Dudes, dude #1 here. On a recent afternoon, I happened upon a blog post that I wanted to respond to.
I have been in a dark place, dudes (this isn't the blog post--I'll get to that in a minute). That dark place, for me, has included visiting writing forums and writer’s and agent’s blogs. Which doesn't sound as bad as it is. But there's not a lot of honest talk about writing on the internet. Just a bland ocean of back-patting, virtual hugs, self-congratulation, and self congratulation disguised as self-flagellation.
I think you'll better understand my relationship to the bland ocean if I relay the process that led me to the blog post in question. Be warned dudes, it gets ugly:
1) I email revisions to my agent. These are revisions to a book that has been read and edited by two readers at the agency, line-edited by the agent herself, and edited by me personally a couple of times, probably already the cleanest piece of writing I've ever done. But in this case I am editing based on “feedback” (read: rejection) from all over the big six--editors who, to someone like me, are basically celebrities. So the revision process is brutal. I condense chapters, add short scenes, amplify theme, and find places to insert more character development. By the time I’m done, the book is 6,000 words shorter, maybe a little better, and viewing it in track changes makes it look typed in red. It takes probably the most hellish six weeks of my life to accomplish this.
2) My email is immediately bounced back with a message explaining that my agent is travelling out of the country until after Labor Day with limited access to email. It's a cold, cold world, dudes.
3) So, as has become my habit, I settle in for a nice long wait.
4) And, as has become my habit while waiting, rather than do something productive, I check out a few writing blogs and forums. I go to one forum in particular, or a particular thread in a particular forum pretty often, and that is what I do on this particular day. This thread can be pretty depressing stuff, because it’s full of writers who have agents and are out on submission to editors. There is almost never news of a sale. Misery loves company.
5) While reading this thread, as has become my habit, I also start drinking rather heavily.
6) But, lo and behold, today someone has announced a sale. I look at the PM announcement, and see that the sale (a “significant deal” nonetheless) was made by someone at the same agency I’m with.
7) Down the internet wormhole we go. I find out the writer that made the sale is not repped by the agent who sold the book. I look up the writer’s “real” agent. I read her blog. There is a blog post about the sale. The book was a write-for-hire for a book development company, and the book development company, not the writer, is who I share representation with. All fine and good. Writers gotta eat, same as everyone else. I don’t blame the writer for taking the work, and I don’t blame agent for steering the writer in that direction (well maybe a little, but hindsight is 20-20). Still, it’s gotta sting for the writer, who probably got 10-15K out of the deal, when the book goes on to sell in the 250-500K range. It stings for me, too, since the news of the sale gave me a little hope because I thought the writer and I were in the same boat.
8) A little further down the wormhole. At the bottom of the “real” agent’s blog post about the big sale, there are several comments. As is my habit, I crack open another brew and quickly read the comments. I recognize one of the commenter’s names. Which leads me to the commenter’s website. Where I find out that the commenter is another of my agent’s clients. On her website, I find the announcement that the commenter’s book has sold “in a major deal” earlier in the summer. Hence the agent’s long vacation. Now I am really stinging. Someone else, again, is a millionaire.
9) I head out to dinner with the wife. I eat cerviche for the first time. It is amazing. I consume a few more beers. The wife gets sick of my bitching.
10) Upon returning home, I reenter the wormhole, which takes me back to the "real" agent’s blog, where I find the following post (I am paraphrasing):
“Be careful about writerly internet bitching, because we’ll find you out. Agents and editors are constantly trolling the web looking for reasons to put writers on their naughty lists. Even if you’re disguising yourself in some way, you’re not being as sneaky as you think.”
Oh really?
If I may, a tiny little story. When we were in grad school at Montana, Dude #2 and I were at book release party. The book release party was thrown by a famous author, celebrating the release of another author’s debut novel, which had sold for an obscene amount of money. Dude #2 and I were out on the porch bitching about the darkness and general unfairness of the universe. Another student who was always stirring shit up came out onto the porch. The other student asked me, in so many words, if I hated the author who was being celebrated. I said, yeah. She said, Really?, no doubt hoping that I would slip into one of the inelegant rants I had become known for. What I said, in so many words, is that I hated that the author had what I wanted.
It turned out that the author who was being celebrated, who we were discussing, had followed us out onto the porch and overheard the whole conversation. You know what happened next? If you guessed that I got thrown out on my ass, never spoke to the famous author again, got kicked out of school, hung my head in disgrace and faded into oblivion, you were right. Just kidding. We smoked a bunch of pot, talked awhile, buried the hatchet, and became friends. I think the writer had heard one too many false congratulations and found the honesty heartening.
The moral of the story? Jealousy is natural. Honesty is refreshing. And no one should begrudge you a little honest bitching. When I say, “writer ‘X’ had this or that happen for them, and it pisses me off,” it doesn’t mean that I don’t think the writer is talented, or that I hate them, or hate their book, or harbor any ill will toward them at all.
For the record, both of the projects I mentioned above have undeniable positive qualities in terms of concept and target audience, and I’m sure the writing and storytelling in both is very strong. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m jealous. And I understand that my agent is busy, that I'm low on the totem pole, that I should be happy editors are taking the time to read my book at all. I understand that the process is what it is, and I understand my place in it. I don't harbor ill will toward anyone. But that doesn't mean I'm going to wake up tomorrow and love waiting.
And as for shit-talking in the “Seth Abramson is bullshit” vein, well, dudes, we are artists. And what that means is that we have spent a good part of our lives cultivating our artistic sensibilities. Taste, dudes, aesthetics. And more than that, we’re writers. We pay attention to how people talk, act and think. When I call Seth Abramson bullshit, I’m trusting all that. I’m trusting my own taste and judgment that he’s actually bullshit, but I’m also trusting that I’m not the only one who thinks so. At some point, dudes, you've got to call them how you see them and let the chips fall where they may.
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