A forty year veteran of the publishing wars, MICHAEL SEIDMAN has been on the editorial side of the desk since 1970. His career includes experience in a literary agency, international book sales, book reviewing, and literary magazines. Currently responsible for the mystery publishing program at Walker & Company, he has worked at various publishing houses and was the Editor in Chief of Mysterious Press and Editorial Director of Zebra/Pinnacle (now Kensington), and served for ten years as the editor of The Armchair Detective.

As a writer, Michael is the author of two non-fiction books, From Printout to Published: A Guide to the Publishing Process and Living the Dream: An Outline for a Life in Fiction, his articles and essays appear in Writer’s Digest, Byline, The Writer, West Coast Review of Books, American Bookseller, and other magazines; an experimental essay on the writing process will appear in Fourth Genre. His short stories have appeared in Twilight Zone, Mystery, and the original anthology, Stalkers.

He has been nominated for an Anthony Award as Best Book Editor, for a Western Writers of America Spur Award for his short story, "The Dream that Follows Darkness"; he received the first American Mystery Award as Best Editor (and was a nominee in the Horror category), and was named Editor of the Year by the Southwest Mystery and Suspense Convention.

 

 

Pageonelit.com: In the introduction of THE ART AND CRAFT OF WRITING AND GETTING PUBLISHED, you say that you ask writers on a regular basis two questions. May I ask you the same questions? Why do you write and why do you want to write?"

 

Michael Seidman: Why I write and why I want to write are closely entwined; you probably couldn't see light shining between the two. I write because it is the most effective way for me to communicate with a large number of people who might need to see, or want to see, what I have to say. It is also the most effective way to open lines of communication, especially these days, with immediate cyberaccess.

I don't necessarily think that my concepts (about writing, in my non-fiction or about life, in my fiction) are absolutes and I'm willing to learn. By expressing ideas, pushing buttons, suggesting whatever I seem to be exploring at the moment, and putting those ideas out there for consideration, I receive responses in turn and I may learn from those reactions. I often say that we teach most those things we most have to learn ourselves; writing very much defines that interaction for me.

"Seem to be exploring...." Most certainly in both my fiction and in my essays, the writing is about exploration, a consideration of ideas, of problems, of concerns and an attempt to find, by the end of the piece, something that might be an answer. I feel that most good writing, lasting writing, shares that: we have a character or an issue and the writing is about the "why" of it. And, yes, that approach is perfectly congruent with the idea of writing as a way of offering escape and/or entertainment
to the reader. The idea that issues or reality or some such gets in the way of that is specious.

I guess you might say, then, that I write to find answers and then to share them with those who are interested."

 

Pageonelit.com: You bring up many interesting concepts in THE ART AND CRAFT OF WRITING, but one jumped out at me. It was that the word processor could be a drawback to our writing. It can take away from the forward motion of the telling the story. Could you elaborate here on this and should writers dim their screens when they sit down to write? Do successful novelists use this method?

 

Michael Seidman: I don't know that any novelists, successful or not, follow that piece of advice; based on the manuscripts I see every day, though, I'd guess that most don't. The word processor has put a twist on things, really. When the technology was first becoming popular, two questions would crop up at conferences with disgusting regularity: what kind of computer do you use and what word processor do you use? (Back then WordStar seemed to have been the w.p. of choice.) But what difference can it possibly make? It isn't the technology that writes the book; it's the writer. Still, we allowed the equipment to dictate how we work, and the work suffers for it.

Why turn off the screen? Well, consider how we work at our PCs. We type, looking down at notes (if we've made any) but then looking up at the words forming on the display. (If you're old enough to have been trained
correctly, you'll remember that when we learned how to type, the first lesson was to never look at the sheet of paper against the platen; I wonder if typing teachers--if they exist--still adhere to that?)

Anyway: we look at the words forming and then, because it's quick and easy, if we see a typo, we go back up to it and make the change, all the
while seeing words and sentences even further back...and changing them. We're not moving forward, toward the end of the story, but back toward the beginning, correcting on the fly.

It's clear to me, based on the empirical evidence offered by submissions, that far too many people have begun to consider that--and the concommitant use of the spell and grammar checkers--to be all that's necessary in the way of revision. Even if they print out a day's work and mark up the hard copy, they don't rekey anything, simply put in the corrections. And they lose one of the most important steps in the writing and revision process.

Remember how we used to write? We'd take the stack of pages, mark them up, and then have to retype every last one of them. While retyping, new thoughts would occur, a line or sentence or word would lead us to a new scene or metaphor...whatever it was, the writing would inspire writing.

Sure, it takes more time, but any writer who thinks getting it done sooner is a positive should reconsider her position. Deadlines, contests, whatever excuses I hear are only that: excuses, not valid reasons.

If the screen is off, if you're not looking at what you're writing, but are concentrating on what you're writing (and if you don't see the difference, well, I will when you submit the manuscript), and then print at the end of the work session, your efforts will be entirely on moving
this toward a conclusion. The next time you sit down, you can see where you stopped, and start from there. Finally, with everything done, do your revision (and spell checking) on the print out itself. Only then do you
start making corrections on disk. If you've got what it takes, you'll retype entirely; at worst, though, you'll make the changes then, deleting and adding material. And if you're really smart, you'll print that version out and do it one more time."

 

Pageonelit.com: You say that the determining title of an authors book lies in the hands of the publisher. From your experience, have you seen titles changed before publication routinely? How do most authors react to the renaming of their book? Can you share a positive example of a successful book where the original title was changed?

 

Michael Seidman: I don't know that I'd say "routinely"; it is done when the editor or publisher thinks there's valid reason to do so. It may be that another book with a similar (or identical) title has been or will be released close to your
publication date. It might be that someone feels that the title doesn't "sound right"; we may have learned from our sales reps that certain words are now in disfavor with readers. One instance of a title that should have been changed: I published a book by Robert Randisi (then working under a pseudonym), titled THE TURNER JOURNALS. It was an excellent police procedural, set in Brooklyn, and dealing with a serial killer.

Unfortunately, at about that time, the papers were filled with stories about a book called THE TURNER DIARIES, which was a right-wing, militia oriented work. The paperback edition will be released under Bob's
name...and with a new title. On the flip side, a recently released academic mystery, THE DEATH OF A CONSTANT LOVER by Lev Raphael, was submitted under the title, STATE UNIVERSITY OF MURDER. (SUM is the acronym of the school at which the events take place.) I think the final title is better (thus the change, with the author's approval) but I can't
say definitively that it increased sales.

As for others, I really can't say; it's such a minor detail in the scheme of things that I don't know anyone thinks about it very much; it certainly isn't a subject of conversation among editors and agents...unless the
author has been intransigent.

And how do author's feel about it? Well, most understand that it is the novel that's important, that the title is often nothing more than a sales handle, a marketing tool. If changing the title means killing another of your darlings, sobeit. The fact remains that every contract states that what is being acquired is "tentatively titled." A writer might try to negotiate his way around that, but as a writer and as an editor, I'd just as soon concentrate on what's important--the writing."

 

Pageonelit.com: You briefly mention the Barnes & Noble acquisition of Ingram, a major distributor. What are your thoughts on this deal -- if it does or does not go through? Are independent bookstores on the out? If a super bookstore also is a major distributor to other stores, can this have a limiting effect on the book buyers choices and what will that mean for future novelists.

 

Michael Seidman: Lots of independents, in lots of fields, are struggling. When's the last time you saw a campaign to boycott Office or Home Depot, CVS drugstores...whatever?

Keep in mind that Ingram is not a super bookstore acting as a distributor, even if the B&N deal goes through, any more than the movie studios Bronfman owns are part of a whisky distribution chain; it is a separate entity under a corporate umbrella. I don't accept the paranoid fantasy
that B&N is going to look at Ingram's figures to judge how and what an indie is doing. When you get right down to it, after all, anyone who's been in the book selling business for more than three hours can walk into
any bookstore, anywhere in the country, and make a very good guess at the figures. Any retailer can do that in its field.

I don't think indies such as Tattered Cover or Powell's really have to worry and, in terms of niche indies, those specializing in a genre, if the presence of a superstore near them drives them out of business, they're doing business wrong. The superstores cannot carry everything (any more than any indie can) and they don't even attempt to carry all the mysteries or sf titles...or travel books or anything else. They face the same problem all retailers confront: there's just so much room on the shelves and that room doesn't increase. So, they carry what sells best for them: a local or popular author, bestsellers, books of particular interest or value...and whatever else strikes the fancy of the chain's buyers.

The only instances I've found of the chains dictating what's going to be published are those times when a publisher is thinking of investing far too much in a book that's going to have a limited run: the next Monica tell all, the bio of some movie star whose name I've already forgotten. I don't know any publisher who goes in and says I have this manuscript for a novel by John Weaver, do you think I should but it?

And look at the shelves at the superstores...what can't you find there? A particular backlist title? Is it available at any outlet? A new novel? A non-fiction title you just saw reviewed? They're all there; I walked through one recently, while waiting for my wife, Lisa, to meet me, and
when she arrived, fifteen minutes later, I had three hundred dollars worth of new and old titles bundled under my arms. (She wisely made me put them all back where I found them.)

Admittedly, I don't work in a bookstore these days (and haven't in about ten years), but I know that an independent that caters to its customers and carries what they want that may not be carried elsewhere (a mystery
backlist, whatever), that continues to special order for its customers, that works, in effect, as a gourmet store down the block from a Kroeger's or a designer boutique across the strip mall from K-mart, can be successful.

The writers will continue to be published. The cuts in midlist have less to do with what the superstores are taking than with corporate bottom lines dictated by beancounters who think that a book is equivalent to a
box of cereal; they're both products, yes, but they can't be sold the same way and the numbers aren't the same. Books aren't a necessity to most Americans, not in the same way that food and clothing are.

The chains aren't going to have a discernable impact on new writers (and publishers and editors who say that they will are, in my opinion, using the superstores as an excuse, another way of saying, "I don't know how to
sell this...."); what's going get in their way is reinventing the wheel with every book they write.

 

Pageonelit.com: What was the last book you read for complete pleasure that you really enjoyed and why?

Michael Seidman: Do you also want me to name my favorite daughter? Okay, come the moment I go off duty for the day, every book I read is for complete pleasure. There are three titles, though, that have taken a place on my shelves that is permanent: Barry Unsworth's THE STONE VIRGIN, a brilliant mystery (in form, not formula), with history, magic realism, art.... A stunning tale. Next, Helen Dunmore's SPEAKING TO THE DEAD, another novel with a mystery at its heart but spectacular for Dunmore's use of the senses as she traces the relationship between two sisters, their past and present. Finally, a book I finished last night and will begin rereading in about a month: Annie Dillard's FOR THE TIME BEING...a wonderfully crafted essay (or piece of narrative non-fiction) investigating God, prayer, evil, humanity.... The writing is gorgeous, the approach different and the ideas thought provoking. Because I seem to be spending more time these days considering the various forms of the essay in both my writing and reading, concentrating on what Michael Steinberg calls the fourth genre (that's the
title of a new magazine devoted to creative non-fiction that Mike edits and in which I have an essay), the Dillard has become especially important to me.

Of course, this morning I went back to reading Robertson Davies's THE CORNISH TRILOGY, so my answer may be different next week.

 

Pageonelit.com: In your book THE ART AND CRAFT OF WRITING AND GETTING PUBLISHED, you bring over twenty years of experience and insight. If a writer would walk away with one piece of vital advice from the reading of this book -- what would that be and why?

Michael Seidman: A tough one, John, there are so many aspects of writing that are important. So, maybe this: What have you done in the writing of your book or story that makes a difference? Why should some editor acquire your manuscript rather than any of the others on his desk, why should a reader buy your book rather than the one already in her hand. Our choices, as customers, are almost limitless; what have you done to make us choose you? If you can't answer that, what have you accomplished?

 

Pageonelit.com: What does it take to break out a new author?

Michael Seidman: A better book and a lot of luck. Advertising, promotion, all that stuff can only put the name out there. But if there's no word of mouth, if there aren't enough reviews . . . . I still opt for a book that makes a difference to me as a reader, on some level. If it does that, fine: I'll buy it. If I can't see anything in the book to make it in any way different from the book next to it on the shelf, I don't waste my time or energy. That's as a reader and as an editor.