L’esprit d’escalier

Hill: I have a request
for l’esprit d’escalier

me: What’s up?

Hill: that you outline what the process IS we’re going through,
from writing to editing to query letter to partials to fulls and to representation
so I can link it to people
and go
HERE THIS EXPLAINS IT

—

Ask and ye shall receive.

Note: this is the third time I’ve tried writing this post. I keep veering off into tangents that, while they’re pretty relevant, take their sweet-ass time actually answering the above request.  So let’s see if I can stop trying to explain the whole of the book industry and just, y’know, explain what we’re up to over here.

As you know, Bob, Hill and I wrote a book. It’s a young adult fantasy novel.  It doesn’t suck. We went back and forth over the course of about a year and a half, writing 1,000-2,000 words before passing it back to the other.  Every now and then we’d get together and rehash what was left to write.  We wrote until it was done.

We had what I call our zero draft. It was a completed manuscript, yes, but it wasn’t ready to go out into the world.  We handed it over to a few people for a read-through, to help us catch inconsistencies and glaring errors, and then we edited the hell out of it. We took a look and got rid of scenes that didn’t advance the plot, cliches that didn’t spice up the writing, and put that bad cat into standard manuscript format.

Then it was time to find an agent. There are several steps to this, so let’s break out the bullet points:

• First, we did our research. Would you ask  your vegetarian friend to taste your bacon-wrapped-in-bacon recipe and recommend it to other people?  Nope.  For that same reason, you need to find agents that represent the genre in which you’re writing.  You don’t submit, say, contemporary YA fantasy to someone who only represents non-fiction.
• Then, we worked on our query letter. Queries are nerve-wracking.  You have about a page — really just a few paragraphs — to explain why your book kicks ass, and why that particular agent would be right for you.  I’ve spent a lot of time at Query Shark, looking to see what other people got right and wrong, learning how to write something that should stand out.  In addition to the query letter, a lot of agencies ask to see the first 5-10 pages.  So, we have dual nail-biting going on there: the query is mostly me; the first few pages are mostly Hill.  Fortunately, the combination of the two seem to have garnered us some interest. Win!
• If an agent likes the query and sample pages, he or she requests a partial. “Partials” are pretty much exactly what they sound like: part of the manuscript.  The amount an agent will want to see varies.  For the most part, it’s been a request for the first 30 pages or first 3 chapters.  Others have asked for 50 pages/first 5 chapters.  It depends on how much of the story that particular agent needs to get a good feel for the story.
• If an agent likes the partial, he or she requests the full. “Full” is just like it sounds, too:  someone wants to see the whole gorram thing.  Hill and I have had a few requests for fulls so far.   If queries and partials were nerve-wracking, waiting on responses for fulls are even more so.  Because…
• If an agent likes the full, he or she offers representation. This is where, when it finally happens, we will run around in circles screaming and generally embarrassing ourselves.

Of course, having representation doesn’t mean we’re published yet, does it?

Once we have an agent, that agent will show the books to editors. And we start the whole damned process over again, only this time, we have someone who has the trust of editors and publishers on our side, being enthusiastic about our work and getting it on publishers’ desks.

If an editor likes our book, they will make an offer.  At that point, the agent would present the offer to us, go over the contract with us, and advocate for us so we get the best deal we can.  (Those two sentences alone could spiral into so many digressions.  Understand I’m oversimplifying here.  I’ll eventually post a little more in-depth about how offers get made — it’s not just “Hey, I like your book, have a wad of cash” — and why agents are so damned essential to the process.)

Once we’ve signed with a publisher (which is when you’d say our book has been aquired), we’ll go through rounds of revisions.  Editors make your book better.  They help with plot and pacing and turn your book from pretty awesome into wicked awesome.

When the revisions are done, and probably a thousand other things I’m glossing over, the book will be scheduled for release. It’s honestly probably about a year-long process, maybe even two, from when the book is bought to when it hits bookstore shelves.

Think of it this way:  right now, people here are working on books that will be in bookstores in the spring/summer of 2011.  They were probably acquired in the fall of 2009 or very early in 2010.  So, even if an agent were to offer us representation tomorrow and we had a deal by the end of the summer, chances are, Nin wouldn’t be on bookshelves until the fall of 2011 at the earliest.  More likely, spring of 2012.

Couple of things about all of the above, as if I haven’t thrown enough at you:

–Every agent is different.  Some have requested fulls right off of the query letter.  Some have online forms to fill out instead of the queries.  Some of them want a synopsis, too, which makes me weep copious tears.**

–Agents’ response times vary.  Some get back to us in a day or less.  Others take weeks.  Still others take months.  There are more than a few who state that if we don’t receive a response, we can assume they’re passing on the work.  That gets pretty frustrating, figuring out at what point we move the agent off of the “query response pending” part of the spreadsheet and stick it on the page I’ve named “Rejections “

–BEA was about three weeks ago.  It’s the big publishing industry trade show, where publishers, editors, agents, authors and booksellers go and gorge themselves on books for three days.  It also means everyone falls behind on what comes into their inboxes.  Some agents receive hundreds of queries a day, so imagine the overflow they came back to.  Which means when we’re going, “But Agent Awesome’s website says she’ll get back to us in three weeks and it’s been four,” we have to sigh at the calendar and remind ourselves she’s probably still clawing her way out of everything that came in during BEA.

Anyway. The TL;DR version of the post is this:

1. Write book
   
2. Revise manuscript
   
3. Query agents
4. Get partial requests
5. Get full requests
6. Get agent OMFG YAY!
7. Agent sends manuscript to editors
8. Editor makes offer
9. Happydance
10. A year-ish later, see our book on actual bookstore shelves.

So.  Questions?  Comments?  Anything I can clarify?  Any parts of this process you want me to go into in further detail?  Have at it!

**A synopsis is a two or three page outline of your book, from start to finish.  Where a query letter presents the central problem without revealing the resolution, the synopsis wants the spoilers.  Query letters let you inject a little humor and your own voice.  A synopsis is just the facts, ma’am, or, as I put it to Hill: “It’s like watching the boring dude in the office explain the plot of last night’s Awesome TV Show.  It’s hard not to go, ‘but funny shit happens in here, I SWEAR!’“

I guess it was sort of inevitable that I’d end up a gamer.  When I was little, my older, cooler, drinking-age cousins were partial to Crown Royal.  When my parents threw a party, the twins would arrive with their bottle of whiskey, and I’d ask them if I could have the bag it came in.  Back then, I didn’t even know what I’d do with it, just that it held some kind of mysterious potential, and as soon as I figured out what to put in there, the magic would happen.

It wasn’t until years later, when I was in college, that I understood precisely what those bags were for.

That’s when I met Greg and was invited to sit in on a few gaming sessions with his group.  Someone pulled out a Crown Royal bag full of dice.

Finally, I understood what those velvety purple bags were truly destined to hold.  Not whiskey, but dice.

When *cough*-edyteen years later** Gameplaywright announced they’d be publishing a book about gamers and their dice, I knew I’d have to have it.

Last week, I finally got my grimy little paws on The Bones: Us and Our Dice.  And lo, it is awesome.  If you’ll pardon my clumsy attempt at a review, I’m going to ramble a bit about it here.

There’s a little something for every gamer geek in The Bones. Want a history of dice and ancient games?  It’s there.  Prefer the same in comic form?  John Kovalic of Dork Tower delivers, and shows us how little our relationships with the dice have changed over the millennia.  In every article and essay, I found myself nodding and grinning along in the spirit of shared experience (as Will Hindmarch says in his introduction, “Welcome home, nerd.”)

I read the interview with GamesByEmail’s  Scott Nesin on the train ride home, and within five minutes of walking in the door, had the video of his Dice-O-Matic up so I could see it in action.  

In his essay “The Unrollable,” Pat Harrigan puts voice to all the anxieties I’ve had as a GM, and makes me feel like maybe I was doing it right, after all, when it came to my relationship with dice.  I was never a very dice-heavy GM because, well, my dice hated me. Remind me to tell you the story of how I had to suddenly pull the hidden villain out of the shadows several sessions early because a player’s lucky (really lucky.  Like, a handful of d10s coming up 10s lucky) roll killed off his right-hand man mid-dramatic escape arrrrgh.

But I’m not bitter.

Geekery abounds in the pages of The Bones. The contributors’ tales about the games and gamers in their lives make you feel like you’re sitting around at a gathering of roleplayers, swapping stories about those unforgettable moments of badass.  But these men and women have worked behind-the-scenes, too, developing some of the games we’ve loved, and working in several aspects of the game industry.  

The Bones is about more than just the clatter of dice on the table and that time you really needed a 20 and the polyhedral gods smiled down upon you (or turned their angled, carved-ivory faces away).  The essayists explore deeper questions, too — how dice reflect the randomness of life, how we might know, rationally, that there’s a statistical element to the rolls, but we go through our luck-drawing rituals anyway, and why we do those things.

Orders for the limited hardcover edition are open through the end of this week.  After that, orders for The Bones will be for the paperback edition.  Hie thee to Gameplaywright and order it. It’ll have you digging into your own Crown Royal bag and tossing out some rolls.

**I just did the math and realized that soon, I’ll have been gaming for more years than I haven’t.  I know, I know, some of you are well past that point.  What can I say?  I came to it later than a lot of other fellow geeks.

This probably isn’t going to be big news to any of you.  Matter of fact, if you know me outside of this blog — if I’ve been to your house, or you’ve been to mine; if you’re a fellow WoW geek and we share a guild tag; if when one of us has passed through the other’s town we’ve met for a meal — you already know this and it isn’t news at all.

If you’ve been reading the blog for a while and put on your Sherlock hat, you might’ve sussed it out already; it’s not something I’ve been trying to hide, exactly.  More something I’ve simply left out.

And, truly, it’s not an earth-shattering confession.  I’m certainly not a Name anywhere.  You’re not going to sit back from your keyboard, stunned and shocked and jaw-dropped when you read it.  However, I’d like to get it out of the way so I can feel comfortable talking about some of the things I’d like to chat about around here, but haven’t, because I wasn’t fully disclosing.  So.  Onward.

It’s no secret that I work for a publisher.  I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned at least once that I’m in sales, and if I went digging, I’m also pretty sure I’ve mentioned my company is one of the Big Six.  But I’ve left the publisher’s name out because, well, this is a personal blog, and while I’ll happily spout forth about the book industry in general, I’m not going to go into specifics about what I do during the day.  Because that would get me fired, and I’m kind of keen on that whole having-a-job thing.

The problem with that, though, is when I’m jumping up and down going “OMG I LOVE THIS BOOK SO MUCH,” if it’s one of ours, I feel weird not saying, “oh, and by the way, I work for the publisher.”  Which means I’ve talked about books in the past, but left out ours, and… well, I dunno.  The bookseller in me thinks that’s really bloody unfair.

Here’s your last chance for sleuthing: click that link and start eliminating publishers.  You can also knock Macmillan off the list, since I gushed about The Gathering Storm, and Simon & Schuster, since I wouldn’t shut up about Under the Dome last fall.  So, with the rest of that list, you can cross off Houghton Mifflin* (Life as We Knew It) Penguin (The Warrior-Prophet, The Name of the Wind), S&S again (Uglies), and Random House (Iron Angel).  That still leaves three big ones.  I’m too lazy to look back and see if I talked up any Harper books (though I did post pictures of my ARC of Fool).

I’ve talked about working in Boston.  Scholastic doesn’t have offices here that I’m aware of.

Which means, if you know your Big Six, you can see who’s missing.

Ladies and gentlemen, I work for Hachette Book Group.

Pick yourselves up off the floor, please, it’s unbecoming.

Now, like I said above, I’m neither a mover nor a shaker.  Not in the company, not in the industry.  If you said my name to someone (unless they’re one of my booksellers) they’d stare at you blankly and say “Who?“

I’m a sales rep, but I always feel like I need to put on the qualifier that I’m in telephone sales.  This doesn’t mean I call you while you’re having dinner and try to sell you stuff you don’t want.  I have an established territory.  I call booksellers whose stores might be smaller, or in out of the way places, or who just don’t need a rep coming out to visit them but still want someone they can call and talk to when they have questions.  I do the same things a field rep does, with the exception of selling face-to-face.

I talk to booksellers about books all day.  It is the best job ever.

It’s also the best company ever.  I’m not saying this to cover my ass in case someone at HBG sees this post.  I’m saying it because every day, something happens that reminds me I work with some of the smartest, savviest, most passionate people in the publishing industry.  From the top down, we have an amazing crew.  There are a lot of unsung heroes at any publisher.  They do jobs that, if you don’t know all the intricacies that go into getting a book on the shelf, you might not even realize existed.  I get to work with many of them, and they keep things running smoothly.

Did I mention the part where I get to talk to booksellers about books?  My buyers are amazing.  I’ve been talking to some of them for eight years now, and a week doesn’t go by that I don’t learn something from them.

I have several buyers who will geek out with me over sf/f books.  We’ll call or email one another and say “Have you read this yet?  Remember the part where…?”  Most of these are Orbit titles.  My booksellers get to go out and handsell them.  I’d like to gush to you lot about those same titles, but I’ve refrained since, well, they’re books I get paid to sell.  It didn’t seem right telling you to go buy a book without the disclaimer that I work for the publisher, so I just kind of self-censored.

Except… except that means I haven’t been talking about some of the books that I’ve absolutely loved, and the books I’m super crazy excited about, and that’s just anathema to me.  Yes, I’m a sales rep, but as I’ve said before, I still consider myself a bookseller at heart.  Booksellers spread the word about the books and authors that they feel strongly about because, well, we’re book lovers.  And if you’re here, reading this, I’m guessing you’re a book lover, too.

Which means, god damn it, we should be talking about books regardless of the ISBN prefix and the little symbol on the spine.

The official stuff, to satisfy my own personal ethics and for our official blogging policy:  the views and opinions expressed on this site are mine and mine alone, and do not reflect the views or opinions of Hachette Book Group.  If I say something stupid, it’s me, not the company.

And, to satisfy the FTC thinger, you can assume that if I’m writing about a book published by HBG, I have received a free ARC or have the manuscript on my shiny little Sony eReader.  (Though, more often than not, if I love a book, when it comes out I’m either buying a copy for myself or buying one for a friend who I think will love it, too.  Because I like it when authors get paid for their books, since that means they get to write more books for me to read.  I also like it when bookstores get to sell books, which keeps them open so I can go shopping in them.  I like bookstores being open.  I’m totally selfish like that.)

Understand, too, that I don’t get any kickback from anyone or anywhere if you lot go out and buy the books I recommend.  The only people who benefit monetarily from you buying books I recommend are the authors and the bookstores.  If you look, I don’t have any ads on here, and I don’t have any affiliation with bookstores that’d earn me money if you bought books through a link on my site.  I do encourage you to buy books through independent bookstores, thus the link to IndieBound over on the side.  But that’s because I like independent bookstores (see above paragraph), not because they’re slipping me twenties through the interwebs.

Lastly, if you have questions about what I do, it’s totally fine to ask, and I’ll answer to the best of my ability.  I reserve the right not to answer certain questions, especially if you’re asking me for proprietary information, or for specifics that I’m not comfortable putting out there on ye olde internet (see: not wanting to get fired).  But I’ll let you know if that’s the case.

Okay?  Okay.

*Houghton-Mifflin isn’t one of the Big Six, but they are one of the last big publishers in Boston, and they’re pretty damned awesome.

(aka “One of these days, I’ll write up that post about Dragon Age…”)

So, my tweet from last night (upon reading that Hachette will also move to an agency model for ebooks) not only got quoted by GalleyCat, it also became the post’s headline.

Um, hi, GalleyCat readers!
/shy wave

Before I send more links at you with Yet Another Update, I figure I ought to state this for the record (even though it’s probably kind of obvious anyway, and I know you’re a smart lot, but just in case):

I do not actually think Amazon should pull the buy buttons from any books, no matter how big or small the publisher, or how well any particular book or author is selling or not selling.

This hurts the authors. I don’t like hurting authors. I think pulling the buy buttons sucks, and that there had to be ways Amazon could have communicated their disagreement to Macmillan without kicking authors in the teeth.

The tweet was my smartassed, bravado-laden way of saying I’m so gorram proud of Hachette right now I could dance. True story: when I read the original GalleyCat post about it, I crowed “HA!” so loudly I scared a cat. (I did not, however, actually burst into dance, as I have no rhythm and the poor cat was already freaked out enough.)

Anyway, links to people far smarter than your hostess:

A new statement from Macmillan’s CEO. (For those of you keeping score at home: Macmillan 2, Amazon 0 on that. Still not a word from Jeff Bezos.)

Over at the Whatever, John Scalzi tells us why publishing isn’t going away anytime soon. In the form of a three-act play. With ass-kicking. He also interviews himself about the ongoing Amazon/Macmillan situation. He is truly a man of many talents.

Via GalleyCat, a picture of the New York Times ad for The Checklist Manifesto which lets readers know that the book is “available at booksellers everywhere except Amazon.” (Dear Macmillan marketing and/or publicity departments: /fangirl. Love, falconesse.)

Jackie Kessler gives us a one-week update and some thoughts on eBook pricing.

Teresa Nielsen Hayden responds to and expands upon Susan Pivar’s HuffPo piece.

Cat Valente talks about what would happen in a future in which everyone self-published. (Spoiler: it’s not filled with rainbows and ponies and frolicking.)  Also, look at her comments on what the people at her publisher do. A quote!  For pony awesome!

If I hear one more person toss off editors like their completely irrelevant to the process, I’m going to have to smack an internet. This is not an auteur kind of gig. It is a team effort, and that is a good thing. What happens when one person has all the power to make artistic decisions without input from anyone else? The Phantom Menace, that’s what happens.

Blake Charlton, whose book Spellwright is coming out from Macmillan this week, has a conversation with the universe about What Happens to a Debut Author’s Brain on #Amazonfail

Also, my order filled with Macmillan-author goodness has shipped from Porter Square Books. /happydance. My offer from the other day still stands! Go forth and purchase books, o ye readers!

(And one more update, filed under “holy crap, the internets are full of win today:”  The Authors Guild launches Who Moved My Button? since y’know, Amazon doesn’t notify you themselves. h/t to the ever-awesome Lilith Saintcrow.)

Update #2:  First, Tobias Buckell does math for us, wondering why people want more expensive backlist titles.

And, according to PW, the buy buttons are starting to come back on Macmillan titles.  No word yet on what the terms of the agreement were, though I suspect it’ll be Macmillan who steps up and fills us in, not Amazon.

Another round of links for you lot.  Amazon’s stated that they’ll “capitulate” to Macmillan’s desires, but as of this writing, Macmillan books are still unavailable on Amazon except through third parties.

John Scalzi outlines All the Many Ways Amazon So Very Failed the Weekend.  He also puts out a call to support the authors, who in the end are the ones getting hurt by the Amazon/Macmillan standoff.

Jay Lake brings up some very salient ponts in his open letter to Kindle and eBook activists, including this one that’s been bothering me since Amazon’s snide little forum post:

So far as supposed corporate lying goes, note that Amazon was quick to inform you of the high side of the Macmillan proposal, but not of the part of the proposal that benefits you. That’s lying by omission, and it certainly fanned the rage of the Kindle community quite effectively. That’s a piece if corporate spin which has kept you from seeing the long term advantages to Kindle owners of what’s been proposed.

I caught that in the Amazon post as well, and it made me fume.  Amazon cited the highest price point that Macmillan wants to use, and conveniently left out the part where the low end of the range is $5.99, and that the books that start out at $15.99 will eventually drop down in price.  Just like print books do as they go from hardcover to trade paperback to mass market.

Here’s where Jay Lake starts fighting with Tobias Buckell for my internet heart:

Third, much of the anger I see is from people who assume that ebook prices are a rip-off because an ebook obviously costs much less than a print book. This is not true on the plain face of the facts. The actual physical costs of a print book — paper, printing, binding, packaging, warehousing, etc. — are less than 10% of the cover price, even in small volumes, and drop to less than a dollar per book for large volume titles such as bestsellers. The money that goes into a book is dominated by acquisition costs, editorial costs, production costs, layout and design, art, marketing and business overhead. Ebooks must bear all those same costs as print books.

[...]

If you don’t understand why it costs a lot of money to make a story into a book, go learn about it. You’ll be surprised at how many people work very hard to put that story in your hands, whatever your preferred format. And every one of those people has to eat, pay rent, and get through life, just like you do. That means they need to be paid, and that means the book costs money, regardless of the publishing format.

I love you, Jay Lake.  (Yes, I’m one of those people working hard to put stories in readers’ hands, even though most readers will never even know my position exists or understand why it’s important.)

Early Word points out that, despite their professed love for the $9.99 price point, there are plenty of Kindle books out there that are much more expensive:

Amazon has worked to give customers the perception that Kindle e-books cost $9.99, but if you are not buying bestsellers, Kindle prices can be quite a bit higher than that. Of the nine titles with full reviews in the current NYT BR, only one is available in a $9.99 Kindle edition; three are not available at all (these do not include any Macmillan titles; curiously, the one Macmillan title reviewed, from Palgrave Macmillan, is available for the Kindle. Guess Amazon doesn’t realize they’re part of Macmillan) and the rest were just $1.13 to $2.83 less than the hardcover price. In one case, the hardcover through a third-party retailer was cheaper than the Kindle version.

Now, they further point out that consumers prefer the lower prices:

none of the titles in the 100 top-selling Kindle titles was above $9.99 when we checked yesterday; the majority of the top “sellers,” 55 titles, were free; 25 titles range in price from $.01 to $9.60 and just 20 titles were at the magic $9.99 price.

And as many of the authors weighing in have said, that’s fine, too.  But they want their publishers to have the chance to give higher prices a try, not have it dictated to them by a retailer.  If no one will buy the eBooks at $15.99, guess what?  Publishers will lower the prices.

And here’s something that makes me boggle at Amazon’s tantrum, via Marion Maneker: under Macmillan’s plan, Amazon will make more money than under the current system.

I know far less than I should about how and why stocks rise and fall (despite my grandfather’s valiant attempts to teach me when I was in high school), but Amazon’s stock price took a hit on Monday.  Because of the announcement of the iPad?  Or because of their treatment of Macmillan and its authors?

Today, the Authors Guild responded, backing Macmillan and calling this “the right battle at the right time:”

If Macmillan does indeed prevail, the economics of authorship in the digital age are likely to improve considerably. We may go through some rough stretches to get there, however.

I’m still hoping very much that some of the remaining big six will respond and stand with Macmillan.

Have I linked to Jackie Kessler’s line-by-line of the Amazon response?  If not, here ’tis.

You know who still hasn’t said a word?  Jeff Bezos.  The only Amazon response so far is from “the Kindle team” on their forums.  I don’t even know what to make of that tactic.  I suppose he could be going for “this is beneath me,” but I’m going to trust a company a lot more if their CEO stands up and defends its actions somewhere visible (it’s called a press release, Jeff, use it), rather than farming the job out to nameless minions who post it on a message board.

So, here’s the deal: I’m putting my money where my mouth is, and answering Scalzi’s call for support.  Just purchased from Porter Square Books, all published by Tor:

John Scalzi, Old Man’s War
Jay Lake, Green
Tobias Buckell, Crystal Rain
Brandon Sanderson, The Well of Ascension
Elizabeth Bear, All the Windwracked Stars

Now, I’d like to share the love a bit, and am trying to figure out how.  Here’s what I’ve got: from now until next Friday, February 12th, for the first three people to comment and show me that they’ve purchased a book from a Macmillan author, I will match that purchase, up to $25, with another book of your choice from a Macmillan author.  So, if you buy a $7.99 paperback, I’ll match it with another book for $7.99.  You get to pick which one, obviously.

A couple of questions I’ll answer pre-emptively.

–Proof-of-purchase = a picture/scan of your receipt, or if you buy it online, a screenshot of the purchase (go ahead and fuzz out identifying information, though.)  I will also accept action shots of you buying the book in a bookstore.  Bonus points if it’s an indie bookstore.  (Though, if you get the hapless sales clerk in the shot and plan on uploading the picture to flickr or something, make sure you get the bookseller’s permission to do so, please!)

–The books you buy, or the ones I match, don’t have to be Macmillan books, as long as the author you choose has at least one book out from Macmillan.  For example, Elizabeth Bear has books from both Tor and Bantam Spectra.  You might already own all of her Tor titles.  Therefore, her Bantam Spectra books do count for this, since, as I said, this is in support of the authors.

–This should go without saying, but should Amazon decide to magically relist Macmillan’s books between now and the 12th, Amazon purchases do not count.  If you send me a picture of you opening your box full o’Amazon stuff, I will come through the internets and smite you.

Anything else I can clarify?  Let me know!

The short version: this past Friday night, after everyone who could respond had gone home for the weekend, Amazon.com pulled the buy button from all Macmillan titles on their site.  This includes Kindle editions and print editions.  You can still purchase them from third-party resellers, but not directly from Amazon.  If you are a customer and had any of their books on your Amazon wishlist, guess what, those are gone, too.

There’s not much I can say about this that hasn’t been said in better and smarter ways by people more directly affected by this than I am, so I’m going to keep this short and send you off to see what the professionals are saying about it.

As James D. MacDonald said in his comment on the Making Light thread:

To my way of thinking, that makes three times Amazon has pulled this kind of crap.

First, they decided to delist any POD publisher that didn’t print their physical books at CreateSpace. Then they made all gay books vanish from searches. Now this.

“Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.”

Other commenters pointed out that if you add in their yanking of 1984 from the Kindles of those who’d purchased the book and a similar incident to the Macmillan situation at Amazon UK (this time against Hachette UK), we’re up to five rounds of shenanigans.

Now, does Amazon have to sell Macmillan’s books?  No.  Nor, by the way, does Macmillan have to sell their books to Amazon to redistribute.  But the ones who lose in either scenario are the readers and, especially, the authors.  Could Amazon have perhaps pulled just the Kindle editions instead of all print ones as well?  Certainly.  Still not a great solution, but at least one that makes the point without kicking the authors in the teeth quite so hard.

And hey, if 50% of all their books sold are Kindle editions, as Bezos likes to claim — without providing any evidence to back it up, mind you — then wouldn’t removing the eBook editions still make Macmillan take notice?

That said, I think yanking all editions — print, Kindle, or crayon-on-wall — is a shitty solution no matter what way you look at it.  You’re a bookseller.  Your job is to provide books to readers. I can’t help but feel it’s unprofessional to drag your readers into your dispute with the publisher.  Which is probably also part of what Amazon’s doing, by the by:  telling their customers that Macmillan’s the bad guy here, because they want to charge more money for eBooks, so it’s the publisher’s fault.

But if you look at what Macmillan actually wants to do, which is start eBooks off at a higher price when they’re first released, but eventually lower the price, similar to the way prices go down as print books go from hardcover to trade paperback to mass market editions, that’s hardly a bad thing.  The people who want to read something on release will pay the higher cost.  Others will wait until it goes down a few dollars.  Others will just borrow it from their local library in its physical form.  The same way we do with dead tree books.  The same way we do with just about any product, really, be it clothing or gadgets or movies.

I’m guessing Amazon’ll be putting Macmillan’s buy buttons back tomorrow or early this week, having “shown them” what going against Amazon’s wishes can do to them.  I’m hoping that Macmillan will stick to their guns on eBooks, and that other publishers will back them up.  (Hint:   I’m looking at you, Hachette, Simon & Schuster, Random House and HarperCollins.)

Before I let you go, might I recommend you show some support for the Macmillan authors and for your indie bookstores?  Click on over to IndieBound and treat yourself to a book!

Right, so.  Linky time.  Go refill your coffee and get clicking.

Let’s start off with a primary source.  Amazon’s not commenting, but Tor.com has A Message from Macmillan CEO John Sargeant that was sent to the publisher’s authors, illustrators, and the literary agents that work with them.

SFWA is hosting Tobias Buckell’s post about “Why My Books Are No Longer Available on Amazon.com” – if you read no other articles about this situation, read Buckell’s. He makes his point in a clear, calm way.  He also explains why producing an eBook isn’t all that much more expensive than producing its print equivalent.  I’ve said it here before: the price of printing and binding a book is between $1 and $3.  Everything else goes to what Buckell lists: editing, copyediting, design, marketing.  He mentions that the publishers’ offices are part of that cost, but I’d add a little more to it: the paychecks of the customer service department, the finance department, the IT group.  All those departments that every company anywhere has exist at a publisher, and their operation comes out of whatever’s left after you subtract the bookseller discount from a book’s cover price.

Another excellent post is over at Charlie Stross’ blog: “Amazon, Macmillan: an outsider’s guide to the fight.” It takes a good look at Amazon in regards to the supply chain for books.

John Scalzi has two articles over at the Whatever: “A Quick Note on eBook Pricing and Amazon Hijinx” and “It’s All About Timing.” The second article takes a look at why Amazon would pull their stunt on a Friday evening as opposed to a Tuesday morning.

Making Light, home of Tor editors Teresa and Patrick Nielsen Hayden, has a short post, “Amazon and Macmillan,” but that’s because the commenters are brilliant people, and the discussion is one to follow.

Jay Lake’s title says it all: “Bug off, Bezos.  And take your damned bookstore with you.”

Jackie Kessler has a great analysis of the situation at “Amazon vs. Macmillan, part 2.”

More quick links:

Laptop Magazine: “Amazon, Macmillan, and the eBook Price War”

Laura Anne Gilman, “AmazonFail, part 2?”

I’ll update as more comes up.  I’m equally anticipating and dreading Amazon’s official comment, when it comes.

Update 1: Amazon’s finally responded, and, as predicted, they’re trying to make Macmillan into the villains here. I’m frothing too hard at the mouth to even really respond to it right now, except to say that while they “don’t believe that all of the major publishers will take the same route as Macmillan,” I hope they do.

Update 2: Laura Anne Gilman does a line-by-line of Amazon’s response better than I ever could.  “Holy shit. Amazon, seriously? Sulky 5-year-old much?”  ahahahaha

And Tobias Buckell has a brilliant idea: “Together, Let’s Break the Amazon Monopoly on Kindles.”

I haven’t been around much, mostly because we went to Ireland at the beginning of the month, and I’m taking my sweet time getting back into the swing of things.  We took a lot of pictures, which you can see here.  I was reminded, while snapping photos, that I’d really like to take a photography course at some point.

Of course, on seeing the Long Room at Trinity College in Dublin, I also declared that I shall become a bookbinder, and spend the rest of my life restoring old books.  We took two steps inside and I stopped, gazing up and gaping, and wishing the ropes didn’t block off the books because I wanted to just plunk myself down on the floor between the shelves and breathe them in.  Of course, that’s precisely why they’re cordoned off, so that people can’t reach out and touch the books with oily fingers and do damage to them.

But oh, I could be very happy among those books.

So, other things I’ve done in the last month:

Nin got cleaned up, edited, and passed along.  It’s an exciting first step, but of course, now comes the waiting.  The person who has it has other duties, and the person she’ll show it to has other duties, both of which I understand take priority over reading the manuscript.  Doesn’t stop me from biting my nails.   So, while the method of passing it on isn’t exactly your typical querying process, the waiting part is about the same.

Still trying to settle on a project.  Grailchild makes me go argh when I open it.  Night Owls would be the less frustrating one to go with, but man, part of me says, “Dude, the market is glutted with vampires.”  Then of course my practical voice argues back that writing for “the market” is pretty ridiculous.  What’s big now might not be big in three years.  Or maybe it will still be going strong, or maybe it will have seen a lull and a resurgence.  Then there’s poor Karris, who needs some serious worldbuilding before I go back to him.  Also, “Kate.”  Also, Lil’s story.

And, even less helpful, this morning I had the idea for what I think could be a clever little story, if done right, but I’m afraid it’s gimmicky, or trite, or both.

I should probably just shut up and write it.

I’ve done some reading, though not nearly as much as I’d like to.  The pile of books is ever-growing.

I finally read The Gathering Storm, and loved it.  Sanderson’s an excellent writer.  What struck me, even in the first few pages, was this:  of course I didn’t go into it expecting Robert Jordan’s voice.  I expected Sanderson’s, and wasn’t disappointed.  What I didn’t expect was to feel like I was coming home as I read the prologue.  Sanderson has often said that he was a WoT fan from the start, so I was fairly certain he’d do a respectful job at finishing the series.  Maybe it was simply reading about places and people I’ve been wondering about in the back of my mind for so long, but I think it’s more than that.  He got it.  I’d go so far as to say he nailed it.

Obviously, since there are still two books to go, not all of the loose threads have been tied up.  The ones he did focus on, however, had me cheering.  I don’t want to get all spoilery on people, so I hope I’m not spilling too much when I write holy shit, Verin!

I’m still on my first play-through of Dragon Age: Origins, and having a blast.  There’s so very much story here, I don’t want to miss a single thread.  Which of course means I’m maybe 2/3 of the way through the game (I think? Maybe?) and I don’t want it to end.  I know I’ll play it through at least once more, as a different race and class, and probably rotate out more of the characters.  I’ve mainly kept Morrigan, Alistair and Leliana in my party, and when I put Sten and Thrall in for a little while the other day, there were suddenly even more interactions I realized I’ve been missing.  (Yes, I stop and watch the idle back and forth between my party members when we’re wandering around, even though it’s less plot-progression and more comic interactions.)

I’ll probably also pick some of the meaner answers next time through, since I’ve gone the “I want you all to think I’m awesome” route this first time.

There are RP plots afoot in WoW, which means a good chunk of writing on that front for both Threnn and Annalea.

So, pen in hand, butt in chair.  My only real goal for 2010 (aside from paying off bills and saving money) is to get something published.  Which means I need to get things submitted.  Which means I need to get them finished.

Which means I ought to close out this post.

If you participated and won NaNo this year, you might have seen the offer from FastPencil for a free bound copy of your NaNo project.  Sounds pretty keen, doesn’t it?  Write a book in November, see it published in December?

Yeah, not so much.  Printed in December, sure, but not published.

Look, you’ve just written at a brain-breaking pace for thirty days.  What you’ve got is a good start — you wrote something!  That’s amazing!  But it’s not done.  It’s not polished, it’s not the best story it can be.  It’s not ready to be published.

And when it is — when you’ve gone ahead and made your changes and made sure it’s ready to be published, why not shop it around first?  Why not give it a chance to get the kind of distribution that gets books into bookstores?

I’m a little alarmed to see Galleycat’s post today, “Fast Pencil Sees National Novel Writing Growth.”  While FastPencil’s not doing the exact same thing DellArte is, they certainly marketed themselves to a similar audience — people who’ve just finished their books, who are excited and passionate and hopeful about it — but people whose books are just not ready.  And people who, it’s very likely, aren’t very savvy about the publishing industry and how it works.

There are going to be NaNoers who take advantage of the offer as a novelty — it’s a souvenir, a bit of tangible proof that they cranked out fifty thousand words in a month.  Maybe they wrote the book just for mom or grandpa or their BFF, and they have no intentions of trying to get it commercially published.  To those people, this is a neat deal.

But to the writers who have dreams of being the next Nora Roberts or JRR Tolkien, well… This isn’t the way to go.

FastPencil offers packages that are very similar to the ones you see at DellArte or AuthorHouse, though they certainly offer more information about pricing — there’s a calculator that lets you see the base price of your book, much like Lulu.com has.  They even break down some sample pricings so you can see what your royalties would be.

One thing that makes me a bit uncomfortable:  the information on how you get paid is buried waaaaaay the hell down at the bottom of their FAQ:

How and when do I get compensated for my publications sold through the FastPencil MarketPlace and third party retailers?
FastPencil accumulates author royalties by calendar quarter, and then pays them out to authors using NET30 terms. You must have accumulated 100.00 USD in royalties to generate a payout; otherwise it continues accumulating into the next calendar quarter.

So, let’s look at this a bit.  (Oh god, she’s mathing again.)

If you want to sell your book exclusively through the FastPencil Marketplace — no distribution or listing with other online retailers — that’s not terribly expensive.  The cost of one “proof” of your book or $19.99 for an eBook.  (Digression the first: paying for a proof seems strange to me.  The whole point of a proof is to make sure everything is laid out properly and to catch typos before the book is released to the masses.  Why charge for that?)

But, well.  Why would you want your book’s only exposure to be on their site?  Don’t you want it to be out there, sharing the same virtual space as other books from other publishers?

Of course you do!  And you can do that for the low low price of $149.99 — $199.99 if you want an eBook format, too — plus the cost of one “proof”.

What you’re paying for there, essentially, is your ISBN, and FastPencil releasing your ISBN/title info into ye olde data feed.

Ahem.

Through R.R. Bowker, the ISBN agency in the U.S., a block of 10 ISBNs is $275.00.  That’s $27.50 per ISBN.  So what exactly is FastPencil doing with rest of the $121.50 ($151.50 with the eBook option!) they’re charging you?  Surely, it doesn’t cost that much to enter your title info and make it go live.  That’s not even an hour’s work, surely.  (If there’s someone out there getting paid $100+ an hour to enter that data, someone send me an application!)

Let’s go with their numbers here.

They offer two choices, targetting a retail price or targetting a profit margin.  In both examples, the book in question is a 5×8, 200 page trade paperback.  Going with a $14.00 retail price obviously gives you a smaller profit than setting the price at $17.12.

(Digression #2:  As was pointed out to me in the comments to one of the Harlequin Horizons posts, retail price and cover price aren’t always the same thing, since retailers can take discounts off of the cover price.  Royalties should always be based on the cover price.  I’m going to try to use the term “cover price” from here on out, but “retail price” is the phrase that FastPencil uses to describe the price set by the author.)

Experiment with me!  Go to your bookshelf.  Pull out three commercially published trade paperbacks.  Count how many pages they have and tell me their cover prices.  (If you have a ruler, check the trim size, too!) My results:

Book 1: 365 pages, $13.99 5×8
Book 2: 208 pages, $12.99 5 1/4 x 8 1/2
Book 3: 312 pages, $13.99, 5×8

See the start of the problem here?  Setting the price of the book at $14.00 is the more competitive option, even though the other two $14.00 books have 100 more pages than the FastPencil sample.  The 208 page book is a dollar lower.  Do you have a 200-page book on your shelf?  Go pick it up.  See how skinny it is?  Would you pay $17.00 for that book in trade paperback, or would you move on to something cheaper?  ($17.00 in hardcover, sure, but trade?  Really?)

I’ll do the math on both prices.  Let’s assume our eager NaNoer goes with the print and eBook option, since she’s hip to this whole eReader thing.  That’s $199.99.  A proof of her 200 page 5×8 book will run her $7.80.  So she starts out $207.79 in the red (I’m not counting tax and shipping, but they do charge both.)

With the “Target a Retail Price” Method:

Her book has a cover price of $14.00.

Sales of the printed book through FastPencil’s Marketplace earn her $4.96/book.
Sales of the printed book through Amazon/B&N/Ingram earn her $0.48/book (and doesn’t that come close to the Harlequin Horizons/DellArte math?)

Remember how they send out payments?  No payment until you’ve accrued $100 in royalties.

Before she receives a royalty check, she will have to sell:

$100/$4.96 = 20 copies through the FastPencil Marketplace

OR

$100/$0.48 = 208 copies through Amazon/B&N/Ingram.

Before she’s earned back her initial $207.79, she will have to sell:

$207.79/$4.96= 42 copies through the FastPencil Marketplace

OR

$207.79/$0.48= 434 copies through Amazon/B&N/Ingram

With the “Target a Profit Margin” Method:

Her book has a cover price of $17.12.

Sales of the printed book through FastPencil’s Marketplace earn her $7.46/book.
Sales of the printed book through Amazon/B&N/Ingram earn her $2.00/book

Before she receives a royalty check, she will have to sell:

$100/$7.46 = 14 copies through the FastPencil Marketplace

OR

$100/$2.00 = 50 copies through Amazon/B&N/Ingram.

Before she’s earned back her initial $207.79, she will have to sell:

$207.79/$7.46= 28 copies through the FastPencil Marketplace

OR

$207.79/$2.00 =  104 copies through Amazon/B&N/Ingram

With the “Sell Your eBook” Method:

Let’s say she goes with the eBook price everyone is used to, kindly set for us by Amazon (yes, that’s sarcasm): $9.99.  Through their Marketplace, FastPencil takes a flat $2.00/eBook.  The other $7.99 goes to the author.  Through Amazon/B&N/Ingram, FastPencil takes $1.00, then the reseller takes $6.49. The author gets $2.50.

Ready?

Her eBook has a cover price of $9.99.

Sales of the eBook through FastPencil’s Marketplace earn her $7.99/book.
Sales of the eBook through Amazon/B&N/Ingram earn her $2.50/book

Before she receives a royalty check, she will have to sell:

$100/$7.46 = 13 copies through the FastPencil Marketplace

OR

$100/$2.50 = 40 copies through Amazon/B&N/Ingram.

Before she’s earned back her initial $207.79, she will have to sell:

$207.79/$7.99= 26 copies through the FastPencil Marketplace

OR

$207.79/$2.50 =  84 copies through Amazon/B&N/Ingram

Now, if I knew someone looking to go through FastPencil, and if they refused to listen to my “Oh god, clean it up and shop it around first” advice, and further refused to listen to my “Dude, Lulu.com” advice, well…

/sigh

I’d have to say their best bet here is to go for the retail price method and encourage everyone who’s purchasing a copy to buy it in eBook or printed form through FastPencil.

Which, y’know, covers friends and family.  Maybe.

There are, of course, other services available through FastPencil, much like the ones offered by AuthorHouse/Harlequin Horizons/DellArte.  FastPencil’s line editing is $0.006 cheaper than DellArte’s.  FastPencil’s “advanced editorial,” however, is only $0.001 cheaper than DellArte’s.  Of course, FastPencil touts their community as a great way for their authors to have peers edit their books for free.  From their “Example Scenarios“:

Barbara writes a 200 page personal memoir and enlists the reviewing and editing help of her friends Clara and Frank. The three friends use FastPencil’s free online writing tools.

and

Jose writes a 300 page history book and has his colleague Minda review and edit his work in FastPencil for free.

Well, that’s great, but what kind of editing experience do these friends and colleagues have, precisely?  They sound much more like beta readers to me — infinitely valuable to any writer, definitely able to help find flaws and weaknesses in a work and offer suggestions for improving it (if they’re good beta readers, that is, not just friends who are going to say “OMG I LOVED IT OMG!!!!”) — but beta readers are very rarely also editors.

There are more services available, of course — formatting and layout, illustrations of varying quality, cover design, etc.  And all of which, when you add on to your package, makes you that much farther from turning a profit.

Also, all of which are done for you by your publisher, if your book is published by a commercial house.  And did I mention that if that happens, you get paid?

Do I think FastPencil’s doing something shady here?  Ehhhhh.  Not exactly, or at least not in the same way others have.  They’re not luring people in using a respected name, like DellArte did in its fledgling days as Harlequin Horizons, or suggesting that their books might get picked up by another house, or even that you’re headed for bestsellerdom.  Their prices are all laid out (though if you want to use them to market your book, you need to call for details, so I can’t speak to the reality of what they’ll do for marketing and publicity).

What makes me uncomfortable is the NaNo offer, because so many of the participants are new to publishing.  They’ve just finished a book!  Many of them probably haven’t done that much research into the whole business of getting published.  So, here’s this offer dangled before them, telling them they can be published without ever having to get rejected.

As FastPencil’s VP of Sales and Marketing, Steve O’Deegan, told GalleyCat:

“We’re extremely pleased. We’re just now starting to see submissions coming in. About five percent of our total user base came in over the last 30 days of the NaNoWriMo campaign.”

and

“It’s growing substantially, and NaNoWriMo was a big part of that.”

Is that a savvy business move, offering a free trial during NaNo?  Definitely.  They know their audience, and know that November is the time to get the word out and get noticed.  But I can’t help but wonder how many writers who use FastPencil’s services could — given some time and revision — have sold their books to a commercial publisher, where not only would the books be available via online bookstores, they’d be on the shelves of actual, physical bookstores, too.

Le. Sigh.

In the comments on my rant about the Amazon/Wal-Mart/Target price war, my friend Eric and I digressed a bit into eBook pricing, and book prices in general.  Specifically, if you take the cost of printing and binding and shipping out of the equation, why shouldn’t eBooks be cheaper than dead tree books?

In today’s post, literary agent Nathan Bransford breaks down the costs associated with producing a book, including how much the publisher actually makes off of the cover price.  As he points out,

Unit costs (i.e. producing the actual book) also varies anywhere from $0.75 to $3.00 depending on the format, quantity of the print run, etc.

He figures in bookseller discounts and author royalties, and then gets into some expenses that are less obvious to readers:

But you have to deduct all marketing costs (ads, sending out copies for review, bound galleys/ARCs if any, co-op), other production costs (cover, seasonal catalog, etc.), and overhead (salaries, health insurance, rent, etc.) before you get to the profit.

How much does all the rest of that cost? I don’t know, I’m not a publisher. But my guess is that all adds up to a pretty good chunk. And let’s not forget that historically most books don’t earn a profit and those have to be paid for as well.

This is the part I want to touch on, both looking at the author’s side and at the publisher’s side.

First of all are the advantages to authors.  Commercial publishers market your book for you.  They put the titles in their seasonal catalogs, and sales reps go out and present those titles to book buyers all over the country.  Even if a book isn’t getting a full-page ad in the New York Times Book Review section, it’s still getting far more exposure than books put out by a vanity press.

Also included are the costs of galleys and ARCs.  Now, not every book will have these, but a lot of times, publishers will make them available, especially for debut authors.  Why?  Because the best advertising isn’t something you can fit into a newspaper ad.  Getting the book into readers’ hands is.  When booksellers are talking up a book before it’s released, that’s what we call buzz*.  This enthusiasm passes from bookseller to readers — the book’s pub date arrives and booksellers start handselling.  “Hi Mrs. Murphy.  Remember how much you loved The Case of the Pilfered Plotbunnies? We just got in this new book called The Plotbunny Detectives and I think you’ll like it.”

Galleys and ARCs are expensive to produce.  They tend to cost more to print than the final version of the book itself.  This is because the print runs are far smaller, so you don’t get as much of a bulk discount.  (Though, with several publishers launching e-galley programs, I’m hopeful that we’ll see even more books getting into booksellers’ hands early.)

Co-op is short for co-operative advertising.  It’s money publishers make available to booksellers for the purposes of advertising their titles.  This could be a mention in a store’s newsletter, a table display featuring certain titles, a newspaper ad highlighting certain books, or a spot on local radio stations.  It helps booksellers mitigate the cost of advertising, and it’s win-win on both sides:  the bookstore gets people to come in and shop, and the publisher sells some books.

Somewhere in that publisher’s cost are the salaries of the editorial staff, and the people designing the cover art, and the people setting up the book’s layout.

Which segues nicely into the publisher’s side.

Something to consider: the only way a publisher makes money is to sell books.  I know it seems kind of obvious, but there are so many costs associated with actually making a book a success that we rarely take into account.

There are all the positions at a publisher that the average reader might never come into contact with:  the customer service reps, the finance department, the sales force, the people working in the warehouse who put the books in boxes and ship ‘em out to bookstores.  Their salaries have to be factored into the cost of the books.

Then there’s the last line that I quoted from Mr. Bransford: “And let’s not forget that historically most books don’t earn a profit and those have to be paid for as well.”

Which means that the books that don’t earn a profit get paid for by the books that do.

Is that fair?

Hell.  Yes.

It’s part of what gives debut authors a chance to shine.  The money made by the bestsellers lets editors take a chance on an unknown and lets the marketing and publicity departments get the word out, the buzz started.  Maybe it lets them give that midlist author whose books they love another solid push.

There’s a lot of talk about how commercial publishing is an old, creaky, clunky model.  There’s days it feels like shiny new gadgets and technologies are coming so fast, publishers can barely keep up.  They start figuring out how they’re going to deal with today’s invention knowing that in a week or a month, it might be obsolete.  But for now, it’s the model we have, and it still gets books into readers’ hands.  It still gets writers paid.  Money flows towards the writer, remember?

That’s not to say that we should turn up the stereo so we don’t have to hear the creaking and clunking.  There are brilliant people out there, taking a good look at changes that can be made, at new ways of selling books.  I think we’re going to see some very cool and unconventional things coming that will work, and will challenge the way we think about publishing and distribution (or continue to challenge, might be more accurate).  But neither do I think we should just scrap the old way of doing things.  It’s so hard to get rid of because it works.  It’s imperfect, yes, but publishers and booksellers are going to be looking for ways to merge the old and the new to make something that works even better.

It’s going to be interesting as hell to see what they (we?) come up with.

*Funny thing, I’ve never liked the word.  It probably has something to do with my inexplicable fear of bees.  I see a bee flying around and it’s all oh god get away run oh god HALP. So I hear it referring to stirrings about a book and I cringe.  Hey, some people hate the word “moist.”  Language is awesome.

I had this book when I was little, called This Farm is a Mess! (Okay, yes, I had a lot of books when I was little.  This was one of many.)  Anyway, in the book, Farmer Woods was notoriously bad at cleaning up around the farm.  As you turned each page, the mess piled up — dirty dishes everywhere, towers of clutter leaning more and more precariously as the book went on.  Finally the farm animals got fed up with it (even the pigs, if I remember right!), and took it upon themselves to clean.  I remember an illustration with all the dishes stacked in the back of the tractor or a pickup truck, getting washed clean in the rain.

It’s probably out of print now, though there seem to be a bunch of copies available on alibris.  What I remember most about the book was the way my mother would read the signature phrase:  This faaaarm is a mess! (Only, with her Boston accent, it’s probably more accurate to say she said, This faaaahm is a mess!)  It sent me into giggles every time, and of course the phrase lived outside the pages of the book.

When my room a disaster area and my grandparents were coming over, she’d stand in the doorway, hands on hips, and declare, “This faaaarm is a mess!”  It was my hint to get cleaning.  Was the house in need of tidying the day after a party?  “This faaaarm is a mess!”

I don’t even remember the last time I thought about that book, but looking around at my cluttered desk just now, eyeballing all the filing I really ought to get done, I had to fight a sudden urge to declare aloud that this particular farm is a mess.  Only, my coworkers probably wouldn’t know what to do with me if I broke into the inevitable giggles, so I refrained.

Goal for this afternoon: stuff put away and organized so I can come back to neatness on Monday.

Less-tangible goals that are still housekeeping:

• Get back to the NaNoing, noreallyImeanit.
• Take those red pens I bought and get started on the edits to the Nin manuscript so Hill and I can be one step closer to shopping this bad cat around.
• Also, we need to give the poor book a title already.
• Suck it up and revise “Kate.” I think I know how to fix it.  Then figure out a home for it.
• Suck it up and send “Pomegranate” out again.  I stopped after three rejections, which is silly.
• /eyes the poor story about Lil, still running from that demon.  /sighs
• No less than three posts for WoW stuff that I owe, probably more. (Annalea post-Wrathgate, Bittertongue plots, Lyr-and-Yva scheming)
• I have a ficly story sitting in draft-form that I’d really like to finish.

I think that’s quite enough of a laundry list for this weekend.  I’ll be happy to check off even half of it.  Sadly, I don’t have a bunch of helpful farm animals to help me knock it out, so it’s all me on this one.  (No, my cats are lazy, they wouldn’t lift a paw.)