The greatest idea ever

How cool would this be?

An itunes-esque store for short stories would make me very happy. Countless collections come out and I can't afford them all and there are usually only a handful of stories in each that I would really want to add to my 'permanent collection.' I'm still not a fan of the e-readers I've gotten my hands on but if I could buy a single story from a collection, much like a single song from a CD, then I'd be hard pressed to not ask Santa for a Kindle.

The idea is fraught with problems. Least of which include, 'how do authors get paid,' and 'will there be exclusivity among the different brands of e-readers? ' (Which would be an instant deal killer for me, because I wouldn't buy more than one device just to ensure I could read all the materials I wanted).

Still how badass would it be to type in "Michael Swanwick" in the itunes store and get a catalogue of his short stories for purchase?

Some one who does stuff like this, please hurry up and make it happen.

Sir Harold Evans at the Decatur Book Festival

The country's largest independent book festival started today with a writers conference, and after that series of workshops concluded the day ended with a speech entitled, 'The Vital Future of the Printed Word', by Sir Harold Evans, a man whose laundry list of accolades is so detailed that to only mention a few honors would seem an offense.

Sir Evan's called out what he deemed 'The four Horseman of the Apocalypse' concerning the printed word--one of which was internet technologies and rapid sharing/printing of information. Then he spelled out what he saw as the future print media and a point of eternal optimism when newspapers are closing faster than ever all over the world: Print on Demand. I found it ironic that he didn't truly address the irony.

In fact, he played his duality very well. He never condemned technology, praised it's many accomplishments, yet adamantly stated the importance of true journalism. His definition of 'the news' was the same as given to him by the proprietor of a news paper he served as editor of in England. "The news is that which someone would pay you not to report." He made his views very clear on how the internet could never deliver the news. A point that upon the conclusion of his talk I was in agreement with.

His eternal optimism was really very catching. Especially so for a writer seeking publication. Even when he referred to himself as a 'relic' and a physical book as an 'artifact' he made the words feel like I do about a great work of fiction: something to be treasured. When asked how to best motivate younger generations to write and appreciate the written word, he responded with a truth that I've never considered. "People want to express themselves, and more so than any other fashion, in writing." As proof he pointed to the bloggers-sphere and said no more.

He was smart, prepared, overly-well informed and truely had something to say. It's not everyday you get to hear a presentation by someone such as he. At least we can read his books, and look forward to his memior.

Where do literary agents hide their horns and other demonic attributes?

To all those as yet unpublished first-time novelist out there this is meant to be funny. However, the same crowd has undoubtedly asked this question before with a straight face and a serious demeanor. I can say truthfully, I know the answer to the title question.

It would be easier to drop-kick God in the face than to break into publishing. To achieve the former all you need to is faith; then die and possess willpower unknown to any living mortal to follow through with said drop-kick. To achieve that latter perseverance, patience, a computer, some degree of ability: dare I say ‘talent’ and a drinking habit seem to be mandatory but won't guarantee results.

In the publishing world, rejection is part of acceptance for all but the most sensational of first time authors. Rejection is out there waiting for you. Go ahead, try to get published; rejection hit you right between the eyes with astounding alacrity, didn't it? But how do you make sense of it and possibly learn from failure, or at bear minimum console yourself?

Thus begins a really long blog post.

So far I've queried nine agents; six passed after (supposedly) reading my query letter, and the other three teased with the read the query, read the partial, read the full manuscript and then pass in the end with the sure-to-be-classic catch all line, 'it's just not for me.'

The first form letter (rejection/FAIL letter) I received was beautiful. At the time I didn't know it was beautiful because I didn't have anything else to compare it to. Tragically in my despair, I threw it away when it should have been framed and put on the wall as the standard of excellence that all have since failed to achieve.

For reasons that are not in my best interest to get into until published (and perhaps this post isn't in my best interest), agents--as a whole--strike me as funny: wildly contradictory and very hypocritical. Of the four that I've met in person, only one of which I've queried, they have all shown themselves to be wonderful people: anything but contradictory hypocrites. But it's so much more fun to talk/write about the exceptions in life as opposed to the standards.

Professionalism is the word agents love to harp on when giving advice in the query process, be it on their blog, a Q & A panel, or any books they might have written on how to get their attention. "Be professional. Treat the query process like you would if you were a prospect for a new job." So you drop sensational references in the first sentence, pitch a lovely story, mention your prior publications in closing, your formating is perfect and you even spelled the agent’s name right; now when you're rejected let us inspect the professionalism of the form letter.

All agents want a self addressed stamped envelop (SASE) so they can reject you at no cost to themselves. That’s fine by me, it makes complete sense. A few are going green and do things by email. That's fine too but what you can't do is both. If you ask for a SASE respect my resources and use it, don't send an email saying, "No," then trash the SASE. Happily that has only happened once.

The second nicest form letter I've gotten was separated from the one I wish I'd framed only due to the slight difference in the quality of paper: the all-star form letter had a percentage of cotton linen in it. Outside of the paper, it was personal preference that endeared me to one over the other. They both had my name and address in the top left corner. The address line on both read , "Dear Mr. Hull." The name of my book was mentioned and at the very end, the unthinkable happened: the agent (or someone on their behalf) signed it. As in, someone picked up a pen, (oh the effort!) and wrote (or forged) the agent’s name. I'm aware both of these letters were templates, but templates exist to be modified, unlike form letters that are preprinted for everyone.

On to the not so professional form letters...

One was printed on super budget paper bought by the ream from an office supply store. Expect the letter wasn't printed, rather badly photocopied: blurry and hard to read, with a scanned in signature that looked awful--not the actual handwriting but the scan and the copy combined made it all but illegible.

One, was a nicely preprinted, "note card." Presentation and print were very well done, but it was equally impersonal and felt 'cold.'

The absolute worst--or best for the purposes of this post--form letter I got was a super budget piece of paper cut into thirds. But I didn't even get a full third, because whatever Yossarian was stuffing envelops that day awarded themselves bonus points for the rare achievement of rounded edges with the paper cutter. I could read most of it--the gist of which was, "No"--but the crown jewel of this form letter was the grease mark and tomato seed: someone's lunch was dropped, or dare I say, placed on my form letter and then without second thought shipped out to me at my cost. Very professional and a great way to present yourself to potential clients, wouldn't you agree?

I understand that I'm in agents debt for allowing them to reject me, but if that is how they communicate with me, how am I to assume they communicate with their peers, editors and other people in the profession? Next time you get a thank you note from a friend for attending their wedding, study the note. If it looked like the above form letter see if you don't re-evaluate your thoughts concerning this friend and if going to their wedding was really worth it in the first place.

See what agents don't understand (and I can write this because agents and their underlings are too busy mailing me a form letter to read my blog) is that professionalism is not a one way street, it's a revolving door and I can prove it.

Imagine a job opening at a great firm: well established, having a wonderful image, and the best benefits. Your references couldn't be better, your experience over qualifies you, and it is generally known that a Ken Starr led inquisition would be in order if you weren't offered the job. You go to the interview and things are decidedly different: the people you meet don’t bother with personal grooming and smell strongly of hot feet. A young lady on the phone alternates between nudging her screaming infant on the floor with their foot and yelling at a client, and the guy doing the interview is nothing more than a hippie--complete with dreads and a burning bowl of hash on his desk. Nothing about the firm, particularly the image, is what you expected. After seeing the inside you may not be so keen on accepting the job when it's offered.

Infer what you can from form letters because the old adage about first impressions still holds true. In fact, rejection is pretty easy to take. Imagine my horror if the Lunch Stain Agency offered me representation.

Am I being petty? Do I look like the guy that cries about the system while screaming, “It’s not fair!” I don’t think so, because there are some agents out there that invest--both time and money--in rejecting potential clients for no other reason than class and perception of image. While substance is greater than both, I assume a level playing field from all those I query as I do the best I can to, ‘check them out.’ The attention to detail shown by a few validates my concern. And if by chance any agent is reading my blog, has gotten this far, and disagrees (all of which are highly unlikely) feel free to drop your lunch on my form letter.

Where do literary agents hide their horns? All riddles are easy after you learn the answer: the form letter is where to look. Rejection is really easy to take, especially when you learn that it could be preferable to acceptance.

Who reads books anyway?

With such high-profile literary folk in the publishing industry offering their opinions on the digital revolution and how it will affect publishing, being just as cool as they are, naturally, I feel obligated to offer my own two cents. Jonathan Lyons wonders if Kindle will kill publishing, Nathan Bransford muses on the E-Book era and Celeste Fine offers Steve Jobs her thoughts on the perfect E-Reader. So what do I have to say about the matter?

The future is digital and no one needed me to tell you that. Movie rental stores will be a thing of the past sooner than later, I still raise my eyebrows at the small percentage that actually buys CD’s considering iTunes doesn't involve leaving your house and only cost$9.99 Even interactive games--an inherent technologically advanced industry--has seen large success with downloadable content.

That said, I can’t believe that DVD’s, CD’s, or physical software disk will truly go away in my lifetime. After all, vinyl records still have their niche (even that makes me wonder about the advent of the eight track…) I believe there will always be a need for physical books, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Kindle. It’s all the rage: taking a lot of flak and perhaps garnering even more praise; let me add to the flak. While digital is the future Kindle is not. It’s the first attempt--a very good first attempt, but a first nonetheless. Do you remember the first iPod, the original Nintendo DS, or, dare I say, the first cellular phone? Yeah, well, most people don’t either because the manufacturers of those products have done all they can to make the public forget. Consumer electronics go through phases and hardware is updated regularly. Kindle’s first problem has nothing to do with its capabilities or perceived weaknesses, rather the fact that it’s just not cool.

Sounds shallow doesn’t it? Imagine you’re on a metro city train and you see two people sitting next to each other, one with an iPod Touch, and the other with a Kindle. You also notice a creepy, twitching, Amy Winehouse looking girl that you could swear is going to snatch something and run as soon as the train stops and the door opens. Which do you think she’s gonna grab?

The Kindle will get better and who knows, one day it may grace the threshold of, “cool.” But I doubt it, because cool is defined by a generation that doesn’t really buy books. (Sadly, I’m speaking of my own generation. I don’t have any figures or demographics to back this up but I’m willing to bet the average book buyer is not aged 18-35 and if anyone has info to prove me wrong I’m open to seeing it, and would in fact would welcome the opportunity.)

So since Kindle will never be cool--and the decline of interest in reading in today’s ‘youth’ is so well documented that I won’t harp on it here--who is Kindle, an expensive consumer electronic device, marketed to?

My grandmother, in her middle seventies, reads a lot. She will never buy a Kindle. If I bought her one she wouldn’t use it. She will always have a ‘book’ in hand when she reads. My mother, whose age I’m not allowed to mention, goes through about fifteen books a year in her book club and probably twice as many on her own. (If only I had that much time dedicated to reading; oh yeah, that’s right, I have a job.) She, nor any of her book club members, will ever buy a Kindle. It’s not that they’re all technologically challenged but Southerners become easily set in their ways and as a Southerner I don’t say this as a flaw. She’s not going to change for any of this new-fangled-Kindle nonsense, nor any other half-witted gadgetry. She is a book buyer.

As for me and my generation; as I’ve already said we--sadly--don’t read many books. When we do, it’s an event, something to talk about over dinner: “I just finished this new novel,” pretentious jerk ‘A’ says to impress ditzy girl ‘B,’ pausing after the comment to sip his merlot. (Actually that guy might be inclined to buy a Kindle…) When you’re not dealing with that crowd it actually gets worse.

There’s me. Chad Hull. I like books. I like them so much I own four--an all-time low--that I haven’t even read yet. I like the way they feel in my hands, the smell of the paper and all that other tacky sounding stuff. (And no I don’t take sunset walks or play fetch with Fido, my Cocker Spaniel, on the beach.) Specifically I like hardback books and I’ve even become the Master at buying them for less than seven dollars.

It should be noted that I’ve never handled a Kindle (and to those who have, how do you hold it without your thumbs hitting the page forward or page backward buttons?), but I know it can’t replicate my favorite aspect of reading. I have eighty pages left in Robert Graves, I, Claudius. (Just buy it, I promise it is more than worth your time and money regardless of your preferences in literature. Thanks for the suggestion Wanye!) Much as I like finishing a great book I love nothing more than starting a new one. I can see the pages dwindling down and I can quite literally feel the book’s progress toward a climax. I have no doubt Kindle tells you that you’re on page 388 of 468 but it’s not the same. And what’s to come of all my affection and lusty feelings for a physical book? Furthermore, am I the only person that thinks it would be cool to have a library--with actual books and not a hard drive or catalog of SD cards--in my house? Wait, scratch that. I referenced myself and buying a house at the same time, just ask Maura and she’ll explain that humor to you.

In each of the three generations I outlined there will be exceptions, but reading for pleasure is becoming a dying hobby. If you offer today’s sixteen year old $350 for a Kindle or an XBOX, I think their choice would be clear to all of us.

It only took me a little more than a thousand words to say this, but in part due to Kindle, reading a novel and reading a book are no longer the same thing.

I won't go so far as to say, Kindle = FAIL, but I will say that Kindle Version 1.0 for $350 is a pretty high price for so much EPIC FAIL.

For what it’s worth, I plan on refuting my argument and all points made very shortly…