Listen, Betty, don’t start up with your White Zone shit again.

In which the title is unveiled.

On my other blog, I shattered a few hearts with the revelation (although I’m not sure exactly how much of a revelation it really was) that the title an author picks for their book may or may not be the final title as decided by the publisher.

The reason for this is simple: when a publisher agrees to publish a book, they are taking a risk. Whether it’s a new author or an established name, there’s no guarantee that a given title will sell.  So they make the initial investment that gets the book on the shelves. They pay all the costs associated with production, marketing, and sales.  (This is why vanity presses, where authors are expected to pay all costs, are not considered to be “legitimate” publishing.) If the book bombs, the publisher pays the costs. And, as with any investment, if it succeeds, they take a share of the rewards. 

Because the publisher is taking the risk, they want the book to succeed and to help insure that, they take total control over everything that markets the book. The cover art work, the back cover copy, the size and layout…..and even the title.  You’ve no doubt heard the advertising adage that the two words guaranteed to get an audiences attention are “free” and “sex.”    While you don’t see these words in every form of marketing, the theory remains the same that some words or phrases are more interesting and those are the ones the publisher wants on the front of the book.

The author (usually) is not COMPLETELY without a say.  Reputable publishers will at least run their ideas by the author.  Depending on the author’s contract (and, let’s fact it, unless you’re Stephen King, you won’t have a lot of negotiating power), the author will have very little to no say in the publisher’s decision on what to call the book or in how it looks. Authors can mention legitimate concerns–I’ve heard of cases where the author made a good point or two about why cover art wouldn’t work and they got it changed–but in the end, it’s the publishers call.  Some authors will take offense at this, wondering how anyone could have the temerity to think they could come up with a better title for their work than they can.  But just as a manuscript can benefit from having input from advance readers, so can having many sets of eyes on the marketing of a book benefit it’s platform.

 Titling my work, since I came to realize this, has meant less to me.  I still like a title. It gives me something to refer to and a framework for my own reference.  As I’ve begun to make notes about this book, I decided that I need to give it a name. A name that, yes, was expendable but I could at least give it my best shot at coming up with something that might just make it to the final round.  So I jotted down a bunch of ideas and sent them to Andrew to see what he thought.  Some of these ideas included:

Dramatis Personae: Behind the Scenes at the Teen Fringe Festival

This is NOT a Dress Rehearsal: Live from the Teen Fringe

And….Scene!: The Minnesota Teen Fringe Festival

I liked these. Any one would work. And I hoped Andrew would like them too.  He wrote back and said, “Yeah, I like those. What do you think about Get on the F—ing Stage!:A Year at the Teen Fringe Festival.”

And I swear I heard angels sing, harps strum. A shaft of light came down from above and I felt my epidermis tingle. Yes. That was it. That was the title. It captured everything I wanted to do with the book.  Now, granted, this wasn’t a book that I’d been slaving over for years and therefore had a strong emotional attachment to. That might have made it harder to accept someone’s input on the title. But I couldn’t deny that this was exactly right.

Now, technically, the title still has to fly with the entire Acquisitions Committee. I’ve got my fingers crossed. I think that’s what I’m going to call it, no matter what.

Get on the F—ing Stage!

Genius.