No, I’ve been nervous lots of times.

In which I ponder snags.

Treading some old ground here (the rarely heralded ins and outs of publishing) as it intrudes upon new territory (the fate of GOTFS).

One of the things about my job as a book publicist is that I often have to take new authors by the hand and gently guide them through the rigmarole that is the world of publishing.  Many of my newbies know zilch about all the behind the scene processes; they’re a bit like me in that they tend to think, “But isn’t it all about fabulous writing? Shouldn’t that be what it’s about?” Yes, really, that’s what I wish it was about. I wish being published was a perpetual Cinderella story of someone finding your manuscript in a pile, falling in love with that perfectly crafted first sentence, not being able to put it down all night, and calling first thing in the morning to say that they love your work and is it please still available?  Sometimes, it’s about that. But very rarely.

As distasteful as the words are as they form in the mouth, publishing is a business.  Which means there are decisions to be made that will affect the publication which have nothing to do with the beautiful writing. In my last post, I talked about this to an extent, in how these business decisions affect the cover, title, and promotional copy.  But there are many other factors that go into the creation of a book. Even just the decision to buy a book. Now most authors aren’t privy to these discussions.  Most of them happen before you even get the call saying, “A contract is on its way to your hot little hands.” An acquisitions editor may love your work and want to fast track it so its in the public’s hands ASAP, but it has to pass muster with that all-important adjudicator–the sales force.

The sales force at a publisher, be it a single person or a team of sales professionals, are responsible for seeing to it that the various outlets of the world (Barnes and Noble, Borders, Amazon, various online and independent brick and mortar stores) purchase copies of your book so that others can in turn buy it from them. That goes without saying. What needs to be said, because it’s what most people don’t understand, is the influence the sales force has on whether or not a project is ultimately acquired. The acquisitions editor might think your spiffy but the sales people have to be a bit cold and hard and look at numbers, precedents, trends, the attitudes of their buyers and countless other minutiae before they sign off on it.  So when a book is brought up for consideration, they do feasibility studies and they talk to their buyers and they (only sometimes, sadly) actually read the manuscript to create a picture of how viable a proposed project is.  Things like costs, print runs, market history all come into play. For a math-phobe like myself, you can get a bit claustrophobic, watching it all close in like the electronic walls in the house of the security system commercial, the one with all the glowing binary digits racing across them.

This is where the acquistions editor becomes a sales person. They need to make the project as attractive as possible. They’ll do a little of their own research, providing comparable titles with corresponding sales figures (did you know that publishers have access to sales figures on ANY book published?).  They provide ideas for possible promotional venues (a bit out of their territory, so sometimes they’ll consult with marketing and publicity).  They’ll create lists  of reasons why the project needs to proceed (and, yes, they’ll even acknowledge the project’s short comings).

Get on the F—ing Stage sits currenly mired deeply in this morass of numbers and conservative opinions. To their credit, the sales force doesn’t approach a project with any personal bias–they’re simply looking out for the company’s best interest.  But right now, they’re not really thrilled with the prospect of this book. (Again, it’s unusual for an author to be privy to these discussions at all but when you work in the same building where they take place and you know all the players involved, it’s inevitable you’ll get a feel for what’s happening.)

What seems to be most off-putting for them is the concept of its newness.  Andrew pitched this project to them as something unique, there’s nothing like it on the market. (The closest I could find was a book called THE STUFF OF DREAMS by Leah Hager Cohen which chronicles the efforts of a Massachusetts community theatre as they attempt to mount a production of M. BUTTERFLY. Which is a poor example because 1: it’s not aimed at teens like my book would be and 2:…well, it didn’t have the greatest sales.)  “New” is a funny little dichotomy unto itself.  It implies both fresh and exciting while also conveying the terrifying unknown and strangeness.  You get out your half-full/half-empty people who start the debate. The half-fulls say: “We’ll have something that no one else has!  We’ll have cornered the market on this. We might even be the first in a series of copycat attempts by others.”  The half-empties say: “There are no sales precedents, nothing to suggest that people would buy this. The intended audience is notoriously fickle; they like established ideas/thoughts and eschew new things.”

Wherein lies the truth? If I’m lucky, it falls somewhere right in the middle (or maybe just skewing ever so slightly toward the half-fulls).  I had hoped that all this would be ironed out by now, I’d have a contract signed, and I’d be plotting my first two months of research.  Now I’m not even sure it’ll happen by the end of the year, making me nervous because I really wanted to start in January so I’m ready for the February lottery.

There’s a chance this will get shot down. Truth be told, it was a lean year for us so the Powers That Be are preaching conservative approaches to all future projects.  One of these approaches is in how we acquire projects that don’t necessarily scream of success from the get go. Which is why GOTFS is getting the hairy eyeball. Andrew believes that it’ll go through, it’s just going to require a bit more manuevering. I’ve offered to help but it’s pretty much all in his lap. It’s weird to have someone go to bat for you like that. Really, the project was his idea but I think he liked the proposal I wrote for this so he may be even more invested in it than before.  I did ask him, should this go the way of the dodo, if he’d mind if I took it to another publisher. Because at this point, I really love the idea myself.  He said he’d insist that I do so.

I guess the good news of all this is that the fight might not be over if my publisher says no.  Both Andrew and my boss have told me they have ideas about where I could take this.  But we’re all quietly hoping it won’t come to that. In the meantime, I’m waiting. And thinking about how sad it would be if my first project for a publisher, my first real publishing credit, dies on the cusp of cold numbers. And I’m thinking about how great it’ll be when Andrew comes to my cube and gives me the thumbs up.

It’s a good thing I’ve been nervous lots of times. I’ve got practice.