Before I begin (yet
again), a bit of disclosure: While
the following has been written in an attempt to be professionally and
personally non-biased I am an Associate Publisher for
Renaissance E Books. 

Now, with that out of the way (one more time)…

#

Wanna hear something scary?  The build-up might be a bit slow but, believe me, the punch
line is more than worth it. 

It begins like this: I’m in the middle of my all-time
favorite part of writing – publicity and marketing (and, yes, that was sarcastic)
– of a new book of mine called Stroke
The Fire: The Best Manlove Fiction Of M.Christian, which
isbasically my own personal best-of-my-very-best
queer erotica, and I’m doing one of those round-robin guest blog things and a question
comes up, “How long did it take you to write the
first draft?”

Well,
without going into the silly details of how I work I answered that, since the
book is made up of stories I’ve written since I first started writing, technically
the book was started in 1994.

Got
that?  Well, here it comes: that
basically means that the book was 18 years in the making … now that is a terrifying thought.

What this has
to do with this Streetwalker is that it got me thinking a lot more about
publishers and publishing – and, believe me, after (sigh) 18 years I’ve had
more than my fair share of them. 
That, plus the wonderful comments I got on my previous installment,
really got my wheels turning.

One of the big
revelations I had as my wheels cranked was to agree with many of the comments
my first publisher Streetwalker got: a publisher should, naturally, be
considered on the quality of its materials and presence.  After all, if a publisher is sloppy
with its contracts and site and so forth that doesn’t bode well.

But I also have
to say that a misspelling here or there shouldn’t necessarily be enough to make
a writer walk away: typos, do, after all, happen to the best of us.  Some have suggested doing research on a
publisher before signing and while that may, on the surface, be a good idea I
can’t help but think of all the great books, films, etc., that have gotten
petty, spiteful and – let’s use the word – stupid comments on places like Amazon,
Netflix, and all the rest. 

An excellent reason
to use the word stupid, by the way,
is that the world of writing, editing, and publishing is extremely small and it
is far too common for a person to jump from one publisher to another – so
venting bile at one target may, actually, hit a lot of targets … and too
often targets that you might not want to have hit sometime in the future.

So reviews are
not a good judge of a publisher – though I do think chatting with other writers
who may have worked with a publisher is a good idea, if just so you know what
to expect – what really does make a good publisher?

A very common
mistake a lot of writers make is that they feel a publisher should be a
writer’s best friend.  That’s not
to say that that a publisher shouldn’t be supportive and enthusiastic about
their authors – that’s actually extremely important – but just that there is a
big difference between being someone being a friend and suggesting that you
swim in shark infested waters.  A
good publisher should be encouraging but also have the experience and business
sense to know what is good for their writers – and so be able to tell them
things like: “We love it.  We
think it’s wonderfully literary.  We
want it.  But don’t expect it to
sell a lot of copies.”

I’ve said it
before but those cranking cogs have brought up how important it is that a
publisher, beyond anything else, is a business – and the business, so to
speak, of any business is to make money … not just for the company itself but
to be able to pass along that success to its authors as well as allow it to
grow through things like expanded marketing and advertising.  By the same logic, a bad publisher is
one that doesn’t take responsibility for a book’s failure: after 18 years I
still have nightmares about giving a publisher exactly what they wanted – only
to have the book bomb – and my craft being blamed for its failure.  A mature and professional publisher
understands that while they may know a lot there is still a universe of things
that can happen – good or bad – to a book, and that tossing away an author only
shows insecurity and irresponsibility. 
A good publisher should be there to pat a writer on the back when things
go wrong and tell them to keep working. 
That’s not being a best buddy: that’s just understanding that writers
are resources — and that keeping a resource is simply good for business.

The ebook
revolution — no duh — has changed everything, but it’s sad that a lot of
publishers out there haven’t changed the way they operate: they put pressure on
writers like every book could be their last – when the financial risks and
stress are now considerably less; they focus on trying to make one book a best
seller – when a single title is far less important than having a good quantity
(and quality) of books so when one sells they call do; they are pathologically
addicted so social media to the point where the writer ends up spending more
time tweeting than writing – when it’s clear than while social media is
important it is not the only way a book achieves success … and that, once
again, sometimes it all the social media in the world won’t do squat.

A good
publisher understands and encourages their authors to do marketing – but never
at the cost of writing the next book. 
Readers, after all, can only buy a book once: so putting a few royalty eggs
in one very small basket makes no sense – far better to put a few royalty eggs
in a lot
of very small baskets.

18 years … it
makes my blood run cold but I hope what’s come out of all this  time are some pretty good stories, a few
book books, more than a few scars — and what I hope may be a certain degree of
wisdom. 

Part of being a
writer – especially a professional one — is being able to grow and learn.  Who knows where you may be in 18 years
but I hope that my reflections here and in other Streetwalkers may make your
own journey a bit smoother.

Before I begin (again),
a bit of disclosure: While the following has been written in an attempt to be
professionally and personally non-biased I am an Associate
Publisher for Renaissance E Books. 

Now, with that out of the way (again)…

The last time I wrote an intro like the above it was for my
Streetwalker column Self Or Not? – about why I feel that,
even though it can be very alluring, I still recommend writers work with a
publisher rather than go the self-publishing route.

After writing that column I’ve been thinking, a lot, about
what makes a good publisher … especially these days.  Not to (ahem) brag but I’ve been in the
biz for quite a few years and have worked with a lot of publishers – both when
books were printed on (gasp) actual paper, as well as in the new digital age,
so I think I can say a bit about what makes a good publisher.

As always, keep in mind that this is somewhat subjective:
what I like in a publisher may not be
what you like in a publisher … but
the somewhat is there because, tastes
aside, it’s a publisher’s job to get your book out so, hopefully, people will
buy bunches of copies.

The world – as I mentioned – as totally changed, and so has
what publishers not just can do but should be doing.  It may sound a bit … emotional, but I like a publisher I can
talk to – and who talks to me. 
Sure, many publishers are simply too busy to answer every email
immediately but that they get back to me eventually is more than enough to keep
me happy.  I’ve dealt with far too
many publishers who I have to write, write, write and write again to get an
answer to even the simplest question. 

Sure, I think its very important to work with a publisher
who respects you as an artist but more than anything they should understand the
business of publishing.  I’ve had some great experiences with
very supportive publishers – only to be disappointed that even though they tell
me I’m (ahem) The Greatest Writer Who
Ever Lived they totally drop the ball in getting my books out.  These days it is absolutely crucial to hit as many sellers as
possible: amazon is fine and dandy, the publisher’s own site is expected, but
if they don’t get books onto places like Barnes & Noble – and especially iBooks
– then that can mean a serious cut in revenue.  The same goes for print versus ebooks: the cold reality is
that that print books do not sell as well as ebooks … so a publisher that
focuses on print rather than ebooks is, to be polite, way behind the times.

Publicity and marketing is a very sore point for a lot of
writers in regards to publishers. 
Not to kick a hornet’s nest, it is very important to have a publisher
that at least tries to get the word out about your book  – but that in no way means that authors
should just kick back and complain. 
Yes, you should be annoyed by a publisher that does nothing to promote your book but if they are working hard – or as
hard as they can – then get out there and add to their efforts. 

By the way, if the only thing a publisher advises you to do –
publicity and marketing-wise – is Tweet or join Facebook … well, let’s just
say that there are a million other ways to get the word out rather than doing
what everyone else is doing.  Yes, a
digital presence is essential – if anything to give you’re a place to see, and so
buy, all your books – but the simple fact is that your friends on Facebook are
not the people who will be buying your books.  A good, smart publisher will be working to reach actual
readers and buyers through not just traditional channels but through a wide
range of alternative methods.   

More than anything publishers are businesses and, as such, they have to operate effectively,
efficiently, and intelligently.  That
means that they can’t give their writers 100% of their time … mainly because while
they are trying to find new authors, getting books out, working on promotion
and marketing, but they also always keeping an eye on the bottom line.  Sometimes I feel if a publisher is
spending too much time with me – the
flipside of being totally ignored – I worry that they should be doing more for
the company rather than obsessing over just one book (even if the book is mine).

Experience in a publisher is essential, but only if that
experience has been educational: if a publisher tells me that my book needs
anything  –  (different cover art, new title,
different marketing strategy) – I will do what needs to be done, but only if I
feel that the recommendation comes from looking, and understanding, what sells
a book.  I hate to say this but
I’ve run into a few publishers that want to be PUBLISHERS (meaning they are in the business only to boost their ego)
and not a publisher (who is trying to create a successful company): the
former’s advice is usually based on trying to look like they know what works rather than really understanding the
business.

I could go on – and will in my next column – but this should
at least give you some food for thought. 
If you have any comments about any of this, or want me to chat about
anything specific in regards to publishing, leave a comment or shoot me an
email: [email protected]. 
I promise to answer … though it may take me a bit of time.

Just like a good publisher should 😉

It’s a huge no-duh that we live in an Information Age: from
high speed Internet to 4G cell networks, we can get whatever we want wherever
we want it – data-wise – at practically at the speed of light.

But sometimes I miss the old days.  No, they weren’t – ever – the Good Old Days (I still
remember liquid paper, SASEs, and letter-sized manila envelopes … shudder), but back then a writer had a damned
long time to hear about anything to do with the biz. 

If you were lucky you got a monthly mimeographed newsletter but
otherwise you spent weeks, even months, before hearing about markets or trends
… and if you actually wanted contact with another writer you either had to
pick up the phone, sit down and have coffee, or (gasp) write a letter.

No, I’m far from being a Luddite.  To borrow a bit from the great (and late) George Carlin:
“I’ve been uplinked and downloaded. I’ve been inputted and outsourced. I
know the upside of downsizing; I know the downside of upgrading. I’m a
high-tech lowlife. A cutting-edge, state-of-the-art, bicoastal mutlitasker, and
I can give you a gigabyte in a nanosecond.” 

I love living in The
World Of Tomorrow.  Sure, we
may not have food pills or jetpacks but with the push of a … well, the click
of a mouse I can see just about every movie or show I want, read any book ever
written, play incredibly realistic games, or learn anything I want to know.

Here it comes, what you’ve been waiting for … but
… well, as I’ve said many times before, writing can be an emotionally
difficult, if not actually scarring endeavor.  We forget, far too often, to care for ourselves in the manic pursuit of our writing ‘careers.’  We hover over Facebook, Twitter and
blog-after-blog: our creative hopes of success – and fears of failure – rising
and falling with every teeny-tiny bit of information that comes our way.

I miss … time.  I miss weeks, months of not knowing
what the newest trend was, who won what award, who sold what story to what
magazine, who did or did not write their disciplined number of pages that
day.  Back then, I just sat down
and wrote my stories and, when they were done, I’d send them off – and
immediately begin another story so when the inevitable rejection letter came I
could, at least, look at what I’d sent and say to myself Feh, I’ve done better since.

I’m not the only one. 
Just this week I had to talk three friends off rooftops because they looked
at their sales figures, read that another writer had just sold a story when
they’d just been rejected, heard that the genre they love to work in is in a
downward spiral, that they’d been passed over (again) for an award, or that
someone else had written ten pages that day … and all they’d managed to do
was the laundry and maybe answer a few emails.

It took me quite a while but I’ve finally begun to find a
balance in my life: a way to still happily be – and now we’re bowing to the
really-dead Timothy Leary – turned on, tuned in … by dropping out. 

Far too many writers out there say that being plugged in
24/7 to immediately what other writers are doing and saying, what their sales
are like moment-by-moment, or the tiniest blips in genres, is the way to
go.   While I agree what we
all have to keep at least one eye on what’s happening in the world of writing
we also have to pay a lot more attention to how this flow of information is
making us feel – and, especially, how it affects our work.

By dropping out, I mean looking at what comes across our
desk and being open, honest, and – most of all – caring about how it makes us
feel.  You do not have to follow
every Tweet, Facebook update, blog post, or whatever to be able to write and
sell your work.  You do not have to
believe the lies writers love to tell about themselves.  You do not have to subscribe to every
group, forum, or site.  You do not
have to hover over your sales. 

I’ll tell you what I tell myself – as well as my friends who
are in the horrible mire of professional depression: drop out … turn it off.  If the daily updates you get from some writer’s forum make
you feel like crap then unsubscribe. 
If you don’t like the way another writer makes you feel about you and
your work then stop following them. 
If the self-aggrandizing or cliquish behavior of a writer
depresses you then stop reading their Tweets, blog posts or whatever. 

You do not have to
be a conduit for every hiccup and blip of information that comes your way.  You
Are A Writer … and, just like with flesh-and-blood people, if something diminishes
you in any way, punches you in the emotional solar plexus, or keeps you from
actually writing, then Turn It Off.

This is me, not you, but I don’t follow very many writing
sites.  ERA, here, is wonderful, of
course … but beyond the true, real professional necessities, I only follow or
read things that are fun, educational, entertaining, uplifting, and – best of
all – make me feel not just good about myself and my writing, but want to make
me sit down at my state-of-the-art machine and write stories.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what it’s all about …
and everything else either comes a distant second or doesn’t matter at all.

It’s
one of the most common questions I get asked – by budding writers via email or in
person during one of my (ahem) Sex Sells: Erotica Writing classes: what makes
an erotic story … erotic?

But
before I answer [insert suspenseful music here] a bit of exposition is in
order: there is a huge difference in
writing for yourself, such as when you are first dipping your … toes
into erotica writing, and when you’ve made the very brave decision to throw
your work out into the professional world.

If
you are writing for yourself then you really don’t need to be thinking about
sex (or the amount of it) at all: you’re writing for your pleasure, or just as
practice.

But
if you do decide to send your work out you really do need to be pay
close attention to where you’re submitting: when a publisher or editor puts out
a call for submissions they are often – or should be – quite clear about the
amount of sexuality they need or want from a writer.  If you’re sending a story, say, to a site, anthology or
whatever it’s always a good idea to scope out the territory, so to speak: read
what the editor has accepted before, take a gander at the site … and so forth.  That, at least, should give you a
ballpark feeling of what (and how much) they are looking for.

But
[insert dramatic drum roll] as far as the right, perfect, ideal, amount of sex
for a story that isn’t just for your own pleasure, or a very specific market, goes
… well, what’s sex?

Far
too often beginning (or even seasoned pros) have the idea that there’s a
required amount of sex, of detail, of activity, that makes a story erotic: they occassionally even have a
percentage guide – or a shopping list of required activities (oral followed by
penetration culminated by mutual orgasm, etc). 

There’s
also the belief that unless a story arouses them – or a publisher, editor,
random reader, whoever – then it isn’t sufficiently erotic … and so needs
more sex.

But
both of these views are, frankly, wrong. 
Erotica can be a remarkably flexible genre: it can be about anything to do with sex, sensuality,
eroticism, whatever … there isn’t a set rule of amount or variety of sex that
has to take place. 

I’ve
sold (as a writer) and bought (as both an anthology editor as well as a book
publisher), work that has a wide range of both quantity as well as assortment
of sex and sensuality – though, once again, unless the project is upfront about
requiring a certain kind, or amount, of sexuality.

And
as for turning anyone on, I always remind people that there is absolutely no
way to know what will turn anyone on – so it’s impossible to judge the amount of sex in a story by anyone’s
(not to be sexist) Peter Meter.  Once again, as a writer I’ve sold, and
as an editor and publisher I’ve bought, many stories that I personally wasn’t
aroused by – and many writers and editors feel the same way.

So
… sex.  What I meant by what’s sex is that sex
can be a lot of things to a lot of people.  The erotic content in a story or book can be page after page
of bumpy-grindy or lyrically sensual where actual penetrative sex (of any kind)
never actually takes place.  Sex
can be fantasy, without any reality. 
It can be sense memory.  It
can be masturbation.  It can be
pleasure from extreme sensation. 
It can even be bittersweet, disturbing, or even sad. 

Sex,
in short, can be anything.  Speaking
as a writer, I love to play with what sex can be about – often trying to really
push the literary envelope. 
Speaking as a publisher, I love it when a book or story crosses my path
that says something – that really plays with the idea of what sex can be in
a new and surprising way.

Erotica,
to wrap it up, can be anything (caveats for specialized markets, of
course).  There is no magic formula
for amount or activity, arousal is no judge of quality or quantity: your erotic
writing playground is as vast as your imagination–

–as
vast as sex itself.  

The world of professional writing can be … no, that’s not
right: the world of professional writing is – without a doubt – a very frightening,
confusing place.

Not only are there only a few diehard rules – to either
slavishly follow or studiously avoid – but even basic trust can be a very,
very rare: should I put my work on my site, or will it be stolen?  Should I even send my work out to other
writers, for the very same reason? 

What about editors or – especially – publishers?  Does my editor really have my best
interests in mind?  Should I make
the changes he or she suggests or should I stand my ground and refuse to change
even one word?  Is my publisher
doing all they can for my book? 
Are they being honest about royalties? 

Back in the days of print – before the revolution – a lot of
these questions would have been answered by an agent: a person who not only knew
the business but would actually hold a writer’s hand and lead them from that doubt
and fear and, hopefully, towards success … however you want to define that
word.

Agents spoke the cryptic language of rights and royalties:
they could actually read – and even more amazingly – understand a book
contract.  They’d be able, with
their experience and foresight, to say when a writer should say yes
or no
to edits. 

They could open doors that no one else could open – and in
some ways that still holds true: a few big (and I mean huge) publishers will
still not talk to an author who doesn’t have an agent.  Don’t get me started on the Catch 22 of
an agent who will only look at published authors – when publishers won’t talk
to writers who don’t have agents.

That was then, I hear you say, but what about now?  Well, as the smoke begins to clear from
the fires of the digital revolution, a lot of authors (and editors and
publishers) are beginning to question even the concept of a literary agent.

Part of this pondering is because the doors that used to be
shut to authors, without the key of a publisher, are beginning to swing
open.  Yes, a lot of the huge (and
I mean immense) houses are still well fortified, but a lot of publishers,
a few of them quite sizable, are allowing – if not welcoming – un-agented
authors. 

Another part of this doubt is that a lot of agents simply
haven’t kept up with the times: the ebook revolution, they deluded themselves, is
just a passing fad.  Well, it isn’t,
and many authors who have signed with these kinds of agents have begun to feel
that they have hitched their literary wagon to the wrong horse.

But do you need an agent?   

The rule I was taught still holds a fair amount of water: if
you are submitting to a small to mid-range publisher an agent is really not
necessary – in fact they can actually work against an author. Publishers want a
smoothness
in their dealings with an author: having to deal with an agent, especially one
that feels they have bust a publisher’s chops to prove they are worth their
percentage can far too often sour the deal.  As an anthology editor – and an Associate Publisher – I’ve personally
had to slam the door on more than a few deals because of an agent who got in
the way.

Frankly – not to sound like the old man on the hill – I’ve
had five of them, and not one of them has done me much good.  In fact, I consider a few of them to
have seriously slowed me down professionally.  This is not a good thing.

But if you still think you need an agent, keep in mind that getting
one – especially a good one – can be extraordinarily tough.  This brings me back to the beginning:
becoming a professional writer is intimidating, scary, and confusing – now more
than ever – and there are more than a few agents out there who will promise to
be your savior, teach you what you need to know, and guide your hand.

The proof though, is always, in the pudding.  If you decide to try to get an agent,
and
if you get one, and if you think you have a good one, always keep an eye wide, wide
open on what they are really, actually, doing for you.

A wise writer friend of mine said that a writer should never
forget that an agent works for the writer – not the other way
around.  So if you find yourself
frustrated, disappointed, or finding more publishing opportunities than your
agent then it might be time to move on.

Will literary agents become extinct – especially when huge
book deals are being made by everyone from twitters to bloggers to little ebook
authors?  I don’t know. 

But I do know that it’s important to keep
a level head and not let the scary world of writing and publishing make you run
into the arms of an anyone – an agent or someone like them – who promises to
be a hero but, instead, becomes a hindrance. 

Scary? 
Yes.  Frustrating?  Absolutely.  But with professional writing always work to keep a clear
head and – with an agent or not – pay attention to what’s really helping you …
and what isn’t.   

Oh, dear, I’ve done it again. 

You’d think would have learned my lesson – what with the
fallout over the whole Me2 “plagiarism” thing – but I guess not. 

Just in case you may have missed it, I have a new book out,
called Finger’s Breadth.  As the
book is a “sexy gay science fiction thriller” about queer men losing
bits of their digits – though, of course, there’s a lot more to the novel than
that. 

Anyhow, I thought it would be fun to create another bout ofcrazy publicity by claiming that I would be lopping off one of my own fingersto get the word out about it. 

Naturally, this has caused a bit of a fuss – which got me to
thinking, and this thinking got me here: to a brand new Streetwalker about
publicity … and pushing the envelope.

The world of writing has completely, totally, changed – and
what’s worse it seems to keep changing, day-by-day if not hour-by-hour.  It seems like just this morning that
publishing a book was the hard part of the writing life, with publicity being a
necessary but secondary evil.  But
not any more: ebooks and the fall of the empire of publishing have flipped the
apple cart over: it’s now publishing is easy and publicity is the hard part …
the very
hard part.

What’s made it even worse is that everyone has a
solution:  you should be on Facebook,
you should be on Twitter, you should be on Goodreads, you should be on Red Room,
you should be on Google+, you should be doing blog tours, you should be …
well, you get the point.  The
problem with a lot of these so-called solutions is that they are far too often
like financial advice … and the old joke about financial advice is still
true: the only successful people are the ones telling you how to be successful.

That’s not to say that you should put your fingers in your
ears and hum real loudly: while you shouldn’t try everything in regards to
marketing doing absolutely nothing is a lot worse.

But, anyway, back to me.  One thing that’s popped up a lot lately has been people
telling me that I’ve crossed a tasteful line in my little publicity stunts –
that somehow what I’ve been doing does a disservice to me and my work.

Yeah, that smarts. 
But hearing that I also have a rather evil little grin on my face: for
what I’ve done is nothing compared to what other writers have done.

Courtesy of Tony Perrottet of The New York Times (“How
Writers Build the Brand“), comes more than a few tales of authors who
have done whatever they could – and frequently more than that – to get the word
out about their product.  Case in
point are these gems: ” In 1887, Guy de Maupassant sent up a
hot-air balloon over the Seine with the name of his latest short story, ‘Le
Horla,’ painted on its side. In 1884, Maurice Barrès hired men to wear sandwich
boards promoting his literary review, Les
Taches d’Encre. In 1932, Colette created her own line of cosmetics sold
through a Paris store.”

Ever hear of a fellow by the name of Hemingway?  Well, Ernest was no stranger to GETTING THE
WORD OUT.  A master of branding, he
worked long and hard not just to get noticed but become the character that
everyone thought he was – to the point where we have to wonder where the
fictional Ernest began and the real Hemingway ended.

Then there’s the tale of Grimod de la Reynière (1758-1837),
who turned the established idea of “wine and dine to success” by
staging a dinner in celebration of his Reflections
on Pleasure – though the guests were locked in until the next morning and, while
they ate, Grimod lavished the assembled with anything less that praise.  Outrage ensued – to put it mildly – but
his book became a bestseller.

One of my personal favorites, though, is Georges Simenon –
and not just because he lived in a rather exotic arrangement with his wife and
claimed to have made love to over 10,000 women – but because he’d planned a
stunt to write a novel in 72 hours while in a hanging glass cage in the Moulin
Rouge – with the audience encouraged to choose the book’s characters, title,
and more.  While Georges sadly
didn’t carry out his plan that hasn’t stopped other writers from trying their
hands on the similar: Harlan Ellison, for instance, used to write in the front
window of the now-defunct Change of Hobbit Bookstore in Los Angeles. 

So should you lock yourself in a glass cage?  Lock in a party of critics?  Hire a hot air balloon?  Stick flyers on windshields?  Claim that another writer has stolen
your identity? 

Well, it’s up to you, but keep in mind what another author has
said – also known for his publicity: “There is only one thing in
life worse than being talked about,
and that is not being talked about.”

Oscar Wilde may
not have lived in the age of the Internet but he, like Hemingway, Grimod, Poe, Simenon,
Maupassant, and so many writers before or since, understood that it’s important
to stand out from the crowd. 

Certainly it’s risky, absolutely it can backfire, but at the
same time there is a very long tradition in authors having a total and complete
blast in getting the word out there about their work. 

Before I wrap this up, I want to say one final thing about
near-outrageousness and publicity. 
While I can’t speak for Hemingway, Grimod, and all the rest, I can
speak for myself: money would be nice, fame would be pleasant, but why I’ve
taken these risks and accepted the occasional backfires is because I’ve had a
blast writing these books and so I’ll do whatever it takes to get them out into
the world — and read. 

To quote Groucho
Marx: “Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a
dog it’s too dark to read.”