Most Books Are Good
Most Books Are Good
Do you need to love a book to work on it? An inquiry.
Book Twitter Discourse: Is Love Required in Publishing?
A question kept popping up online this week about whether a literary agent needs to love their client’s work to take it on. As these conversations always are, it was filled with plenty of angry writers (the gist being: ‘you don’t care enough’) and defensive agents (the gist being: ‘please remember this is a job and we are paid on commission’).
This debate exemplifies a typical push-and-pull that exists in publishing. Writers, understandably, have a desire to be told “this is the bar you have to clear”, exceed that bar, and then get a literary agent and book deal. Agents and editors likewise want to set a high bar and take on every author who clears that bar, giving artists a chance to put good work out into the world and get paid something for it. These best laid intentions are then smacked across the head by subjectivity, time constraints, and economics.
Subjectivity
Let’s start with the elusive bar of excellence writers and agents and editors are trying to clear. My theory is that most books that end up getting published by reputable houses (for non-money grab reasons) are good. But the thing about “good” in publishing is that it is an adjective that actually describes an average, not a consensus. A good book means some readers will find the book to be great and some will think it is entirely average. This is the reality for the vast majority of books: the big bestsellers, the indie darlings, the critically acclaimed, even the ones you love with all of your heart and constantly try to get people to read.
This pisses writers off to no end. Many successful authors often have a long trail of rejections and agents who missed out behind them. Likewise, it is easy to compare your book to a dozen others and wonder how your superiorly-written book didn’t get better reviewers, fetch a higher price, or sell more copies. Half of this is due to subjectivity and the other half is due to factors of rank unfairness. Most books that see the light of day are good (see definition of “good” above), the rest is all timing, luck, and connections.
Time Constraints
The sad reality is that there are plenty of books that you encounter as an editor or agent that pass a certain bar of quality but that you have to say “no” to because you can’t get excited about it enough to steel yourself for the mountain of work that saying “yes” entails. A book is a years-long commitment of incalculable labor and indeterminate benefit. In the discourse (and in rejections) you see the word “vision” thrown around a lot, as in “I’m sorry I don’t have the vision for this.” This reasoning can be true sometimes—you’re not the right person to figure out how to edit or sell a certain type of book. But also lack of “vision” is shorthand for a lack of willingness to take on the level of work. Vision as in: I can’t see trying to lift this book that I’m lukewarm about up the mountain. Because of the amount of work entailed you have to say “no” to plenty of good books—books that will likely go on to be published and/or successful—that you personally feel average about. And this is where the idea of love comes in, and the question that sparked this whole discourse. If you come across a good book, but you’re one of those people on the right side of the average that falls in love with it, then, agent or editor, you take it on and think about the consequences of the decision later. So, the answer is yes, to work on a book (of your own free volition) you kind of have to love it. Except…
This is the first book I acquired as an editor, I love it
Economics
Most books are good and yet the cold reality is most books don’t make any money. Therefore, if you find a good book you think will be successful financially as an agent or editor, guess what, you find a reason to be on that “love” side of the average reader.
Flipping this question on its head from the writer’s perspective: do you need to find an agent and editor who loves your work? Many of the same rules apply as above, and the answer is mostly yes as we embark on this irrational endeavor together. But if you’re lucky enough to be sure your book is commercially viable, it is well and fine to enter into a business agreement with agent or editor that is more transactional. As with any form of business, sometimes you don’t want someone who “gets you”, who loves you, but someone who can get the job done.
Biggest “News” in Books: TikTok is Going to Make Books?
The New York Times reported TikTok is getting into the book game, after watching its platform launch multiple massive bestselling authors in recent years. A while ago at Dear Head of Mine we talked about celebrity publishing and how it kind of doesn’t make sense for someone who does something more lucrative that entails less work to do something less lucrative that entails more work.
The same logic applies to TikTok. As tempting as it may be to see that their platform is minting millions for another industry and jump into the book business accordingly, there is a hell of a lot of work to do in actually capturing that value, and little of it has to do with video, algorithms, or technology. Do I think TikTok is going to be good at reading, editing, printing, and distributing books? Probably not. It’s the same reason I’ll never understand Amazon and Apple getting into tv/film—why would you spend more time trying to eke out millions than you would keeping your billion making machine rolling? I guess there are less fun ways to burn money? I guess to be closer to cool celebrities? Okay that kind of makes sense.
Back Matter: Is Creativity Dead? A Question Brought to You by Barbie
Mostly at Dear Head of Mine we talk about books, but this week an existential crisis has been brought about by this New Yorker story. The breaking news is that the new film Barbie written and directed by Greta Gerwig, one of the most acclaimed directors of her generation, is part of Mattel’s extraordinary intellectual property push into film and television. A few weeks ago, this movie’s trailer enchanted me with its right amount of knowing wit, an original song by Dua Lipa, and a group of talented creatives, actors, writers, directors, I believed in. But the intervening days have been an overload of shameless and relentless cross branding capped off by the New Yorker article that laid bare just how far down the IP hell hole we’ve gone. Greta Gerwig doing a Barbie movie now makes me a little sad, one of the best actors of his generation leading a Barney movie, even if it’s “leaning into the millennial angst of the property”, is downright depressing. I’ll still go see it, but it has been quite the journey from skepticism to excitement to skepticism.