Behler Blog

Someone asked me this at a writer’s conference after downing a few more shots of tequila than prudent. The answer is yes. And no.

What looks great in a synopsis may pale when reading a few chapters. What looks great in a couple chapters may lose its edge in a 75,000 word manuscript.

But I do read them. I’d be silly not to…after all I did request it. I put the manuscript on my tablet and read on the couch, where I’m nice and comfy, and won’t be interrupted. However, the operative here is do I read to the very end?

Not always.

It’s a hard call – will the story pick up after a few lifeless chapters, or stay lifeless through to the end? If I’m engaged in the plot and the characters are well defined, I’ll probably stick it out so I can get a feel for the kind of editing that would be required and whether I feel the story is marketable.

More likely than not, I read to the point where I’m convinced the story no longer has wings. I get flack from authors when I reveal this at seminars; the thrust of their argument being that the story may pick up a few chapters downstream. And they wouldn’t be wrong to feel that way. On the flip side, I’ve rejected manuscripts after reading the first five chapters because nothing was happening, the plot had yet to find any footing, or the characters were as flat as my attempts at baking.

I’ve received wails of angst upon being rejected; “If only you’d kept reading; the story picks up at Chapter 15!” Chapter 15? If I did this, I’d wrap a rope around my neck and asked the beagle to kick the stool. It’s a matter of diminishing returns, meaning the more time I spend reading something that’s in big trouble from page one and I’m on Chapter 7 means that I’m prevented from reading other fulls that I’ve requested. It’s a gut call; is it worth the time to stick it out, hoping it’ll get better, or do I move on, hoping it’ll pick up after a bad chapter or two.

Because we we pub memoir/biography, my decisions also focus on the story’s marketability and author platform. If I begin to see warts, I’ll continue reading while weighing the message and marketability against the amount of required editing. There are times when a roughly-written manuscript is worth the copious amount of editing required to make it sing.

When Do I Stop Reading?

The quick answer is when I can’t find any reason to continue turning the pages, and that point usually hits around Chapter 4-ish.

Chapter 4-itis:   The first three chapters are usually the best because the author’s To Do list is filled with introducing the characters, the setting, fleshing out the plot; there’s a lot going on. But after reaching Chapter 4 or 5, the To Do list tends to run a bit thin, and I get the feeling the author is wondering “Now what do I do?”

Backstory:  This is when they usually launch into Backstory, which can be a deal killer because I simply don’t know enough about the story or the characters to care about backstory, and your message and platform probably won’t save you.

Backstory can add delicious dimension when used by someone who knows what they’re doing. Unfortunately, many don’t, and they fall into this classic trench and let their backstory become so top heavy that I can’t remember the main story…and I quit reading.

Characters:  If I don’t get a feel for your characters after three chapters, then I’m going to quit reading because I’ve lost faith that you’ll develop them more fully downstream. Your characters are the vehicle that moves the plot along. If they aren’t three-dimensional, then I can’t stay engaged with the story.

Perception:  A query letter can only reveal so much, so if I’m interested, I need to read the manuscript in order to get a better idea of what the story is about. For example, an author’s query letter led me to believe his story was about how he uses alternative medicine in his surgical practice. Given my weakness for this subject matter, I asked to read the full.

The reality was far different from my perceptions. The manuscript ended up being about the surgeon’s foray into studying alternatives for his own fulfillment, not what he uses in the operating room. So I stopped reading because the query letter and the book were miles apart.

Quality:  I’ve seen query letters that knocked me against the wall only to be shocked at the writing quality in the manuscript. And, sadly, that only requires reading a few pages to realize it’s not gonna happen.

The thing to keep in mind is this; if someone asks to read your manuscript, then they’re going to read it at some point. They may not read it all, but they will read it to the point where they no longer feel compelled to continue turning the pages. Hopefully, they will hit the end and cry, “Eureka! We got us a winner.”

I spent some time this past weekend getting caught up with queries and submissions. Out of twenty-five queries that were sitting in my goodie pile, I asked to see full proposals on two, and rejected the rest. Out of three proposals, I’ve rejected one and am still reading the other two.

As invariably happens, someone I rejected emails back wondering if my list is full and whether they’d misinterpreted my submission guidelines. I know what they’re getting at. They were under the impression their work was a perfect fit for us, and are puzzled as to why  I rejected them. And sure, on the face of it, the works do fit our guidelines. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to request pages.

The fact that you queried someone who publishes the type of work you happen to have written isn’t cause célèbre.  I mean, that’s WHY publishers have submission guidelines – to save all of us from wasting everyone’s time. All this confirms is that your reading comprehension skills are spot on. But that doesn’t instantly translate over to the fact that I’m going to be interested in reviewing the work.

Editors reject at the query stage for a whole host of reasons. But the main elements that go into my decisions are:

1. Am I passionate about this story?
2. Do I believe I can sell it to the marketplace?
3. Do I believe the author has a large enough platform in which to help promote the book?

Am I passionate about this story?

Being a small publisher, I have the luxury of throwing my passion into every work we publish. That’s why it’s so hard for me to pick a favorite Behler book. I love them all for many different reasons. And I think this element goes into every editor’s thought process. We have to be passionate about what we choose because we have to fight for it over the lifetime of that book.

We have to convince our sales teams that it’s worthy. We have to convince reviewers why they’d be hoof-sucking bovines for reviewing this book. We have to convince libraries and bookstores that they’d be Butthead’s’ inbred second cousin if they don’t shelf/buy this title. All this takes passion because it’s spread over a long period of time. That’s why orphaned books [books who have lost their editors] often get canceled. They’ve lost their biggest advocate.

So what makes me passionate about a query that’s only one page long?

Communication: This is your story, so did you communicate effectively so that I have a clear view of its foundations? I do own a tinfoil hat, but it often clashes with my outfit, so I let the beagle wear it. Works great when she’s buying lottery tickets.

Many times I reject something and the author writes back stating that I misunderstood their story. Weeellll…until the day arrives when I can climb inside the peaks and valleys of your melon, I’m hindered by what you send me. You gotta say it right the first time, ‘cos thar don’t be no second chances.

Unique: Does the story – be it fiction or nonfiction – have a unique twist that piques my interest? And yes, this is subjective. And no, you have no way of knowing what that is because I don’t even know what it is – not until I see it.

Characters: Do I love the characters? Are they people I’ll fall in love with so much that I care what happens to them? They are the vehicle that makes your story sing. Flop characters = dry rot as far as I’m concerned.

Message: Sure, I want to be entertained, but I also want to learn something along the way. I want my life to be altered and elevated in some manner. So I look for what the story has to say,  the overall message. I want to walk away from a book and feel that I’m a wiser/more thoughtful/introspective/smarter/kinder person for having read it. The stronger the impact, the higher my passion for the project. It’s a good thing if I’m blown out of my chair.

Do I believe I can sell it to the marketplace?

It may be that you’ve presented me with cool characters, some hearty food for thought, and a unique storyline, but that doesn’t mean I can sell it that that fickle mistress, The Marketplace. These are the hard rejections. They have all the elements that get my passionate juices flowing, but I’m unsure if  it will appeal to a wide enough audience to warrant the costs of publication.

Yeah, about that Almighty Dollar: I’ve been embroiled in enough debates that denigrate being a slave to the Almighty Dollar and how it’s the root of all evil because it counts out some really good books. But facts are that I need that Almighty Dollar in order to keep the beagle in designer dog chewies and electricity powering my batcave. That means I have to look for books I believe will sell.

And yes, these are the times when I don’t like my job so much and wish we ran on an economy of designer dog chewies. I have lots of those.

Do I believe the author has a large enough platform in which to help promote the book?

There are times when all the stars aren’t quite in alignment – and I really hate it when the stars don’t play nice. I’m talking about the many topics written in an impacted category – cancer, bipolar disorder, divorce, family issues, Alzheimer’s. I can almost feel my trigger finger caressing the rejection button. But wait, sez my inner demons. Check out their bio.

Cha-ching! Platform.

There are so many worthy books that are written to enlighten, educate, inspire, and soothe. And many of those are in heavily impacted categories and take a big voice in order to be heard above the din of competing titles on a crowded bookshelf. None of those speak more loudly than a big author platform.

Rejection was nearly the end result with Barry Petersen’s Jan’s Story because the first words that bounced off his agent’s query was Alzheimer’s. Whoa babe, seen a gajillion of these. But I was intrigued because it was Early Onset Alzheimer’s. When one does an Amazon check, the number of Early Onset Alzheimer’s personal journeys slurks down to very few. And no one has Barry’s platform. Or his incredible story.

In the amount of time it takes to say, “beagle, fire up the blender,” I knew that Barry’s book would become the Great Yoda of Early Onset Alzheimer’s because no other book adequately expresses the personal journey of those left behind to care for the young victims of this cruel disease. If not for Barry’s platform, his book would probably not bear the Alzheimer’s Association’s logo or be on its meteoric rise as a “gotta have it.”

Yes, rejection blows, and it’s all too easy to scratch your head and wonder if the Cosmic Muffin is agin you. “What’s it take?” you scream. Well, a lot of things, actually.

I hear lots of talk about throwing in the towel on one’s manuscript after X number of rejections. The numbers are all over the board. Some say 30-50 rejections, and you should hang it up. Others say 600. EEEK.

I want to know where people come up with these numbers. Personally, I think 30-50 rejections is miles too low. While it’s impossible to know what’s going on in an agent’s [or editor's] head,  throwing in the towel after so few rejections is foolhardy. I’ve bought works that the author’s agent had been pitching for four years. It only takes one fall in lurve.

Research = confidence

Rather than trying to come up with some magic, arbitrary number that signifies THE END, authors can ensure their mental stability by understanding the business. Knowledge is power.

• Understand the trends of what’s hot and what’s not – if you’re writing in a current trend genre, be aware that you’re not getting in at the ground level, which means you have to be ten times better/unique than your competition.
• Understand your competition – how many Eat, Pray, Love clones have crossed my desk? Too many to count. Out of the dozens, I’ve bought one – Charting the Unknown – because, well, Kim Petersen’s writing stands up to serious scrutiny and is every bit as powerful [if not more so] than her competition. While the theme has been done in E,P,L and A House in Fez, Kim’s story is unique. Me lurves unique.
• Be very well-read in your genre – this should be tattooed on everyone’s forehead because this is the single biggest problem with the queries that crosses my desk. Authors well-versed in their genre. I had a guy send me a lawyer story that was very reminiscent to John Grisham’s The Rainmaker. I told the author this. He wrote back – “Who’s John Grisham?” Ok, maybe the guy was pulling my leg, but I wasn’t laughing. Chances are I’m going to ask you how your book stands out in your genre. And even if I don’t, you should know because it gives you the confidence to know that you are a viable fit.
• Read a book that your intended agents/editors have sold/published – analyze the quality of the writing, the plot, the pacing and see how your work compares. Yes, you’ll be doing a lot of reading, but chances are that if you’ve done your homework, you’ll have already chanced upon a book they repped. If you’re querying an editor, read a book that you feel closely relates to yours and analyze the quality of the story. It could turn out that your story is wrong for their lineup.

My point with all this is that querying blind isn’t conducive to one’s mental health because you’re leaving too much to chance. You should be querying with the confidence that comes from being properly educated about the industry in which you hope to be a part.

Being savvy to the industry is what tells you when it’s time to drop the book and start on something new. It’s that all-vital element that would never allow you to punish yourself with 600 rejections.

Yah, but I get rejected time and time again

I know, it feels personal, and there’s a grieving process. There is no magic bullet to avoid feeling pain. I submit that if you can’t handle the heat, don’t turn on the stove. There is nothing in life that guarantees we’ll win. Life is a gamble – some days you win, some days you lose. And some days you lose a lot more often than you win. But look at your options; if you never try, you’ll never understand a sense of creating balance so that you can deal with the low points.

That’s why I always recommend that authors begin writing a new book during the query phase. It takes your mind off the process and gets you thinking about your future, rather than focusing on things that are out of your control. And to help redirect your focus, the beagle is considering a side business – a bar strictly for authors. She’s considering names at this juncture. Query Hell, Rancid Rejections, and Damn the Adverbs have been summarily tossed out.

Regardless of your mood, it helps to look at your writing as a business and not a reflection on your self worth. An agent or editor rejects your book, not you.

For us, it really is business, it’s never personal. Well, almost never…