I was thinking the other day about the way books come into being. Part of that is the production process at the publishing house and part of that is the creative process of the author. You’d think that one would get done before the other, but in reality, the two parts of the process tangle up a bit. So, I was thinking about that – as I read page proofs – as well as my emotional connection with my work and how that waxes and wanes over the process of the book’s creation.
So, guess what? I’m going to share all of that with you.
1. Glimmers.
Books start with glimmers. These aren’t even cohesive enough to be called ideas. They’re notions, “what-if’s”, little bits that are intriguing. A glimmer can be a line of dialogue, a line of prose, a description of a character, a sketch of a conflict. Glimmers are intriguing one-liners. Catching a glimmer is like seeing something move in the woods, but not seeing it clearly enough to know what it is or was. You never know which glimmers will amount to anything.
I used to write down my glimmers, but after filling a couple of notebooks with bits and pieces, I gave it up. I cast my glimmers into the domain of “survival of the fittest” – the glimmers I remember are the ones that count. (Although I still write down the occasional glimmer that I really like.)
2. Ideas.
Ideas have more meat on the bone than glimmers. Ideas are more comprehensive. Ideas are of the “what if this kind of character met that kind of character and they were on opposite sides about this situation?” variety. Ideas are intriguing, maybe more intriguing than glimmers. The details of ideas aren’t all worked out yet, but ideas are more substantial than glimmers.
My ideas tend to be more structural while my glimmers tend to be more poetic. They both need to come together and integrate to make the work interesting, in my opinion.
The thing with ideas is that they are literally a dime a dozen – in fact, it would be neat to get that much money for them! I have hundreds of ideas, they just generate all of the time. Like glimmers, I stopped writing ideas down years ago. I cannot possibly write books from all of the ideas that I have – which means that they too are subject to natural selection. It’s a blessing when I forget some of them because choosing which ones to develop is always the hardest choice for me.
3. Proposals.
Proposals are formal documents. A proposal is what an author sends to the publisher when the author is seeking a new contract – it’s how ideas are presented as books, before they are actually written into books. A fiction proposal typically contains a synopsis – where the author has to get down and dirty with the idea and prove that it works as a story arc – and some sample chapters. Depending on the author’s sales history, that sample can be a scene or a chapter, three chapters or a whole book. The sample shows the tone and pacing of the planned book and is a taste of the product to come.
For me, writing the proposal is the first time I commit the idea and the glimmers to paper (or a comparatively fixed medium, like a word processing file). This is when I get serious about the idea and the glimmers, sufficiently serious that I’d like to write the actual book. When I write the proposal, I’m in for writing the book.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out that way.
4. Ghosts
Writing a proposal, however, is no guarantee that any editor will buy the proposal or that the proposed book will ever see publication. It’s really common to write a proposal and find that it doesn’t strike the editor as interesting or marketable, or that the proposal doesn’t jive with the direction the house would like to take the author’s work – or with the direction the house has decided to take their own list.
This is where commerce and creativity can collide. It’s really common for authors to get hooked on telling the stories of continuing characters, for example, and the publisher to be ready to try something new and fresh, maybe to invigorate the author’s brand. It’s common for authors to get excited about new ideas that don’t excite anyone else, maybe because the author is the only one who can envision the finished book in all its fabulousness, maybe because the author is, um, wrong about how terrific the idea is.
Yes. It pains me to admit that, but the truth is that authors are the creative party at the table and publishers should be the sales party at the table. Editors should know what is selling, what their house can sell well, and have an idea of where the market is going. It’s all speculation, of course, but publishers have much more data than authors. We run more on gut, on “wouldn’t it be cool if…”, we chase our muse and get seduced by her chatter, and sometimes we’re right and sometimes we’re wrong. And sometimes maybe we’re just not sufficiently persuasive!
I call proposals that don’t sell “ghosts”. Characters who have had their proposals written are more tangible than glimmers and ideas – they have begun to take shape in my mind, because of the process of writing synopses and sample chapters. I can hear their voices. I can see them. I know what they will do in some situations and am curious to see what they will make of the situation I intended to put them into. So, they’re harder to banish or to forget than glimmers and ideas. In a way, natural selection doesn’t work because they’re already survivors – they’ve fought their way through to proposal and aren’t going to disappear that easily.
I think I’ve probably packed three or four dozen ghosts into my office over the years. I don’t want to count them and find out, because there are probably more than that. They are a casualty of the publishing process and the vagaries of the market.
5. Manuscript
When a proposal does sell, it’s time for the real work to begin. The book has to be written, usually in time for an agreed deadline. This can be any number of months away, depending upon what has been negotiated between author and editor.
In this phase, the synopsis gets fleshed out into scenes, the characters take on serious substance (and will often insist upon changing the story line to suit themselves) and the book grows beneath the author’s fingertips. It’s an exciting process and a challenging one. I love the actual writing of the book, the polishing and the obsessing, the charts and the spreadsheets and the pages of notes, the post-its stuck all over my desk, the dreams and revelations. It’s what I do, possibly even what I do best, and I am in my glory when I’m writing a book.
One mistake that new authors often make is assuming that this period of time will be uninterrupted – but the purchase of the proposal has kicked the publisher’s production process to life. So, my tip from me to you (new author) is to figure out when you think you can finish the book manuscript and add a month to your delivery date, just for insurance. If you deliver early, everyone will love you – the same cannot be said if you deliver late.
Wow, five stages and we haven’t even looked at the publisher’s production processes yet. Let’s break this post up – more tomorrow about book birthing!