I mentioned last week that I’d
have some more titbits from my recent agent chat – and, sure enough,
that’s all coming up.
First, though, as you probably
know, we’ve just launched our Festival of Writing, with a cracking 20%
Early Bird price discount. (More info here.)
That discount only runs for another week or so, so I thought I’d say
something about what the Festival is and who it is/isn’t right for.
Before that, however, a
confession:
When we were preparing to run
our first Festival, I kept struggling with two feelings. One was sheer
anxiety: would anyone come? Would we be able to get agents and other
industry pros to the event? Would the whole thing be a rank disaster?
Since the Festival costs an
absolute minimum of £50,000 to put on (and, in practice, a good bit
more than that), I was frankly terrified. If we didn’t sell enough
tickets, I’d make a huge loss, and that would not have been a great
conversation round the marital dinner table.
The second feeling, though, was
simply: did anyone actually need this Festival? We’d always told
clients (and still do) that agents’ slushpiles represent THE front door
into the traditional industry. It was just fine to send your stuff off
to an agent with whom you had absolutely zero previous contact – and if
your book was good enough, it would be taken on.
That was true then. It’s still
true now. So why the Festival?
And I still don’t really have an
answer to that question. I’m no longer unsure about the basic quality
of the event. On the contrary: a kind of magic happens there, and it
happens reliably every year and to a zillion different types of author
too.
But why? What’s special? What’s
the magical ingredient?
And that’s where I fall a bit
short. The main thing, I think, is the synchronicity of everything. So
you might go to a plotting workshop in the morning, have an agent
one-to-one in the afternoon, have a brilliant conversation with a
fellow writer at dinner – and something similar all the next day too –
and the result is just more than the sum of its parts. It’s not simply
that you come away with a solution to the plot niggle in Part Two. It’s
not just that you made real contact with an agent, whose encouraging
you to follow-up. It’s that you’ve changed. You’ve become a different,
more capable, more confident writer.
There’s stardust too. So let’s
say your novel is really good and ready for launch. If you stand up in
front of a 300+ audience on Friday night and read your work out and
people love it – well, magic happens. The first person to have won that
Friday Night Live competition left the Festival with 7 agents wanting
to represent her, then went on to experience a highly contested auction
… and ended up having a major bestseller.
Would that outcome have happened
without the Festival? Well, yes, it could have done. But no question,
the Festival adds an ingredient there, a buzz of excitement, that
rippled right on through the publishing process before splashing to
shore on the bestseller lists. That buzz is the thing that the industry
always craves, that it fights to achieve and usually can’t. Well, the
Festival can and routinely does. It’s a bit of magic on the magic.
So who should come to the
Festival? Who shouldn’t?
Well, let’s deal with the
“probably not”s first. The Festival probably isn’t right for you if you
write non-fiction (with the exception of narrative non-fiction). If you
write only short stories or flash fiction or poetry, it probably isn’t
right for you either. If you are already properly published or
confidently self-publishing, you may not have a lot to learn there.
If you are really only just
starting out with your writing, then the Festival might be for you –
just be aware that you’ll be in the company of writers who are mostly
more experienced than you. If you think that’ll be intimidating, then
avoid the Festival this year, and come next year instead. If you think
that’ll be inspiring, you should certainly come. The Festival has a
really warm and inclusive atmosphere, so you shouldn’t experience
anything other that positivity and encouragement.
As for the, who should come half
of the question – well, I think the Festival should suit anyone with a
full length novel, either written or well under way, and who has a
serious intention to seek traditional publication. I can’t imagine
being that writer and not getting a lot from the Festival. After all,
the entire thing is designed around you, and your needs and your
questions and the ingredients that we know will help you grow.
If you are just such a writer,
we’d LOVE to see you there. Every single year, the Festival is my
favourite weekend. And it’s because of you guys. The enthusiasm, the
belief, the warmth, the community. I love it!
(Oh, and we’re no longer
terrified of making a loss! We don’t, in fact, generate huge profits
from the event, but at least we know the damn thing won’t bankrupt us.
Phew!)
Again, if you want the money-off
link, it’s here.
The Festival Programme can be found here.
Right. Enough of that.
Agents. The market. What do
publishers want?
And I think the answer can be
summed up in three broad generalisations.
First, this is a great time for
intelligent, broad spectrum non-fiction. So if you’re a neurologist
with interesting material on (say) memory, or creativity, or nature /
nurture, or love, then there’s a publisher who wants your book.
Equally, there’ll be publishers who want books on current affairs, on
history, on politics, on science, and much else.
The big challenge for such
writers is writing a genuinely popular book. That is, you need to take
relatively technical academic research and present it in a way that
genuinely engages a broad (but intelligent) audience. The go-to author
for this kind of writing is Malcolm Gladwell. He delivers real
intelligence, with the grip of a thriller. That’s the aim.
If you’re deeply interested in a
given non-fiction topic, but don’t have a natural platform (that is:
you aren’t an academic or other qualified professional), you don’t have
to give up. I’m not a historian – didn’t even study the topic at
university – but it’s something that has always interested me. So I
wrote a book of popular history (this one).
I wasn’t going to be able to use my great academic platform to launch
the work, so I had to rely on just writing damn well. Making the book
funny, interesting, engaging. Publishers didn’t even really ask me
whether I knew my stuff – they just believed me – and they liked the
text. So after an intensely contested auction, I sold that book for
more cash than anything else I’ve ever written. If we were selling it
today, we might even make more.
That’s one generalisation about
what publishers want today. The second one is this:
This is a great time to write
big, high-concept standalone books. That sort of sounds
obvious, but it’s a little less obvious than it sounds. In the old
days, when bookstores sold more, and the supermarkets sold less,
publishers really wanted the kind of writer they could turn into a
series. So police procedural authors (like Ian Rankin or Michael
Connelly) were really hot. By buying and establishing a great
first-in-series book, publishers could make great money for dozens of
books thereafter.
These days, supermarkets
increasingly dominate the way publishers think about the world and supermarkets
are a terrible place to launch and sustain any kind of series fiction.
Yes, supermarkets might buy a ton of your terrific book #1, but
there’ll be nothing in them that makes them think, “Better stock book
#2 when it comes out, otherwise we’ll be letting down our customers.”
They need to keep books on the shelves, same as they need to keep beans
on the shelves, but they aren’t there to provide a rounded
book-purchasing experience. And they don’t care either: their customers
come for the beans, and might buy a book. Of the two, the beans matters
more.
So standalones do well. And
given that supermarkets are selling to not-very-committed readers, you
really want a standalone with a concept that drives sales from the
title, cover and shoutline alone. Sure, you need to deliver good
back-of-book blurb as well. But the actual text? It just matters less
to these kind of purchasing decisions. Think of your own habits. In a
bookstore or on Amazon, you may well browse a few pages before buying a
book. In a supermarket, that just feels out of place. If the price is
right, and the jacket looks great, you pop the book in your basket, and
go on to pick up the beans.
That
means, you really need to work your elevator pitch hard. If you want
some examples of great shoutlines, then how about:
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