How to Mingle at Publishing Events

This past weekend was the Annual SCBWI Winter Conference in NYC. I had no official duties (unlike last year), but as always when I'm in town, I enjoy attending the VIP Cocktail party, and then the Kidlit Drink Night after party (hosted by Fuse #8). The main problem with these events is that there are just too many people to talk to everyone I would have liked to.

I do remember a time as a younger editor when I didn't know as many people as I do now, when I found it harder to mingle. And I also imagine these events can be intimidating to attend as an author or illustrator. So, I thought I'd give some tips on how to mingle at publishing events. I know most of these tips are pretty standard, and to give full disclosure, I don't actually abide by all of these, but here goes:

1) The best "pick-up line" is to simply say "hello" and introduce yourself. Honestly, everyone at these type of events should be there to mingle, and even if they're not, they at least expect others to introduce themselves. If you recognize someone, whether an author or editor or Twitter friend, go up to him/her and say hi. Then again, if they look like they're deep in conversation with someone else, wait until they're not as engaged to approach them.

2) Have a goal/agenda for the event. Maybe there's an author, illustrator, agent, art director, or editor, etc. you've always wanted to meet and know will be there. Make your goal to meet that person. Maybe you're shy: make your goal to introduce yourself to at least one stranger. Maybe your goal is to get at least two business cards, and/or give your card to at least three people. Turn it into a game!

3) Don't be afraid to ask for help. I'm totally happy to introduce people to each other. I wish people would ask me more to introduce them to others. In general, I think people like to feel helpful.

4) Don't get drunk. It's fine to have a little liquid courage in you, but remember that this is a professional event. Nobody wants to be around someone who is sloppy. Don't embarrass yourself.(Okay, not that I've never gotten drunk at a publishing event myself...)

5) Have some conversation topics prepared. Maybe it's a current event, or asking what people are reading, or what they think of the award winners, etc.

6) Don't be afraid to introduce yourself again, or ask someone to remind you of their name. I go to so many different conferences and events. I may remember faces, but not usually names. And I never expect people to remember me. So don't worry about offending people you know you've met but can't remember. And it's always helpful to people to reintroduce yourself to remind them of who you are.

7) If you're introverted and/or shy, don't worry--I'd say at least 75% of the people in publishing are, too!


8) And finally, not to be cliche, but: Have Fun! These events are FUN! You're in a room of people who love books as much as you do. What's not fun about that?


As for the rest of the conference, I was following the action on Twitter over the weekend while I finished up an edit. There are also great interviews and wrap-ups of the different talks on the official blog here.

How I Deal With Mail, plus a rant

Yes, I do have a problem keeping up with email (as I've mentioned here), but I seem to have an even tougher time keeping up with snail mail. Our business, including submissions (in fact, especially including submissions), is handled more and more via email, and so I increasingly pay more attention to email and less to snail mail. In fact, I get irritated when agents send submissions, especially novels, as hard copies. They should know better by now!

At work, I have a bin labeled "mail" in my office where I dump all my mail, and last year I've realized that at times mail has stayed there unopened for over three months at a time, until I make time to sit down and open and sort through it all.

This is how I go through my mail: I sit down with the bin, open an envelope, scan the letter. If it's an unsolicited query or manuscript, I put it back in the envelope and scrawl "slush" on the envelope and put it in a pile. This pile is ultimately handled by our receptionist who send back form letters saying we don't accept unsolicited submissions or queries. If it's a solicited manuscript, I put in a different "log in" pile for my assistant. If it's a solicited query, I read it quickly, decide if I want to review it or not, and then write "Query yes" or "query no" on it and add it to the pile for my assistant. If I receive art samples, and I like the art, it goes into a pile for filing. If I don't like the art, it goes into the recycling bin (sorry, illustrators!).

Last Sunday, the day before I was to go back to work after the holiday break, I decided to go into the office to sort through my mail so the bin would be empty when I started the new work year. The pile was threatening to spill over. Yes, this is partially my fault--if I just opened and dealt with the mail I received each day, or even each week, it would be more manageable. But dealing with a pile of several months worth of mail, something became extremely clear: I get way more unsolicited submissions and queries than I should. In fact, I should receive zero--as a company, we only accept agented or requested/referred submissions. Instead, I receive on average one or two a day. I would say a good 75% of the mail I receive are unsolicited queries and submissions. And this irritates me to no end.

Our submissions policy is stated very clearly on our website:

Publishers in the Hachette Book Group (including Grand Central Publishing, Business Plus, FaithWords, Center Street, Mystery, Orbit, Little, Brown and Company, Back Bay Books, Bulfinch, Springboard Press, Little, Brown Books for Young Readers) are not able to consider unsolicited manuscript submissions and unsolicited queries. Many major publishers have a similar policy. Unsolicited manuscripts, submissions and queries will not be answered and the publisher will have the right to destroy any unsolicited material or mail without returning to the sender.

I don't know if people ignore this rule out of ignorance, or in hopes that we'll take a look at their query or submission anyway. And, okay, yes--very very rarely, if you catch me in a good mood, I might scan the submission (especially if it's a book dummy with illustrations), but I don't actually remember an example where I've then actually ended up considering the submission--it still gets returned as slush. And I can say with 100% certainty that I've never ended up acquiring a submission that was initially sent to me as slush. So, STOP TRYING. You're wasting your time, my time, my assistant's time, our receptionist time, and you're also wasting money and paper, and making it harder for people who are following the rules to have my undivided attention. Stop it. Seriously.

Sigh. Remember when you loved getting mail? Remember a time when mail was something other than bills and credit card offers and catalogs and miscellaneous junk mail? Man, I miss those days.

Then again, sometimes I get very lovely things in the mail. Personal thank-you and holiday cards, gifts from agents and authors. That's the kind of mail I like to get!

How I read submissions

In my previous post about my reaction to Jellicoe Road, I touched a little on the way I read submissions, mainly that I generally decide about novels based on the first 30-50 pages. I thought that I'd expand on this and talk more about how I read submissions and the way I decide if a book is something I'm interested in taking on, or something to decline.

Another editor I know got some flack for saying at a conference that editors (or, at least, her specifically) read submissions looking for a reason to say no. When I heard this, my first instinct was to say what an agent at the same conference said: that she reads looking for a reason to say yes. But honestly, the truth is a combination of both.

It's just not possible to publish every submission we get. Knowing this, it's true--I'm looking for reasons to reject most manuscripts. Some possible reasons? (feel free to ask me to elaborate on any of these)

-not well written
-too slight
-too quiet
-forced rhyme, off rhythm (for picture books, mainly)
-too similar to something already on our list
-too similar to too many books already in the market
-forced/inauthentic dialogue
-too didactic
-melodramatic
-cliche
-slow pacing
-too niche in appeal

and of course I could go on...

However, I'd be lying to say I'm not always hoping for that surprise--that I'll fall in love with a submission. And sometimes I'll fall in love with something despite it being something on the above list. It really IS like falling in love--I can fall in love with something, flaws and all. When I'm reading something that I'm really loving, my heartbeat will speed up. My mind will start racing, thinking about what I need to do to ensure that I get that manuscript. I'll imagine pitching the book at our editorial meeting, and then at our acquisitions meeting. I'll think about how I would edit the book, even what the cover would look like. I picture it winning the Newbery, making the NY Times bestseller list. In other words, I'll imagine us married with children during the middle our first date.

Generally, when I read a manuscript, it's either/or. Either I find a reason to say no, or else I fall in love with it. But the tough decisions happen when a manuscript falls somewhere in between. Agents, and perhaps authors who submit on their own, may be familiar with that rejection that takes an especially long time to come, where an editor apologizes and says that she was "mulling it over." This is what happens when I read a manuscript and can't immediately say no, but don't completely fall in love with it either. When this happens, I may put it aside to revisit later. And sometimes when that happens, I don't think about it again, and therefore usually will end up declining it. Sometimes when this happens, I keep thinking about it, which it generally a good sign that I don't want to let it go. And sometimes I'm completely on the fence, and then will either ask my assistant to read it, and/or I'll bring it to our editorial meeting to get some second reads.

This happens when the concept is really great, but the writing isn't particularly special. Or if there's just nothing wrong with the writing or the book, but I just don't fall in love with it. Or if I know the book is something publishable, but it's about something I just can't see myself working on, or reading over and over.

Sometimes when I'm in-between, a lot will depend on the current state of our list. Are we looking for more of that particular genre, or are we too saturated? For example, we're fairly overloaded with fantasy right now, which allows us to be even more selective than usual in acquiring that genre. A fantasy novel really has to be outstanding and original for us to even consider taking it on. For picture books, when I first started almost ten years ago, it was so much easier to acquire picture books than fiction. But in the last seven or eight years, in reaction to the market, we've cut our picture book list way back, and because of that, I'm even more picky when acquiring them--I can't just like something, I need to love it.

Sometimes I'm feeling in-between when an agent tells me that he or she has either received an offer, or else they "have a lot of interest." When this happens, I'll usually just end up passing on the submission, thinking that I don't love it enough to want to compete against other publishers. Of course, if I do love a manuscript, hearing that there's other interest will spur me on to move through the process more quickly.

And yes, I'm looking for love--I do want to say yes, I just know I can't say yes to everything. But like most people, I want the happily ever after.

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In other news, I'm so proud and excited to share the news that one of those books that I fell in love with has attained a kind of "happily ever after": The Curious Garden by Peter Brown has hit the NY Times Bestseller list at #7! It's also #7 on the Indiebound bestseller list.

Congratulations, Peter!!!

(BTW, all but one sprout in my Curious Garden pot has died. But that sprout is going strong!)

How I edit

People will think I'm a horrible writer. I'll never write another book again. I don't know what I'm doing. What if I'm wrong?

Sound familiar? Do you have these thoughts, these doubts? Well, replace "People" with "The author," replace "write" with "edit" and you have the doubts that go through my head every time I edit a manuscript and write an editorial letter. I get the same anxiety when I send off an editorial letter as authors get when they send off their manuscript to an editor. Or artists when they send sketches or final art. (Okay, well, maybe not "the same" but similar.) I don't want to hurt the author's or illustrator's feelings, or anger them. I don't want them to think I'm incompetent and/or crazy. Because I have the highest level of respect for the creative people I work with, because I could never do what they do.

I hope that my editorial letters have the right balance of praise and constructive criticism. I know that it can be intimidating to receive a four or seven-page editorial letter. But I hope my authors know that I love their writing, love their work, to know that we're on the same team.

The task of writing an editorial letter to me is daunting, and I certainly had no idea how to go about doing it when I edited my first novel (sorry, Libby!). But I learned as time went on, I learned from my mentors, and I learned from reading the correspondence files that circulate in my department: each week, everyone in editorial (when we remember to do this) places copies of our editorial letters and other outside business correspondences into a centralized folder which is then circulated throughout the editorial department so that we can be aware of other editors' projects, problems that other editors are having that may be similar to our own, and also so the younger staff can read many different editorial letters to start to understand how to write them. I think this process is the same in most other companies, and it's one of the crucial learning tools for an editorial assistant.

I think every editor develops his or her own editing style, and I've certainly honed my own throughout the years. I shared some of my revision process at the SCBWI annual conference in LA, but I thought I'd go through it now in more detail in the hopes that it will be helpful. It's generally always changing slightly, but I just went through this four+ times in the past few weeks, so it's pretty fresh in my mind.

1) First, I read through the manuscript (this is my favorite part of the process!). I make very few notes, just read for the experience, and jot down things I notice, usually broad, over-arching things. (Although if I do happen to notice a typo or sentence that feels off here and there, I'll mark it.) But I'm really just looking to get a fresh read, reading for the overall experience as a final reader would. Is it enjoyable? Am I pulled into the book right away? Is the pacing off? Do I care about the characters? Does the plot make sense? Is the ending satisfying?

2) Then, if I can, I'll let it sit for a few days. Sometimes, right after the first read I think, "there's nothing I could do to improve that novel!" But inevitably things will come to the surface during that "sitting" time, issues with the plot, questions about certain characters, solutions (suggestions, I should say) to problems I've been having with the book, resolution to how I've been feeling about the ending, etc. I also want to see if the book "stays with you"--do I remember it several days later?

3) After a few days, I'll sit down again with the manuscript and go through it carefully, line by line. I do some line-editing now, although I think I'm generally pretty light overall in this regard. I tend to just call out sections or underline sentences that aren't working for me, but rarely will I actually reword things myself--as I've said before, I'm not a writer myself, so I like to give the author the freedom to work it out themselves. I'll jot down more notes on a separate sheet of paper that I know I'll have to expand on in an editorial letter.

4) And then finally, I copy my generally messy notes onto a clean copy of the manuscript that will be sent to the author. This step not only allows me to clarify my notes for the author, but to also review my edits, decide if I still agree with them. As I do this, I also expand on issues I need to in an editorial letter, trying to offer several suggestions for how I think an issue can be solved as I go. Sometimes I add and delete my own edits as I go along. I'll often just type things out into a Word document chronologically first, and then later go through my letter and reorganize it by topic: characterization, plot, pacing--whatever I think the main issues are in the manuscript.

5) I tweak the letter a lot. Get it to the structure I want, add the opening and closing (make sure the author knows that these are my suggestions only, not demands), print it out and edit it on paper two or three times until I think it's ready, and then send it off. I'll usually email the letter first and then send the hard copy of the manuscript to follow a few days later. This way, the author has a day or two to mull over my comments before they receive the actual manuscript and start to work, and inevitably their subconscious mind will already be starting to work out solutions to problems with the manuscript (if they agree with my comments, that is!).

And I fully expect the author to disagree with me sometimes, and if they offer me an explanation later to why they disagreed and didn't revise something, that's fine with me. Occasionally there's an issue that I feel especially strongly about, and in those cases, I'll keep requesting the change on subsequent revisions, reiterating why I think it's a problem. But after asking three or four times, there's not much more that I can do. Ultimately, it's the author's work, and we can't force the author to make changes he or she is not comfortable with, or in agreement with.

This process repeats until the manuscript is "done." Generally, the first editorial letters are more general, and as we go I get more nitpicky about the little things, and the last edit is just "clean-up" of all of the little things that are left. I've never taken less than two rounds, and on average it takes three or four, oftentimes more. And I put "done" in quotations because sometimes it feels like it's never really done to the author--they want to keep tweaking and revising. But at a certain point, we need to declare it done and get it into copyediting.

So, there you have it, my process. Of course, depending on the time crunch, sometimes this process is cut down--I'll combine 1 and 3 and delete 2. Or I'll combine steps 3 and 4. Or I'll cut down on how many times I edit my own letter. Also, when I'm reading a revision, unless there were many structural changes or major plot-point changes, the "fresh read" isn't as crucial a step.

I am an editor, and although editing is probably one of the most important parts of my job, I feel that it's only 10-15% of my job description. In fact, when I was on a panel at the New School last year and explaining what I did, I completely forgot to include "edit"! But as daunting as it is, I do relish it. I love examining these works of art carefully, trying (and I emphasize "trying") to get to know the book as well as the author does. I do respect the work, even as I seemingly "rip it apart," and ultimately I just want to help the author get the work to the next level and get it ready to introduce to the world.


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Check out my updated "How I edit 2.0" post.