Mary Martin, Ph.D.

On Bill Bryson's Dictionary for Writers and Editors

I just finished Bill Bryson's Dictionary for Writers and Editors, which, like his other books, is entertaining and helpful.

Reading it like a regular book (as opposed to a dictionary) isn't what I'd recommend, as if you spent hours at a time with it you could easily retain very little. What you'd come away with is: If I ever have a question about usage or spelling, I should consult Bill's book first.

With each letter (it is a dictionary, remember), you'll learn things you didn't know, clarify things you were fuzzy on, and realize some things you would've bet your net worth on are incorrect. There are also words, names and places you never heard of, and when you're finished reading at least you can say you've been introduced to them.

Here are some of my favorites:

• admit to is nearly always wrong. You admit a misdeed; you do not admit to it (5).
• aggravate. Strictly, means to make a bad situation worse. If you walk on a broken leg, you may aggravate the injury. People can never be aggravates, only circumstances (7).
• bereft. To be bereft of something is not to lack it but to be dispossessed of it, to lose it. A spinster is not bereft of a husband, but a widow is. (The word is the past participle of bereave.) (37)
• center around. Center indicates a point, and a point cannot encircle anything. Make it "center on" or "revolve around" (64).
• different. Often used unnecessarily, as in "It is found in more than 250 different types of plants." In such constructions it can nearly always be deleted without loss (96).
• effete does not mean effeminate and weak, as it is often used. It means exhausted and barren. An effete poet is not necessarily foppish, but rather someone whose creative impulses are spent (108).
• gamy. Not -ey (135).
• high jinks ( two words) is the usual spelling, though some dictionaries also accept hijinks. The derivation is unknown, but it is not related (or to be confused with) jinx as in bad luck. The word can be used as either singular or plural (159).
• if and when. Almost always unnecessary. Choose one or the other (170).
• jamb. Not jam. A doorpost or similar (183).
• lacy. Not -ey (197).
• major, as in a "major initiative," "major embarrassment," "major undertaking," and so on, remains a severely overworked words, and this brings a kind of tofu quality to much writing, giving it bulk but little additional flavor. Nearly always it is worth the effort of trying to think of a more precise or expressive term (214).
• nauseous is an adjective describing something that causes nausea ("a nauseous substance"). To feel sick is to be nauseated (237).
• originally is often needlessly inserted into sentences where it conveys no additional information, as here: "The plans were originally drawn up as long ago as 1972" (Observer) (250).
• replete is not merely full but overfull, stuffed (291).
• schadenfreude. (Ger.) Deriving pleasure from the misfortunes of others; pronounced shah-den-froy-duh (302).
• thinking to oneself, as in "I thought to myself: 'We're lost,'" is always tautological; there is no one else to whom one can think. Delete "to myself." Similarly vacuous is "in my mind" in constructions like "I could picture in my mind where the offices had been" (331).
• vocal cords. Not chords. Vocal cords are so called because of their shape and structure, not because of their tonal qualities (354).

I don't know about you, but I'm fairly good at eliminating excess verbiage when writing (because I usually edit), but when I read Bryson's book, I realize that my speech is a disaster!

What is "Voice?"

I've written a book about my experiences with animals who have died shortly after they've met my acquaintance. After over 100 animal deaths, and about the same number of animals who didn't die after meeting me, I came to certain conclusions about the place of animals in our lives. These conclusions are far from what mainstream Americans believe, and I understand that my book is a tough sell and needs someone with a unique set of traits to champion it.

One of those traits, unfortunately, is an appreciation of the macabre and a sense of humor and irony. And those come through in the "voice" of the book, which two agents have told me they found, shall we say, not to their liking.

Now, I can easily write something in a different voice, but I am a bit dark and twisted by nature. Furthermore, what the world doesn't need is another sweet book about a person whose relationship with a dog or cat makes them realize that there just might be something more to nonhumans than instincts and reflexes.

Voice is very subjective, and though there are many criticisms that you shouldn't take seriously, voice isn't one of them. Your voice is the personality--the person--behind the writing. And when someone doesn't like the voice of your writing they're sort of saying they don't like you--the way you present yourself in your work.

If you're a journalist, voice should be something no one notices, as you're reporting and your personality shouldn't be noticeable. But if you provide commentary--think Andy Rooney--people will react to what you say, but they might react more to how you say it. Your diction, syntax, tone, inflection and pauses tell your listener a lot about you and how you see the world. And the same is true of your writing.

If an agent or publisher doesn't like the voice of your work, it shouldn't be entirely surprising as you should choose agents and publishers wisely, based on whether they have appreciated writing or topics similar to yours in the past. If your work has a distinctive voice that you know isn't for everyone, here's my advice: Your topic is secondary to voice when you're searching for agents and publishers (unless you change the voice, which I can do with a rewrite of about a month, and it will be far more acceptable for most people, but that's not the book I want to write). For instance, though it's important to find someone who wants to read about animals, it's more important to find someone who appreciates quirky or dark voices.

What's the most distinguishing quality of your book? Is it the topic, the genre, the voice? Whatever it is, find someone who appreciates that quality, and assuming your writing is great, the rest should fall into place eventually.

On the Lack of "Fairness" in Publishing

A friend just received a $200,000 advance on a book that is about something timely and has a significant celebrity and beautiful-people component to it, and let's just say it's not what one might call serious literature (nor is it meant to be). Another friend commented on how "unfair" that was.

Here's my advice: If you think about the publishing business in terms of fairness, you'll drive yourself to fits of rage. Publishing is a business and, generally speaking, its goal is to profit from the sale of books (and rights and ancillary products, etc...). If a large mainstream publisher has a choice between signing an author with a sexy book that will appeal to enormous numbers of women (we are the ones buying most of the books), or a more artful book with a more narrow appeal, who do you think is getting a book deal?

Now, small and independent publishers often have missions that do not begin with: Make as much money and appeal to the most people as possible.

If your niche-y idea, well-written of course, is rejected by large publishers, that's probably because a large publisher isn't the right place for your book. If you want a huge publishing house to sign you, you have to offer it a huge publishing house-kind of book, including a great platform.

Do yourself a favor and eliminate the word "fair" from your vocabulary. Think instead in terms of matching your work with the right publisher and doing your part to demonstrate you have what it takes to work with that publisher.

Should You Go to BookExpo?

For those of you wondering whether you should go to BookExpo America from May 29-June in Los Angeles, here's my advice:

• Its location rotates each year, but the general time (May-June) is the same. Next year it'll be in Manhattan, then it will go on the road to Washington DC, and in 2011 it'll land in Las Vegas. If you are near LA this year or can easily get there, and you haven't yet finished your book, attending isn't necessary but will no doubt be helpful. If you go--whenever you go--attend the Writer's Conference, which is an all day conference and does NOT include admission to BookExpo. If you can do only one thing, go to the Writer's Conference.
• If your manuscript is complete and you have the ability to get to LA--and you don't yet have an agent--do whatever you can to get to BookExpo, and attend the Writer's Conference.
• If attending next year's Expo in Manhattan is easier for you and you're still writing, wait until next year.
• If your budget is large and going to LA this year isn't a big deal, even if you're not finished with your manuscript you should go.

I've taken clients to BookExpo who have no idea how publishing works to introduce them to publishers, editors and agents I know. While there, I walk through the seemingly endless rows of books and publishers with them to try to prevent them from getting overwhelmed, which is very, very easy.

There are always agents at the Writer's Conference, and there's always time allotted for attendees to pitch agents. However, I have yet to be able to pitch anything as time always runs out. So if you're going for that reason alone, you might need to get creative about how, when and where to pitch prospective agents. You need to be dedicated to tracking someone down to pitch them.

Finally, if it's possible to go to LA this year, before you make your decision look carefully through all of the information about this year's speakers and events. For some people involved in niche-y ventures, some years simply don't offer enough to make a $1,000 trip worthwhile. And if you're an entrepreneur, looking carefully into what's there for you this year is important in determining whether the cost and time involved in attending will outweigh the benefits.

On the Science of Calculating the Advance

A client of mine is in the wonderful position of having a bidding war on his hands. This means that his agent pitched his book to several publishers, all of whom are interested, and presumably his deal will go to the highest bidder.

What kind of advance are we talking about for a first-time author? How is it calculated?

I read a formula once but have never seen anything like it be able to explain any advance I've ever seen, so I won't print it here. I did find a great article in the New York Times from a year ago called "The Greatest Mystery: Making a Best Seller," by Shira Boss, that sums up what I've experienced over the last decade.

The advance payment to the author is often an estimate of the first year’s royalties, usually 10 percent to 15 percent of expected sales. The advance is a liability for the publisher because it is a fixed cost. It doesn’t have to be repaid by the author if it turns out to be an overestimate, which it usually is. But when earned royalties exceed the advance amount, the author is paid more.

Calculating the advance accurately would be a prized skill, but no editors claim to have a scientific handle on how a book will sell. Instead, they emphasize the role of intuition and say that while big unexpected losses and gains do happen, somehow it all works out.

But results are not spectacular, for an industry that had $34.6 billion in net revenue in 2005. Net profit margins hover in the mid-single digits for the $14 billion trade segment, which covers adult, juvenile and mass market titles, with an estimated 70 percent of titles in the red.

When it comes to advances and what might be a best seller, it's really all about being a good guesser. Several books I was not at all excited about ended up being best sellers, and the books of my favorite clients didn't do that well. I was frankly shocked that at least one best seller did so well, and doubly shocked that a certain timely book by an expert didn't do so well.

There are many variables at play, and the most anyone can do is do their best during each phase of the process and consult experts to help with the tasks that they don't have a lot of experience in. There are no guarantees, but completion of a book and getting it published is no small feat, and should be considered a significant achievement no matter what happens when the book hits the shelves.

What Are You Waiting For? Write!

I've received several e-mails (you can reach me at mary@marymartin.net) from people who know, deep down, that they are writers, but who haven't tried to write anything (for publication or otherwise), and haven't tried to get a job that involves writing.

I have nothing to say other than: What are you waiting for? Do you need permission? And if so, from whom? Is some person in your life supposed to acknowledge your writer-ness, after which time you'll find it acceptable to write? Do you feel like if your job involves writing that doesn't make you a real writer (I suffered from that one for years)? Is it that the sheer quantity of writers in the world is so intimidating that you can't possibly imagine anything good coming of you beginning to write (when there are already millions of writers)?

First, let me say that you're not writing for anyone else, unless your job is to write. And if you are actually getting paid to write, you should consider yourself lucky because for every job you do and get paid for, there are writers who would agree to do the same job without pay, just for the experience.

If you are writing for yourself, you aren't in competition with anyone else. It doesn't matter how many romance novelists there are. If what's screaming to get out of you is a romance novel, What are you waiting for? Write!

An exercise I'm fond of doing with my clients is The Excuse List. List all of the reasons you haven't begun (or finished) writing whatever it is you want to write. Then, play devil's advocate with yourself and address each of your excuses. I promise you, it will be very easy to debunk all of the myths you've created for yourself that allow you to not pursue what you say you want to pursue.

Confront all of your excuses and, next to each one, write the objection to your excuse that makes it look ludicrous (that's how it usually happens). No one else is watching. Be honest with yourself and put all of your excuses to rest, once and for all (or at least for today). Finally, ask yourself: Am I able to devote 20 minutes to writing today? No? How about 10? Whatever number you come up with, write for that period of time, today. Then tomorrow write for that period of time, as well. If you can't, ask yourself why not? Repeating The Excuse List exercise will take at least a couple of minutes. Wouldn't you rather use that time to write?

What Are You Waiting For? Write!