of SFWA and former president.
John Helfers is a full-time writer and editor of both fiction and non-fiction, working with Martin H. Greenberg of Tekno Books. He has worked on anthology and novel projects with many best selling authors. Helfers lives in Green Bay, Wisconsin. He is a lifetime member of SFWA.
Sarah Zettel is the author of 14 science fiction and fantasy novels, including “Reclamation,” which won the Locus Magazine Best First Novel award, “Fool’s War,” a New York Times notable book, and “Playing God,” which was included on the New York Librarians list of best books for teens. She is also project manager for the online fiction website Book View Cafe.
Award Eligibility for 2010 To be eligible for 2010 Endeavour Award, a book — either a novel or a single-author collection — must have been published for the first time in English during 2009.
Deadline to enter books published during 2009 is February 15, 2010. Full information on entering the Award is available on the Endeavour Web site: www.osfci.org/endeavour.
The Endeavour Award is sponsored by Oregon Science Fiction Conventions, Inc. (OSFCI), a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation.
Tags: Awards, David Levine, Endeavor Award, Joe Haldeman, John Helfers, Kay Kenyon, Ken Scholes
Posted in Press Book, SFWA Blog | 1 Comment »
Tuesday, July 7th, 2009
“Jump-Starting a Stalled (or Dead) Career” is Copyright © 1997 by John Gregory Betancourt. All rights reserved.
This article may not be reprinted, linked to, or otherwise redistributed (in its entirety or in part, via the Internet or any other means), without first obtaining the prior written consent of the author.
(No, he won’t withhold such permission unreasonably. It’s just polite to ask.)
This document may also be printed out and archived for personal use.
This document may be distributed free of charge by a teacher or other educator for a writing class.
ALL OTHER USE IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED.
If you wish to reprint this article in another format or medium, please email John Betancourt (wildside@wildsidepress.com) for rights availability.
Let’s get a couple of things straight up front. First, this essay is aimed at people who (like me) had published a few novels . . . and then found themselves abruptly unable to sell another one. It’s not for beginning writers, though parts of it may prove useful to beginners. Second, this essay won’t provide a quick fix. If you botched your career as badly as I did mine, it’s going to take a lot of work to start it on the right track again (if it can be done at all). It’s taken me 7 years to get to the point I feel confident enough to do sample chapters for an original novel again and think it has a strong chance of selling.
Let me start by outlining what happened in my own case. I know exactly why my career imploded — in fact, I can pinpoint not one, but two different factors (that happened simultaneously for maximum career damage).
The short version: In the mid 1980s, I was selling science fiction to Warner Books and fantasy to Avon Books. (I was a teenager; they were the bottom of the market and receptive to new writers.) My initial failure as a science fiction writer was due almost entirely to poor sales, directly attributable to:
My last original science fiction novel (Rememory, Warner Questar, 1990) — a political mystery novel (“more than worth the time to read it” — Locus) about people who have been genetically engineered to look like cats — featured a very dark cover with Kirstie Alley, a Cylon spaceship from Battlestar: Galactica, and something that might have been a reject from the Cats! play on the cover if you squinted. It sold 4,600 copies. All told, a real deathblow to any career. Thank you, Warner Books. My editor subsequently told me that he could never buy another book from me under my own name there. This policy continues 2 editors later. (Important lesson: burned bridges don’t rebuild themselves.)
My first fantasy novel from Avon sold much better — enough to turn a small profit for the publisher, my editor told me, and I was promising enough for them to buy a second fantasy novel. Which they proceeded to sit on. And sit on. And sit on. I was on the bottom of their list; my books were the first bumped when they wanted to move things around. Finally the publish-by date in our contract passed, and my agent tried to renegotiate without success: in exchange for letting them keep the novel, he wanted it bumped to a better slot. When Avon refused, he withdrew it. John Douglas — who was the senior SF editor at Avon at the time (but not my editor) — advised me that this was a career mistake, but I listened to my agent. (Douglas was right. But so was my agent — if Avon had been allowed to push me around this way, they would never have treated me better later on. So it became a lose-lose situation. And of course I lost.) The sales figures for Rememory were available by then to other publishers, so … dead as a fantasy writer, too.
After trying unsuccessfully to sell proposals for my next novel few novels, I backed away and decided to rethink things. I was fortunately enough to get a job in publishing — SF editor for Byron Preiss Visual Publications — so I threw myself into it and started to find out how the industry really works and what could be done to relaunch a really botched career. It’s taken me 7 years, but I think I’ve succeeded. Over the last 2 years alone, I’ve put more than 600,000 copies of my novels into print. (My in-print total is just over a million books now, if you include anthologies I’ve edited. By the end of 1997, I’ll have more than a million novels alone in print.) So I think I can speak with some authority, especially as I prepare to return to writing original science fiction novels again. And this time, as I’ve said, I’m reasonably certain I can sell them.
Mindset is important. You know you have some talent. You wouldn’t have been able to sell that first novel otherwise. But that doesn’t mean you can’t improve your writing skills. Keep an open mind. If someone offers you advice, consider it carefully. You never know, but it just might be incredibly useful. Every time I think I’ve learned it all, someone says something to me — even just a sentence — which has a profound effect on my writing. [Note 1]
Keep your calm. Concentrate on fixing the problems with your career, not finding fault with yourself or others. I know a lot of bitter failed writers, and their anger is always self-destructive. Some of them refuse to read SF trade journals because they find news of their peers’ big advances depressing, especially when they can’t sell their own novels. I know from experience that it’s easy to fall into self-pity. For quite a while, I was bitter about how publishers had screwed up my career. Ultimately, though, I kept coming back to one thing: these were my books, not the publisher’s. If I had known more about what I was doing at the time, I might have avoided some of the traps I fell into. Knowledge equals power. Find out all you can about publishing, do your best work, and avoids the pitfalls you know about: that should help the next stage of your career take off.
I feel very strongly that all good writing — no matter the subject, as long as it’s somehow related to the field — is helpful to your career. If you can’t sell novels, try short stories or non-fiction.
When I decided I wanted to keep writing science fiction, I realized I needed to keep my byline visible. Since magazines don’t stick around very long, I decided to concentrate on anthologies. But it would not be enough for me just to place a scattering of stories in anthologies. I wanted readers to come away from reading a Betancourt story thinking that mine was the best in the book. (Or, short of that, one of the best.) This is not as hard as it sounds. It simply means doing your best work, no matter what the anthology. I suspect from nearly two decades of anthology reading that quite a few established writers take invitations to theme anthologies for granted and turn in slap-dash work for quick money. There are usually only 2-4 top-rate stories in any given theme anthology, and the rest are competent but unexceptional.
Did concentrating on anthologies help my career? I’m not sure. But it certainly didn’t hurt, and it kept me writing. And both LOCUS and SF CHRONICLE singled out some of my short stories for praise. A few years, I earned more writing short fiction than I did when I was selling original novels.
Several years into my career collapse, I decided to pursue work writing media fiction. (When I say “media fiction,” do not think just of STAR TREK and STAR WARS. There are lines of novels based around just about every science fiction, fantasy, and horror series on television or the movies, from THE X-FILES to HERCULES to SEAQUEST to QUANTUM LEAP. There are also gaming companies and computer companies who want to turn successful products into book franchises.) Writing media fiction is not for everyone, however; if you don’t like the idea of working in other people’s worlds, you shouldn’t try. Yes, the money is tempting, but it’s better in the long run to produce excellent work.
I found that in media fiction, a failed science fiction writer actually has a few advantages:
Media fiction can undo some of the harm your career has suffered. Let’s face it: books are a commodity from a publisher’s standpoint. If you’ve failed as a writer before, a publisher will view you as damaged goods. After all, why take a chance on relaunching an established low-level writer when a new writer might REALLY take off? (Yes, I am paraphrasing a real SF editor’s words here.)
Media fiction, on the other hand, is driven not so much by author as by series. An editor wants a competent writer, someone who will do a good job on time for a reasonable advance. Your sales record plays no part in selling you for a project, just your talent. Consider these immediate benefits:
Down-sides? There are a few:
Many writers do not take media fiction seriously. In my opinion, this is a bad career move. You want to impress ANY reader who runs across ANY of your work, and you especially want to lure your media fiction readers over to your original books, when you return to writing them.
Look at it this way. If Writer A sells 25,000 copies of his brilliant new mass-market paperback and generally pleases his audience, and 20% of them decide to buy all of Writer A’s other books, that’s an added 5,000 readers per book. If Writer B sells 500,000 copies of a Star Wars novel and 2% of them are impressed enough to buy all of Writer B’s other books, that’s 10,000 extra readers she has added. You see how quickly it can help.
There is one other publishing option open to failed science fiction writers: working for book packagers. Book packagers — excuse me, book PRODUCERS, as they now like to be called — are the broker-dealers of publishing. They create book projects, sell them to publishers, and then do (or arrange to have done) all the work, taking a percentage off the top. (How much? As much as they can get away with! And you would be shocked at how much they HAVE gotten away with. And with writers [and agents] who should have known better, too.)
Any published science fiction writer is of potential interest to a book packager. A packager has a single goal: to make money with as little effort as possible. To do this, he must provide books of an acceptable quality to fulfill his contract with a publisher. As a science fiction writer with a number of novels to your credit, surprise, you’re a desirable commodity!
A packager will view all professional writers this way:
But all is not as it seems in packager-land. There is a de facto tier system among the books. When I worked for a packager, anyone could look at what our science fiction division turned out and see what out “A” and “B” list was.
“A” list books and series included prestige hardcovers (for example, the “Dragonflight” line of YA fantasy hardcovers which Byron Preiss Visual Publications, Inc. produced for Atheneum). The “B” list included most series books set in worlds created by famous SF writers (or created by us after licensing the rights to their works). “B” books appear only in mass-market paperback.
“A” list books often have top authors attached to them before they are sold to publishers. Often they won’t exist if the top author doesn’t agree to take part. As a result, the top author gets a strong deal: usually 50%.
“B” list books are sold based on the nature of the project. Any author can be plugged in to the project to write it; it doesn’t matter WHO writes it as long as it’s done quickly, competently, and most of all cheaply. “B” list books are cash cows … and the packager views them that way. An author can expect perhaps 25% of the money received from such a book. The “B” list can further be divided into series written by a single author and series written by multiple authors.
“A” and “B” list books generally are pretty easy to tell from one another. I can think of only one such project, in fact (Roger MacBride Allen’s excellent “Robot” novels based on the work of Isaac Asimov — which were published in hardcover in the U.K. and trade paperback in the U.S.) where what might have been a “B” list series became an “A” list series because it was handled so well by everyone involved, from packager to author to publisher.
Let’s look at “A” list projects first. Most of these carry a certain prestige: hardcover or trade paperback publication, plus the packager’s interest and attention (which generally results in better-than-average cover art and cover copy). Generally, I think writing an “A” book for a packager is a good idea for anybody, if the money is acceptable and your time allows.
“B” list books, though, are a different story.
The multiple-writer series is becoming increasingly rare, since it’s easier for a packager to assign a whole series to a single author. (Advantages: less continuity problems, a single voice in the narrative thread, and less paperwork and mental juggling. It is MUCH easier to keep track of one author than six.) It also allows a packager to offer a much bigger contract to the author: $5,000 for one book doesn’t sound as appealing as $30,000 for six books, does it?
But consider these disadvantages:
I’m not saying NOT to write a “B” list book for a packager. Just that I, personally, think it’s not helpful. It will give you some money, but your time is better spent elsewhere if you’re interested in building your career. Early on, when these series books were new to the science fiction field, they had a novelty value and could attract some attention. That day is long past. Proceed, if you must, with open eyes. And I STRONGLY suggest you never deal with a packager unless you have a good agent. A VERY good agent. [Note 2]
I do not have an agent now. I did for nearly ten years. Firing him was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, since he was a good friend. He even came to my wedding.
But when I decided I wanted to jump-start my career, I decided I had to handle my own books in a more hands-on manner, talking to editors myself, doing my own submissions, etc. This is not for everyone, but I know I’m giving my own work all the attention it needs. I wasn’t getting that from my old agent, who had a lot of clients and only so much time to devote to me.
Caveat: If (when) I need an agent again, I will go out and get one. I’m not ashamed to admit it when I need help. Most of what I have been doing, though, is media fiction with a boilerplate contract, so having an agent would not have gotten me more money or a better deal. [Side comment: I also know a good deal about contracts from having worked as both a literary agent and as a book packager. If you feel at all uncomfortable in submitting books, or in handling contracts, get or keep an agent for that. This article is based on my personal experiences; what works for me might not work for you.]
ADDENDUM: I have acquired a new agent since writing this article. He is proving incredibly useful. By removing myself from the negotiation process on my next book, I have allowed him to ask for more money — a lot more — than I would have asked for this book on my own. He is trying to position me as a “big” author with a lot of breakout potential. Wish us well.
Publishing is a mess. No brief article can possibly tell you everything you need to know about every single publishing company. And yet you cannot simply trust your publishers to do their jobs right and make you a best-selling writer. There are a few things you MUST know. I’m going to generalize here, so please bear with me if these comments don’t quite mesh with Publisher X or Publisher Y.
A publisher puts out a specific number of books each month. These books appear in many different genres — best-sellers, mysteries, thrillers, horror, science fiction, romance, etc. Out of the science fiction books — let’s say there are 5 mass-market paperbacks for the same of simplicity — each is assigned a specific slot.
Slot #1: Science Fiction Lead Title. The publisher puts foil on the cover, die-stamping, a few ads in trade journals, and makes available some advertising money. Maybe springs for a book dump or an endcap in the stores.
Slot #2: Fantasy Lead Title. The publisher puts foil on the cover, die-stamping, a few ads in trade journals, and makes available some advertising money. Maybe springs for a book dump or an endcap in the stores.
Slot #3: Reprint of hardcover. The publisher expects this book to sell reasonably well, since the hardcover did okay and got some great quotes, which are plastered all over the covers. Maybe a big picture of the book in the company’s SF ads for the month.
Slot #4: Original fantasy novel. Fantasy sells better than science fiction, so this book gets slot #4. No promotion, except for a tiny mention in the company’s science fiction ad for the month.
Slot #5: Original science fiction novel. No promotion, except for a tiny mention in the company’s science fiction ad for the month.
With only five books to choose from, you would think a bookstore could automatically order all of them, right? Not so. Think of how many publishers are out there doing science fiction and fantasy, then think about them all competing for a small number of rack spaces in the some bookstore.
Depending on how much rack space is available in a given month, a publisher will almost certainly order the two leads (one science fiction, one fantasy). These two slots are usually reserved for writers who are already best-sellers. The rest of the slots get assigned to books which are not expected to sell as well. The fifth slot won’t sell many copies at all.
You want to get your books into as high of a slot as you possibly can. If you can persuade your publisher that you’re going to be the next William Gibson, more power to you — you deserve the lead slot.
Realistically, once you return to writing fiction, and before you negotiate a contract for that new book which your editor wants, you MUST find out which slot your book will be assigned. Don’t be afraid to speak up. The editor must have some idea of where the book will appear or that editor wouldn’t be able to make an offer. (The offer will be based on how many books the editor estimates his or her company will sell. Part of determining this number comes from doing a P&L — profit and loss estimate — which deals in part with how many copies will be sold and at what cover price. An editor must have an idea of what slot a book will go into before he or she can do a P&L.)
If you’ve worked years to make your great comeback with your brilliant new novel, do you want it going into Slot #5? If that’s the best your editor can do, ask if he or she can leave that as an open offer while you look elsewhere. You can always come back later, if you have to. It is more important to find a publisher who is committed to doing your book right, or you’ll wind up right back where you started.
A 3rd or 4th or 5th slot does not have to be the kiss of death. There is a second figure which is just as important as the total number of your books which have been shipped into stores. That’s the “sell-through” — essentially, the percentage of books sold. If you ship 10,000 copies of your book in slot #5, then you sell 9,500 of them the first month and reorders start pouring in, of course the publisher is going to notice. A 95% sell-through is remarkable and excellent. It doesn’t happen often. You can bet that everyone from sales-reps to bookstore owners will order extra copies of your next book as a result, to meet the anticipated demand. And that your next book from the publisher will get pushed up to a higher slot.
Conversely, if you’re in the lead slot and you ship 50,000 copies to sell 5,000 for a 10% sell-through, you can bet that your career is going to spiral downwards pretty fast.
Middle-ground is more to be expected.
Okay: you’ve been working hard for three or four years now to restart your career. You’ve published two dozen short stories and several media tie-in novels. What now?
Clearly, if your media novels have gone well and you have maintained a good relationship with your media-fiction publisher, the time has come for you to try to sell an original novel again. Talk to your media fiction editor first. Explain that you love working on media properties, but you want to try your hand at something new. Something more ambitious. Ask them if they want to see an outline for the new novel you’ve been working on. If your media fiction editor says, “Yes,” you’re all set: your foot is in the door.
If your media fiction editor cannot support your attempt to write an original novel, look elsewhere. You now have quite a few books in print which have sold well. If you’ve hit the best-seller lists, that’s another plus. Query editors at publishing companies where your books haven’t bombed; chances are, they’ll be fairly receptive. Especially when they see that quote sheet full of raves (remember, you prepared it for a reason) and you tell them you have half a million books in print.
My observation on viewpoint is not a hard and fast rule; I know this form of writing will not appeal to everyone … or even work for everyone. But it was my most recent Great Revelation (about 2 years ago), thanks to one of my media fiction editors. I think such a strict attention to viewpoint now gives my fiction an immediacy and a deep emotional resonance that it lacked previously. In short, it works for me. [back]
A few things to be aware of when dealing with packagers:
Here’s an example of how an author might be misdirected as to his or her due share of moneys: The packager creates a project with Famous Writer A. They agree that Famous Writer A will get 33.33% of all revenue generated by this project. (Famous Writer A assumes that the packager will take 33.33% and the author will take 33.33%, which seems fair.) The packager then signs up New Writer B, offering 25%. New Writer B thinks this sounds fair — after all, it’s Famous Writer A’s creation, so Famous Writer A must be taking 50% off the top, right? That must leave 50%, which the packager and New Writer B will split evenly, right? Of course not. From this scenario, Famous Writer A gets 33.33%, New Writer B gets 25%, and the packager gets 41.67%. Basically, you need to find out how much each party is taking an insist on an equitable share. If Famous Writer A really IS taking 50%, then 25 IS fair. Don’t be afraid to stick up for your own interests. Your packager doesn’t have anything to hide, right?
Packagers cry poor all the time. Ignore it. The text (which you will be providing) is only part of what a typical packager contracts to supply to a publisher. In addition, a packager may provide any or all of the following: editing, copy-editing, typesetting, proofreading, cover art, cover copy, graphic design, and/or finished, printed, bound books delivered to the publisher’s warehouse. A packager will make a profit — often thousands of dollars — from these other production chores. EVEN IF THEY PAID YOU EVERY PENNY OF THE ADVANCE FOR THE WRITTEN PART OF THE BOOK, THEY WOULD STILL MAKE A PROFIT! Don’t forget that, since it will give you extra leverage in negotiating to get your fair share.
Tags: John Gregory Betancourt
Posted in Building a Career, The Business of Writing | Comments Off
Tuesday, July 7th, 2009
(The following is adapted from an article which first appeared in The Gila Queen’s Guide to Markets #63)
It’s been said that confession is good for the soul. It’s not bad for the pocketbook, either. I know because my confessions have sold to Black Confessions, Black Romance, Bronze Thrills, Intimate Romances, Intimate Secrets, Intimate Story, Jive, True Experience, True Love, True Romance, and True Secrets.
Where do my confessions come from? While my imagination certainly plays a role in the development of a confession from concept through completion, nearly all are based on a real-life event which happened to me or to someone I know.
I’ve found that reality-based confessions are both easier to write and easier to sell, and, after discussing the basic structure of confessions, I’ll describe how I’ve turned a few of my own experiences into manuscripts and from manuscripts into money.
A confession is a “problem” story. The protagonist finds herself confronting a problem–from something as simple as feeling unappreciated by her family to something as complex as spousal abuse–and must resolve the problem either directly or indirectly through her own actions. The more emotionally-charged the problem, the greater the reader’s involvement and the more “confessional” the story seems. While the structure of a confession is essentially fixed, variation in subject and theme are permissible.
A typical confession is written in the first-person from a lower- or middle-class woman’s viewpoint, though confessions written from a male viewpoint are published occasionally.
Confessions are written in a colloquial manner, almost as if the narrator is speaking directly to the reader while they both sit in the narrator’s kitchen sipping coffee.
Each confession follows standard story structure: each has a beginning, a middle, and an end. The story begins with the narrator confronting her problem. Then, if necessary, background information is supplied to the reader, explaining how the narrator came to be in her current situation. This is followed by the narrator’s attempts to solve her problem and the results of her attempts. The conclusion comes from one or more of the narrator’s attempts to solve her problem and, more often than not, is a happy ending.
Even though I’m not female, I’ve written confessions by concentrating on topics that are universal rather than specific to a particular gender–financial problems and relationship problems, for example.
Many of my confessions are originally sparked by events in my own life.
Each of these examples could just have easily come from an event in your life.
If you take a moment to review all of the major and some of the minor events of your life, I’m sure you will discover any number of things you could develop into a confession.
Plots should be reasonably simple–describable in one paragraph.
For example:
Confessions can begin with a description of the problem, or can begin with action. I prefer to begin my confessions with action, especially if I can begin with an emotional confrontation between two characters.
“Why won’t you make love to me?” I asked as I leaned over the movie theater’s candy counter. “What’s wrong with me?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Angela,” Bob said as he fiddled with his usher’s flashlight. “I just don’t want to hurt you. That’s all.”
“Hurt me? Of course you’re going to hurt me. It always hurts the first time.”
In the first few paragraphs of “Impatient Virgin” (Jive, September, 1987), excerpted above, a young woman offers her virginity to a boy who turns her down. Jilted by the boy she cares about most and eager to lose her virginity (written pre-AIDS and published before there had been much publicity about the disease), she offers herself to another boy–one known for his sexual escapades. As she is about to consummate the act, her “boyfriend” rescues her, and they profess love to one another.
A well-written confession has a balance of dialog and description, not usually containing more than 60 percent of one or the other. The dialog is about everyday concerns–these are, after all, blue-collar people and not college professors–and it should bounce smoothly from one character to the other. Long monologues are discouraged. In the following scene from “I’m Dead In My Mother’s Eyes” (True Love, March, 1993) two sisters who’ve hardly spoken in ten years discuss their mother’s illness.
I used my chopsticks to chase a piece of chicken across my plate. “How often does Mother go to the doctor?”
“Almost every week,” Lillian said, “between chemotherapy and her check-ups and everything else.” She scooped more fried rice onto her plate and continued, “And Dad can’t drive anymore, so I have to take him shopping every Saturday.”
“Why can’t Dad drive?” I asked.
Lillian appeared surprised by my question. “You didn’t know? No, I guess not. Last year he failed the driving test. It surprised the hell out of him, but it was for the best. I don’t think he ever was a good driver, but the past few years his abilities deteriorated. I think something’s wrong with his depth perception, but I can’t get him to see an eye doctor.”
The dialog in this snippet not only helps define the characters, but moves the plot forward at the same time. In the same story, description is kept simple in order to emphasize the horror of cancer. The narrator describes her mother in terms most readers can comprehend:
My mother sat huddled in her lounge chair, a shawl she’d crocheted nearly twenty years ago wrapped tightly around her thin frame. Only a few dozen wisps of kinky gray hair prevented her from looking like a prune with eyes. The chemotherapy had taken a heavy toll.
This gives the reader a mental picture of the mother without being excessively detailed. Don’t ever stop the action for long passages of description because you’ll lose the reader.
Sometimes the primary subject of a confession is sex–too much, not enough, too kinky, not kinky enough, with the right person, with the wrong person, with the right person for tthe wrong reason, with the wrong person for the right reason–and some confessions aren’t about sex at all. Even so, nearly every confession deals with sex in one form or another, because it’s a natural part of any loving relationship.
He continued rubbing my shoulders and my neck, relaxing me. The tension flowed from my aching shoulders as his fingertips worked their magic on me.
Jeremy … leaned over the back of the couch and kissed me. It was a deep, passionate kiss, though from an awkward position. Jeremy hopped over the couch and slid down beside me. We kissed again and our tongues met in a fiery dance.
I felt the warmth of his body pressing against mine and I felt myself responding to it. He lifted the nightgown up and off of me, spilling most of the money to the floor. Then he lay me back on the couch and began smothering me with kisses.
My body ached for him, every inch of skin screaming out for his attention. It had been so long. He urgently caressed me with firm fingers and soft lips, knowing–as all loving couples do–exactly what I desired. Before long, the heat of passion had grown from glowing embers to roaring flames and I could restrain myself no longer.
I opened myself to him like a flower to the sun and he took me as a bee drawn to nectar. Our bodies were so familiar after years of marriage that words were unnecessary, for each of us knew when the right moment had arrived.
Time stood still in our living room as we rediscovered the rhythms of love. I let him guide me ever higher, until we could control ourselves no longer and we shuddered together in love.
The sex scenes in a confession don’t get much more explicit than this, and need not even be this explicit. Whether you write a detailed sex scene or you cut to the next scene the moment your protagonist slips into bed, you can not ignore her sexuality.
The end of a confession should summarize any lesson the narrator has learned. This summary is not always subtle.
As I finished getting ready, I knew that now I could handle anything that happened at my reunion. I knew I could handle it because I had Bill at my side, strong and supportive and, as he had always been, full of love and tenderness.
Ever since then, I’ve realized that desperation can sometimes drive even the best people to do things they know are wrong. I’m just glad we were lucky; even though we almost lost our balance, we walked on the thin wire of desperation and made it to the other side without falling off.
“There is one small ray of hope, though. Her husband agreed to enter counseling.”
I unconsciously crossed my fingers and silently wished Ellen Harper the best of luck. She would need it. At least, I no longer needed luck. It had taken a year, but I’d put my life back together, and I’d found Parker. My future looked bright.
Confession magazine editors are seeking stories ranging from 2,000 words to about 6,000 words and they expect you to present your manuscript in a professional manner. Each story must be typewritten–never handwritten–on 8-1/2″ x 11″ white paper, double-spaced and on one side of the page only. Your name and mailing addresss should be placed at the top of the first page of the manuscript. You may wish to add your phone number and/or your social security number as well. One variation from the norm is the use of bylines: don’t. Confession magazines do not normally print bylines, so there’s no reason to put one on your manuscript.
Each confession should be submitted separately, one per envelope. Enclosed with each submission should be an envelope that you have addressed to yourself and upon which you have placed sufficient postage for your manuscript to be returned.
There are three important things to remember about the confession markets:
At the time this article was updated in July, 1998, the primary publisher of confessions, Sterling/Macfadden Partnership (233 Park Ave. South, New York, NY 10003) produced at least twelve regularly-published confession magazines.
Caucasian titles include Modern Romance, Secrets, True Confessions, True Experience, True Love, True Romance, and True Story. Black titles include Black Confessions, Black Romance, Black Secrets, Bronze Thrills, and Jive.
Each publication is independently edited so a rejection from one magazine is not necessarily a rejection from all of the magazines.
Response to a submission takes from one to twelve months. Submissions are usually accepted or rejected as is; I’ve rarely had an editor request a revision.
Sterling/Macfadden purchases all rights and publishes what they accept in a timely manner. Payment is made at the end of the month of the cover date of the issue your confession is published in, and is based on a per-word rate that varies from submission to submission.
Two books I found particularly useful when I first started writing confessions:
I hope the information I’ve provided will help you understand the opportunities available to would-be confession writers, the fundamentals of turning an idea into a complete story, and a few pointers about marketing and selling the finished manuscript.
Keep one thought in mind as you return to the keyboard to create your own confessions: If a middle-aged male like myself can write and sell confessions, so can you.
Tags: how-to, Michael Bracken, selling confessions, writing advice, writing confessions
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Monday, July 6th, 2009
This contract was written under the direction of the SFWA® Contracts Committee. The model or sample contracts have been written as a guide to writers in understanding common publishing contracts and to help them negotiate better contracts. They are not intended to be used as boilerplate contracts by publishers, writers, or agents, nor should such use be cited as being SFWA approved. These contracts have been written by writers for writers, and are for educational purposes only. As with any legal document, you should consult a lawyer for exact interpretations of law. Advice herein is not intended as legal advice or the practice of law. Some model or sample contracts are badly in need of revision or updating. As part of its ongoing efforts to educate writers about publishing contracts, the Contracts Committee periodically writes new sample contracts or updates old sample contracts. Address comments or suggestions to the Chair, SFWA Contracts Committee.
20 August 1996
As author-agent contracts don’t seem to be a one-size-fits-all item, a few alternative contract clauses are included in this draft, accompanied by italicized comments. — John E. Stith
PRELIMINARY STATEMENT. This agreement (the “Agreement”) dated [date of signing], sets forth the relationship between [author's name here] (the “Author”), also published under the name(s) [pen names here] and [name of literary agency Here] (the “Literary Agent”).
1. LITERARY AGENT REPRESENTS AUTHOR. For the term of this agreement, the Author hereby retains the Literary Agent:
(a) To represent the Author for the sale of the following works (“Represented Works”), written or to be written by the Author and not covered by a prior unagented sale or prior agency agreement: (1) all full-length fiction, and (2) any other writings that Author and Literary Agent may agree upon.
(b) Subject to the Author’s approval, to negotiate sales (“Represented Sales”) of (1) Represented Works in the U.S., its territories, and Canada (“Domestic Sales”), (2) Represented Works in non-domestic markets (“Foreign Sales”), and (3) derivative or secondary rights in the Represented Works (such as film, TV, recording, or other dramatic media) anywhere in the world (“Subsidiary Sales”).
(c) To receive payments and royalties from all Represented Sales as long as the contracts for such sales remain in force.
Author attests that, during the term of this Contract, the Author will employ no other Literary Agent to represent the Author for the Author’s Represented Works. It is acknowledged that some of the Author’s backlog may be excluded from this contract because it is covered by a prior agreement with another agency. {Some authors prefer to have separate film agents. Whichever way you go, the decision should be clear to both author and agent.}
2. CONTRACTS. Literary Agent shall use best efforts to promote the Author’s Represented Works. No proposed Represented Sale shall be binding unless approved by the Author in a signed contract (a “Represented Contract”). Author may, in writing, authorize Literary Agent to sign contracts on his behalf. {Authors might want to provide a limited authorization that lets the agent sign only foreign contracts or sign only contracts the author has verbally approved.}
3. AGENT’S COMMISSION. The Literary Agent shall be entitled to a commission (“Agent’s Commission”) equal to X percent of all Domestic Sales, Y percent of all Subsidiary Sales, and Z percent of all Foreign Sales. {While authors would like these commission rates as low as possible, we recognize that agents would prefer them as high as possible. A number of agents charge 10 percent for domestic sales, 15 percent for subsidiary and 20 percent for foreign, and obviously these rates play a part in the determination of whether a particular agent is the one to sign with.}
4. SUBSIDIARY RIGHTS. Subject to Author’s reasonable consent, the Literary Agent shall engage all subsidiary or co- agents which the Literary Agent believes best represent the Author in Foreign Sales.
5. EXPENSES BORNE BY LITERARY AGENT. From the Literary Agent’s Commission, the Literary Agent shall pay (a) all subsidiary or split commissions required by foreign or subsidiary agents, and (b) such other costs, listed in the attached Rider, as Literary Agent may incur in promoting or selling the Author’s Represented Works. The Literary Agent shall not be reimbursed for such expenses and need not account for them to the Author, except that the Author shall reimburse the Literary Agent for unusual expenses, incurred by the Literary Agent with the Author’s prior consent, for the Represented Works. {This phrase is the best case for the author, but it’s just another component of the give and take between author and agent, and should be factored into the projected agent commission when comparing two otherwise equal agents. Often, the agents charging higher commission rates are willing to include some expenses in their commission. Just be clear on what you’ll be expected to pay for, and if you can, limit additional expenses to those applicable to works actually sold.}
6. DISBURSEMENTS. On behalf of the Author, the Literary Agent shall collect all payments due the Author under any Represented Contract (“Author’s Payments”) and shall, within ten days of the funds clearing, disburse the amount of such Author’s Payments to the Author, less any Literary Agent’s Commission and less any mutually approved expense charges.
7. STATEMENTS. In January of each year, the Literary Agent shall provide the Author with an annual statement showing all Author’s Payments, Agent’s Commissions, and other itemized deductions for the previous calendar year. {Not all agencies do this, but it’s desirable for the author. The minimum notice consists of an IRS Form 1099 that identifies the total payments and total commissions.}
8. NOTICES. The Literary Agent and Author shall promptly send each other copies of (a) any legal notice under any Represented Contract, (b) any important communication from any publisher under any Represented Contract, and any material correspondence.
9. TERM. This contract may be terminated voluntarily for any reason by either party upon thirty days’ prior written notice to the other, detailing causes for termination, sent via certified mail, return receipt requested, to the addresses below:
If to Literary Agent, at [Literary Agent's address]
If to Author, at [Author's address]
or such other address as either party may designate in writing to the other.
After termination, the Literary Agent shall continue to administer Represented Contracts which the Literary Agent negotiated while this Contract was in force, and retain Agent’s Commission on those Represented Contracts. The Literary Agent may make no further sales of the Represented Works.
10. CONTACTS. Mail sent to the Author in care of the Literary Agent may be opened by the Literary Agent and dealt with, unless it is apparently of a personal nature, in which case the Literary Agent shall forward it to the Author promptly. When the Author is approached directly by any party interested in the Author’s Represented Works, the Author shall inform the Literary Agent immediately and refer the party to the Literary Agent.
11. AMENDMENT. This Agreement contains the entire agreement between the parties hereto. It supersedes any prior agreement, and may be amended in writing by mutual consent.
Many authors already have an existing written or handshake agreement with an agent and may not wish to impose most of this sample contract. Since many standard contracts and handshake agreements don’t define how termination is handled, authors might consider using section 9 (TERM) as a rider to an existing contract or as a separate agreement. Many agencies use their own contract, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. We recommend, though, that you use this model as a guide to remind you to make sure terms you feel are important are addressed satisfactorily in whatever contract you do sign.
The above items represent the consensus of the then-current SFWA Contracts Committee: Michael A. Armstrong, Damon Knight (who has since left the panel), David Alexander Smith, and John E. Stith. In addition, Michael A. Armstrong and Damon Knight recommend authors include the following in the TERM clause:
“This agreement may not be assigned by either party without the written consent of the other.
“In the event that the Literary Agent dies, leaves the agency business, or commits a substantial breach of this agreement, the Author or his heirs and assigns may revoke all rights granted to the Literary Agent hereunder.”
– JES, 8/20/96
Tags: agent, business, contract, literary agent, representation
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