Don't know Modiano? Here's someone who can tell you all about him

I've been thinking that the Nobel Prize for Literature should probably be renamed as the "Honor for those Unknown to most Humans" (HUH) simply because I've used that acronym whenever a Nobel laureate's been announced in recent years. modianoThe Nobel Prize for Literature seems, for the most part, to be reserved for obscure figures from Mitteleuropa with cigarette-stained fingertips.  Most newspaper critics have repeatedly faced the challenge of quickly writing a good, authoritative column after the Nobel announcement  even though they haven't had a clue who the winner is -- even though they were hoping it would be Murakami, maybe, or Philip Roth.

(Nothing a little Wikipedia-diving can't remedy.)

But with the announcement of this year's recipient, Patrick Modiano, the fault is purely mine.  He's a tremendously intriguing figure I haven't read, and I turned not to the newspapers for their potted wisdom, but to Kai Maristed's commentary on Modiano's win at her blog, Point De Vue: Paris.

What I've always relished about her work  -- as a book reviewer and essayist -- are the deft turns of phrase that infuse her writing with a unique voice.  And the concision.  In this latest post you have another chance, my good friends, to learn not just about Modiano but also how to write about him in a short amount of space.

Enjoy.  (I know I did.)

Self-publish? Of course! The pros

She's so relieved by your decision.  

Why should you self-publish?  To answer that question, you need to answer another question first.

Why are you a writer?

If you're in it for fame or money, well…  You might receive one of these -- maybe even both -- but I think you're better off getting a real estate license or starting a Youtube channel to reach those goals.

Good grief, I'm about to do the thing that I usually can't stand: preach.  For anyone who doesn't want to hear this, kindly exit the church while I'm climbing into the pulpit...

What I've learned from my own continuing journey is that writing a book requires willingness to be genuinely vulnerable.  In the past, my fragile creations have been handled by publishers with less delicacy than a UPS guy  in a hurry.  I didn't think I could survive it.  It hurt immensely.  But I'm still here.  Still struggling, still working like all of you, my best beloveds, to give expression to my narrator's experiences of  1880s London and the far edges of Europe.  I crave the work.  Every day.  And when I'm not at it, I get grumpy, like an ex-smoker on Nicorette.  That's why I write. That's why I labor by singing light.  So…

If you can secure a deal with a big official firm for your manuscript, by all means go for it. But remember: self-publishing shouldn't disqualify you from the traditional route in the future.  For some, I think, it's a way station until the big deal happens -- a first step, a chance to see their work in another light, all dressed up, ready for the show.

Most people's perceptions of self-publishing are still very immature. But all of that is changing. Who knows? You might be one of the people who leads the change, if you're willing.

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Here's something else to consider: Have you heard about what is happening between the conglomerates? Did you read anything about the big, ugly war this past summer between Hachette and Amazon? In these battles, authors' works have been moved around like pawns on a chessboard.  You read about that big full-page ad from writers against Amazon in the New York Times, right?  (Writers used to band together to free Soviet bloc dissidents, didn't they?)  Self-publishing provides a measure of control and independence in an environment that's increasingly devoid of both.

Call of the Siren's previous post on self-publishing ("Self-publish, are you crazy? The cons") presented some of the biases and criticisms that continue to persist -- but every position has its opposite, of course, and I find far more persuasive reasons to consider self-publishing than not -- or, at least, to keep an open mind as you seek an agent.

One of the most persuasive cases for self-publishing, for me, comes from author Jim Rossi, who isn't trying to market literary fiction -- his manuscript examines solar energy and its future implications (usually, self-publishing seems to be the resort of fiction writers).  He has a simple desire: He wants to reach readers.  That desire makes sense to me -- nothing feels better than good exchanges with other bloggers in the WP universe.

So what do you do, as in Jim's case, if a publisher wants your book, but doesn't want to provide any kind of digital version to reach those readers?  Before the advent of the internet, you took the card you were dealt.  You were stuck.

Next: More responses to the cons.

Self-publish, are you crazy? The cons

They just can't believe it.  

Why on earth would you ever want to self-publish your book? Are you crazy?

Here, my friends, are some reasons why you shouldn't.

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garbageReason 1: You might have a very good story to share, but do you know what will happen if you self-publish your book?  It will get lost.

It will disappear, says George R. R. Martin, in the mountain of  "crap" that gets self-published all the time.

As Martin sits comfortably on the Iron Throne of bestseller success, he says in a recent profile in The Independent that self-publishing is still mostly unmonitored, unvetted, non-certified. Editors are the great gatekeepers, he says, who hold back the crap so that only worthy works will reach readers.

For him, it seems, the term "self-published" is synonymous with "untrustworthy" as well as "crap."

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manhattan-skyline

Reason 2 why you shouldn't self-publish: Publication with one of the big NYC firms gives you legitimacy as an author.

Did you hear about what happened to that poor North Carolina poet, the one who was laureate for just six days this summer?

The selection of the state's new poet laureate was officially announced … and then, a few days later … another announcement was issued when she decided to resign from the post.

What happened?  Critics said the normal channels of appointing a laureate had been short-circuited by the state's governor. But aside from complaints about the process, what also kept getting mentioned was the fact that her output was limited to just two books, two self-published books.

Many people, this suggests, still regard self-publishing like that cake that your eight-year-old made for your birthday -- so wonderful and great for you, but please don't share it with anyone else.

At the book section of the Los Angeles Times, we routinely received about 400-500 book galleys per week (and that's a conservative estimate).  The first titles to get winnowed out of the pile were the self-published ones.

Sure, there might have been some impressive jewels hidden in these works, but no one had the time to look for them.  The imprint of "Simon & Schuster" or "Random House" on a book's spine was a very helpful, efficient guide -- a publishing version of quality control for editors scrambling to assign reviews and keep that news-hole filled.

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morse-code

Reason 3: Publishers have established channels of promotion and support that are more extensive than even the savviest self-promoter's network.

This is related to the preceding point about quality control.  Publication with an established firm may mean that the book will get considered for review by a newspaper or journal (although that review news-hole is shrinking).  If it does get reviewed, and reviewed favorably, the benefits of such visibility could be incredible (although that's not guaranteed).

Publicity reps usually maintain good relationships with periodical editors.  Book publishing is still a business that depends on such established personal relationships even though technology provides plenty of shortcuts around that.

 

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money

Reason 4: We haven't even talked about money yet.  There's no money in self-publishing.  Wait, there's no guaranteed money in self-publishing.  That's what I meant. Plenty of people seem to have beaten the odds (Hugh Howey is turning into the patron saint of self-publishing success) but it's all anecdotal.

You can't base your own decisions on them.   So, consider: Choose to self-publish and you miss out on the chance of a nice advance from an established publisher (never mind that those advances are getting smaller and smaller all the time).

"Don't quit your day job" is the advice of one self-published author in a Daily Finance piece about self-publication that appeared this summer. Read it, but be forewarned: It is a very candid, sobering account.

 

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Reason 5: Self-publishing throws a wrench into some writer-agent relationships.

If you already have an agent who's handling a new manuscript, but you also have an old, out-of-print novel that you'd like to bring out again by self-publishing it, your relationship with the agent may get tangled.

That's what the Writer Beware blog points out about a gray contractual area, "Self-Publishing and Author-Agent Agreements: The Need for Change."  This is a scenario for a select few to consider: Most of us are just trying to get out of the gates.

 

Next: Why you SHOULD self-publish.

Leisure reading: A handmade reblog

leisure reading A little manually-reblogged information for you, my friends.  You don't have to live in France to know what's going on there -- you can read a news-wire, or the very fine blog by Kai Maristed, Pointe De Vue Paris.  Her latest post is up. Check it out.

And while you're at it, she reviews Daniel Kehlmann's latest novel for Fuse Book Review.  Kehlmann was one of those continental writers who used to earn full-page play in Sunday book sections all the time... until they started giving up more of their space to silly little items to lure more readers.  Kehlmann deserves good attention, and Kai gives him plenty.

Enjoy!

The virtues of writing that's boring

Up close: A view of Weatherford's neon-lit mural. Of the name Sartoris, Faulkner wrote: "For there is death in the sound of it,  and a glamorous fatality, like silver pennons downrushing at sunset, or a dying fall of horns along the road to Roncevaux."

Malcolm Cowley used one word to describe that sentence:

"overwriting"

Really? Overwriting? The poetry of it stunned me (and still does); so did Cowley's dismissal of it.  But I didn't care -- didn't care what that crusty old critic thought; Malcolm, the writing in Flags in the Dust is still one of F's best no matter what you think.

It's the first time his vision of Yoknapatawpha ever fully rushed out of him.  I love that book's enthusiasm, confidence, roughness, unevenness, humanity.  It's Faulkner the flesh-and-blood writer long before he slipped into the great Southern persona of his later works.

But I remembered Cowley's judgement last week as I listened to a public talk given by abstract painter Mary Weatherford at Claremont McKenna College. She said something that makes so much sense to me, even though she was talking about a mural, not a text.  She described how some parts of the mural don't do anything special.  She kept them intentionally boring.  She said,

"It can't all be interesting. There have to be boring parts. If it's all interesting, it kills itself.  I had to make some parts boring so that other parts could flourish."

When her interviewer protested against her use of the word "boring," she revised herself. Instead, she said, she "quieted down" parts of her mural.  As I've been revising my own novel, this is essentially what I've been doing--quieting down some narrative sections in order to allow others to flourish.

 

SHHH: St. Nepomuk, patron saint of secrets and silence.

 

When I look back at my earliest draft, I see a writer who's trying so hard to make everything, every detail, every transition, into something interesting.  I've mentioned a little of that already in a previous post ("Writing and the six a.m. brain") where I replaced an overwritten sentence with a simpler alternative.

This, for me, is the essence of the revision process.  I think it's true whether you're working with a text or a canvas and gallons of paint.

So, after listening to Weatherford, I thought, "Maybe Cowley was right." Maybe Faulkner could have quieted down that closing sentence.

But he didn't.  And I'm glad.  It's a beautiful sentence.  Cowley's still wrong -- but at least I can understand better why he said it.