Before and After the Book Deal. Courtney Maum

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       Introduction

      The first time I realized publishing a book would be a different experience from writing one was when my publisher asked me to send an email blast to my personal contacts with a preorder link for my debut. Although I’d received such emails in the past from other writers and was familiar with the enterprise, it felt anything but comfortable to write one for myself.

      “I’ve always wanted to be a writer, and now I’ve finally done it!” I typed before hitting delete. “Twenty-six dollars might seem like a lot of money for a book, but when you divide this sum by the years that I spent writing it . . .” Delete. “Preorders are actually a really important way to . . .” Delete.

      As I tried and tried again to find the right tone for this email, I felt a clench of nausea where before there’d been only pride. Up until that moment, I had been my book’s author. Now I was its publicist. It wasn’t a job that I’d applied for, and yet, the job was mine.

      The professionalization of creativity is a by-product of the digital age, and nowhere is this trend more apparent than in publishing, where contemporary authors are expected to be the brand ambassadors for everything they write, taking to their social media feeds, favor banks, and Gmail to shape their book’s reception. It can give you a sense of purpose and control to be your own book’s champion. But spending too much time promoting our work can change our writing process, and that’s a scary thing. Doubts seep in. We consider the marketability of what we are creating. We start comparing ourselves with others—an act that’s far too easy now that most authors are online.

      I had a really good run with my first novel. Great cover, supportive editor, ride-or-die agent, the whole deal. There was actual cash money put behind the marketing of my debut, and I still came out of that experience a shaking, anxious mess. There were just so many things that no one told me. About jealousy. About competition. About the seasonal best-of book lists that come in to ruin your life. About how hard it would be to write something new when your inner multitasker wants you to be on social media all the time. There are a lot of craft books that tell you how to write a book, but I couldn’t find any that covered what it feels and looks like when you actually publish one.

      And so I sat down to write the crowdsourced turducken of a self-help craft book that I couldn’t find. In addition to giving writers the information they need to feel in control of their publication journey, Before and After the Book Deal is a safe house for the publishing questions many authors are too afraid to ask.

      Do you need to go to book parties? Should you hire an outside publicist? What kind of advance is everyone else getting? Should you send trinkets of affection along with blurb requests? Our contributors’ advice on these and other matters reflects the time that their interviews took place: writers here might be fretting about debuts that went on to be successes, editors might be referencing new titles that were commercial flops, first-time authors who never thought they’d write again will have managed to turn in their second book projects.

      Things change in publishing. Sales go up and down. The muse comes, and then the muse plays hide-and-seek. But if there is one constant I have learned in writing this, it’s that everyone is freaking out about their work. From the veteran bestsellers down to the writers who are preparing their manuscript for agent queries, everyone approaches their workspace wondering how the hell they managed to get something good onto the page the day before, because today it feels impossible. Until they start to write.

      Whether you are a writer who wants to become an author, or an author who wants to remember how to be a writer once again, I hope that you find comfort here for whatever creative project you are tackling. And if you have picked up this book because you know and love a writer and you’re curious about their process, you are a modern hero. Please leave a five-star review on every platform known to readers and say nice things about our books.

      With gratitude,

      Courtney

       Book One

      I did not say that writing ought to make everything clearer, but instead makes everything worse; what I said was that writing makes everything clearer and worse.

      —FRANZ KAFKA

       I

       Getting it right

      It is a common misperception that writers write. What a quaint idea! Writers don’t write, they fight for time to write. And when they get this time, they dismantle the procrastination traps scattered ’round their desks, and then they write, a little . . . or rather, they revise, and then the doorbell rings, and at the door is someone with a fire that only the writer can put out, and by the time the writer has got the fire somewhat under control, the forty-five minutes they had allotted to their writing is up, and they have to go out in the world to teach, edit, read, child-mind, blurb, review, and write for other people so that they can afford to find another forty-five minutes in their week to write for themselves.

      If you want to see your work published, all of the craft stuff is important: developing a unique voice, learning how to tell a story, learning through trial and error which stories you are best positioned to tell. But if you lack the skills to create, protect, and wisely use your writing time, you won’t have time to write.

Making time to write (and then actually writing)

      In 2012, I edited a series for Tin House called the Super Sad True Habits of Highly Effective Writers. (I borrowed the title from Gary Shteyngart’s third novel, but he was a contributor, so, fairsies?) The series ended up revealing that a lot of writers have compulsions they indulge in before they can actually write. I drink tea out of the same mug every morning; Matt Bell uses a secret drafting font that is only for his eyes; Jim Shepard has to have an even number of unanswered emails in his inbox before he can write well. But creating the optimal conditions for writing doesn’t mean a writer is going to write. You can light a candle, do some push-ups, and say a couple writing prayers, and still find yourself on Clickhole for two hours. Most writers write on computers, and the only thing between their unfinished manuscript and the World Wide Web is willpower.

      Even if the Internet isn’t your procrastination go-to, there are always a hundred other things to do than write. So how do you stay focused when your dirty dishes have taken up long-term residence in your kitchen sink? How do you force yourself to write?

      Seek pressure from your peers

      Most humans have an innate desire to please people, which is why I shaved off all my arm hair as a ten-year-old when my best friend told me to.

      Peer pressure doesn’t always have positive outcomes, but it can help if you need accountability. The author and critic Michele Filgate used to host a Friday writing group called Get Your Ass on the Bench and Write that helped her generate new work because other people were expecting it, and author Tony Tulathimutte credits much of his professional success to the writing group he has been a part of for fifteen years. Writers СКАЧАТЬ