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Bright Young Things
No one quite knows what to expect coming to festival forums -
neither the listeners nor often the writers. There's not much to go
on beyond the title, in this case, "Bright Young Things."
Today, I've decided to focus on what it means to be a "young
writer", as focussing on being a "bright writer"
strikes me as a bit too narcissistic and egotistical.
For the past few days I've been considering the differences
between being a "young writer" and an "older
writer" and even an "old writer". My conclusion is
that old writers have the greatest advantage in that they can offend
people at will without consideration to consequences. After all, it's
not like they're in this business for a long career. Case in point,
Paul O'Neill, who was hired during the early days of the Bush
Administration, went through a natural disenchantment and then was
fired (or resigned in that nebulous way of politics). Last month he
released a book in which he described the President as "a blind
man in a room full of deaf people". An excellent quip, no doubt,
but what struck me more greatly was an interview I read in which he
explained that he was rich enough and old enough that those people in
the administration couldn't touch him. If only we were all old enough
and rich enough to have the freedom to speak that kind of
truth.
But I'm not here to talk about American politics, rather to talk
about being a young writer - 30 years old and lacking visible
wrinkles. Let it be said, though, that I've been in this business for
seven years as a short story writer, interviewer, magazine editor,
small press book editor, anthologist and author of three novels, the
third coming out this September (April 2005 in Canada). I am young in
age, but perhaps not insight or experience.
Still, I'm glad I started in this business young, because if there
is one thing publishing takes to be successful it is TIME, usually
just a bit more than you're willing to give. I remember walking with
my father one spring night after I'd graduated from university. Now
that I had my ever-useful English degree, he asked about my career
plans. I told him I was going to be a writer. Although he saw this
as, shall we say, a touch impractical, I convinced him that I'd give
writing five years, after which if I didn't have a book published,
I'd forsake the dream and move on to something more tangible, like
plumbing. Realistically, I didn't think the task would take me more
than six months at most. HarperCollins picked up my first book five
and a half years later.
Everything about publishing takes time: time to learn to write, to
read, to hone your skills, make connections to the industry, have an
editor or agent read your work, sell it, and get the always-tight
publisher to pony up a cheque; after this, you go through the editing
process (usually about three times), copy edit, proof the copy,
approve the cover, wait for the sales reps to pitch it to stores, and
finally six months to a year later (if you're lucky) when you've
forgotten half the characters and key parts of the plot, you're
marched out to radio and TV stations to do promotion.
If there is one advantage a "bright young thing" has it
is TIME. I know I've taken full advantage of being young, shiftless
and transitory. I've lived cheaply, often in attics, basements and
even for six months in a friend's dining room on a futon surrounded
by one suitcase and a box of CDs. I've done temp jobs, run my bank
account dry but I haven't had to worry about kids or a mortgage.
Not that I wasn't in a hurry to be discovered, lauded and given
free drinks at cocktail parties. When I was in university I
discovered that F. Scott Fitzgerald had published his first book at
24. Naturally, because I saw myself as a creature of supreme destiny,
I vowed to publish my first book by 23. This brings me to a second
advantage of youth that does actually help in this business: young
writers are often blessed with extreme self-confidence bordering on
obscene arrogance. Without a doubt this attitude helps counter all
the rejection letters, disinterest and scorn they will
encounter.
(Incidentally, I was 28 when my first novel came out. Scott
Fitzgerald, you won this time!)
This brings me to other universal truths I've learned over the
better part of a decade in the publishing business:
- You probably won't get rich off your first novel. Despite all
your work, toil, patience, prodding and angst, you probably won't
make very much money at all. Of course, those around you will
believe you're loaded, having been slyly seduced by TV and movie
scenarios in which a poor novelist finally sells his or her book,
gets taken on a national promotion tour and then retreats
ensconced in luxury in the Hamptons. When you sell your first
manuscript, do not buy your friends or family free drinks! This
will only perpetuate the myth. Of course, some people do become
suddenly famous - Sadie Frost and Steven King come to mind - but
for most people to succeed, they have to continue to sacrifice and
build a career over the course of several books. Which brings me
to universal truth number two.
- The most basic rule of being a novelist and of life is the same:
no one outside your immediate family and small circle of friends
cares about you or what you have to say. They probably don't even
like you. This is why for all the differences, the essential
challenge of being a successful novelist is the same no matter the
age: writers must find their readers.
I recently read a quote in (I believe it was) the New York Times
in which an author said "publishing is the business of selling a
product that people don't know that they need."
Fact: readers miss thousands of good books every year because of
the inverse relationship of free time to the sheer number of
publications. Go into any library or bookstore and you will come face
to face with thousands of competing titles. As a novelist, to put it
lightly, wandering into a superstore is like being drowned by a
tsunami of existential, nihilistic despair. No one but a writer knows
the heartbreak of seeing his or her novel SPINE out among a row of
glossy outward facing covers or the irrational anger of confronting
the OPRAH table, sure in the knowledge that among millions of titles,
there's no way in hell you'll ever be chosen to play on her
team.
So writers have to do what they can - bother reviewers, suck up to
the media, and do these sorts of festivals whenever possible. Let me
say it one again: this takes time.
Of course, I don't think it's fair to leave this discussion
without touching on the negative side of being a young writer. One
thing I've noticed with my own work and that of my peers is that some
older reviewers (more so in Canada than Australia, a little
publication known as Books in Canada most notably) approach young
novelists with the view that his or her book simply can't have
anything substantial to say because he or she simply hasn't lived
long enough to glean any real insight into life. The young writer
can't possible know (or imagine) the pain of death, age, loneliness,
disillusionment, the burden of history or the nagging irritation of
osteoporosis. This is of course utter crap and I can only paraphrase
F. Scott Fitzgerald who said:
"An author ought to write for the youth of his generation,
the critics of the next, and the schoolmasters of the
afterward."
In conclusion, my advice to bright young things is to be patient,
take your time, accept the sacrifices, and work hard to hone your
skills. And as my good friend Canadian novelist David Eddie is fond
of saying, "be prolific and outlive your critics".
Rob Payne divides his time between Canada and Australia. He is
the author of the novels Live By Request, Working Class Zero and the
upcoming Sushi Daze. He has spoken about writing at the Humber School
of Writing, Queens University, and both the Perth and Brisbane
International Writers Festivals. He is available for bar mitzvahs and
corporate events.
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