Paperback Writer

For many writers, getting a book in paperback is a measure of success. As writers we think of those books so common that you can find them in grocery stores and drug stores and airports. Books by Stephen King are everywhere.

We tend to think of hardcover books as overpriced and out of reach for hoi polloi. Besides, who has room to store a bunch of hardback books? They take up valuable shelf space. If a book doesn’t come out in paperback we think of it as a failure.

Publishers tend to look at it the other way around. Books are a luxury item. As much as I shudder to write this, you can live without them. Publishers know this and that’s why book prices often seem so high. I’m old enough to remember when a mass-market paperback could be purchased for just over a dollar.

Mass market is almost impossible to hit. As I sit here waiting for six publishers to get back to me on my Medusa novel, I know that it won’t be mass market. The trade paperback is the larger format, something like 6-by-9 inches. That’s perhaps a goal.

There are lots of different kinds of publishing. Scholars write academic books that almost always come out in hardcover only. They are priced for the library market—i.e., they are expensive. The readership fiction writers crave is the trade market.

This past week I’ve been reading the Library Journal. Lots and lots of new books are coming out, some from publishers I’ve never even heard of. My simple, smart, witty book just can’t seem to get any traction. I wonder what’s wrong with the world.

To make matters worse, I was reading a book on an unrelated topic, narrating how crackpots in the 1960’s and ’70’s were getting their books published easily. There was no internet then, and anyone who could write 50,000 words could find a publisher.

Now you can write millions of words (I’m sure I’ve come close—my second novel alone was 232,000 words. Needless to say, it was never published.) and never get noticed. Right now I’d even settle for hardcover only.

Comments

Dusty

My, this thing is dusty. My fans—hi, Mom!—perhaps believe me to have perished in the pandemic. No, it was nonfiction’s fault. Since the pandemic began I’ve had two nonfiction books published and have written a third. With a nine-to-five job something’s got to give. Unfortunately it’s been fiction. Well, the groundhog didn’t see his shadow yesterday, so it must be safe to come out. I shuffled away the rejection notes and began submitting again. I’ve got a backlog of weird stories and maybe some new publishers have emerged? The thing is, don’t you just hate it when you’re in the mood to submit and some lit journal has its window for submissions firmly shut? My last story, “ The Hput, ” was published about three years ago. Oh, I’ve submitted since then, but with no traction. Well, it is winter. I’ve got a lot of stories lined up. I’ve been sending them out again, dreaming of making a dime at what I love doing best. When you’ve been writing for half a century, you l

Neglectful Parents

If I was a parent I’d be accused of neglect. I have to say 2017 was the least published year of recent memory. Not that I’ve been neglecting my fiction, but I had a non-fiction book accepted and I work full-time and commute to that job—you get the picture. I’ve also had a personal epiphany. If you can write, you should get paid for it. I know a publicist (not my own; I don’t have one) and she says she won’t let her authors even write an op-ed if they don’t get paid. I guess I’d never get published then. My Medusa novel had a flicker of hope for a few moments. A publisher actually wrote back asking for the rest of the manuscript. That’s never happened before. Then the editor disappeared. Even called me by the wrong pseudonym. I’ve gotta wonder about that because the second half of the novel’s even better than the first. While looking for an agent for my non-fiction (couldn’t find one of those either) I came across several who said they liked quirky ficti

Too Much Writing?

Has this ever happened to you? Have you written a story that you’ve completely forgot? Not only completely forgotten, but made unfindable? I play games with my stories and sometimes the joke’s on me. Okay, I suffer from graphomania. I write constantly. I do try to keep organized—I use a spreadsheet that has all my submissions on it. It has rejection/acceptance dates (mostly rejection). Lots of information. I decided to list on it every story, whether finished or in process. There are far too many (mostly in process). When I finish a story I often submit it. If I get burned, I’m shy about resubmitting. I often rewrite at this stage. Then, when I feel brave enough, I try again. The spreadsheet is color-coded. There, in the color that indicates finished and ready to submit is a story cryptically titled “The Password.” I don’t remember this story. I can’t recall what it was about or why I thought it was ready to publish. Looking through my electronic files,

K. Marvin Bruce

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