Part 2 of How to Not Publish or Sell Your Book Well: A Failed Publisher’s Guide

Part II

So, the following two years offered labor and loss and failure and yet an incredible education. In my vain attempts to ‘make this thing happen’ I taught myself a lot about the internet, about marketing, about selling books and talking about books. I, alone, had to play the role of every person in the publishing house.

And whenever I tried to bring people on to help me, it didn’t work out. Most of them were much like Cullen and Peter and Shahrul…in their mid-to-late twenties and still idealistic but short of time and money. And they were smarter than me, maybe, because they knew enough to not put their priorities with this nebulous mess. But it was my nebulous mess with the face only a mother could love. And I was its new mother.

I had moved to Philadelphia to parlay my short experience as a reporter and my years teaching composition into a copyediting job at Aramark. There I learned basic copyediting skills, what human misery looks like up close, and why the fear of corporate life that had always been with me was completely rational. As is the storyline for all young people out to seek their fortune, we were terribly treated and given the wrong work tools and supervised by people who had no idea what our jobs really entailed.

I didn’t know any better. I figured that was just the standard. I went to work stressed and inevitably missed things. Lowercased words that should be capitalized. the correct placement of a colon or comma. We were given time to go through a 200 page document only once. It was speed copyediting, which is impossible to do well and is a torture that should be listed under the Geneva Convention.

We all missed things. We started becoming defensive and accusatory, the way people do when they are asked to accomplish an impossible task under the auspices that that it is possible. And yet, under these war conditions, deep bonds were formed among us. Two of which, for me, were Raquel and Kalonda.

Gone were the days of running a college classroom, driving home down green hills to my apartment by the edge of the woods. The existential crises I had suffered constantly when I was a teacher had left me insecure and emotional. But the soulessness of that office, the hard edges everyone wore, the long hours afterward drinking beer in stilted, unhappy conversation about work were too much for me by far. They were, in fact, the manifestation of every belief I had about the corporate world and why I had stayed out of it until then.

But I had my press, the whole time, to sustain me creatively. And I befriended designers and learned more about production. I had long conversations with Kalonda about the future of media and her web development ideas. She was teaching herself flash and reading up on the burgeoning world of 2005 online. Perez Hilton, youtube, banner ads, movies online, basically everything that is now called Web 2.0. She already understood. She saw it. She had the juice. Three years ago she was saying what everyone is saying now about social networking, information sharing, and free content. And god bless her, she was irreverent as all hell, which made me feel empowered. .

I went to work at Educational Testing Services next, where Raquel had also moved on to, copyediting work that was more my fare. GREs, SATs, and other educational tests. The whole day with Wikipedia open and actual information passing before my eyes, not just marketese. But within two months, a deep malaise had overtaken me. Raquel had left for graduate school at Emerson College to get a degree in Publishing and I sunk into despair.

Raquel’s story had been somewhat similar. She had worked for a writing resource center in Bucks County until unwise budgeting had forced it to go under. Already the pragmatic daughter of a Cuban émigré and a Spaniard, this experience reinforced in her the need to approach publishing as a business. Too often, the people who get involved in publishing are dreamy-eyed, failed writers who love literature or just love going to parties and saying they are in publishing, but refuse to do what is necessary to make their enterprise solvent.

So, because of someone’s neglect, Raquel lost her job and had to come to Aramark where she got to meet me and Kalonda but also had to pay for it by carrying the scar of Aramark starman that all who have passed through do. It is a scar etched close to your heart, but to be fair, it isn’t the worst of what is out there.

So, Raquel had kept me sane during Aramark and ETS, but now she was gone and I was dealing with the dual stresses of being in a relationship that wasn’t working (though it was with a person who gave the press a lot of help and encouraged me greatly) while I was trying to actually produce my first book as publisher.

My misery had been siphoned into this wild need to REALLY make the press work, so as to prove that I wasn’t actually a corporate shill but was doing interesting and authentic things that set me apart. This desperation lead me to take on a project publishing work by a noted poet and his partner, a performance artist. She contacted me, seeing if I wanted to publish CD covers and linings for CDs that they had made. I jumped on it- an easy start and VERY artsy. A project that would be doable and have real IDEALISM merit. For months I researched production elements, how to produce their duel CDs and to create lovely CD books to go along. It was supposed to be an easy project, a good starter.

I discussed designs for the covers and my then-boyfriend even designed a flyer to give out in France, where they were spending part of their summer. But as the project grew and grew, the artist demanded more and more time, money, energy. To the point where she wanted to add a whole online element and sort of invited herself to come down and work one-on-one with Kalonda on an interactive website, making sure it turned out exactly how she wanted it.

Kalonda had, out of the goodness of her heart, offered to help with the promotional website, but here was a classic example of the artist/author who wants complete control over the product. I used to think ,a s awriter, that the publisher should take less money and have less control than they normally do. I don’t anymore. If you are a publisher, you must cling to your power and be certain of your position in the relationship. You are the investor of time, money, and energy to make someone else’s dreams come true. Do NOT give up your authority, no matter how much you may want to please your talent.

And I certainly wanted to please my talent. Every day I wrung my hands, realizing that production costs for these two full-color CD books were going to be over $3,000 out of my pocket and when I crunched the numbers, it looked like it was most likely going to a project that lost money. I didn’t even mind losing money, it was that I minded not being able to compensate others.

Looking back, what I was really up against were my own perceptions. At the core, I did not believe that I deserved to be in control of my own company, or that I deserved to really ask for committed help that i couldn’t compensate with money. And regarding my day job, I did not believe that I could have a job that flowed naturally with my talents, sleeping patterns, and moods. I cried almost nightly about work, my relationship, the project. Nothing was working out, once again.

I finally had to bite the bullet and tell the couple that I couldn’t produce their cd-book. I offered them a plan to do it online, which Kalonda helped me form. It was savvy and forward-thinking but I knew they wouldn’t go for it. They are older and used to publishing meaning something that you can touch and see and sell at book signings. And more than that, I know the allure of the physical book with your name on it. It means something tangible. The ego identifies with it. I am a writer. I understand.

And they were upset with me and declined the substitute offer and to this day, we haven’t spoken.

And it reminded me of one summer when I had written a full-length screen play and tried to film and edit it it all myself with 13 actors. I could not finish it. I just couldn’t do it by myself. And I know there were some people who were disappointed. I know I wasted some people’s time.

And I also know that I’m damn smart. And creative. And ambitious. And that maybe I just don’t offer people enough of a sense of ownership in these projects and that is why I don’t get the help I need. Or maybe I need to control too much or I have trouble asking for help. Either way, for all my abilities, I end up with a castle in the air and a couple rocks rolled up underneath it in lieu of a foundation. And that’s as far as I get besides getting tired, and resentful, and disappointed in myself and people.

So, here is one lesson I learned: that people like me, who have big dreams, need to have people to help us. We try to do too much on our own. The problem is that I almost never find a partner who is willing to give even a fraction of what I give to a project. I cannot offer money…I don’t think I should have to offer money. These endeavors have never offered me money.

I have also learned that I have inside me an imbalance, a sort of fundamental tilt away from taking care of myself and toward pleasing others. This is not a good tilt to be at when running a business. I have made too many decisions out of emotion. And yet, the great clincher in all of this is that although the press has taken more than it has given in some ways, in other ways, it has given me so much in terms of just personal growth. As if it were, instead of a hen that lays golden eggs, or even a field that tends to bears good grain…it has been more like a tool, like a hoe.. something that in using its implements has made me a good farmer. Not rich or well-known, or even successful, but good with a hoe.

to be continued in four parts…

Part III