LESSON ONE: WHY DO YOU WANT TO BE A WRITER?

When I teach at writers’ conferences, I always begin by asking my students, “Why on earth would you want to be writers?” They chuckle, assuming that I’ve made a joke. But my question is deadly sober. Writing is so difficult, requiring such discipline, that I’m amazed when someone wants to give it a try. If a student is serious about it, if that person intends to make a living at it, the commitment of time and energy is considerable. It’s one of the most solitary professions. It’s one of the few in which you can work on something for a year (a novel, say), with no certainty that your efforts will be accepted or that you’ll get paid. On every page, confidence fights with self-doubt. Every sentence is an act of faith. Why would anybody want to do it?

The usual answer I get is, “For the satisfaction of being creative.” The students nod, relieved that this troubling line of thought is over. But in fact, the subject has barely been started. I rephrase my question, making it less threatening. “Why do you want to be writers?” This time, I tell my students I don’t want to hear about the joy of creativity. Squirms. Glances toward the ceiling. Toward the floor. Someone is honest enough to say, “I’d like to earn the kind of money Stephen King does.” Someone else chuckles. “Who wouldn’t?” We’re on our way.

Money. We’re so used to hearing about the fantastic advances that writers like King, John Grisham, Tom Clancy, and Patricia Cornwell receive that many would-be writers think generous advances are the norm. The truth is that, in the United States, maybe as few as two hundred writers of prose fiction make a living at it. Every Thursday, in USA Today’s entertainment section, there’s a list of the top fifty bestselling books. Non-fiction is grouped with fiction, hardbacks with paperbacks. Fifty books. A longer list of 150 books is available on that newspaper’s Internet site. The lowest book might have sold only a thousand copies nationwide. Seen from this perspective, the figure of two hundred fiction writers who make a living at it seems huge. A couple of years ago, I came across an article somewhere that said the average income for a fiction writer in the U.S. was $6,500. I believe it. The unescapable moral, I tell my students, is that anyone who wants to become a writer had better not give up his or her day job.

“Why do you want to be writers?” I repeat. The squirms are more uncomfortable. Someone admits, not in so many words, that it would be neat to be the subject of magazine articles and appear on the Today show. The writer as movie star. We go back to the usual suspects: King, Grisham, Clancy, and Cornwell (while we’re at it, let’s add Danielle Steele and Mary Higgins Clark-–there aren’t many brand names). Again, the USA Today list gives us perspective. Scan the names of the top fifty authors. I doubt that more than twenty will be familiar to you. Even fewer writers are famous than earn a living at it. More important, while I can’t imagine anyone foolish enough to turn down money, I have trouble understanding why someone would want to be famous. As Rambo’s creator, I’ve had experience in that regard, and if your idea of a good time is to be forced to get an unlisted number, swear your friends to secrecy about your address, and make sure your doors are locked because of stalkers, you’re welcome to it. One of my devoted fans talks to my dead mother and to the brother I never had. Another was never in the military, but having convinced himself that he’s Rambo, he tried to sue me for stealing his life. In a connection I have yet to understand, he also tried to sue the governor of New York and the Order of the Racoon, which I had thought was an organization that existed only in Jackie Gleason’s television show, The Honeymooners. Fame’s dangerous, not to mention shallow and fleeting. I’m reminded of what a once-important film producer said to me before his fortunes turned for the worst: “Just remember, David. Nobody lasts forever.”

So if money and notoriety aren’t acceptable answers to “Why do you want to be a writer?”, and if I won’t accept the easy answer, “Because of the satisfaction of being creative,” what’s left? My students squirm deeper into their chairs. At this point, I mention someone who seems extremely unlikely in this context: comedian/film-maker Jerry Lewis. The students chuckle once more, assuming that this time I’ve definitely made a joke. But I haven’t. Years ago, Jerry Lewis taught a seminar in comedy at the University of Southern California. A hot ticket. How did Jerry decide which of the many students who applied for the course actually got to attend? Did he audition them? Did he ask for tapes of their performances? Did he read printed versions of their routines? Not at all. He merely asked for an answer to the following question: “Why do you want to be a comedian?” And there was only one answer he would accept.

STEP #1: Write Your Project & Develop Your Credentials.

Seems like two steps, doesn’t it? It’s not – or at least it may not be. You need to write (or perhaps just develop) the project, and at the same time, you need to make it clear (first to yourself; and then to others) that you’re the best person to be writing it in the first place.
This means having the writing “muscles” to do the job, as well as having the expertise to prove it.

Step #1A: Write The Project

• Fiction: write the entire book (most novels are generally between 90K-120K words), rewrite as necessary.
• Nonfiction: Write a proposal (outline + a sample chapter or two), rewrite as necessary.
Step #1B: Develop Your Credentials
• Fiction: Publish! Win awards, grants. Try to give the appearance of a writer whose career is really taking off.

STEP #3: Decide on the Publishing Venue

All publishers are not created equal. Some are far better suited to certain types of projects than others. Review Steps #1 and #2 to
assess both your project and yourself: determine where the project (and you) would be best suited. Consider:
• Regional v. National: does your project have national appeal (will it appeal to people in Maine, Idaho, and Alaska)? Or
is your project more regional, appealing to people in a certain region (state, city, county, etc.)?
• If regional, consider: Small Presses, Specialty Presses, Regional Presses, Academic Presses
• If national, consider Medium Presses, Large Presses
• Trade v. Academic: do you envision your project to be sold primarily through bookstores and other “trade” channels, or
through educational and academic venues?
• If trade, consider Small Presses, Specialty Presses, Regional Presses, Medium Presses, Large Presses
• If academic, consider Academic Presses
• Niche v. Broad Market: does your project have the potential to reach a vast number of readers, or is it targeted towards a
specific, smaller audience?
• If niche, consider Small Presses, Specialty Presses, Regional Presses, Academic Presses
• If broad, consider Academic Presses, Medium Presses, Large Presses
• Local v. National Platform (especially for nonfiction): do you have a national platform with speaking engagements and
media across the country? Are you better known in a single region?
• If local, consider Small Presses, Specialty Presses, Regional Presses, Academic Presses
• If national, consider Specialty Presses, Medium Presses, Large Presses

Bottom line, though: the book, and the writing, must stand on its own. If the book’s fabulous enough, you don’t
need any further credentials.
• Nonfiction: Become an expert. Earn an advanced degree (Ph.D., etc.), find speaking engagements, have
personal experience in the matter, and so forth. Keep in mind that if your expertise is impressive enough, a
publisher can always find you a ghostwriter to do the writing.

STEP #2: Assess Your Project.

Go to the bookstore. Figure out exactly where your book will fit on the shelf. Make sure it fits solidly on one shelf – of course your
goal may be to cross “genre” lines, but if there’s not an initial place to put your book, bookstores (and publishing professionals) may
not know what to do with it.
Fiction comes in a variety of flavors.
• Commercial: more “plot-driven”. Genre fiction (mysteries, thrillers, romances, etc.) are often preferable to
“mainstream commercial fiction,” which tends to be harder to sell for first-time novelists.
• Literary: more “character-” or “writing-” driven. Can also have genres (literary mystery, literary thriller, etc.).
• Experimental: unique, different, genre-breaking works.
Nonfiction usually falls into two broad categories.
• Prescriptive: “How-to”. You’re providing information. Depending on the subject matter, academic books
usually fall into this category, as well.
• Narrative (Creative): You’re providing information, but in some kind of “story” format, using some kind of
narrative arc. Essays, memoirs, biographies, and so forth fall into this category.