… telling listeners about his search for the key factors that made for a word-of-mouth bestseller. 'Interesting,' I thought, and took his name and number. He was called Scott Pack, and he worked for Waterstones, the biggest chain of booksellers in the country. So I emailed him, telling him that I had written a minor local w-o-m 'bestseller', and giving him my opinions on what the key features ought to be in his search.
To my surprise, he replied, and asked for a review copy. Several days later he came back, to say that he thought 'this book should have a wider audience', and that he'd 'taken the liberty of passing my name on to an agent'. This caused some whooping and hollering because every aspiring writer dreams of having an agent, as publishers make no secret of the fact that they almost always turn down anything that hasn't been submitted by an agent. (There's little point in contacting agents direct, because they only want to be bothered with you if you are already published or your name is Chantelle Rooney; same as publishers, eh?). What's more, I discovered that Scott P didn't just work for Waterstones, but he was their Buying Manager. He was a man with serious clout.
Stan, the agent, also thought Scenes was worth bothering with, and asked me to send a dozen review copies for him to post off to all the big-shot publishers: Penguin, Macmillan, Random House….
'Who'll be paying for all these books?' I asked. 'You will,' he replied, which seemed like a nice clear answer, so I did as he asked. A potential £120 down the drain, but maybe worth the risk, I thought.
Over the next week or so, publishers engaged in a bidding fracas (more than a 'minor disturbance', but less than a 'war') and then, just before it was all settled, something else extraordinary happened…
... I got an email opening with 'I love this book!' It was from the manager of Ebury Publishing, and she wanted to re-publish Scenes. Wow.
Now then.. here was a dilemma. This offer had turned up quite independently of my new agent, so I could quite legitimately tell him to stuff it and go with Ebury direct, and thus save the 10% an agent would charge me. However, I have grown to believe that things and people come into one's life for a purpose, and it became clear to me that now was precisely the point at which I would need an agent. Publishers have an unenviable reputation for shady dealing, and I'd never even heard of 'Ebury Publishing'. I had no idea at all of how the book world worked, and was as prime a patsy as you'd ever wish to meet. I could be fleeced, skinned, butchered, and served up with a delicate orange sauce, and would never even know it had happened.
So I passed Fiona on to Stan and let him worry about it. Smart move. Not that Ebury came across as shady at all, but Stan understands all that contract gobbledegook. Worth 10% for that alone.
Within a week I was signed up to Ebury (who I now understood to be a substantial part of the huge Random House empire). The contract was for 'Scenes plus a second book'.
How did Scenes reach Ebury? It seems the MD of Random House was becoming interested in the growing number of self-published books, and wanted RH to pick up on anything they might re-publish at a profit. Alun Owen, the RH rep in Wales called at Ottakars in Carmarthen one day and asked if there was anything of interest. The manager said 'Well, we’ve sold a significant number of this one' (78 copies) … so he took a copy back to London and passed it on.
There were a couple of nasty alarms with Ebury. I took them at their word when they said 'I love this book', but it turned out that Fiona wanted to edit Scenes to the point of completely re-writing it as a sort of Gervase Phinn down on the pharm. I argued my corner exhaustively, pointing out
a) that the book worked fine just as it was (2,500 copies sold), and
b) it was actually quite impossible to do what she wanted for several reasons of style and contents. Any re-write would have destroyed what Scenes was.
It must have been startling for Fiona to have her offer to personally turn my humble offering into a best-seller completely rejected. I felt for her. But I also felt a loyalty to the integrity of the book. That may sound odd, or even something of an ego-trip, but that's not how it felt to me. I knew that a re-write could only convert a bit of rough and ready rock and roll into a Readers' Digest cover version.
Eventually Fiona gave way in an email that said 'OK. You win. Author 4, Publisher 0'.
After a couple more fairly lurid disagreements, Scenes was eventually re-printed more or less 'as is' on Election Day in 2005, but with only half the cartoons. Don't ask.
The price I paid for my stubbornness was predictable. Scenes was removed from the A-list for publicity and promotion. Quite right too, from Ebury's point of view. No point in putting good money after bad.
I immediately started work on Scenes II. It was released roughly a year after the Ebury Scenes I. Everyone expected it to match Scenes I in sales, but instead it has dropped out of sight. Why, I don't know. It's had little publicity, and very few reviews, mainly, I think because it doesn't have the novelty value of the rags-to-'riches' story of how Scenes I went from self-publishing to major reprint. People who've read II tend to think it's up to scratch, however. Stan the Agent went so far as to say it's actually better than Scenes I.
So there we have it. A grand adventure. No, I did not make my fortune, which may come as a surprise to some people. However, it's a fact that most writers make very little from their books, and a huge number make virtually zero. We hear lots about how the odd one signs up for six-figure deals, but this is a vanishingly rare event.
Most books sell ~4,000 copies. Many sell far fewer. There are well over 100,000 new books published every year in the UK alone, of which only a handful make 'real money'.
As I write, in November 2006, Scenes I has sold ~14,000 copies. My nominal royalty is 'up to 47.5p per copy'. In fact, due to massive discounting, and Amazon, and what have you, the true figure is more like 30p a copy. Thirty pee x 14,000 = about £5,000. I've decided not to order a Ferrari.
Scenes II had sold 2,500 last time I checked; so that's another £800 in the kitty. Not a lot for a year's work, I can't help thinking.
But of course, it's not as bad as that. The whole point of an agent is to negotiate an 'advance' for an author (short for 'advance against future royalties'), which means that the publisher has to fork out an agreed amount, non-returnable, before the book is released. This helps to protect the author against sheer bad luck in the marketplace, and also encourages the publisher to get out there and do some promotional work to get their up-front money back. So we do have some advance money to live on. It's not a fortune, but we live more cheaply than anyone I know, and we'll get by.
Would I do it again? Certainly. It's been an education. Would I do it the same way? Mainly yes, especially if I could bank on the incredible strokes of luck I've had so far.
Now what?
Well, I have gone back to my original idea, and have all but completed 'Your Dog as Philosopher'. It's a story about how a man called Dave sets out to see what he can learn about the Meaning of Life from watching his dog bumbling about, while trying to look after his feisty toddler daughter on his own for a week.
A novel, then? Yes, but with a number of what you might call 'thoughtful passages' woven into it. So I prefer to think of it as a 'sort-of novel'.
My worry is that it might fall between two stools. People who just want a funny story might be offended by the idea of being offered an opportunity to think; and people who do want to think might be put off by having to wade through the silly story. We'll see. If Stan think it's hopeless to approach a publisher with it, well I guess I'll try something else instead, and 'Your Dog' may end up being part published in monthly instalments on this blog!
Actually, if you'd like to read the first couple of chapters, and let me know what you think of them, please email me at chas@thirdleafbooks.co.uk. Thanks a lot.
To my surprise, he replied, and asked for a review copy. Several days later he came back, to say that he thought 'this book should have a wider audience', and that he'd 'taken the liberty of passing my name on to an agent'. This caused some whooping and hollering because every aspiring writer dreams of having an agent, as publishers make no secret of the fact that they almost always turn down anything that hasn't been submitted by an agent. (There's little point in contacting agents direct, because they only want to be bothered with you if you are already published or your name is Chantelle Rooney; same as publishers, eh?). What's more, I discovered that Scott P didn't just work for Waterstones, but he was their Buying Manager. He was a man with serious clout.
Stan, the agent, also thought Scenes was worth bothering with, and asked me to send a dozen review copies for him to post off to all the big-shot publishers: Penguin, Macmillan, Random House….
'Who'll be paying for all these books?' I asked. 'You will,' he replied, which seemed like a nice clear answer, so I did as he asked. A potential £120 down the drain, but maybe worth the risk, I thought.
Over the next week or so, publishers engaged in a bidding fracas (more than a 'minor disturbance', but less than a 'war') and then, just before it was all settled, something else extraordinary happened…
... I got an email opening with 'I love this book!' It was from the manager of Ebury Publishing, and she wanted to re-publish Scenes. Wow.
Now then.. here was a dilemma. This offer had turned up quite independently of my new agent, so I could quite legitimately tell him to stuff it and go with Ebury direct, and thus save the 10% an agent would charge me. However, I have grown to believe that things and people come into one's life for a purpose, and it became clear to me that now was precisely the point at which I would need an agent. Publishers have an unenviable reputation for shady dealing, and I'd never even heard of 'Ebury Publishing'. I had no idea at all of how the book world worked, and was as prime a patsy as you'd ever wish to meet. I could be fleeced, skinned, butchered, and served up with a delicate orange sauce, and would never even know it had happened.
So I passed Fiona on to Stan and let him worry about it. Smart move. Not that Ebury came across as shady at all, but Stan understands all that contract gobbledegook. Worth 10% for that alone.
Within a week I was signed up to Ebury (who I now understood to be a substantial part of the huge Random House empire). The contract was for 'Scenes plus a second book'.
How did Scenes reach Ebury? It seems the MD of Random House was becoming interested in the growing number of self-published books, and wanted RH to pick up on anything they might re-publish at a profit. Alun Owen, the RH rep in Wales called at Ottakars in Carmarthen one day and asked if there was anything of interest. The manager said 'Well, we’ve sold a significant number of this one' (78 copies) … so he took a copy back to London and passed it on.
There were a couple of nasty alarms with Ebury. I took them at their word when they said 'I love this book', but it turned out that Fiona wanted to edit Scenes to the point of completely re-writing it as a sort of Gervase Phinn down on the pharm. I argued my corner exhaustively, pointing out
a) that the book worked fine just as it was (2,500 copies sold), and
b) it was actually quite impossible to do what she wanted for several reasons of style and contents. Any re-write would have destroyed what Scenes was.
It must have been startling for Fiona to have her offer to personally turn my humble offering into a best-seller completely rejected. I felt for her. But I also felt a loyalty to the integrity of the book. That may sound odd, or even something of an ego-trip, but that's not how it felt to me. I knew that a re-write could only convert a bit of rough and ready rock and roll into a Readers' Digest cover version.
Eventually Fiona gave way in an email that said 'OK. You win. Author 4, Publisher 0'.
After a couple more fairly lurid disagreements, Scenes was eventually re-printed more or less 'as is' on Election Day in 2005, but with only half the cartoons. Don't ask.
The price I paid for my stubbornness was predictable. Scenes was removed from the A-list for publicity and promotion. Quite right too, from Ebury's point of view. No point in putting good money after bad.
I immediately started work on Scenes II. It was released roughly a year after the Ebury Scenes I. Everyone expected it to match Scenes I in sales, but instead it has dropped out of sight. Why, I don't know. It's had little publicity, and very few reviews, mainly, I think because it doesn't have the novelty value of the rags-to-'riches' story of how Scenes I went from self-publishing to major reprint. People who've read II tend to think it's up to scratch, however. Stan the Agent went so far as to say it's actually better than Scenes I.
So there we have it. A grand adventure. No, I did not make my fortune, which may come as a surprise to some people. However, it's a fact that most writers make very little from their books, and a huge number make virtually zero. We hear lots about how the odd one signs up for six-figure deals, but this is a vanishingly rare event.
Most books sell ~4,000 copies. Many sell far fewer. There are well over 100,000 new books published every year in the UK alone, of which only a handful make 'real money'.
As I write, in November 2006, Scenes I has sold ~14,000 copies. My nominal royalty is 'up to 47.5p per copy'. In fact, due to massive discounting, and Amazon, and what have you, the true figure is more like 30p a copy. Thirty pee x 14,000 = about £5,000. I've decided not to order a Ferrari.
Scenes II had sold 2,500 last time I checked; so that's another £800 in the kitty. Not a lot for a year's work, I can't help thinking.
But of course, it's not as bad as that. The whole point of an agent is to negotiate an 'advance' for an author (short for 'advance against future royalties'), which means that the publisher has to fork out an agreed amount, non-returnable, before the book is released. This helps to protect the author against sheer bad luck in the marketplace, and also encourages the publisher to get out there and do some promotional work to get their up-front money back. So we do have some advance money to live on. It's not a fortune, but we live more cheaply than anyone I know, and we'll get by.
Would I do it again? Certainly. It's been an education. Would I do it the same way? Mainly yes, especially if I could bank on the incredible strokes of luck I've had so far.
Now what?
Well, I have gone back to my original idea, and have all but completed 'Your Dog as Philosopher'. It's a story about how a man called Dave sets out to see what he can learn about the Meaning of Life from watching his dog bumbling about, while trying to look after his feisty toddler daughter on his own for a week.
A novel, then? Yes, but with a number of what you might call 'thoughtful passages' woven into it. So I prefer to think of it as a 'sort-of novel'.
My worry is that it might fall between two stools. People who just want a funny story might be offended by the idea of being offered an opportunity to think; and people who do want to think might be put off by having to wade through the silly story. We'll see. If Stan think it's hopeless to approach a publisher with it, well I guess I'll try something else instead, and 'Your Dog' may end up being part published in monthly instalments on this blog!
Actually, if you'd like to read the first couple of chapters, and let me know what you think of them, please email me at chas@thirdleafbooks.co.uk. Thanks a lot.
