There’s nothing more pompous than a writer who is precious about his or her work. If you’ve been around a bit, be it in the publishing world or even in a creative writing class, you’ve no doubt run into such a creature. As the editor of a number of anthologies, I’ve met up with my fair share of writers with inflated egos and more attitude than talent, but come on – there’s a limit!
The other day I received a rather unpleasant email from an author who told me that he no longer wishes to receive any communication from me. Now this is not someone with whom I’ve been in endless email discourse, but someone who might, if he’s lucky, get an email from me maybe once or twice a year. Apparently I remind him of a world he’d rather not be a part of – which I assume means the one belonging to a writer who does not have the luxury of toiling away in an Ivory Tower deep in the rugged hinterland, protected from the unpleasantries of the world such as promotion, publicity, administrative tasks, laundry, and pretty much struggling to avoid having one’s mail forwarded to a cardboard box.
Now I’m not going to name this individual, save for the fact that he’s had several books published and, thanks to me, sold several more on my recommendation alone. In his email where he dismisses me from his universe, he emphatically states that he is a writer of “SERIOUS LITERARY FICTION.” Ouch! I guess in effect he’s telling me (and thousands of other writers) that what we do is shit.
I’ve never met this guy, and frankly after this exchange I’ve no desire to. I did get in the last word, however, telling him that he’s a lucky man indeed, if he has the luxury of avoiding all the hard graft the majority of us must undertake in order not to sink into the quicksand with all the other writers out there trying to survive against nearly impossible odds. Perhaps he also has publishers who knock themselves out to promote his books, unlike those of us who find ourselves in the rather unpleasant position of having to become not only our own publicist, but our own motivational speaker.
Those of you who’ve been working at this gig for awhile will know that the success of a book very often has nothing to do with how good it is, but rather how much went into its promotional budget. Get your book plastered all over the walls of the London Underground and sure, you can bet it’ll shift a multitude of copies. Send out a paltry smattering of review copies and it might shift a copy or two. Or it might not, depending on whether the reviewer was suffering from PMS that day. The irony is, the average Stephen King novel gets a huge promotional push, though with his amazing track record he hardly needs the kind of financial outlay that goes into selling his work. Yet the last I heard even Mr. King wasn’t too precious to indulge in a bit of self promotion. Why? Because that’s the way the game is played. I’ll tell you this: I’m thrilled to bits if someone is interested enough in my work to come to a reading or book signing just to see little me. And I’m even more thrilled if they plonk down their hard-earned dollars, pounds, euros, or rubles to actually buy something I’ve written.
Needless to say, I doubt very much that our Mr. Precious in his Ivory Tower will be reading this blog post. Reading a blog is beneath him, as is the filthy cesspool of literature festivals and book signings and author interviews. Should the time ever come when he can no longer meet his mortgage payments, I wonder if he’ll still feel the same way.
I have nothing inherently against a person who has the luck to be born with a silver spoon in his/her mouth. It’s what you DO with that luck that makes you a person of character.
That said, I’ve noticed that people ‘from money’ are not, perhaps cannot, be on the same wavelength as those of us who must make it or bust strictly on our own. They have always had, and always will have, a plump satin cushion to land on.
I love a woman who was born and raised to and by people with money. We stopped being friends for twelve years, then tried again, and once again, the friendship has had to be shelved. Why? Because she does not approve of what I write. Her intention is to leave the world a better place by writing something important before she dies. Gack.
When we were young she criticized me for writing scripts for Independent Television, and for the National Film Board of Canada – because I didn’t get to choose my topic. She referred to my work as ‘typing.’ This time around, she disapproves of me for writing erotica. She called my first book misogynist, tawdry and unrealistic.
She had the gall to announce that ‘I am now entirely self-sufficient.’ She never has been and never will be. The biggest problem people from money have, and they do suffer, is the indignity of asking mommy and daddy for a few thousand, just five to ten, to tide them over until they can make it on their own. That adds up, over the years… and let’s face it, they only have to make it ‘on their own’ until their parents die and they inherit the big bucks.
I keep looking for her work of great importance, but it never materializes. Perhaps it never will. Perhaps she can’t do it because she comes from money – in which case I pity her more than I envy her.
I sink or swim on my own merit, and I crank out a lot of words, every year, and I’m grateful, more grateful than I can convey, that my words are purchased, and I make my way in this world as a writer.
I don’t know what to say about this writer’s attitude. If a reader is kind enough to take the time to let me know he/she enjoyed my book, I always respond to their email. If an aspiring writer has a question, I try to answer or at least direct them to the several pages of content on my website specifically for other writers.
Reading is a conversation between an author and the reader. It’s pretty one-sided if we never do any of the listening.
I enjoyed your article too, and it is so true. I have come across quite a few “precious” writers in my time as well. I think you are well rid of this bloke.
He sounds like the people who ask you to critique their manuscripts and unless you rave about every page being fabulous, absolutely perfect, they get offended.
Regards
Margaret Tanner
Let’s exchange links!