Tuesday, March 23, 2004

Poor, pitiful me

The "Poor, pitiful me" tactic has worn very thin with me of late. So when The Confessions of a Semi-Successful Author over at Salon was brought up for discussion at the SFWA message boards, I had a predictable reaction:
I saw the link to the story on Gaiman's blog. And I was agog at the "poor, pitiful me" schtick this "writer" laid on heavy and thick. Discounting myself--since I have a day job I'm not about to quit any time soon--I know quite a few midlisters who the biz has treated far worse than this person. And if she's ready to hang up the old word processor after three books with mediocre sales (or was it five? She kept referring to proposals she was shopping, so I'm not clear) then she really wasn't in it for the long haul, anyway.

I mean really, come on. Look at Howard Waldrop for instance. This writer's living high on the hog in comparison. She don't know from suffering.

Of course, someone piped up not too long after that, suggesting that myself (along with others) who weren't moaning in sympathy for this poor victim of publishing's vagrancies were being dismissive of her cries of victimhood and spiteful out of envy. So I posted the following response:
Hey, if that had happened to me, I'd be frustrated, too. But I wasn't referring to me in my response to the article. I've seen a lot of promising writers' careers stopped dead in their tracks because of publishing crap far worse than Jane Austen Doe ever dreamed of. Reading her article, I'm struck by a sense of entitlement on her part. She expects everyone to do everything for her. Even when she's proactive, she hires publicists to promote her book for her.

Jane Austen Doe started from a strong position and didn't do anything with it. If her name is dragging her down, then by golly go with a pen name. Megan Lindholm didn't piss and moan when editors stopped returning her calls--she invented Robin Hobb and starting kicking ass and taking names. Sharon Lee and Steve Miller aren't sitting around waiting for Sharp Young Promoter to give them a choice between Good Morning America and the Today show. Joe Lansdale isn't the success he is today because he was handed a six-figure advance right off the bat--that man worked his tail off placing stories in obscure, poor-paying niche markets before building a rabid fanbase and parlaying that into increasing success. And Joe's never limited himself--he writes horror, mystery, westerns, fantasy, science fiction (okay, not much SF but still), comics, TV scripts... he works every angle, and presses the flesh at every manner of con imaginable, connecting with existing fans and making new ones along the way. The man never stops.

Yet Jane Doe Austen has to be told by her agent she needs to be working on a new proposal or book? Please. I'm not envious of her, I'm exasperated!

Now, to be completely fair, I don't know that Jane Austen Doe didn't attempt all the stratagems mentioned above in support of her book (almost certainly a non-fiction piece--it's highly unlikely early, unsuccessful novels would be generating the kinds of advances she's getting). But she never mentions doing those things, so I have to assume she didn't. And she's never suffered through her book becoming orphaned after her editor left the publisher, or her entire publishing line ceasing to exist after a corporate merger and restructuring. Or having an editor literally rewrite the entire book behind her back. Or having the publisher tell her she's got to write a share-crop novel for Big Name Author with no advance, otherwise your next contracted novel Will Not Be Published, sight unseen. True stories, one and all. Jane Austen Doe has no idea how good she's got it.

Now Playing: Genesis Abacab

No comments:

Post a Comment