Tag: Mike Nappa (Page 8 of 23)

Reason #09: Your Ideas Conflict With My Values / Our Company Values

/ Mike Nappa

An Editorial Team reason for rejection

It’s a free country, ain’t it? Freedom of speech and the press is guaranteed in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. Thus, I can publish anything I want about any topic I want, right?

Well, sort of.

Yes, if you can afford to self-publish, you can say just about anything in print as long as it’s not criminal.

Ah, but if you’re looking to disseminate your thoughts widely through a formal publishing house, in book form, well, your freedom of speech just got a lot less free.

It’s kind of the obvious, dirty little secret in publishing, but those in power tend to stifle viewpoints that don’t match their values. This applies to the values of an overall corporation as much as it does to an individual editor’s values.

Or, to put it another way: Yes, I will censor you by not publishing you.

And if enough of us choose to do that, you will effectively be silenced by our society.

On the one hand, this type of censorship is a necessary byproduct of capitalism. We publish what our audiences will buy. Our audiences tend to adhere to certain value sets, so we do too. Additionally, my right to freedom of speech includes with it a guarantee that I can’t legally be forced to print viewpoints which I find disagreeable or not in keeping with my values. Those are good things, with self-correcting social mechanisms that actually work in our favor…

…Unless you’re on the wrong side of the values continuum and find yourself shut off from the privileges of publishing.

And make no mistake, this happens over trivial values as much as it does over the “biggies” in the moral universe. I’ve seen books rejected by some publishers for being “too religious” that were then rejected by others for being “not religious enough.” I’ve seen books rejected because an editor disliked the author’s political views, or because an editor was offended by violence or because a story wasn’t violent enough or because a politically incorrect word was used or because an editor hated cats or because an editor was an avid environmentalist or because an editor was not an environmentalist or…well, you name just about anything a person can have an opinion about and that’s been a reason for rejection.

At any rate, we can’t ignore that an editorial rejection of a manuscript is, at its purest, a human decision. Every human decision is governed by the values ingrained in the person making that decision.

Thus, if you send me a book proposal that grates against my values (say, a book promoting voluntary castration or a story that features cats as anything besides spawn of Satan), I’m going to reject it.

As they say in politics, values matter.

What You Can Do About It

1. Find out who shares your values in publishing

For starters, while not all viewpoints are welcome at all publishing companies, most viewpoints are certainly welcome at some publishing company somewhere. Because of the broad diversity of opinion in America—and the entrepreneurial spirit inherent in our society—somebody out there probably publishes from a similar value perspective as you. Your job is to find that publisher.

According to Parapublishing.com there are about 400 medium- to large-size book publishers in the United States, and then thousands more small publishers to boot. So take some time to explore who publishes what, and locate those that appear to share your values. The reference book, Writer’s Market, has all kinds of subject indexes that organize publishers according to the types of books they release, and this can help you determine a company’s values too. Also, you can check corporate websites for mission statements and backlist titles that’ll help you determine whether or not your values would fit with specific publishing houses.

Once you know who shares your values out there, you’ll do a better job of avoiding the ones who don’t—and that’ll increase your chances of publication as a result.

2. Get to know what your editors value.

Individual editors have their own quirks and values as well, and sometimes that value set will override even the editor’s stated corporate values when making a decision about your book. So try to discover what hot buttons elicit reactions, if you can. Often, you can simply ask an editor what his or her passions in publishing are and that editor will let you know what’s important.

Additionally, many editors today blog as part of their job responsibilities. If that’s the case with an editor you want to work with, then subscribe to that editor’s blog. That person’s values will soon come out in the random conversations he or she posts in the blog. And also go ahead and get on an e-newsletter list or two from companies that appeal to you. Those emails will mostly be marketing copy, but they’ll also tell you what people inside the building see as valuable and important in their business.

3. Self Publish.

This is, of course, the only true way to express your freedom to speak your mind in print. Of course, this also discriminates against those who don’t have the money to afford it and against those who don’t have the knowledge and resources to widely promote a book. Still, no society is perfect, and at least this option exists for you. In many other non-democratic nations, self-publishing material that expresses values against the accepted norms is illegal, so count your blessings where they may be found.

If you find yourself truly locked out of the public conversation because your values or viewpoints are being censored by the decision-makers at America’s publishing centers, then self-publishing may be your best option. After all, it’s a free country.

Looking for more? Check out these links:

Reason #10: Your Book Tries To Do Too Much

/ Mike Nappa

An Editorial Team reason for rejection

This is another mistake that most beginning authors make—trying to cram too much into one book. It’s a problem that shows up most often in nonfiction books, but you fiction writers out there should also beware.

If you’re trying to combine two or more distinct subtopics, or two or more significant storylines, they’d better have a clear convergence and obvious relevance with each other. Otherwise, people who like one subtopic or story will be annoyed by the disruption caused by the other—and many will actually give up before they get to the end simply because they’re tired of the interference.

This is the rule: “One message, one book.” If you break that rule, be prepared for the heartbreak of a rejection.

A good writer is also a patient writer. You don’t have to hit every important topic or storyline in every book; you only need to talk about the relevant ones. Those other important topics can wait until they can be dealt with, in depth, through a different book of their own.

Orson Scott Card is an excellent example of a writer who understands this principle. In 1983 he’d landed a contract with Tor Books to publish his first full-length science fiction novel—a book called Speaker for the Dead, which starred a character from one of his short stories, Ender Wiggin.

“In order to make the Ender Wiggin of Speaker make any sense,” Card says, “I had to have this really long, kind of boring opening chapter that brought him from the end of the Bugger War to the beginning of the story in Speaker.” That just wasn’t’ good enough for Card, so he came up with a different option. “The only solution I could think of…was to write a novel version of [my short story] Ender’s Game, so I could put all that material about how Ender became a Speaker for the Dead at the end of that book, thus allowing Speaker to begin at its true beginning.”

The result? Decades later, that secondary, “setup” book, Ender’s Game, is one of the most successful science fiction novels of all time.

Get the point?

What You Can Do About It

1. Memorize this principle: “One book, one message.”

I’m a firm believer in the “one book, one message” structure for a manuscript. Meaning, no matter where you look in a book—from chapter 1 to chapter 99—the reader should always be able to see how it relates to, and reinforces, the central message of the book as a whole.

So when you’re writing, re-think the way you approach each chapter of your book. In the context of your chosen overall message, is this current chapter an intrusion? Or an interesting diversion akin to a rabbit trail? Or is it absolutely necessary to complete the delivery of your message? If it’s one of the first two options here, cut it out. Only allow it to stay in your manuscript if it’s absolutely necessary to the book as a whole.

If you’re brutally critical with yourself on this issue, that saves me from having to be that way … and will likely improve your chances of avoiding my rejection.

2. Be willing to write two (or more) books.

If you’re writing a manuscript and you find yourself drawn toward a deeper exploration of a subtopic or side plot, that should set off a red flag in your critical evaluation of your own work. Go ahead and write out your thoughts while they’re fresh. Then cut those sections and paste them into a separate computer file where you can look at them independently.

Can you see that subtopic or side plot standing alone? With a little expansion and/or a little more depth, could that material justify being a book all by itself? I think that 90% of the time, if you’re honest, your answer will be “yes” to those questions. Rejoice! That’s job security for you. As long as you’ve got new ideas to write about, you’ve got new opportunities to publish.

So be smart with your content. Be patient. And like Orson Scott Card, be willing to let your creative energies split into two (or more) different books. Who knows? Your result could be the defining work of a generation.

3. Remember, by writing a book you make a promise to the reader…and you’d better keep it.

Look at the title of this book: 77 Reasons Why Your Book Was Rejected (and how to be sure it won’t happen again!). Right up front, I’ve made a promise to you that if you look inside here, you’ll find help to avoid rejection in your book publishing career.

What if I wasted your time with an entire section on screenplay writing? Or if I’d opened this book with a broad overview of the history of book publishing in America, you know, as “background” for what was to come later in the book.

Yawn.

You bought this book because you wanted what I promised: 77 reasons why your book was rejected. If I don’t keep that promise—if I let my tangential interests or inability to maintain focus distract me—then you have every right to reject my book. And if you don’t keep your promise because you’re trying to do too much in the book proposal you send me…well, you can bet that I’ll reject yours.

Looking for more? Check out these links:

Reason #11: Your Word Count Is Too Long Or Too Short

/ Mike Nappa

An Editorial Team reason for rejection

As the story goes, that whole Twilight phenomenon that Stephanie Meyer started was actually just a publishing mistake made by an inexperienced slush pile assistant.

It seems that in 2003 Ms. Meyer sent a query letter to Writers House agency describing a young adult novel about teen vampires, and asking if they’d be willing to take a look at her 130,000 word manuscript for this book. What neither Stephanie Meyer nor this agency underling knew was that young adult fiction is supposed to fall in the range of a 40,000 – 60,000 word count. Had a more experienced slush pile gopher received that query, it would have been greeted with a standard, form letter rejection.

Instead, this assistant asked to see the manuscript, liked it, and passed it on to Jodi Reamer at Writers House. Ms. Reamer also liked it despite the bloated word count. She sold it to Little, Brown, and thus began what has since been called “the biggest publishing franchise since Harry Potter.”

Now, if you think that you too will have the same kind of one-in-a-million, extraordinary good luck that Stephanie Meyer had, then by all means skip this section of this book and move blissfully on to the next chapter.

However, if your life tends to be less magical and more like the rest of us, then pay attention, because this reason for rejection is one you can easily escape.

Stephanie Meyer notwithstanding, most of us routinely reject books simply because they don’t fit a standard word count. The reason for this goes back to the primary reason why any book is rejected: profit.

It works like this: Just about every book published conforms to a standard trim size—that is, the width, height, and page count of a particular book. That trim size is filled by groupings of pages which are called “signatures,” usually 16 pages per signature. So, for instance, a 160 page book would hold 10 signatures. Publishers know very clearly how many words fit into a 16-page signature, and thus try to fit their word counts into signatures that maximize the printing process.

That means, extra signatures cost extra money to print. Conversely, smaller signatures mean a lower retail price (simply because we buyers have been conditioned to assume that a thinner book is inherently worth less than a thicker one). Both of those situations have a direct impact on publisher profitability, so they’ve standardized much of this formula to be sure they can consistently print books that’ll make money.

Are there exceptions to this practice? Sure—but they are just that: Exceptions. If you want remove an obvious obstacle in the way your book is viewed by an agent or a publishing house, then do the simple thing here.

Write a book that conforms to the word count agents and editors expect.

Or, you know, hope your query letter is picked up by a newbie on her first day.

Your call.

What You Can Do About It

1. Educate yourself on standard word counts.

Last month I got a note from an editor telling me she was looking for well-crafted historical fiction that ran between 80,000 – 100,000 words. I didn’t have anything to show her, so I decided to skulk through the offerings at Authonomy.com. With patience I found one that looked interesting…but it was only 30,000 words. Rejected.

Later I found another: 145,000 words. Rejected. Believe it or not, I looked at a half dozen historical novels that seemed interesting story-wise—and not a single one of them fell in that 80,000 – 100,000 word count. I gave up looking.

If any of those authors had taken the time to educate themselves on typical word counts for historical fiction, they might have had a contract by now. So you be sure to do find out that info. Some editors will tell you their word count preferences if you simply send an email and ask. You can also look at books similar to yours and get a quick word count estimate by counting all the words on one page and multiplying by the full page count. (That’s not exactly accurate, but for your purposes it’ll be close enough.)

And, by the way, here are some basic word counts that I use when evaluating an author’s proposal:

Typical adult nonfiction book: 45,000 – 55,000 words

Typical adult novel: 80,000 – 100,000 words

Typical young adult novel: 40,000 – 60,000 words

Typical juvenile book (fiction or nonfiction): 20,000 – 40,000 words

Typical children’s picture book: 400 – 600 words (or no words at all!)

2. Write toward your target word count.

For nonfiction books this is easy. Simply take your desired word count, subtract the number of words in your front pages and introduction, and then divide the remaining by the number of chapters in your book. For instance, if yours is a 50,000 word book with 12 chapters and 2500 words in front matter/intro, then your equation series would look like this:

50,000-2500 = 47,500; 47,500 / 12 = 3958

That means you’ll probably want to shoot for around 4000 words per chapter. Easy.

For fiction, this is harder because a novelist has to follow the story wherever it goes. So you’ll just have to keep benchmarking yourself. If yours is an adult novel, for instance, and you hit the midpoint of your plot at only 28,000 words, well you’ll need to beef it up a bit. But if you hit 40,000 words and you’re still really only at the beginning of your story, then you’ll want to start figuring out how to cut back so as to avoid the “abrupt ending” syndrome.

3. Write a different book, or two books.

Got a great novel that reaches a dramatic, satisfying conclusion at 49,000 words? For an adult novel, that’s a problem. But for a young adult novel, it’d be right in the target. So, instead of trying to double the size of your word count, why not go back through and edit so it has inherent appeal for teens and college students? Then you can pitch as a young adult novel and (hopefully) make millions like Stephanie Meyer.

Or, by the same token, if your ranging fantasy novel tops out at 161,000 words, try breaking that book into two books in a series instead. Add a third book and you’ve got yourself a bona fide trilogy that’ll (hopefully) triple your success as an author.

Looking for more? Check out these links:

Reason #12: You Are Not Credible On The Topic You Want To Write About

/ Mike Nappa

An Editorial Team reason for rejection

I remember once I was pitching a book to publishers that dealt with practical theology and American life in the 21^st century. I had outlined it all and written the first 50 pages or so, and I sent it out. Not long after, one enthusiastic publisher called me about the book.

“This is very well written.” she said, “It has both depth and readability. We think it could do well with our house.”

“Why, thank you,” I said.

“But you’re not qualified to write it,” she said.

I was dumbfounded. “How can you tell me I’m not qualified to write what I’ve already written?” I asked.

She just shrugged. “You’re not a pastor or a seminary professor. There’s no way we can sell a book like this unless it was written by someone with those kinds of credentials.” She asked me to find a professor to coauthor, saying they then would publish. I declined.

Well, I did find another publisher for that book. And I did write the whole thing—despite my lack of credentials. And it was lauded by critics and reviewers and even won a prestigious national award. But (and I have to grit my teeth to say this), in the end that tactless editor was right. The book sold poorly in the marketplace and never even earned back its advance.

Despite the actual content of my book, despite the glowing endorsements, and even the award-winning status the book earned, the fact that I was neither a pastor nor a seminary professor was enough to limit this book in the eyes of many potential buyers. As far as they were concerned, I wasn’t credible on the topic (practical theology) about which I wanted to write.

Working as an agent today, I make the same kinds of judgments about your books that The Tactless One made about mine. If you send me a book on principles of parenting, but you have no children of your own, I’m skeptical. If you think you’ve got the next great political plan for America, but you’ve never run for office or held a job in government, chances are good I’ll reject. If you want me to represent your book on how to make millions as an entrepreneur, but you’re still living in your mother’s basement and working part-time at the local coffeehouse, well, something about that situation tells me you might not be credible.

Credibility counts in the marketplace, and that means it’s important on the editor’s desk as well. If you’re not truly a credible authority on your subject of choice, you’re going to get a rejection letter. And you just might deserve it.

What You Can Do About It

1. Demonstrate clearly why you can be trusted on the topic.

It’s OK if you’re not everything everyone would expect as the author of a book on a particular topic. For instance, a man writing a book about the emotional stages of pregnancy might seem wrong at first glance—until you discover that this male author is also an obstetrician with a doctorate in psychology on the side.

Or, a stay-at-home mom may seem unlikely as an author of a book on best practices for business—until she shows that running her household successfully mirrors the management practices of the world’s most successful corporations.

The point is, whatever your experiences and credentials are, make sure you clearly show an editor how those things make you uniquely qualified to write the book on your chosen topic.

2. Earn the right to speak.

Look, if you want to publish a book about cycling, don’t just watch the Tour de France on TV and then assume you’ve got what it takes. Get out there and get on a bike. Enter a race or two. Train for a championship. Take a few nasty spills on the pavement. Test new equipment. Take apart, and put back together again, your old bicycle. Do whatever it takes to earn the right to speak about cycling, both as an intellectual expert and a physical participant in the sport. Once you’ve done that, you’ll have earned the credibility to write about it.

The same principle applies to just about any topic, and to both nonfiction and fiction. Don’t ever let yourself be a writer who is on the outside looking in. Instead, take the time and invest the energy in doing what it takes to earn the right to speak on your particular area of interest. Then you’ll not only be credible as a writer…you just might be interesting!

3. Recruit a credible co-author.

This is the advice that The Tactless Editor gave to me. She actually wanted to publish my book, but she couldn’t do it unless I had more credibility on the topic. From her perspective, that was as simple as finding a seminary professor who was willing to loan me his name and credentials as “coauthor” on the book. I, obviously, declined. But, even though I still dislike this idea in general, I can see that it would work both in a publishing board meeting and in the marketplace.

So, if you just don’t have the right credentials but you still feel like you can write a great book on the topic, this is an option. Find an established expert on your topic and offer to share both a byline and royalties if he or she will collaborate with you on the book. Who knows? You may find that you like it.

Looking for more? Check out these links:

Reason #13: You Didn’t Do Your Homework

/ Mike Nappa

An Editorial Team reason for rejection

I’m looking at a query letter email right now that makes me laugh out loud.

For starters, it’s addressed to “Dear Reader.” Then it goes on to pitch a four-part series of novels that the author claims will be “as eye-popping as Baywatch!” (Yes, the author included that silly exclamation point after “Baywatch.”) This series, the author promises will be replete with “violent characters, sexual escapades, drugs, dirty money, foul play, and foul language.”

Oh joy.

If this author had done a little homework—say, visiting my agency website for example—that person would have figured out pretty quickly it was a waste of time to send me a “Dear Reader” query for this silly proposal. This is obviously not the kind of book Nappaland Literary represents, making it an easy rejection for me.

Still, even worse than authors who don’t do their homework about potential publishing partners are authors who don’t do their homework when it comes to content research. This drives me nuts in a manuscript. The author is steaming along, and then all of a sudden he or she reverts to generic references instead of specific ones, or appears to try and fake through a section by glossing over details that would normally be expected.

Look, there’s a difference in impact between saying, “She took sleeping pills” and “She took two Ambien, hoping her body hadn’t yet built up a tolerance to them.” There’s a difference between saying “He was a professional con man” and “With more than a decade of practice, he’d perfected The Pigeon Drop to the point where it was almost a work of art.”

The point is this: Do your homework, dummy.

For instance, if you’re writing a book about police officers breaking down a crime scene, don’t just quote what you’ve seen on TV. Find out what it took to get a warrant, what kind of evidence collection kits are used for different crimes, what kind of health concerns are associated with the handling of a corpse, what kind of photography is necessary, what fibers and liquids are sought after and collected, and so on.

You’ve got to make me believe two things: a) I’m the agent (or editor) you’re looking for, and b) you’re the writer I’m looking for.

Do your homework before you submit your query, and maybe you’ll do just that.

What You Can Do About It

1. Never send a “cold call” query.

We’ll dig more into this in Reason #14 (following), but for now just live by this rule: “If I don’t know you, I won’t query you.”

Obviously, I’m not suggesting that you try to form personal relationships with every editor or agent to whom you send a query. But I am insisting that you’d better know how to spell my name before you send me a book. And you definitely should know something about my history and the kinds of books I’m looking to publish. You should know a little bit about the history of my publishing house or my agency, and even what books I’ve done in the past that are similar to the one you want to publish.

Don’t know that info? Then don’t send me your query. Take the time to do your homework about the market first.

2. Never stop learning.

It’s funny to me how many people love the idea of being an author and hate the idea of doing the work of an author. This kind of person thinks that being a writer means simply sitting in front of a computer and letting golden words of wisdom flow straight from the brain into the keyboard. Truth is, actual writing often takes less time than the research needed to put together a winning book.

Listen to this, because it’s important: Your content and market research are just as important—and should probably take as much time—as the words you finally put down on paper.

A good rule of thumb is a 1:1 ratio—that is, for every hour of writing time, you should probably spend another hour in content and organizational research. Early in the formation of your book, that ratio will probably look more like 3:1 in favor of research, but as you begin to get deeper into your manuscript it’ll start to even out. Then, before you ever send out your book, you’ll be wise if you spend an additional 20 to 40 hours simply on market research—finding out who publishes what and why, and how that fits into your own hopes for your book.

In short, never stop learning, because the near-constant accumulation of knowledge is what will set you apart from all those C- students in the nation’s writing class.

3. Don’t assume we won’t notice your shortcuts.

One time, one of my authors was writing a suspense novel when all of a sudden she stopped completely. I asked her about it, and she told me simply, “I’m learning how to clean a .22 short mini revolver.”

Turns out her book included an organized crime element, and there were a few scenes where guns came into play. Instead of shortcutting the reader with something like, “He pulled a gun and threatened everybody,” she insisted on knowing what kind of guns her characters might carry—and also knowing what her characters would know about those guns.

That kind of research added extra hours of work for maybe four or five sentences in her book. But that stubborn refusal to take a shortcut in gun description also made for a more realistic, credible thriller novel—which got published.

Adopting that kind of “no shortcuts” attitude will set your story apart as well.

Looking for more? Check out these links: