Let Them Eat Cake

A friend/colleague attended some vaguely hippie-sounding conference/retreat recently in California, where she ran into Gary Schmidt, who is all kinds of awesome. If you haven't been reading Mr. Schmidt's books, you may want to continue to avoid them for fear his awesomeness won't inspire you as much as give you a huge insecurity complex.

Unfortunately, Mr. Schmidt got up in front of the group of aspiring writers and told them that he hated the word "hook". Mr. Schmidt, if you're reading this, you know I love you. I'd rank you in the top ten novelists working in children's books today. But you're giving me such a headache.

I know, there's a lot of confusion about what qualifies as a hook. And if that's where you're coming from, ok, I sympathize. I hate terms that have no useful definition as much as the next dictionary-reader.

So here you go:

hook / noun : the reason people will read your book.

No, really. That's what it means. Go back and read it again if you have to.

Now, in the case of writing like Mr. Schmidt's, the hook--the reason people will read his work-- is that it's brilliant, and there are lots of people willing to tell readers it's brilliant.

Writers like Mr. Schmidt (or Mr. Anderson, or Ms. Anderson, or Ms. Lockhart, or Mr. Alexie) don't need to worry much any more about hook, because once a wide segment of the book community realizes that whatever these writers write will be worth reading, such writers have hook at their fingertips.


So Mr. Schmidt, you're doing new writers a terrible disservice when you tell them it's ok to dislike and disregard 'hook'.

You are, in fact, sounding a great deal like certain French princesses, who when informed of the peasants' concerns about lack of bread hook responded, "Bah, 'bread' 'hook'. I never worry about bread hook, and neither should those peasants aspiring writers. If they are so hungry trying to be published, let them be published because they are acclaimed writers like me."

Fortunately for you, writers are a hell of a lot more optimistic than your average French peasant, and they'll get all the way home intending to eat their cake before remembering that they don't have any of that either.

Consider this before you advise people against the importance of hook. And before you go to your next writers' conference, take my advice and check for guillotines.

Definitions for the Perplexed: High Concept

What exactly does an editor mean when he/she says they are looking for "high concept" picture books?

Basically, it means she wants a hook. She wants to be able to describe what will appeal to consumers about the book in just a sentence or two.

I, like many editors, wish more writers had a better grasp of what makes a hook and what doesn't. If writers were only sending us picture book manuscripts with hooks, we'd get a hell of a lot fewer pointless vignettes, heavy-handed lessons, nostalgic meanderings, and stories of any kind that no child will be interested in.

At the same time, some of us recognize that you can't tell writers that all you want are high concept submissions, because some of the great picture books out there are not high concept.

Skippyjon Jones, for instance. What's awesome about that book is its read-aloud quality and humor, and for clarity's sake I need to bring across that those are not high concept. Read aloud quality and humor are, indeed, hooks, but they are the kind of thing that no editor is going to accept from an author in a query letter. Because they're among the most subjective things there are.

If you can think of a snappy way to describe what's cool and fun about your manuscript, that's query letter gold. Just as long as your description doesn't include subjective descriptors like lovely, charming, funny, lyrical, wonderful, etc, etc, etc. EVERY writer thinks their writing is good, so we don't automatically believe claims of that sort. Tell us your book is about dinosaurs AND bedtime, and we'll believe you may have a hook.

Let the Frivolity Commence! (And Then Stop. Stop That, I Mean It.)

I just had a question regarding children's books. Do they have to have a deep, moral point; or can they just be somewhat frivilous?

On the surface, this seems like a softball question, doesn't it? Of course there are frivolous children's books. Is there a deep, moral point in I Ain't Gonna Paint No More or When a Monster is Born or Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus? Don't be silly.

However: Before we shake our heads and smile and talk about the (indisputable, overwhelming) truth that children love frivolous; they love nonsense; they love play . . .

Let's make sure we're also talking about what sells.

Yeah, there's the catch. Frivolous all by itself doesn't sell. I see piles of manuscripts in slush that clearly don't think they need to do anything for the reader outside of appealing to his/her imagination, because kids love frivolous/nonsense/play. Know what the problem with that is?

Adults have small, obedient wallets that live in their bags and come out whenever the adult wants. Children have large, judgmental wallets shaped like parents.

I Ain't Gonna Paint No More uses humor, a narrative structure that fosters guessing, body parts, and an really easy to read, energetic rhythm.
When a Monster is Born uses humor, a narrative structure that fosters guessing, and cause and effect (ok, and monsters).
Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus uses humor, audience participation, and turns a familiar situation (whining) around on the child.

None of these books has a deep, moral lesson at heart, but each one is working hard to offer the reader an entertaining, layered experience.

That's what you can sell-- layers of things people want. Not just one layer, because you're in competition with piles of books with many layers-- that do many jobs. And not layers of things that people aren't so excited about, because books aren't free.

Even if one day they are free, they'll still cost people the time it takes to read them, and nobody wants to waste their time on something that is only frivolous.

Hook vs Gimmick: the Death Match

The Cathy's Book approach: Gimmick?
Hugo Cabret: Hook?
(If my assumptions are correct, what's really the difference between using graphics in a novel and using interactivity in a novel, then? Neither has much to do with the core story. Is it just a matter of the value judgments concealed in hook vs. gimmick?)
Books written in IM: hook or gimmick?
Scratch n' sniff ERs: gimmick? or hook?
Googlie eyes, die cuts, etc: gimmick?
(I'd say so, but those googlie eye books sell enough to perhaps call that a hook?)
Urban vampire books: started out as hook, has turned into gimmick?

Ok, we already seem to have forgotten that effective gimmicks are hooks (though not all hooks are gimmicks). Please refer to the venn diagram. And if you'll refer to my definitions of "hook" and "gimmick", I think you'll see that there are no value judgements involved.

Cathy's Book: The text itself wasn't bad, but the extras, while fun, were an effective gimmick. (Which, once again, means they were also a hook.)

Hugo Cabret: The extraordinary visual storytelling is not a distraction from what the book is. It is part and parcel of what the book is. That means it is not a gimmick.

Vampire books: ditto. Either you want a vampire story or you don't. You aren't going to think "Ooo, vampires!" in the store and then get the book home and think, "Wait, there are vampires in this book! I didn't want a book with vampires!"

Books written in IM: Arguable. Some would argue that it's no different than traditional epistolary novels, which would make it no kind of hook (gimmick or otherwise). Others would argue that anything that makes a book unreadable does distract from what it is, so perhaps it could be a gimmick. Ok, now I'm just being mean.

Scratch and Sniff: gimmick.

Googly eyes: gimmick.

Die cuts: varies from book to book. The die cuts in First the Egg were not a gimmick. They were absolutely integral to the book. The die cuts in Penis Pokey... well, I'm hoping they're a gimmick. I guess it depends whether people are actually using them.

Ok, here's a fantastic example of a gimmick: the squishy, stretchable (surprisingly realistic-looking) plastic tongue in the cover of Chewy, Gooey, Rumble, Plop. Kids who are in no way interested in learning about the digestive system are going to beg for this book just for the tongue. They'll get it home and play with the toy parts and not read a word of it, and the parent who paid hard-earned money for it will be irritated. That's a gimmick. If you had a product that was solely a squishy, stretchable plastic tongue, then its appeal would not be a gimmick, because it wouldn't be distracting from anything else. Are we clear now?

Hook vs Gimmick

So, suppose my agent tells me that a publisher is looking for easy readers with strong hooks, like "pirate mom" or "dancing dinosaurs." What's the difference between a hook and a gimmick?

Good question.


A hook is the reason a reader decides to buy (or read) a book.


A gimmick is an attention-getting element that does little more than get attention. It is a contrivance that seems to add value without actually adding value. It distracts the consumer from the question of whether she really wants the product in her hands.

So while there are many, many hooks that are not gimmicks, all gimmicks are meant to be a form of hook.

I don't think I agree that the subject of a book can be a gimmick. It's the subject. If you aren't interested in buying a book about pirate moms or ballet dinosaurs, you aren't going to be distracted from that lack of interest by the fact that the book is about pirate moms or ballet dinosaurs.

What your agent (and the publisher) want to remind you of is that the goal of any early reader is to be appealing enough to get a child (for whom reading is difficult) to read it. That means it needs a hook that is not

1. great writing (because they can't discern great writing yet)
2. sparkly covers or novelty elements (because early readers are low budget) or
3. name recognition (because they do not recognize author names yet)

...and that leaves you with topic. You have to give them topics they know they want: dinosaurs, sports, ballet, pirates, superheroes, goofy jokes and puns, etc etc.

Hooks, Magic, and Yesterday's Comments

"I hope I don't upset anyone, because that's not my intent. I often wonder why it is I am constantly buying books that bore me to tears... Hook?.... Yeah, you hook a reader, they buy it, only to find disappointment between the covers, and this teaches them to hate reading."

Point (a):
Sales hooks are meant to grab the people who will enjoy a book. Publishers do not aim to suck the money out of people and leave them dissatisfied and irate. It's hard to get repeat business that way.

Point (b):
The fact that this is happening to you should not teach you to hate reading; it should teach you that you need more practice at this "shopping" thing that other people seem so good at.

"...why can't you find and publish books that people (kids) will LOVE."

Point (c):
Holy cow, that never occured to me! Publish books that kids will love? And here we were trying to appeal to farm animals! Seriously, what do you think we're trying to do?

Point (d):
Listen, I'm sorry if we're not succeeding with your son. Honestly. But if you think it's so easy, feel free to write something magical for him yourself. Or find an author who lives up to your expectations. I think you'll find that we're doing our best on both counts. I also have a suspicion that you'll find your expectations are very unusual among readers.

"...Roald Dahl didn't listen to publishers (adults), he listened to the children, his audience, and that genius will live forever because of it. He wasn't about hooks or plots or any other bullsh*t..."

Point (e):
Ok, now you're just pulling my leg. You noticed that Dahl is published, yes? As in, a publisher invested tens of thousands of dollars (or in his case, pounds) in making his work available to members of the fickle and snarky public, like yourself? Publishers don't do that for people who are actively not listening to us.

"He was about magic...why don't you look for magic? It's what the children love...and it's what lives forever. I've never met a kid that said the story was boring but the writing was wonderful..."

Point (f):
And I add this point only because avoiding it is avoiding the whole issue: You're a boob.

Work that Hook!

When talking about hooks aren't we talking about the one or two sentence "thing" that will get an agent, editor or reader to read the ms or book?

When you talk about a book being wonderful, or written well, or having a great story, you aren't talking about the hook, are you? Because those are the things you know about the book after you've read it, whereas the hook is the thing that gets you to read it.

I'm wondering what would be the thing in a cover letter for Speak, or Hattie Big Sky, (before they became what they became) or any other title that would prompt you to read the first three chapters? Isn't that what we're talking about when we talk about hooks -- how to pitch one's work so that the hopefully great writing will get read?

I was talking about sales hook, which is what an editor tries to think about when acquiring. You're right, the hook you use in your query letter can't be "great writing" because dammit, the editor will be the judge of that. The sales hooks that depend on someone's judgement don't work until you have the judgement of someone the reader/editor trusts. This is the thing that makes me hate pitch sessions—there's no way to judge the writing, and the writing's the main thing. But any non-judgement-based sales hook works in a query letter.

In the case of a query letter for a book that has no particular hook aside from great writing, two to three sentences of plot description is what you have to work with. But after reading thousands of pieces of slush and who knows how many pitches, editors get really good at telling good writing from bad over the course of a letter. Really.

You're only going to sabotage yourself at this if
a) you overthink it and get all nervous.
b) you don't know what your manuscript is really about.
c) you can't write.

Let's assume it's not (c), and you get a grip on yourself and avoid (a). I see a fair number of people who seem to have a pretty good idea of what their manuscript is about, and are certainly willing to give it their best guess. This is not good enough. You figure: of course I know what it's about; I wrote the thing, right? Wrong.

It's good for you to practice looking at your stuff the way a stranger would. You love all of it, but what's the coolest part? What's the shiniest, prettiest, wiggliest, most shimmering part? ;)
Take Speak and Hattie Big Sky as encouragement—clearly it is possible to get a manuscript read and published without the kind of hook you'd put in a query. But if there is one, use it!

A Strong Right Hook

I've had requests for Speak, Hattie Big Sky, Fancy Nancy, Clementine, Donuthead, and Dairy Queen.

Speak
As mentioned, when this book was published Laurie Halse Anderson was not a name and so that was not a hook for this book. It got published because it's convincingly and sensitively written. Editors want to publish anything that's simply well-written, and given half a chance to get it past acquisitions, we will. But the hook that took this book from maybe-too-issue-y-for-mainstream to a grassroots hit that middle school girls passed from hand to hand to hand was the way it dealt with a danger that girls know threatens them, did it realistically, but did it in a way that didn't wring the reader for every bit of pathos in her. I appreciate this myself; I hate books that not only tell the story of someone experiencing something awful but try to make sure you experience it too. Plus the sensitivity with which it dealt with rape made it easier for parents to let their 13 and 14-year-olds get on with reading it.

Hattie Big Sky
Certainly there are some people crazy enough about historical fiction to buy anything because it's historical fiction, but there aren't a lot of them. Historical fiction is a genre, not a hook. This is a case of just plain awesome writing. As I said above, that's all you need to get an editor to want to publish your book. But editors know that awesome writing may or may not get the book the attention we feel it deserves. Which is why we thank our lucky stars when such a book gets an medal to stick on it. Medals are hooks, at least for a while. Of course, all you have to do is look at the Newbery list to see that some of the winners are now mostly forgotten.

Fancy Nancy
I know an author who thinks the reason people are buying this book in scads is because it has glitter on the cover. Christ, if it were that easy, publishers would be putting glitter on everything. (And while it may sometimes seem like in fact we are, no, we're not.) Fancy Nancy is flying off the shelves because just about everyone knows a little girl like this. Have you noticed America having a rather extended and intense princess phase? Yeah. Little girls have always liked to dress up and feel special, but there seems to be a bit more of it going around right now. Ugh. Children like Fancy Nancy too, but I think a significant part of its extreme popularity, like Olivia's, is attributable to the character coinciding with many adults' perception of little girls.

Clementine
From the first page, you can tell this book has voice and humor. It's funny and it makes a great read-aloud. Clementine's character is charming. And have you searched the shelves for this reading level? There are some great books, but there aren't nearly as many choices as there are when you move up just a little in reading level. We need more fun books for these kids. We could especially use some more for boys. And don't talk to me about Junie B. I can't forgive her for her mother.

Donuthead
Sue Stauffacher doesn't get read enough. Period. She has an utterly winning way of talking about hard situations without a trace of self-pity and a healthy dose of humor. Just like real kids, her characters don't think too hard about what their lives should be—their lives are too big and too close to them for kids to see far around them. They just get on with living the life in front of them... lives that are not simple or easy, but that are worth it. Kids get this. Reviewers and librarians often get this. Parents may or may not. Fortunately, by this age kids are often helping with their own book selection.
And also: what kid isn't going to pick up a book called Donuthead?

Dairy Queen
I miss the cover with the cow and the tiara.
Hook 1: a girl who lives on a dairy farm decides she wants to play football, but there's no girl's team in rural, small-town America. So she goes out for the boy's team. Anyone with a shred of tomboy in them already wants to see this work; wants to see her plow through a line of football players. Hook 2: Again, good writing. 1st person can be really hard; but the main character's voice is compellingly fresh: it doesn't falter as the character cycles through ironic, self-deprecating, funny, angry, reflective, confused. She's easy to connect with, and root for.
It's also nice that the story deals with some serious issues—there's meat there—but doesn't make a bigger deal of them than the main character would, and makes only as much progress as the main character, being who she is, can. But it's enough.

Any other requests? Or do you want to play a different game?

More Practice with Hooks

How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight

1. JANE YOLEN.
a hook in terms of booksellers, who know and respect Jane. Not quite so much in terms of consumers.
2. Engaging Illustrations
correct. Yay, Mark Teague!
3. Rhyme done well.
important to getting the manuscript published, but not a hook.
4. DINOSAURS.
correct.
5. "Bedtime Book"
correct. With the emphasis on behaving well while going to bed. If dinosaurs can go to bed like civilized prehistoric monsters, then so can your kid.

Edwina, the Dinosaur Who Didn't Know She Was Extinct
Here's what I think the hooks are. But if you bought this book for another reason, that's a hook too.
1. Mo Willems (and his signature sense of humor)
2. A subtle message that all kids can apply to their lives: sometimes it's not about being right. It's about being nice to people. (And dinosaurs.)

Any suggestions for other titles we could pull the hooks out of?

I'm on to you.

You guys are better at this hook thing than you've been letting on. Some more hooks, and some homework.

1. You enjoyed the author's other work.

Someone asked about the hook of Twisted, by Laurie Halse Anderson, and as far as I can tell its hook is: Laurie Halse Anderson. If you write two books as good and as popular as Speak and Fever 1793, you too can stop worrying too much about hook.
I'm reading The Spellbook of Listen Taylor, and so far I'm having some doubts. But I had to pick it up because The Year of Secret Assignments was fun.

2. Humor.

Now let's be clear, a book has to be really funny to survive on this hook alone. I see lots of manuscripts in slush from people who seem to think being mildly amusing is enough. It's not. Ginger by Charlotte Voake is mildly funny throughout, and has a good punchline. But it's also about dealing with a new sibling, and that's something parents actively request in bookstores.

3. Something to figure out.

People love puzzles. From The Trek to Where's Waldo, from Chasing Vermeer to The Puzzling World of Winston Breen... not to mention, of course, all the mystery novels that are presented as mysteries. I love Peter Abrahams' Echo Falls series. But Absolutely Not is an example of a book with a cool puzzle aspect that needed another hook to bolster it.

4. Audience participation

There's some overlap with the last category, of course. But aside from figure-this-out participation, there are many kinds that are so great for young kids. Whether it's a refrain they can join in on, or a word that they can guess comes next from the rhyme scheme, or even a chance to point out where the illustrations are contradicting the text, kids love to be involved. eg Bob, I Ain't Gonna Paint No More, and Do You See a Mouse.

How about some audience participation right now?: What are the hooks in Edwina, the Dinosaur Who Didn't Know She Was Extinct and How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight?

What's Hooked You?

A while back the disco merpeople asked me for some examples of books with hook, and I've been thinking about how best to answer that question off and on since.

It's not a problem of lack of choice—nearly all the books published have a hook of some kind (though of course sometimes it's just what someone hopes is a hook, and they turn out to be wrong). The question I've been revolving is which examples would be most helpful to you, the perhaps occasionally confused about hooks reader.

A hook is what makes people with very little information about the book want to read it. They have very little information because no average person is interested in reading a book review or blurb or plot summary long enough to give them more than that.

So here's a question for you: which books have you not yet read, only heard about, but you want to read them? That, right there, is hook.

I am personally interested in trying out 13 Reasons Why, which happens to be by the disco merman. Here are its hooks:
1. It has a great cover.
This is the kind of hook example that is no help at all to you writers. You have no control over this aspect. Even the publisher, who does have some control over this, and is going to try its damnedest to make this happen, may not be able to. Good covers are fully within their power, but a great cover involves some serendipity. If you get one, thank your publishing team, but you should mostly just feel lucky. A great cover is a hook (in case it's not obvious) because humans are very visual animals, and they get a hell of a lot more out of an image that they find interesting or compelling than mere words.
2. It's about a teenage boy who gets a set of tapes from a classmate who has just killed herself. They are labelled Reasons 1-13, and one of the reasons is about him. This is an interesting premise, and it's even more interesting to a book person because book people know it's a tough premise to use without getting maudlin, depressing, or preachy. I'll be very interested to see how it goes.
3. I've heard of the author. That kind of half-impression of the person behind the book—the impression that he's smart, nice, and has a sense of humor—is going to smooth over some of the doubts the reader has, if they have any. I'm a naturally skeptical person, and I hate to be disappointed.

I'm also looking forward to seeing the new picture book that David Small has illustrated, Dinosaurs With Everything. Its hooks are:
1. David Small is illustrating. He's brilliant. People love him; he wins awards.
Again, not the sort of example that means a damn thing to writers, because you may be consulted in the choice of illustrator, but more in the vein of "We're thinking of illustrator X or illustrator Y. Do you prefer one over the other?" If you have serious reservations about them both, you should say so, and say why. But asking for a big-money illustrator is a good way to piss your editor off bigtime.
2. But in this case, I don't care about David Small. This book has a great premise: A kid is facing a whole day of running errands with his mom—this will not be a fun day. But at the doughnut shop, the lady says (I'm paraphrasing) 'Oh, wait. With every dozen doughnuts today you get a free dinosaur,' and brings out a life size triceratops. Every shop they visit is the same: he gets a free, real dinosaur. Now, if you understand the 3-5 year olds at all, you realize that this is the pairing of two things they love: dinosaurs and free stuff. I can just see them peeing their pants in excitement already.

So what's got you hooked these days?

____________________________________
OTHER HOOKS and thoughts on them

Celebrity authors always seem like a great hook. But before you get too jealous of certain actors' and musicians' ability to write absolute drivel and get published, remember that many times the publisher who stooped to this is going to get pounded by their bottom line, because they paid way more money on the advance than they'll ever make back in sales. And the celebrity? Well, I hope all that advance money is some comfort to him when he considers that all the smart people now think he's an idiot.

It shouldn't be a surprise that hooks are different for different age groups. Dinosaurs are beloved of the very short kids. A funny animal sound book would also be great for them. Vampires, on the other hand, almost automatically make a book YA. If you don't know why, do me a favor and don't write about vampires.

Outstanding writing is always a hook, but it's not enough of a hook to stand on its own, because most of the reading public can tell good writing from bad, but they can't tell outstanding writing from just ok writing any more than they can tell the polar bear from the snowstorm it's standing in.

Now, stellar, genius writing can be a hook all by itself. If anybody of lesser talent than Jack Gantos had written The Love Curse of the Rumbaughs, it would never, ever have been published. Even so, I betcha the publisher takes a bath on it. Obsessive mother-love verging on the vaguely incestuous? Plus taxidermy? This is the sort of confluence of themes that is less likely to make people say, "Fascinating!" than to make them dance around the bookstore going, "Ick! Ick! Ick! Ick!" It's like using powerbait, but feeling that fishing line is too "obvious" and instead taping the bait to an oar and bludgeoning the water with it, screaming, "Here, FishyFishyFishy!!"
On the other side of this coin, though, is MT Anderson, who thinks, "I'm bored. I guess I'll write a work of lasting genius."

No Need for Bait If You've Got a Hook

EA, can you explain what a hook is? We all hear about hooks, but is it in the concept (what you can use to sell the book to the sales force, what makes someone pick up the book), or in the writing? There is so much talk of hooks. And I hope it's not one of those kinds of questions that if you have to ask, it means you don't have one. I can see them most of the time in the books I'm reading. But sometimes, not. I just read Twisted by Laure Halse Anderson and loved it. But what is the hook? Maybe you haven't read that book but have read something where the hook was more subtle. Can the hook just be really good writing? Voice? Thanks!

A hook is what is going to make people buy this book when they have so many other choices. Often it’s in the concept. Sometimes, if the writing is very strong, it can be in the writing alone. Occasionally it’s in the author. Usually publishers are looking for books with more than one hook.

But figuring out what the hook is and how strong it is is a matter of much experience. Authors sometimes are very bad at this part of the biz.

Try imagining yourself standing in a bookstore, surrounded by hundreds and thousands of books that people want, and trying to recommend this book here in your hands. The person you talk to won’t know you and won’t particularly trust you. Saying “it’s lovely writing” or “it has beautiful illustrations” will mean absolutely nada to this person.

What will you say? It may not be the thing you love the best about the book—it can be like trying to describe a husband of 20 years to a 20-year-old and trying to make her jealous. It’s easy to convince someone that you love the book. But what would make her think that she might love the book?

Favorite Picture Books?

I'm curious to know what some of your favorite picture books are... and why?

Jeez, where to start?
Tell you what. I’ll begin if you guys will add your own.

Actual Size
There’s your hook right there—everything in the book, all the animals and parts of animals, is actual size. One of those ideas that seems all kinds of obvious once it’s in your hands. And Steve Jenkins is fabulous. Over and over he takes nonfiction topics, trims them eloquently down to kid size, and illustrates the heck out of them.

Squawk to the Moon, Little Goose
An old, out-of print one. Illustrated by Barbara Cooney. This book scared and thrilled me as a child. It’s a good reminder of the fact that children want to be protected, but not sheltered. They want to talk about the dangerous world.

Skippyjon Jones
This is just so much fun to read. Verve, humor, and an impressive facility with language. And adorable pastels. I may start stalking Judy S.