The Dark Side of the Book Deal

When I was working on my last book, I was like, I'm never doing this again. It was never really nightmarish, but it certainly veered into bad dream territory a couple of times. And I finished it and thought, Thank God, I'm never doing that again.

It took me about three weeks to start working on my next one.

This shit is a sickness.

 

I haven't posed here in a while, but this article really spoke to me. As I write this I'm sitting in the Atlanta Bread Company, surrounded by folders upon folders of notes and clips, drinking my third iced tea in 30 minutes, working on the latest book for the 50th or whatever day in a row.

Writing books for a living (or at least trying to) is cool, in that you make your own hours, you have significantly more control over content (compared to newspaper/magazine writing) and you set your own pace. Theoretically speaking, it also allows for more family time/personal time/etc (although my wife would totally rip this point apart). And the pay can be quite good.

However, I've completed two books thus far, and the process is a beast. No sleep, singular subject ALWAYS on your mind, no social life, inevitably bouts of moodiness/everything-i've-written-sucks-itis, etc. I try breaking things up with freelance/online columns, etc, but at the end of the day you have this monster looming. Before I wrote my first book a friend of mine suggested the goal should be at least 1,000 words per day, and I always try and stick to that. It sounds easy, I imagine, especially to beat guys who pretty much do that regularly. But it never feels easy. It weighs on you and weighs on you unti—BAM—deadline's here.

I once spoke to Leigh Montville about the whole process, and he said something I haven't forgotten: "Writing books for a living is like going into a cave for two years, then coming out into the light for two months of promotion, then going back in the cave again." It might sound silly, but that is how it feels. Personally, I compare it more to running a marathon. You run the damn thing, finish and say, "I'll never, ever, ever do it again." Three months later you sign up for another.

In the end, I'd actually recommend the experience. It's a beast, but there is something fulfilling at the end, when you walk into a bookstore and see something you wrote sitting there ... being ignored by the masses.

 

Sorry, but I'm having a hard time working up much sympathy for these folks.

Ten years to write a biography of a playright and it's still not complete? Give me a break.

These folks must all be cheese eaters, 'cause they need something to go with all their whine.

 

That is one great typo.

Welcome back, Jeff.

 

I think the article was good, but we're not the ones who need to see it.

The people who need to see it are all the Jewish mother-types (and they an be of any ethnicity or denomination) who have Little Johnny pegged for Stephen King-esque stardom from the time his fourth-grade essay won an award from the city council. I think a lot of us fall into that category - people think we have the world's most glamorous job, and think that it's only a matter of time before we become international superstars.

I wrote a book for a very small house, enjoyed the process immensely (though, yes, it did take over my life. I began smoking again, etc., etc.). And when I finally worked up the nerve to tell my mother about it, she had to make some comment about how it was going to shoot straight to the best seller lists, etc., etc.

"Mom," I said, "that's not going to happen with this book. Trust me."

"You never know!" she responded.

See, she was trying to be encouraging. But all I came away with was, "I'm proud just to have written this modest distribution book. But now you've put into my head that it needs to make me rich and famous to be a success."

Not whining. Just saying. And I'm sure other people can relate to the reaction of family and non-journalism peers when they've written a book.

 

oy. you're right.

one important book-related anxiety i forgot to mention: When the thing you just spent TK years of your life slaving over comes out, you have absolutely, positively zero control. You can appear on every TV show and radio program and blog, and it can make little impact or a tremenous impact. I learned this the hard way with the biography I wrote about Barry Bonds, which came out (uhg) three weeks after "Game of Shadows."

I can't complain: HarperCollins was great about promoting the book, but timing is a bitch ...

 

Unfortunately, I don't think they are isolated cases among the large jackpot-winning segment of society. I promise in the name of all that is holy, if I win a million dollars, I'll make it last until I croak.

That's what Stephen King laid out in On Writing, although I think his was 20 pages a day. (might've been 10; I'm working from memory here) If you're doing this on the side, as I suspect most of us would be, that would be extremely difficult. Life intrudes. Spouse wants you to do chores. Kids have to go here or there. You have to sleep or eat or shit occasionally. Sitting there long enough to pound out a thousand words is certainly a challenge. This I know from personal experience.

 

Think of it this way. You write maybe 600-800 words a day now — double that if you are at a medium daily, triple that if you are at a small daily or weekly. Do that for a year without a break.

Brutal.

But nobody said it would be easy. And nobody said you'd get rich. Do it to see if you can. Nothing is more humbling than finding out if you really have something to say.

 

Wow. Did Stephen King really say he writes 10 pages per day? Maybe it's different with fiction, but between digging through notes, reading through the 8,000 texts, tracking down that missing quote, figuring out what goes where and taking breaks every 15 minutes for XBox 360, that'd be impossible. God bless the guy if he can do it. I can't. Today I've written 1,500 words—and feel damn good about it (not about the iffy first-draft quality; just the output).

 

Final thought: I actual think the hardest part about writing a book is the mental tourture. It just beats you down. I wrote my first book about the Mets, and when that thing came out my wife and parents were just elated. I, on the other hand, was sooooooooooo beaten down---the last thing I wanted to see/think about was anything related to the project.

With time you feel great about the accomplishment. With time.

 

King once wrote (or said, I can't remember which) that if you aren't putting out a book every year, you're just lazy.

Next time I see that ugly bastard, I'm gonna go after his throat with a rabid St. Bernard.

 

Remember, though, that Stephen King doesn't do anything except write books. For all of us (except Jeff), it's a side gig.