I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a lot of doom and gloom about the place at the moment. You all know what's wrong with the world and probably have a list of people to blame alongside a heap of specific personal daily crises to deal with before even considering knuckling down to write.
I have become teacher to a six year old, professional make up model to a three year old, financial emergency service to a twenty four year old and tee total at quite the wrong time.
But rather than rehearse the problems I thought it might be good to accentuate the positive, so here goes.
We know this feeling
As self employed creatives we've always been in a precarious position when it comes to employment and finance, it's odd to find the rest of the world joining us. However, we know what this feels like, we are used to this uncertainty. It's easy to get caught up in the hysteria of those experiencing this for the first time through no fault of their own and certainly not through choice. And yes, everything else that is going on adds to the stress of the situation more than usual, but take a deep breath, you of all people have got this.
What do you normally do when work dries up? You dig it out. You self start. You get your stall in order so that when everything is open for business you are ready to go. What did you do the first time? You knew nobody, you had no contacts, you just had yourself and you got started. It's exhausting but you need to do it again.
Write something you love.
I just wrote a sketch for Crackerjack. Is it going to pay me a fortune? No. Is it going to get my kid through maths? No. Is it the best use of my time? Probably not. But then again - in a time like this, what is? It's very easy to think that what we do, in the scheme of things, isn't really contributing much. I'm not on the front line, I'm not saving lives, I'm not looking for a cure, I'm not fixing the problem, I'm writing fart jokes and covering grown men in custard. Here's one I made earlier...
But - and this is crucial - it's what I do. It's what I'm good at. Not everybody is equipped to fix the global problem we face. The best thing anyone can do in this situation is what they do best and trust it will be enough. If everyone does their best, we'll get through this. Right now a fart gag might not be helping, but give it six months and we'll all be in need of a laugh.
Do what you can today to make tomorrow better.
There is still work out there.
It's hard to find and even harder to get but it is out there. In particular the animation industry is responding to this crisis very well indeed. If you have ever written for animation then dust off the contact list and start emailing, if you haven't then spend some time investigating how you might. One thing this virus has taught us is how quickly things can dry up. Learn what you can from it.
Most live action scripting is being shelved, but animation is going great guns, try and skill up so that the next time this happens you've got places to turn. If you don't fancy scripting start thinking about an original idea. Or even try and turn that book idea that may be hard to get off the ground right now into an animation idea and start pitching - people will want content, you can give it to them.
On the book front, educational publishers still seem to be generating work. Anecdotally I know this isn't true for every publisher, but I have been approached by a couple in recent weeks to consider pitching new ideas. Again, if you've ever done any educational work dust off those contacts, email those commissioning editors and see what you can dig out. As with everything, it's tough and it's competitive but you never know.
Good luck, stay safe and lets hope May brings sunshine and beer gardens and pubs that are open.
Showing posts with label author. Show all posts
Showing posts with label author. Show all posts
Saturday, 4 April 2020
Wednesday, 4 September 2019
Take my money, the value of a good agent - Ciaran Murtagh
The relationship between writers and their agents can
sometimes feel one sided. We do all the hard work and they take 15% of the
rewards. That doesn’t seem fair!
We live in a world where the need for an agent seems less clear. We can publish ourselves in a variety of ways and if we wish
to go the traditional route then access to those who can help us has never been
more transparent. Thanks to Twitter and Facebook we can make direct contact
with publishers and their emails are often in the public domain – so
what is it an agent brings to the party?
In the rose tinted halcyon days of the Hampstead set, they
were a confidant and a friend. Taking you out for long lunches to discuss your
latest career defining masterpiece. Moulding you into the visionary they always
knew you were. Then there’s the more modern view of agents – hardnosed short
termists who’ll drop you as soon as the hits stop coming. Thanks Ed Reardon.
So every now and then, it’s natural, as writers, to find
ourselves questioning the role of our agent and whether or not we need one. Could we do
this better on our own, or at least just as well and take all the money? Often, when things are
going well, we probably could. When editors are approaching us directly for our
next idea, when books are coming thick and fast, it seems a doddle. All an
agent does is say ‘yes’ and ‘how much’ – we could do that.
The truth is, I’ve found you should never judge a value of
an agent when things are going well. The true value of an agent emerges when
things hit the buffers. My best agents have always been the ones who phone to
check in when they haven’t heard from you for a while. The ones who call you in
for a meeting to discuss your next idea when you don't actually have one. The
ones who set up a meeting with an editor they know you’ll like just to see if
something sparks.
Most importantly, they’re the ones who’ll wade in when the
money isn’t coming or isn’t what it should be. A project I’m working on
recently went very wrong. It was my biggest job of the year. The money coming from
it was significant and without it I was going to be in trouble. Without my agent I’d have lost the lot, as it
stands her intervention has saved the project and renegotiated the deal in my
favour. Has she earned her 15% - one
thousand times over, just don't tell her that. And it wasn’t just the money, the emotional support, the advice, the reassurance, all of that gave me the
feeling that I wasn’t on my own in a business where you often are.
So if you’re thinking about whether or not you need an agent
in your life, get out there and meet some. Don’t take the first one that says ‘yes’,
find the one who’ll have your back, no matter how tough things get – and if you’re
planning to make a career out of your craft, they will get tough sooner or
later and then you'll come to appreciate an agent's true value.
Friday, 28 September 2018
Book events across cultures - Clémentine Beauvais
A while ago I wrote a blog post for ABBA about the differences between school visits in France and in Britain. Today I thought I’d write one about the differences I’ve observed between book events open to the public in Britain, France and Germany.
My experience isn’t entirely representative, of course, but I’ve now done quite a few book tours/ book events (at fairs, in bookshops, or in other contexts) in those three countries and there are some striking differences that are quite revealing, I think, of the ways in which authors, books, and reading, are positioned and thought of in those three contexts.
I’m here mostly talking about single-author events, not round tables, which are (as far as I can tell) quite similarly run. And my experience is of children's and YA literature events, not adult.
France: The author as mysterious authority
The vast majority of public book events in France take the form of an interview, with a bookseller, journalist, moderator, chair or other literature expert asking the questions. As I mentioned in my other blog post, the author’s position in such events is one I’d characterise as a subject supposed to know, in an almost oracular position, authoritative and mysterious, full of potential answers that the interviewer’s questions may or may not unlock.
Authors in France, as far as I can tell, generally don’t have firm ideas of the main points they want to convey in an interview. They wait for questions, and they answer them. Their personas on stage tend to be pretty much reflective of their personalities. They might be cheerful and communicative, or shy and fearful, or haughty and snobbish, or dull and boring. They certainly, as far as I can tell, don’t consider the interview to be a performance, but very firmly a literary discussion. There is an expectation that the book event will be informative.
The questions are generally highly complimentary - it’s very rare to hear trick questions, or criticisms (even veiled) of the book. They tend to be very respectful of the author’s private life and very rarely intrusive; any biographical interest is generally motivated by the contents of the book or by general discussion of writing. Most of the questions are quite literature-focused.
The book event may or may not be followed by a signing. While the promotion of the book is evidently an aim of the event, it is rarely clearly foregrounded as such. It would be considered, I think, quite distasteful for an author to self-promote during the event, actively encourage listeners to buy the book, or sing the praises of their own work.
Britain: The author as show/wo/man
It is, of course, very frequent in Britain to have interview-format book events, too. But even in those - and, even more so, in other types of events where authors actually put on a show (with or without Powerpoint), it is clear that the author’s role in British book events is more proactive, more promotional, and more performance-driven than in France.
The author in Britain is here to sell their book, and the narrative they build around the book - which may lead to some quite private information to be given - is part of the publicity for the book. There is an expectation that the book event will be entertaining.
The questions are generally complimentary, as in France, but I have observed that they tend to be less specific than in France - questions are willfully quite broad, in order perhaps to serve as platforms for the author to tell the story of their book and of their writing.
I would say that doing a book event in Britain feels like much more like acting than in France, with the drive to make one’s personality considerably sunnier and funnier than in real life (this, of course, with variations to match the contents of the book).
Authors in Britain, it seems to me, have quite a clear idea before going on stage of the main messages they want to communicate about the book; its pitch; its unique selling points. Those things are, it’s worth saying, much more part of the genesis of the book and the publishing process in the first place: in Britain, you know your pitch, in part because the agents, editors and publicists have been refining it for months. In France, where pitch-driven writing is less a thing (even in children’s literature), there isn’t a huge expectation that you should be able to sum up the book quickly.
The book event is almost always followed by a signing and generally, that aspect of it is considered as perfectly natural. The author’s self-promotion and encouragement to the audience to buy the book is not seen as weird.
Germany: The author as builder and sharer of words
My first book events in Germany puzzled me utterly. I was expecting a French-style interview, the only difference being the presence of an interpreter (I don’t speak German), and the slightly odd labelling of the event as ‘Reading’ didn’t register with me as being an actual thing. This was a book fair with teenagers, there was a fee, it was an hour long - it obviously wasn’t going to be a Reading.
It was. In Germany, very many book events involve remarkably long readings from the book that the author is promoting. Not only that - from a very young age, children get accustomed to sitting in rooms listening to people reading from books. Reading, I mean, sitting down at a desk, with the book. That’s it. The first time, I thought - there is no way in heaven that those teenagers are going to listen to 15 minutes of reading out loud, with no acting, no background, no nothing. But they did.
Normally, events with young people consist of brief-ish readings - 10, 15 minutes, and in between, some questions. Still, that is a much longer amount of time than either France or Britain would normally consider feasible. For adults, I’m told, book events in Germany can consist of literally one hour of reading. There is an expectation that the book event will expand one's imagination.
In such events, the author, I think, is positioned principally as a builder and sharer of words, someone whose creation of an atmosphere, a world, a cast of characters, will fill up the whole space for considerable amounts of time. It is less about talking around the book than about entering the book - letting it speak for itself.
In-between the reading, there may be questions, and questions in Germany tend to be more thought-provoking and more critical than in France and Britain, I’ve found. There’s less of a sense that the interviewer should always be adoring. You can get quite tough - though always kindly worded - questions on anything from your literary choices to your ideological viewpoint.
As in France, the author doesn’t put on a show for such events; I would say that their ‘usual’ personality, give or take the inevitable alterations induced by being on a stage, is generally what you see. A signing generally follows the book event, though, like France, I have a sense that it wouldn’t be considered very tasteful to advertise that fact too strongly.
-------------------
Again, those are generalities, not absolute facts, and they’re drawn from admittedly limited experience, but such experience tells us a lot about the cultural scripts that define in a given country at a given time what an author is, what kind of knowledge they’ve got, and how a book is considered in relation to the audience, the market, and its genre. Let me know in the comments what it’s like in other countries, too…
-----------------------------------
Clémentine Beauvais is a writer and literary translator. Her YA novels are Piglettes(Pushkin, 2017) and In Paris with You (trans. Sam Taylor, Faber, 2018).
My experience isn’t entirely representative, of course, but I’ve now done quite a few book tours/ book events (at fairs, in bookshops, or in other contexts) in those three countries and there are some striking differences that are quite revealing, I think, of the ways in which authors, books, and reading, are positioned and thought of in those three contexts.
I’m here mostly talking about single-author events, not round tables, which are (as far as I can tell) quite similarly run. And my experience is of children's and YA literature events, not adult.
![]() |
| celebrating Franco-Germanic friendship on my birthday last year... |
France: The author as mysterious authority
The vast majority of public book events in France take the form of an interview, with a bookseller, journalist, moderator, chair or other literature expert asking the questions. As I mentioned in my other blog post, the author’s position in such events is one I’d characterise as a subject supposed to know, in an almost oracular position, authoritative and mysterious, full of potential answers that the interviewer’s questions may or may not unlock.
Authors in France, as far as I can tell, generally don’t have firm ideas of the main points they want to convey in an interview. They wait for questions, and they answer them. Their personas on stage tend to be pretty much reflective of their personalities. They might be cheerful and communicative, or shy and fearful, or haughty and snobbish, or dull and boring. They certainly, as far as I can tell, don’t consider the interview to be a performance, but very firmly a literary discussion. There is an expectation that the book event will be informative.
The questions are generally highly complimentary - it’s very rare to hear trick questions, or criticisms (even veiled) of the book. They tend to be very respectful of the author’s private life and very rarely intrusive; any biographical interest is generally motivated by the contents of the book or by general discussion of writing. Most of the questions are quite literature-focused.
The book event may or may not be followed by a signing. While the promotion of the book is evidently an aim of the event, it is rarely clearly foregrounded as such. It would be considered, I think, quite distasteful for an author to self-promote during the event, actively encourage listeners to buy the book, or sing the praises of their own work.
Britain: The author as show/wo/man
It is, of course, very frequent in Britain to have interview-format book events, too. But even in those - and, even more so, in other types of events where authors actually put on a show (with or without Powerpoint), it is clear that the author’s role in British book events is more proactive, more promotional, and more performance-driven than in France.
The author in Britain is here to sell their book, and the narrative they build around the book - which may lead to some quite private information to be given - is part of the publicity for the book. There is an expectation that the book event will be entertaining.
The questions are generally complimentary, as in France, but I have observed that they tend to be less specific than in France - questions are willfully quite broad, in order perhaps to serve as platforms for the author to tell the story of their book and of their writing.
I would say that doing a book event in Britain feels like much more like acting than in France, with the drive to make one’s personality considerably sunnier and funnier than in real life (this, of course, with variations to match the contents of the book).
Authors in Britain, it seems to me, have quite a clear idea before going on stage of the main messages they want to communicate about the book; its pitch; its unique selling points. Those things are, it’s worth saying, much more part of the genesis of the book and the publishing process in the first place: in Britain, you know your pitch, in part because the agents, editors and publicists have been refining it for months. In France, where pitch-driven writing is less a thing (even in children’s literature), there isn’t a huge expectation that you should be able to sum up the book quickly.
The book event is almost always followed by a signing and generally, that aspect of it is considered as perfectly natural. The author’s self-promotion and encouragement to the audience to buy the book is not seen as weird.
Germany: The author as builder and sharer of words
My first book events in Germany puzzled me utterly. I was expecting a French-style interview, the only difference being the presence of an interpreter (I don’t speak German), and the slightly odd labelling of the event as ‘Reading’ didn’t register with me as being an actual thing. This was a book fair with teenagers, there was a fee, it was an hour long - it obviously wasn’t going to be a Reading.
It was. In Germany, very many book events involve remarkably long readings from the book that the author is promoting. Not only that - from a very young age, children get accustomed to sitting in rooms listening to people reading from books. Reading, I mean, sitting down at a desk, with the book. That’s it. The first time, I thought - there is no way in heaven that those teenagers are going to listen to 15 minutes of reading out loud, with no acting, no background, no nothing. But they did.
Normally, events with young people consist of brief-ish readings - 10, 15 minutes, and in between, some questions. Still, that is a much longer amount of time than either France or Britain would normally consider feasible. For adults, I’m told, book events in Germany can consist of literally one hour of reading. There is an expectation that the book event will expand one's imagination.
In such events, the author, I think, is positioned principally as a builder and sharer of words, someone whose creation of an atmosphere, a world, a cast of characters, will fill up the whole space for considerable amounts of time. It is less about talking around the book than about entering the book - letting it speak for itself.
In-between the reading, there may be questions, and questions in Germany tend to be more thought-provoking and more critical than in France and Britain, I’ve found. There’s less of a sense that the interviewer should always be adoring. You can get quite tough - though always kindly worded - questions on anything from your literary choices to your ideological viewpoint.
As in France, the author doesn’t put on a show for such events; I would say that their ‘usual’ personality, give or take the inevitable alterations induced by being on a stage, is generally what you see. A signing generally follows the book event, though, like France, I have a sense that it wouldn’t be considered very tasteful to advertise that fact too strongly.
-------------------
Again, those are generalities, not absolute facts, and they’re drawn from admittedly limited experience, but such experience tells us a lot about the cultural scripts that define in a given country at a given time what an author is, what kind of knowledge they’ve got, and how a book is considered in relation to the audience, the market, and its genre. Let me know in the comments what it’s like in other countries, too…
-----------------------------------
Clémentine Beauvais is a writer and literary translator. Her YA novels are Piglettes(Pushkin, 2017) and In Paris with You (trans. Sam Taylor, Faber, 2018).
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Saturday, 10 September 2016
And They Call It...Puppy Love - Eve Ainsworth
I mentioned
on my last blog that my next post might have a doggy bias. I’m afraid my
prophecy was correct. But hey, don’t be too hard on me. My last few weeks have
been puppy obsessed – I’ve barely been able to focus on anything else – so what
else can you expect. Having a puppy really is like having another baby – expect
this one is likely to nip every part of you and chew up your socks.
But I’ve
nagged my husband for this dog for 10 years, so I can hardly complain, can I? I
have also justified it by saying a dog is good for my writing. These are my
strong (yeah, right!) arguments:
- · A dog means walks. Which means lots and lots of thinking of time. Lots of plotting, lots of character development. My brain will be bursting with ideas.
- · Walks mean people. I get to meet lots of other people getting on with their business. Interestingly, dog walking means meeting the same people at the same time – also great for character development etc. And:
- · Meeting people stops me being a little hermit rotting away at my desk, which also:
- · Stops me eating ALL THE JAFFA CAKES
- · Also, having to look after a puppy is all about structure - certain times to take him out for exercise, training, toilet etc, so I have to fit in my writing accordingly. I seem to write better when I have to fit my writing into time slots (I am a sadist, obviously)
- · I get to take lots of puppy pictures and post them on Instagram. I like to think this is boosting my presence online. OK, I’m kidding myself – I just like taking pictures of my cute dog.
- · When I get a bad review/tough edits/writers’ block (delete as appropriate) I now have a puppy to snuggle to make me feel better.
- · I have an excuse to look bedraggled, un-made-up, and tired due to lack of sleep and early morning alarm calls (otherwise known as barking…).
- · I have someone to talk to, other than the biscuit tin.
Anyone want
a puppy picture to motivate them today? Go on then, you twisted my arm
Have a
great day
Eve and
Woody xx
Wednesday, 10 February 2016
Libraries Matter - Eve Ainsworth
I had a favourite place to go as a kid. I’m thinking a lot
of you would be the same. This place was large and exciting. It was full of my
favourite things and it was totally free. What would I have done without my
library?
I’d spend hours, sitting cross legged on a tiny window seat
reading through my latest collection. Then I fill up my rucksack with my new
choices and walk home, bubbling with excitement. I used to love the feel of the
books pines pressing against my back. I spend weeks enjoying my reads, before
taking them back and starting all over again.
The library fed my addiction. And thank goodness it did. I
wasn’t from a well-off family, we couldn’t afford to buy books on a whim – so
libraries were vital for me. I can honestly say I wouldn’t have become the
author I am now without access to one.
Working in schools, I spoke to young people where the
situation was the same – they relied heavily on the library service. Not only
to borrow books, but also to access services such as creative writing groups in
the area. Where else would they go? I worked in a deprived area - for these
students a fully functioning library was vital.
So it breaks my heart when I hear of these services being
cut across the country. Ok so, I’m lucky where I am in West Sussex, we’re not
too badly affected. But I’m constantly seeing on my Twitter and email timeline
a different picture being painted across other authorities.
So by the time you read this, I will have ended my first
rally – Speak up for Libraries in London – where authors such as Alan Gibbons,
Philip Adargh, Cathy Cassidy and I will be speaking alongside other speakers to
help fight back against these cuts.
I’m not the type who usually gets involved in demonstrations
such as these. I’m usually the type of person that moans quietly in the privacy
or my living room, or posts a grumbling comment on Facebook. But this is
different. This ignites the spark of the younger me. A child who needed the
access of the library service in order to develop and flourish – and there’s so
many of these children still out there.
As I will be saying in my speech. Bevan once said of the
National Health Service “it will last as long as there are folk left with the
faith to fight for it”
The same goes for libraries.
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Friday, 26 June 2015
Under Cover by Julie Sykes
In
the good old days if you’d asked me what I was reading I would give you the
title of my current book. Ask me the author and I’d know that, too. Ask me the
publisher and you’d have yourself a hat trick.
So what’s changed, apart from my age - and seriously, I’m not anywhere near old enough to start blaming that for a poor memory.
Well,
I think it’s the way I’m reading. In the good old days I bought books. Lots of
them. My guilty pleasure was to have a stack of books, lying horizontally on
the shelf, all waiting to be read.
These
days I read on a Kindle. It’s SO transportable. When I go on a journey I can
take as many books as I like and all in the one handbag. It’s much easier to
buy books. I finish one and can purchase and download the next, immediately.
And (I’m VERY ashamed to admit to this – probably a post for another blog!)
e-books are cheap.
And
here lies the problem with my poor memory. When you put a book down the cover
is there, waving. Goodbye. It winks
each time you pass it. Remember me? We
were having such fun together. When are you coming back? It shouts LOUDLY at
you when you finally pick it up again. Yay!
Knew you couldn’t resist me.
The
author’s name plays along. On the cover, nudging you gently. Whispering in your
ear. My name’s…..Can we be friends?
The
publisher’s name is there, too, a little more discrete, often on the spine, but
still a presence. Ahem, excuse me for
butting in, but did you know that The Little Fox Paw Printing Press brought you
this story?
There
are many excellent things about the e-reader, but trust me, the cover isn’t
one. For a start, unless you read on a tablet or something similar, the cover
is grey. It’s also very shy. You see it once, at the start, and sometimes not
even then if the book automatically opens on the first page.
So
here’s a challenge to any clever inventors or techie types out there. Design a
cover for an e-reader that displays the book currently being read and in
colour. Can it be done? Is there a market for it? What do you think?
ps
My current reading book is a real one. Bits of its lovely cover are shown here
in the text. If you haven’t guessed by now, then it’s I’ll give you the Sun by Jandy Nelson, published in the UK by
Walker Books.
I knew all that without having to think about
it!
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