Storytelling and Fiction Writing
Clare Dunkle’s advice on getting published

Please note that this page has been replaced by a new section of webpages about publishing. I am leaving it up so that its link will not break on other websites. However, I urge you to read the updated pages, which contain all of this information and more besides.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO PUBLISH A BOOK?

ADVICE ABOUT AGENTS

ALL PUBLISHING HOUSES ARE NOT THE SAME

HOW TO SEND IN YOUR MANUSCRIPT

DON’T EXPECT AN EDITOR TO HAND YOU A CONTRACT RIGHT AWAY

NO IS NOT THE WORST THING YOU CAN SAY

CAN AN ESTABLISHED AUTHOR HELP YOU BECOME ESTABLISHED?


WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO PUBLISH A BOOK?

Readers often have the idea that I publish my own books myself, or that I can make my publishing house publish yours. Nothing could be further from the truth! We writers have to sell each of our books to a publisher before that publisher will sell them to you in the bookstore. Even now, after I have sold several books to the same publishing house, I cannot guarantee that they will want the one I have just written (although my agent assures me that they do). Every manuscript has to be sold as an individual package on its own merits. Veteran authors have manuscripts rejected. It happens all the time.

What does it mean to sell a book to a publishing house? I and my publisher sign a contract stating exactly what rights they have and which rights I keep. The contract spells out what their share of each book’s sale price will be, and what my share will be (I earn a percentage on each copy they sell). The contract specifies critical details like the amount of the advance (that’s the money they pay me for signing the contract, before the book is published and actually starts to make money), and the date when the final revision of the manuscript is due.

Trade publishing houses only publish what they think they can sell. End of story! This is a business, and publishing a book costs the publishing house tens of thousands of dollars. No one publishes a book as a favor to an author.

The first thing to do, if you want to become a successful published author, is to think like a publisher. Yes, you love your book because you wrote it, but who will want to pay money for it? What will the reviewers think of it? Will librarians want to offer it to their readers? Your book has to get past a very skeptical acquisitions committee at a publishing house, so you need to start looking at it the way they do.

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ADVICE ABOUT AGENTS

In the old days, authors sent manuscripts directly to publishing houses, and the editors there reviewed them and sent polite letters back. That isn’t, generally speaking, the way our modern world works. Very few publishing houses will look at a manuscript unless it comes to them through an agent. They know that the agents will filter out the truly awful stuff. And authors know that agents, at their best, are experts in the business and have a much better idea of what a manuscript is worth than the author usually does. Agents take care of the money side of things so that the authors can simply write.

At least, that’s the theory. I don’t know how well it works for the publishing houses, but I do know that, for first-time authors, it often doesn’t turn out that way. There are loads of mediocre agents and outright scam artists out there, just waiting to make money off the unwary new novelist. I didn’t have an agent when I first started out, and by the time I signed with an agent, I was successful enough to attract the attention of a top-notch one. That means I can’t help you much here. But there are a few words of advice I can pass along.

The first principle of agents is that money should always flow toward the author. Normal authors do NOT pay agents anything out of our own pockets. The agents make a percentage of whatever we authors earn which they have negotiated on our behalf. As our representatives, they may be able to bill us for a few unusual fees, such as overseas mailing costs or the charges for buying copies of our books (which they buy at our special discount from the publishing house and then use to try to interest foreign publishers into releasing, say, a Japanese translation). But even here, a reputable agent will wait to deduct these fees out of money that is coming to the author from some other source. The agent will NOT bill the author directly. I never—repeat, NEVER—write a check to my agent. And that’s how it should be!

If an agent wants to load you up with lots of up-front reading fees, I would suspect that the agent is making his living from those fees. I would deduce from that that the agent has had no actual success selling manuscripts to publishing houses—that’s where reputable agents make their money. Such an agent will be of no use to you. You need someone who can sell your book to the right people, and that agent is not the one. Here is a webpage that provides a great deal of useful information on how to avoid scamming agents.

An agent is only as good as that agent’s network of editors and contacts. And, because the publishing world is so large, different agents have different specialties, as do different editors and publishing houses. You will be wasting everyone’s time if you send a children’s manuscript to an agent who specializes in selling adult mystery novels. You need to match your manuscript to your prospective agent’s strengths. Consult the sources mentioned in the webpage above in order to find agents who handle your special area of publishing, and follow the advice on that webpage about obtaining specific and recent references.

There is one piece of advice on the webpage that I disagree with, and that is the suggestion to ask an author for his or her agent’s name so that you can send the agent a manuscript. An internationally famous “household word” fantasy author once informed me that the very worst thing a new novelist can do is to barge into a conference and start asking veteran authors for their agents’ names. It’s simply not done (and, thank God, I hadn’t done it!) Why is it such questionable etiquette?

Well, first of all, we authors respect our busy agents and want to avoid wasting their time. We don’t want a whole stream of unwanted (and perhaps awful) manuscripts to show up on our agent’s desk, each with a letter saying, “Clare Dunkle gave me your name.” Such an occurrence could potentially damage our own relationship with our agent. Second, agents do have specialties, as mentioned above, and the match might not be a good one. Someone who just walks up and demands a name doesn’t seem to be putting much effort into the hunt for an agent, so that someone might wind up sending a manuscript that is completely out of the agent’s area of expertise, and once again, we’ve helped to waste our agent’s time. Third, after all the effort we authors have put into learning our profession and becoming successful at it, we think of the person who just asks for that name as a bit of a cheater—someone willing to take advantage of our own patient hard work. An author has three great possessions: our next manuscript idea, our editor, and our agent. We feel protective of all three, and we want to be the ones to decide when and how to share them.

That said, I should point out that the best thing you can do, as a new novelist, is to send your manuscript to an agent who has successfully sold a book very similar to the one you have just written. It is a good idea, if your writing is something like a certain well-established author’s, to contact that author’s agent. Now, how are you going to do that if we authors won’t tell you our agents’ names? You just need to do some of that patient hard work yourself. Many authors list their agents on their websites because the agents handle their speaking engagements. Some agents do interviews or write articles about the books they have handled. And, since many authors sell only some but not all of the publishing rights for a book to their trade publisher, some publishing houses list the agents who hold additional rights to their books right on their websites. (Here is an example from my own publishing house.)

A reputable agent will not take on a manuscript if he or she feels that it is not going to be a success with his or her group of contacts. That agent has built up a relationship of trust with a set of editors; if he or she starts sending them mediocre manuscripts, those editors will quickly stop bothering to look at them. Therefore, it is very important to pay attention to the feedback that a reputable agent gives you. It’s like a free consultation with an editor. Even if the agent declines to represent your work, you may learn just what you need to know in order to revise that manuscript for future success. No, you don’t have to take everything an agent says as Gospel and throw out what you had in mind for your book. But do remember what I said at the beginning of this page: no one will publish a book if it doesn’t look like it’s going to sell. If you feel the feedback is sincere and well-informed, it’s worth taking that agent’s criticism very seriously.

If the agent is willing to represent you, study the careers of authors the agent has handled. Are they still doing their best work, or has the agent hustled them into too many contracts, forced them to stay with one very narrow but commercially successful type of writing, or otherwise seemed to cause the quality of their life or work to fall off? Ask where the agent stands about these things. Remember why you want to be a writer (hopefully, because you love to write). Make sure you will still be able to love to write in the future, even if all your dreams come true.

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ALL PUBLISHING HOUSES ARE NOT THE SAME

Here is a true story. Three books were published at almost the same time: books by three novice novelists. One of them never appeared in a single bookstore. Not one! The second book sold only a few hundred copies and caused its author bitterness and frustration. The third book (mine, thank God) has sold thousands, is in its third printing, and is still finding new readers and buyers. What made the difference? The publishing houses did.

The first one was published by one of those “you really are a real author” publishing houses, the kind that promises you an advance and a royalty check, even if it’s just a dollar. Beware of those publishers: they sound too good to be true because they are! This one makes its money off copies that the author orders; it makes no effort to sell the books itself. It also produces only the number of copies it has orders for; essentially, it does “on demand” printing. It will not conform to industry standards for bookstore returns, and because of that, no bookstore in the United States will carry its books—not even as a special-order item! This may be a nice way to get a copy of your family history published for your next reunion, but if you want to become a known author, this sort of publishing house is worse than no publisher at all: the contract ties up your manuscript for years so that you can’t sell it to someone else, and you get close to nothing in return.

The second book was published by a house that does allow bookstore returns, so bookstores could, at least, order copies. But it was a very small publishing house, and it did not have a policy of sending books out for reviews. Reviews are vital! They are the only way a new author will ever be noticed. Just like movie reviews, book reviews signal to librarians, teachers, booksellers, publishers, agents, and all sorts of other interested people—including readers!—that someone worth watching has come onto the scene. Without reviews, nothing happens. This novelist was a second-time author, and her first book had done quite well; otherwise, even those few hundred books probably would not have sold.

Thousands of books are published every year, and of those, probably less than a quarter get reviewed. The publishing house can make or break this. Many of the most important review sources do not allow an author to send in a book for review; only the publishing house can do so, in order to save the reviewers from being inundated by poor-quality self-published books. And the review sources don’t have space to review everything they receive. They often select in favor of the big publishing houses that they know will provide them with consistent quality.

The first rule of agents also applies to publishing houses. Money never flows away from the author. Money always flows toward the author. I do not have to pay a dime for anything that my publishing house does to print or market my books. Instead, they have to pay me. I do not pay for the books that they send to reviewers; I do not pay those mailing costs, either. They are in the publishing game, and that is part of doing business.

You need to find out from your prospective publishing house just how well it has done lately at getting its books reviewed. Make them be specific! Ask for titles, authors, recent reviews, standard mailing lists that they use with their books, and the marketing plan they intend to use with your manuscript. Check their Net presence and their presence in libraries and bookstores, both online and in your local community. Take a good look at some books they have just published. Make sure the house is reputable.

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HOW TO SEND IN YOUR MANUSCRIPT

You should have the whole manuscript completed before you contact any agents. Even if an agent wants to see only some sample chapters, he or she wants to know that this is not a waste of time. Later, when you are established, you will be able to pitch an idea and an outline. At this point, you have no track record for completing projects. You might never write the second half of that great American novel, and so the agent very likely won’t even look at a part of it until the whole thing is done.

It goes without saying that you should follow any instructions you are given exactly, so I won’t bother to say it. In your cover letter, you should point out the intended audience of the book and compare it to a recent bestseller or two that it resembles. Briefly mention its strengths in an appealing way, and if you have had prior publishing experience, mention that. But the cover letter should not be long, and it should keep in mind the things that matter most to the agent and publisher: will this book be successful, and how can it be marketed? Don’t tell them all about how this is your baby. Babies don’t pay their bills.

My first submission went into a slush pile along with hundreds—if not thousands—of other manuscripts from authors who had no agents. It came out of that slush pile to be published, and even to win an award, at odds of over a thousand to one. The single thing I did that was unusual was this: I reasoned that even an editor likes to read a book jacket to build up interest, so I included an extra page after the title page, called (appropriately enough), “Book Jacket.” It contained a short excerpt of several exciting paragraphs lifted from the book’s insides, and after that came a teaser, a couple of paragraphs setting up what the book was about.

Now, at my publishing house, there was only one editor who liked reading fantasy, which is my genre. And that editor was the one who found, read, and loved my manuscript. Did that “book jacket” pull her in, as it was supposed to? Did any of the other editors read the “book jacket” and put the manuscript back into the pile, deciding that it wasn’t for them? I don’t know, but I’m very glad I included that extra page. I still do it for the rough draft of every complete manuscript: it gives my editor and me a starting point when we wrangle over the jacket text.

Incidentally, you can still read that original “jacket.” My editor liked it so much that she kept it, almost word for word, to be the final jacket text on the book. The excerpt I chose is gone from the reprinted copies now, replaced by happy reviews, but it was on the back of the book for the first printing. It appears on the Hollow Kingdom Book Jacket page, as well.

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DON’T EXPECT AN EDITOR TO HAND YOU A CONTRACT RIGHT AWAY

You and your agent have done your work well, and now you’re looking at your first—well, it isn’t a rejection letter, exactly: you’ve seen those. But it isn’t an offer of a contract, either. What is it?

In all likelihood, particularly if you’ve broken through to one of the big trade houses, the editor has asked to see a revision of the manuscript you sent in. She has pointed out the things about your writing that she really loves, and she has pointed out the flaws, as well. Because of those flaws, she feels that she cannot offer you a contract now, and of course it’s your decision, but if you’d like to work with her on the manuscript further, she’d love to see it again.

There are good reasons why veteran editors don’t necessarily offer contracts to first-time novelists the minute those novelists come into view. For one thing, your manuscript does have those flaws, at least from the editor’s perspective, and she is very likely right. No author can get all of it perfect the first time—if we could, none of us would rely so obsessively on our editors, and their lives would probably be happier. But the fact is that she may well be sending you this cautious letter now, when, if this were your third manuscript together, she would moving ahead to sign it up. Why is that?

This editor doesn’t know how hard you will work, or how hard you will be to work with. She doesn’t yet know whether you can meet a deadline, or whether you will cry whenever she asks where her revision is. She hasn’t yet seen you deal with criticism—and authors HAVE to be able to take and use criticism. An author who can’t take criticism is like an athlete who can’t be coached: no matter how much talent is there, that’s someone who will never be very good.

Once that contract is signed, you and your editor are stuck in harness together until the book comes out. She’d just as soon not find that harness turn into a straightjacket! And she probably cannot decide to sign up a book on her own authority. Others at the publishing house will have to evaluate it, too. Since you have no market presence, she wants the manuscript to look as good as possible before she takes it into an acquisitions meeting. So you still have a lot of work to do to make your manuscript a success in order to earn that first contract.

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NO IS NOT THE WORST THING YOU CAN SAY

You may have dreamed all your life about that book contract, but it shouldn’t be your first consideration. There are times when you need to say No to a contract—or to an editor. Only you will know when those times come along, but when they do, don’t let the magic of that contract silence what you feel deep down. Ultimately, your satisfaction has to come from your writing—and not from your publishing. There is a difference!

I’m very pragmatic and collaborative about working with what my publishing house needs to see in a manuscript. I know that they have a respected place in their profession and that they need to sell books. And I know that my editor reads much more widely than I do and has a great grasp of my manuscripts’ virtues and flaws. I do a great deal to meet them halfway—but there is a balance to consider. In the end, for me, my writing has to come first, just as their publishing has to come first for them.

In 2002, I had done one revision of my first manuscript, The Hollow Kingdom, for my editor, and she asked for another one. She gave me a short list of suggestions that would have altered the plot in subtle ways, but some of them would have broken things that were very important to me about the story. So, there I was, unpublished, unknown, and unagented (yes, that’s a word in the business)—what was I supposed to do?

I said No, of course: I wouldn’t write that revision. I wrote my editor a thoughtful, pleasant email explaining exactly what would break, took the blame for not having presented that aspect of the book more clearly, and then asked where she would suggest I submit the manuscript next (hey, it couldn’t hurt to get her advice!) Oh, sure, I spent a while crying into my pillow, but I knew it was the right thing to do. This was not a case of being stubborn over unwanted criticism; it was a question of what kind of book I would write. I was the one who had to take responsibility for that.

Fortunately for me, my editor saw where I was trying to go and made different suggestions instead. Otherwise, my publishing career would have been over before it began. Still, The Hollow Kingdom would have remained the book I wanted it to be, even if no one knew that except its author. I’d do it again, even if it did end my career.

When I write, my story matters to me more than anything, and I want to be sure it makes it through the publication process the way it should be. Because of that, I don’t sell proposals or partial manuscripts. I wait until I have a complete first draft. That way, both parties know what we are getting. If the publishing house wants changes, they can let me know, and I can evaluate whether I want their contract in return. When By These Ten Bones was under negotiation, I was quite skeptical about some of the proposed direction about it from the publisher and refused to go ahead with the contract until we were clear on what I would and wouldn’t be changing. My editor must have had a thoroughly nerve-wracking time, going back and forth and settling us onto one common course. But, again, I felt it was the right thing for the manuscript. No was better than a messed-up book!

A few months before my first book came out, Holt offered me a two-book contract, but without titles specified; they suspected that they would want the second and third books of The Hollow Kingdom Trilogy, which were already complete in early drafts, but because the first book wasn’t yet published, they were hesitant to lock themselves into publishing those other two books. What if The Hollow Kingdom was a flop? Who would buy the other books in the trilogy? So they offered me the untitled contract instead. It could apply to Book 2 and Book 3 if The Hollow Kingdom was successful; if not, it could apply to two other books I would write.

This was a bird in the hand, wasn’t it? And it was a very flattering message to a not-yet-published author: yes, we know we want two more books from you, even though we haven’t read them yet. And it came with advance money, too!

I turned the contract down. Among other serious considerations, I would have had to give up too much control over my stories to accept it. With a contract already signed, I would have had a much harder time saying No to serious editorial changes; and of course these mythical other two books had not yet been written, so Holt couldn’t tell me where we might differ on them. As I explained at the time, I didn’t want to sell what I was—only what I had. If Holt didn’t want the two manuscripts I had, then we had nothing upon which to base a contract.

Just a couple of months later, we signed a two-book contract for Book 2 and By These Ten Bones. So saying No didn’t kill me. It just protected my stories. And that’s the most important thing!

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CAN AN ESTABLISHED AUTHOR HELP YOU BECOME ESTABLISHED?

Yes and no. We can share our advice with you and answer questions that can help you through rough patches because of our experience in preparing and revising long fiction manuscripts. But authors aren’t publishers. We have no control over what publishing houses choose to accept or reject. And that’s probably a good thing. Authors aren’t trained editors! The two professions demand very different skills.

Shannon Hale has a wonderful webpage on this topic. On that page, she describes how she has brought several different manuscripts from acquaintances to her editor, only to have every one of them turned down. She thought they were great, but they still didn’t make the grade with her editor, so what good did her involvement with them do? I’ve had that experience myself, and I’ve come to exactly the same conclusion.

Readers frequently write to me, hoping that I will read manuscripts for them, but this is something I won’t do because it wastes everyone’s time. I honestly don’t have an editor’s skills: I can be brutal with my own work, but I absolutely cannot be mean to you, so those looking for substantive feedback won’t get what they need from me. As noted above, because I’m not an editor, I can’t help you get published, either: like a prisoner sitting in the judge’s chair to hear a criminal case, I’m powerless to change anybody’s fate. And, for reasons that I explain here, I think it is unwise and potentially damaging to the hopeful writer’s morale for an established author to read unpublished works.

So, you’re far better off investing that time you would waste on sending the manuscript to me into finding a good agent and editor instead. Those are the people who can really help your career. Then write to tell me that you’ve made it. I’ll be thrilled for you!

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Webpage text copyright 2005 by Clare B. Dunkle. Permission is given to print this page for educational or private use, provided the author is acknowledged on the printed copy. It is forbidden to copy, distribute, or use this text in electronic form. This text may not be emailed or used on another website.