To: Aspiring Novelists
Re: Getting Published

So you want to get a novel published. And you’ve decided it’s time to start shopping your pitch around.

Do yourself a favor. Don’t. Because chances are good you’re wasting your time. Which means, by extension, you’re going to waste a lot of peoples’ time in the process.

You might think that you’re a great writer. There’s a possibility that you are even a great novelist, but it’s remote. I can say that safely because I know that you don’t have any experience writing actual novels. If you did, you wouldn’t be looking for a publisher. You’re a wannabe, and while you might believe that you’re sitting on something incredible, I’d be willing to bet that the book you think you’ve written and the book you’ve actually written are vastly different in quality.

Go to a bookstore and check out the fic/lit section. Notice how many books are on the shelves. Notice how many you’ve never even heard of. Now, understand that this section represents just a tiny fraction of all the fictional books that have been published over the last 10 years. Most of the books that have been published in fiction genres are long-forgotten. Only a handful are held over for multiple printings.

I’ll bet you believe you are different. You think that you have something the tens of thousands of writers who have come before you don’t have. You think that you see the world differently from everyone else, that you’re more skilled at telling stories, and that you have something special to offer. That’s fine. You’re entitled to think whatever you want.

But when you start shoving your manuscript in the faces of editors and literary agents and professional writers demanding that your work be considered for publication because you believe that you’re somehow entitled to do so… well, you’re nuts.

You may have written a novel, but it doesn’t make you special. Every year, thousands of people write novels 50,000 words long during the month of November for National Novel Writing Month. Most of them don’t feel entitled to be published. A lot of them know they’ve written complete garbage. The accomplishment is in crossing the finish line. Many shelve their drafts and move on to something else. They have no illusions of grandeur.

But you, oh aspiring writer, who may not have even finished one entire novel. You love to go on the Internet and into writer’s groups to talk about how wonderful your work is. You love to have long, late-night conversations about the craft of writing. You love to critique other published writers and explain why you are better. You read Writer’s Digest and attend writer’s workshops and keep an earmarked copy of Writer’s Market close at hand.

Here’s my advice to you: sit down, shut up, and just write. Not about writing, or about how wonderful you are, or what you intend to do with all the money you ‘ll make when someone finally realizes your genius. No. Write a novel. Then another. And another. And keep on doing that until you write something that is actually good; something that someone might actually want to read. Something an editor might actually want to publish.

And then, before you waste anyone’s time with it, spend ten times the amount of time that you spent writing the book actually revising it. If it took you one month to write the novel, you need to spend 10 months revising it. If it took you six months to write the novel, you need to spend five years revising it. I’m not talking about the calendar days it took you, of course, but the actual number of hours you spent writing. My rationale here is simple: you’re going to have to put some distance between yourself and your work. You’re going to need to snap out of the mindset of “I just wrote this” and into the mindset of “I need to fix this.” And you’re going to have to do that over and over and over until you have refined your piece of writing to be something that’s actually good. If you force yourself to repeat that process ten times, you’re going to quit if you create something that’s garbage… and you’re going to shape your ungainly rough draft into something a little more refined.

You can solicit the opinions of others, but don’t waste your time soliciting the opinions of other writers, particularly other amateurs. You’re just giving them an excuse not to be writing. Instead, solicit the opinions of readers – the more jaded they are, the better. Ask them where they got bored, or where they found their minds wandering. Ask them where they thought the novel could have been better. Don’t let them get off with saying, “it was good.” Tell them not to spare your feelings. Tell them to pretend they’ve just spent $10 on your book and you want to know if it was worth what they spent. Ask them how much they really thought it was worth. Ask multiple readers who read multiple genres. Don’t let one person’s assessment of your work be the be-all and end-all of your beliefs about its quality. Evaluate every critique you receive, and separate legitimate concerns from the personal tastes of individuals.

Stay away from writing about writing or reading about writing. Many writers make a successful occupation out of selling this stuff to others. Don’t fall prey to them. If you want to be a better writer, write. Vary your work, and write about anything that interests you. Stay away from being locked into a genre or a topic. Don’t worry about your pen name or what the cover of your book should look like. That’s something for professionals to worry about. You just keep your head down and get back to work.

If you have written a manuscript, and you think it’s ready for publication, you should not need to make any more revisions to it. If it comes back with requests for revisions, either it is not ready to be published, or the publishing world is not ready for it. At this point, you must decide — is it even worth revising? If the revisions involve changing the very nature of what you have written to suit another market, you should shelve that story and work on something else. Sell it later when you have found an audience.

If you ignore all of my advice here and insist on pushing on in your stubborn, obstinate way, then let me give you one final piece of advice: don’t send your work to me, because I don’t want to read it, even if you manage to get some other publisher to pick it up. I’ve got plenty of time-tested titles to read. And I’ve got plenty of my own projects to finish.

Thanks,

-Sean J. Jordan

“It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to get into the comic book industry. So, how can I do it?”

It’s a big question. And unfortunately, I don’t have a straightforward answer to it for most people, because it really depends on what you’re trying to do. But what I can offer are some general guidelines that should help those who have this question burning in their brains to start finding some answers.

Let’s start out with the obvious point: there is no one “way” into the comic book industry. Everyone’s path is different. Most ways in require a large amount of patience and persistence, but some people do get lucky.

My way in was unique, but not so different from many other stories I’ve heard. My first “gig” in the comic book industry came as the result of a writing contest an artist was holding for a Christian-themed comic book called “The Devil’s Keeper.” He’d written a screenplay, and wanted to adapt it into a comic. He asked for submissions, and many people sent them in. I didn’t want to waste my time, so I sent an email requesting more information about the story — I wanted to make sure it was something I cared to work on first. That got his attention. And since I had the writing ability to back up my attitude, I was a good fit for what he wanted to accomplish.

Through this artist, I made many other contacts within the industry, and I was able to put my skills as a Public Relations manager, editor and writer to use in many capacities. Since I was working with startups and independent publishers, I did it all part-time. I probably could have made a full-time gig out of it, if I’d been willing to take the risk, but I never saw an opportunity that was worth it. (Even now, as I run my own publishing company, I have a day job in marketing research to make sure my bills get paid. That gives me the freedom to make sure my projects are top-notch; I’m not pressured to ship an inferior product just so I can get some quick cash.)

My way in involved having a variety of skills, a range of contacts, and a willingness to look for opportunities. I got to do some really neat work, and I was able to work with some big-name fantasy authors whose books I’d read when I was a kid. I even got to see my wife start her own comic book writing career adapting the first few Anita Blake comics. I might not have had a chance to become a famous comic book writer, but I at least enjoyed the experience. I also got to see enough of the ugly side of the industry to set up a solid business plan and start my own company.

Clearly, I was in the right place at the right time several times over. But what you must understand is that I was able to be in the right place at the right time because I was constantly making myself available to expand upon what I was doing. People sought me out to ask for my advice on marketing. Creators brought me their work and asked for a critique. Friends in the industry would send things over for me to ghost edit. I didn’t get paid for most of this work, nor did I even ask for payment. For one thing, I knew most of these folks didn’t have a lot of money to offer. And for another, I knew that it was more to my benefit for them to remember my act of kindness down the road when an opportunity suited to my skills came along and they needed someone to recommend for the gig.

And that’s the general piece of advice I would give to anyone wanting to get into the comic book industry — even if you can write, edit, pencil, ink, color or letter really well, you should take the time to learn some other skills, because the more you’re able to do yourself, the more marketable you’ll make yourself within the industry.

I also recommend spending a little bit of time honestly answering the following seven questions:

1) What do I want to do in the comic book industry, exactly? Be specific. Say, “I want to write Spider-Man for Marvel,” or, “I want to create my own series.” I’m not saying that you will do these things, but it’s important to know what you’re shooting for. After all, there’s a world of difference between trying to get a very specific job on a popular book and trying to go the route of an independent creator.

2) What skills do I have that I can offer to a publisher beyond a standard comic book position? So, you’re a wannabe writer. That’s great. But can you write press releases and website posts, too? Or, maybe you’re an aspiring pencil aritst. Cool. But are you able to do some conceptual art that can define the style of a prospective series? Can you color your own work at a professional level? Believe it or not, publishers are also looking for people willing to fill roles like these.  They may lack the glamor of working on a book, but they’re a way to develop a relationship.

3) What sets me apart? I wish more people would spend time grappling with this question. Too many would-be writers and artists out there are derivative of whatever’s popular. Most can’t define what makes their style their own, and most are all too aware of their influences. My own rule of thumb is that if I can spot a writer or artist’s primary influence within five minutes, I won’t consider them for a project. But the flip side of that is that if I sense the writer or artist is too married to a particular genre or style, I won’t consider them, either. There’s such a thing as being too distinctive — and it often means the person is difficult to work with.

4) Can I work at a professional level? Here’s another question that needs to be asked more often. I get a lot of email from people who want to launch comics, but who have no business trying to get into the industry, because their work is extremely unprofessional in quality. If you can’t match what people are doing at Marvel or DC, you need to spend time developing your skills so you can work at that high level. If you’re a writer, you’d better be able to tell a short story that’s heavy on action and light on words. You’d also better be able to pace things properly and string readers along from issue to issue. If you’re an artist, you’d better be able to draw backgrounds, and you’d better be a master of facial expressions, anatomy, and action poses.

5) Can I work on a tight deadline (even if it’s not my fault things got behind)? It’s amazing how many professionals there are in the industry who can’t say “yes” to this question. A comic book deadline is pretty simple — books come out every month, so writers have to turn in a script every 30 days and pencil artists have to turn in 5-6 pages a week, plus a cover every month. Colorists and letterers often work on several books per month, and thus generally turn around one book every week. This is all good and well… until someone’s late, or revisions are requested. Inevitably, however, someone screws up, and everything falls apart. The deadlines remain, but the workload gets heavier. Pencil artists find themselves scrambling to get 7-8 pages done over three weeks, and colorists and letterers are given a weekend to get a book turned around. It’d be nice if these things didn’t happened, but they do, and rather frequently, at that.

6) Can I handle being told I suck? I have yet to meet a creative person who has not been told, at some point in his or her career, how awful he or she is. Rejection is common in the world of publishing, and editors and art directors aren’t known for mincing words. If you can’t deal with a bad review from a website,  some harsh words from a fan, or an angry phone call from an unhappy editor, you should stay away from the comic book industry, because you’re going to fall apart when you see how much rejection you have to endure.

7) Am I kidding myself? This last question is not something you should assess by yourself. Rather, you should put together a portfolio of your best work, come up with a pitch for what you want to do, and ask a variety of people whom you know and trust to answer it for you once they see what you’ve got to show. I’d say you should show at least ten people of varied backgrounds, ages, occupations and relationships to you (as opposed to, say, just your friends and family). If they’re not persuaded, chances are good that editors won’t be, either. And if they offer you feedback, you’d be wise to listen to it — they might not understand comic books exactly, but their “outsider” perspective might be more valuable than any “insider” advice you’ll find.

Once you’ve chewed on these seven questions, and you’ve determined that you are indeed ready to look for work in the comic book industry, here are some general pointers for working your way in.

Writers: Do not – I repeat, DO NOT – contact people in the industry and ask them to look at your scripts. This is the kiss of death as far as most editors are concerned. Your best bet is to find ways to make personal contacts with editors and publishers (say, offering to be their gopher for an afternoon during a convention, or meeting them for a drink later in the evening) so that you’re top-of-mind when it comes time to hire writers. I do not recommend doing weird, stalkerish things like adding editors to your Facebook or Myspace profile or sending them messages at their personal email accounts unless you have taken the time to make friends with these people first.

If you must send query letters, make sure they’re short and sweet, well-edited, and that they list your full range of professional skills, not just some sob story about how it’s your dream to write comics.  There are far, far more writers out there than jobs available, so make sure you mention the fact that you can write press releases, catalog capsules, website content, and other forms of copy, provided that you actually can. Always include a link to a website or PDF where editors can review your clips quickly and conveniently. Don’t attach it — let them make the choice to download it themselves. Do not include ANY unpublished fictional work in your clips unless you absolutely must — this represents a conflict of interest for editors and they will generally stop reading to absolve themselves of any legal responsibilities.

Artists: Before you approach anyone, you need to set up an online gallery where editors can go to check out your portfolio. Most of the time, artists are hired by responding to requests for submissions, either formal or informal. You can always show your work to an editor at a convention or via the web in the hopes that they have a good match for you, but chances are good they’ll forget your work unless it really, really impresses them. Many referrals come through contacts with other artists, so get connected via social networks and web forums and keep your ear to the rail. The more you share your work and ask for input from your peers, the better known you’ll be when an opportunity suited to your style becomes available.

Paper submission packets should be creative and feature your best work. They should never be delivered to an editor unsolicited, because they will probably be thrown away. In my experience, editors do not like artists to submit clips in email submission packets unless they are requested or specifically tailored to the inquiry. You should also avoid applying for jobs that are outside your stylistic area of interest. If you want to do mature-themed books and the editor is looking for artists who can draw kid-friendly characters, you’re not a good fit, and shouldn’t waste your time, or the editor’s, by submitting.

If you go to a convention, avoid the temptation to sit in Artist’s Alley. Editors perceive this as being the realm of amateurs. Some editors do wander through and look for talent, but very few legitimate offers are made. If you’ve heard someone got a big gig through being in Artist’s Alley, chances are good it’s with a publisher that’s small press or less than reputable. Save your money and focus instead on scheduling portfolio reviews with editors from publishers you’re actually interested in working for.

If you can color, ink, paint or letter, be sure you mention this any time you’re talking to a publisher. Those positions are much harder to fill than the writer and pencil artist positions, and they’re often a smart way to get an “in” with a publisher and build up your professional portfolio.

I’ve got plenty more advice I can offer, but I think what I’ve mentioned in this post is enough to start with. If you have specific questions, please post them below, or email me at sean at seanjjordan dot com. Good luck!