A Tip For Aspiring Writers: Don't Be A Dick

There's a publishing industry fact that blogging agents and editors have been telling us all along, and in all my six months in print I have learned this to be true: Publishing is a very, very small business. Everybody knows each other. And everybody talks to each other. If a junior editorial assistant at Harper Collins knows that Famous Author X has gas problems, you can be sure that a senior editor at Random House knows it too.

If you behave in such a way as to make a literary agent think you are rude, arrogant, stupid, or even mentally unstable, that reputation will spread and you will never shake it. In other words, if you act like a dick, people will treat you like a dick. The easy answer? Don't be a dick.

As some of you may have seen, there has been a furore in recent days as a Frustrated Writer publicly vented their spleen, decrying the role of the literary agent now and in the future. That was foolish enough, given that agents are treasured beyond all else by most published writers, me included. This particular Frustrated Writer took it a step further, though, by personally attacking a well-established and respected agent in a lengthy blog post. This was just a day or two after this same Frustrated Writer had a go at a blogging editor whom I consider a personal friend. Previously, this same frustrated writer had posted another thinly-veiled attack on another respected agent.

You see where this is going?

Frustrated Writer has now publicly attacked three well-liked and respected publishing professionals. Now, I don't imagine these three professionals are gossips, but they don't need to be. Several other professionals have weighed into the mosh pit in defence of their colleagues. Because their colleagues are well-liked and respected, those other professionals will be very pissed off on their behalf. And they will all talk about it to other colleagues, and so on and so on throughout the industry. What's more, they will all remember for a very long time.

So what do you think the chances are of Frustrated Writer even getting a sniff of an offer of representation or a contract? Approximately nil, I'd say. They could write a novel that combines all the commercial appeal of the Da Vinci Code with the artistic value of Crime and Punishment, and they would never sell it.

And it's not just because they offended some well-liked and respected publishing professionals. It's also because all publishing professionals choose the authors they want to work with based not just on the quality of writing, but on how that author behaves. If an author is rude, arrogant, stupid, and/or showing signs of mental instability on a public blog, it's a pretty safe bet they're going exhibit those traits in their working relationships too. And who wants to work with somebody like that?

Incidentally, I'm not going to post a link to Frustrated Writer's diatribes because (a) I don't want to fuel their attention-seeking fire, (b) I don't want Frustrated Writer following the trail back here and stinking up my blog with their hateful crap, and (c) there's a good chance you've already seen it.

Yesterday, I posted the following question on Twitter: Is there anything more pathetic than a bitter wannabe writer who blames the "gatekeepers" for their lack of publication?

It didn't stay up very long because my good friend Betsy pointed out that it could sound more than a little snotty coming from someone who's been as fortunate as I have over the last two years. And Betsy was absolutely right, it was a very glib comment, so I removed it. I've reposted it here because I want to expand on it a little.

I've been incredibly lucky in my writing career so far. I got my share of rejections, and I have one-and-three-quarter novels stored away that'll never see daylight. But I didn't struggle for years and years, manuscript after manuscript, rejection slip after rejection slip. I know some excellent writers who have. I also know some writers who have been published, by major houses no less, but have found themseles used, abused, chewed up and spat out again with their novels never having been given a fair chance. I even know some writers who blog publicly about those experiences, don't sugar-coat it, and point out the flaws in what everybody knows is a far-from-perfect industry. But they don't get personal, they don't indulge in bitter rants, and they don't come off as borderline psychotic fools by announcing that their work is simply too artistically challenging for bottom-line obsessed publishers.

In other words, they don't act like dicks. So that's my tip for all aspiring writers in 2010. As well as all the usual write lots, rewrite more, get critique, keep trying and so on and so on, that's my current top tip for success: Don't be a dick.

Laura Hruska, Soho Press Editor-in-Chief

I first met Laura Hruska in March 2009 when I called into the Soho Press office, near Union Square in New York City, to discuss my debut novel which she had acquired for her respected independent press. She was a lady of senior years, and slight build, but had a fierce intelligence about her that burned so bright you couldn't fail to see it. She was also clearly a deeply passionate publisher, and I was sure from then on that I was in good hands at Soho. But then, I already knew that, seeing as everybody I mentioned Soho Press to, including my agent, told me Laura was one of the best in the business.

I met Laura for a second time, again at her office near Union Square, when I visited New York once more in October 2009, just as I was embarking on the US tour Soho had generously organised for me. This time I noticed Laura was a little frail, but still she had that diamond-bright presence that stood out in a room full of very bright people. I gave her a box of confectionery I'd bought from the chocolatier next door as a small thank you for the work she and everyone at Soho had done for me. It seems like a very, very small thank you now.

I learned today that Laura Hruska passed away on Saturday after a long illness. This news has deeply saddened me. My heart goes out to Laura's loved ones, and all those who worked with and respected her, both within Soho Press and throughout the wider publishing community. I owe Laura a huge debt of gratitude for giving my writing career such a great start in America, and I will be forever thankful. I feel honoured to have known her for the short time I did.

LA Confidential, California Dreaming, etc, etc...

It's been the most hectic autumn (or fall, for my American friends) of my life, following the most hectic summer of my life, all as part of the maddest year of my life. Therefore blogging has not been as high on my list of priorities as it perhaps should have been. There have been many things I should have blogged about, not least of which being the follow-ups to my US tour post, or most glaringly absent of all, my account of interviewing James bloody Ellroy on stage in Belfast, which was one of the greatest moments of my thirty-seven years on this planet. I will try to catch up with these momentous events at the end of the year in some sort of 2009 round-up, but I'm posting now about a few things. First of all (deep breath):

I'M COMING TO LOS ANGELES!

Yep, it's rather short notice, but I'll be reading from THE GHOSTS OF BELFAST at the Mystery Bookstore, 1036 Broxton Avenue, Los Angeles on Thursday 10th of December! For anyone in the area, I'd be delighted to see you there to help me celebrate the conclusion to an extraordinary year.

In case you're wondering, no, I'm not travelling all the way to LA just for this reading. Alas, I cannot yet say why I'll be in LA next week, but hopefully all will be revealed soon. In the interests of quelling speculation, however, I will say that it's nothing to do with movie deals.

TALKING OF 2009...

THE GHOSTS OF BELFAST was named as one of the best crime novels of 2009 by both the LA Times and the New York Times in separate features today. Read the LA Times piece here, or the New York Times piece here. Obviously, this is wonderful news.

But there's more...

A week or two back, the ever excellent Declan Burke launched an unofficial Irish Crime Novel of the Year poll over at his Crime Always Pays blog. Voting was mostly conducted by secret email ballot amongst the Irish crime scribbling fraternity (who have a secret handshake and wear embroidered aprons and bowler hats at their clandestine meetings), and I am delighted to say that THE TWELVE (a.k.a. THE GHOSTS OF BELFAST) clinched the top spot! While this is a rather ad hoc sort of an award, it means a great deal because it was voted by the same people who I've come to know and count as friends over the last year or two. So, thank you Dec, and the whole crime fiction family from the Emerald Isle.

#GhostsOfBelfast Contest: At last, the winners!

At long last, at least three weeks late, here are the winners of the Ghosts Of Belfast twitfic contest. I'm very pleased that my favourite scary tweet was also the most popular amongst voters, but more of that in a second. I had originally planned to choose the top five tweets, then select one as the outright winner based on votes, but as it turned out there were eight finalists with a clear first and second, but third place was a two-way tie, meaning fourth places was skipped, while fifth place was tied three ways, leaving one finalist unplaced. In the circumstances, and also by of apology for taking so long at this, I've decided that all eight finalists will each receive a signed copy of The Ghosts of Belfast. So, can each one of you please DM an email address to me via Twitter, or email me at info@stuartneville.com?

But what you probably want to know is: who was the ultimate winner? This tweet stood out for me because it had voice, a wonderful economy of words, painted a vivid picture, and let my own imagination do much of the work - exactly the kind of writing I enjoy, whether it's just a few words or a whole novel. That tweet was by @portiaalex, and it read thusly:

"Saw on the floor. Blood in the sink. Hair in the drain. Pie in the oven. Lunchtime."

Isn't that brilliant? Whatever @portiaalex's literary ambitions are, I have no doubt she will succeed. Writing like that isn't a fluke - that's skill and talent. So, well done to @portiaalex, drop me a line and we'll get your prize sorted.

#GhostsOfBelfast Contest: The Shortlist!

Finally, more than two weeks late, here are the ten finalists for the #GhostsOfBelfast twitfic contest. For those who missed it, the idea was to write a scary story in a single tweet, including the hash tag #GhostsOfBelfast so I could find it. There were hundreds of entries, but due to a glitch with Twitter some of them were lost. Apologies to those whose tweets fell through the cracks, and thanks to those with the patience to tweet again so I could find you.

So, without further ado, here in alphabetical order are the ten tweets that most shivered my scary-bone:

@current_self: The long fingers pressed inexpertly at my throat. I gasped awake. "Just a dream, child," mother shushed me. "Just a dream."

@current_self: /Dress to Impress/, said the invite. Val began her cutting and stitching at her legs, adding the ribbons of her dreams.

@danielkjarrell: The Hunters Moon sets. Life ebbs as my clothes refill with straw and I sag against the post. Yearly cursed to a night alive.

@djpyle: My dog's spirit howled nightly until I tossed a yowling sack in the river and made him a litter of ghost kittens to chase.

@OHNOITSKEN: Fifty people pressed against each other for protection, scared. The lights flickered off and on. Only forty people now.

@portiaalex: Saw on the floor. Blood in the sink. Hair in the drain. Pie in the oven. Lunchtime.

@portiaalex: Dark alley. Man pets his cat. 'Sorry old friend,' he says. He clutches chest and dies. Cat nuzzles close and starts to eat.

@stacy_chambers: In his virtual world, he was God, and everyone did his bidding. In real life, he was a nobody. A nobody with a gun.

@stephy442: In life, I jilted my lover from afar. In death, she kept my best bits in a jar.

@twitbork: Half asleep, she felt his familiar form press against her body bringing waves of ecstasy. Even in death he knew her so well.

And there you have it. I'll blog about this at another time, but I've got to say how impressed I was by the entries. Painting such vivid pictures in so few words is no easy task, and my hat's off not only to the finalists, but to all those who almost made the cut.

Now for the voting...

Simplicity itself. To vote for your favourite finalist, simply tweet their screen name along with #GhostsOfBelfast. For example, if you wanted to waste a vote on me, you'd tweet "@stuartneville #GhostsOfBelfast". You can add other comments if you like, but it's those two key ingredients that will count. So, finalists and anyone else following this, get tweeting!

NOTE: Most unique votes wins - Each voter may only vote for one finalist - No multiple votes allowed - Voting closes at midnight on Saturday 21st November.

#GhostsOfBelfast Emergency Contest Judgment Contingency Plan

So, Twitter is a big bag of arse. When I launched the #GhostsOfBelfast TwitFic contest just over a month ago, I assumed the entries would be available for searching in perpetuity. Apparently not. Therefore, I propose the following:

If you entered the #GhostsOfBelfast contest, just tweet the hash tag #GhostsOfBelfast one more time before midnight on Saturday, and I will spend Sunday finding all the entries using a third party website that can look back further given a username and a search term. It'll be a bit of a slog, but there were so many great entries that I don't want to let any slip past.

With any luck, I'll have the finalists some time on Monday. Apologies to all those who entered for the extra hassle this entails, and I thank you for your patience.

What are you doing this Saturday night? Going to see James Ellroy in Belfast, of course.

This Saturday evening, I'll be talking with a certain James Ellroy on stage at Belfast Waterfront. By sheer coincidence, Mr. Ellroy just happened to be reading at the Tattered Cover bookstore in Denver, Colorado, on the day I flew in to see Betsy Dornbusch. So Betsy, her husband Carlin and I all trooped over that evening to see the Demon Dog in the flesh.

James's monologue and reading was as entertaining as you could possibly want, and he proved to be open and amiable for the audience questions that followed. After the event, I was able to chat with my favourite author for a few minutes and grab this snap.

I'm looking forward to talking with James Ellroy again this Saturday night, but the difference is you'll be able to listen in. Tickets are available from the Waterfront box office (www.waterfront.co.uk) and from David Torrans at No Alibis (www.noalibis.com). This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for anyone in Ireland who loves crime fiction to see its greatest living exponent up close and personal. You'd be a fool to miss it.