When people ask me for my number one suggestion for how to break into publishing—which happens quite regularly—they might be surprised at my answer.Surgically attach yourself to the hip of a successful writer who has agreed to mentor you? Maybe number two or three.
Read how-to books by successful writers, editors, and/or agents? Certainly on the list.
Take a college fiction-writing course? On there, but down towards the bottom.
Join a professional organization for your genre and attend workshops and conferences? Definitely, but still not number one.
So what is it?
Well, it’s what your mama told you when you skipped off to the backyard swingset with your little friends as a preschooler.
Play nice.
And I’m not talking about the fake-smile kissing-up kind of nice. Shortly after I published my first novella with Tyndale and thought I was a rising star (boy did I have a lot to learn), I was invited to participate in a “live” on-line chat with readers and aspiring writers. It was a lively, fun event. More people participated than I’d expected, and folks asked lots of good questions. The hour passed quickly. When it was over, I said goodbye and went off to fix supper for my family. The next day I found out a transcript of the conversation had been posted on the “writers” page of Tyndale’s website. Curious to see if I’d made sense, I read through it—and was shocked at the conversation that had gone on between a couple of women after I’d left.
I can still quote it almost word-for-word:
“So how’s your manuscript going, Jane [we’ll call her, to protect the guilty—and if your name is Jane, it wasn’t you]?”
“Great! I’ve finished revising, and I’m ready to send it out to a couple of agents. This HeartQuest thing is looking promising too. In fact, that’s the only reason I go to these boring chats—to get my name out there in front of editors.”
Now granted, that poor woman would never have said something like that if she’d realized it would be plastered on the Internet. And somebody at Tyndale must’ve gotten a heads-up, because it was pulled down the next day.
But…really? “Getting your name out there” is justification for putting on an act of admiration and teachability? I still get the creeps when I think about the disingenuousness, the downright dishonesty involved in that experience.
Anyway, I learned my lesson about using people. It’s never attractive, and it’s never Christlike. And if I ever tell you I like something you’ve written, you can bet I mean it.
I said all that as sort of a disclaimer before I get to the main point of this article—which is what we in the South call common courtesy. Which, unfortunately, isn’t all that common. A few ideas come to mind, though I bet some of you are going to come up with some to add to the list. Let me give you my top three.
1. The Golden Rule: Treat others the way you want to be treated, particularly in reviews. Gut-level honesty is indispensable in a critiquing relationship—but “relationship” is key. As my husband, who spends about fifty percent of his week doing marriage counseling, repeats to me often, criticism is a right that is earned only in intimacy—and I would add, in a professional relationship (like editor/author or like an aspiring author submitting to a contest judge).
Personally, I do not mind a review which points out flaws in my work. Well, I mind. But I can take it if the tone is respectful rather than contemptuous. And here’s where the wisdom of the Golden Rule kicks in. Don’t you hope that one day your own published books will be out there for review (if they already are—good for you!)? Think about how your words would feel if applied to your own work.
Also consider the practical ramifications of writing or speaking dismissively about another author’s work. Even if some particular writing style or habit isn’t your cup of tea (may even gets on your nerves), they’ve probably got fans. Maybe even lots of them, as unbelievable as that may seem. Do you really want to sound jealous?
2. Don’t burn bridges. Let’s say a contest judge or editor or reviewer gives you a hard time. Negative feedback. Seemingly excessive requests for revision. Rejection. All three of those scenarios are a regular part of writing for publication. A daily part of it even. Get over it, smile, and be nice. Pull up your big girl panties and keep writing.
Nobody likes a doormat, you say. I have my artistic integrity.
Absolutely true. But while wielding that artistic battle mace—hey, nobody’s holding a gun to your head and making you write for that publisher, but if you sign a contract you’re bound to do your best to satisfy their editorial guidelines—make sure all correspondence, both verbal and written, remain professional and full of Christlike humility. Refer again to Rule Number One.
3. Say thank you. I have found that a simple expression of appreciation to people who have helped me along the way—and there have been many—has sealed some surprising friendships and made lasting professional relationships. Write a short note of appreciation to contest judges, mentors, and critique partners. Email is fine. You’d be staggered to know how many times I’ve spent hours critiquing manuscripts for a contest and never heard a peep out of anybody afterward. No, I wasn’t paid to do it. And no, I didn’t pout. But I did notice, and I felt sorry for them because they didn’t have a Southern mama.
If you’re published, send a little Christmas “happy” to your main editor and agent (if you have one). Doesn’t have to be anything expensive, but thoughtfulness will go a long way. Nobody’s going to fire you or trash your manuscript if you don’t go this extra mile. But people who are easy to work with go to the top of the list, if the work is otherwise equivalent.
What I’ve shared here is nothing new. I’ve read versions of it in course of my own publishing journey many times. But it never hurts to be reminded. Get on that swing and have a great time.
But play nice.
Beth will give away a copy of her new book Tour de Force, winner of the 2009 Book of the Year award to one Seekerville guest who posts today. Winner will be announced in the Weekend Edition.
Beth White is the author of four novellas for Tyndale’s HeartQuest romance series, five books for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired Suspense and Historical series, and five stand-along romances for Zondervan (which have won sundry awards that nobody but her mother cares about). She lives in Mobile, Alabama, where she teaches high school chorus and piano, puts up with her golf-crazy husband, and takes her Maltese puppy Zoë for daily walks. You can find out about her adventures in music (as well as upcoming novels) by cruising through her website, http://www.elizabethwhite.net.
Beth White is the author of four novellas for Tyndale’s HeartQuest romance series, five books for Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired Suspense and Historical series, and five stand-along romances for Zondervan (which have won sundry awards that nobody but her mother cares about). She lives in Mobile, Alabama, where she teaches high school chorus and piano, puts up with her golf-crazy husband, and takes her Maltese puppy Zoë for daily walks. You can find out about her adventures in music (as well as upcoming novels) by cruising through her website, http://www.elizabethwhite.net.
