You know the little acidic twinge you get in your gut when you read a Gawker post about the latest underqualified-seeming asshole who just sold her first book for six figures? What if I told you that you never need to feel that way again?
The Boston Herald reports that book deals given to bloggers tend to result in lackluster sales; though anyone with Wordpress can likely score themselves a nominal deal, it certainly doesn't mean the book is going to make any money. And the big blog-to-book deals — such as those of Stephanie Klein (Greek Tragedy), Gawker Media alum Ana Marie Cox (Wonkette) and Jessica Cutler (Washingtonienne) — are almost guaranteed to disappoint publishers when the titles finally hit the stands. Says one agent: "Paying $500,000-plus for that Greek Tragedy blogger was pretty dumb."
It's late Wednesday afternoon and we're sitting at our computer and there's an email from this flack, this publishing hardbody named Sloane Crosley, and scrawled in blood it says that Bret Easton Ellis, who's always wearing that grey Dior Homme suit from the Spring '05, is cancelling the tour for the paperback release of Luna Park:
Absurd as this might sound, having lunches and drinks with literary agents is an important part of an editor's job. But while fancy expense account food and booze is great in theory (especially since it takes about three years for your average editor to start raking in a public schoolteacher's starting salary), it's a double-edged perk when you consider the motley assortment of semi-strangers that editors can end up trapped at a table with. Here's a random sampling of the type of agents whose lunches with me tend to get scheduled, rescheduled, and then postponed again — indefinitely:
Somehow, in our ADD-inflicted carelessness, we missed this Guardian interview with Fake Writer James Frey; it's the disgraced memoirist's first interview since Oprah gave him a national flogging back in January. Frey says quite a bit but, as it's coming from an admitted liar, it's hard to know what to believe. Rather than ask that you try to parse the interview on your own, we've gone ahead and provided our translation services:
Why is the publishing industry dying? According to Mark Duffy, it's partially due to the lack of innovation in its advertising. Or, as Mark puts it, "Not one of the ads provokes even a slight glance in its direction. One of the reasons for this is that book ads are not placed to sell books. They are placed to literarily suck off the author/agent. Another reason is that most book publishers have the visual imagination of a dead slug." He suggests that if any house were brave enough to challenge the prevailing orthodoxy and do something different it would change the face of the industry. Any brave editors out there willing to take a chance? Get in touch with Mark! If you can handle working with a guy who calls you and your colleagues "a group of neutered pussies," you might just become a star.
If you're like most overworked urbanites or desperate stay-at-home moms, you likely got hammered last night, drinking with your friendly enablers or in the secrecy of your bathroom. And you may be an incredibly talented writer but, like, so hungover, dude, and so no publisher gives a shit about your drunk tank dramatics. All that matters is whether or not you got clean and if you did so with the appropriate amount of grit, determination and self-deprecation — then you can qualify for the white-hot Rehab Memoir, and join the ranks of James Frey (pre-fabrication), Augusten Burroughs, David Carr, Kitty Dukakis, Bill Moyers and, the focus of today's article in the Observer, former Page Sixer Tom Sykes.
Despite Gay American and former New Jersey governor Jim McGreevey's claims to the contrary, which are detailed at length in his forthcoming memoir, former McGreevey aide Golan Cipel insists that he never had a relationship with McGreevey, nor did he ever attempt to blackmail the then-governor. In an interview from Israel, Cipel said, "I was not his lover. I've never met a liar like Jim McGreevey. Cipel then added:
It's your rainy Friday morning gay porn fix, courtesy of Gay American and former Jersey governor Jim McGreevey! In his memoir The Confession, McGreevey writes of bedding Golan Cipel, the man who would eventually attempt to blackmail him, while his wife was in the hospital after delivering their daughter via Caesarean; we'll present this excerpt without comment, as its beauty speaks for itself:
As part of its general de-stuff-ifying of its Penguin Classics line of canonical reprints, certain of the "deluxe" titles in Penguin's catalog have received pretty unconventional covers illustrated by alterna-comics artists. In addition to this lovely version of Upton Sinclair's The Jungle with flensed cow head by Charles Burns, check out Chris Ware's take on Voltaire's Candide after the jump.
Last Thursday 02138 - the independent magazine about Harvard alumni - carried and essay from Julie Buxbaum, a Harvard Law grad who threw it all away to pursue literature:
So, have you become jaded and bored with your elite status as an approved Gawker commenter? Think there's no higher level of Gawker sycophantery remaining to achieve? You couldn't be more wrong. Sit down, relax your cerebellum, and unclench your sphincter, because we're writing a book. And we'd ever so much like to have your help. Because what would our maiden venture into dead-tree media be without the active participation of our most vital resource — our readers? There's no reason to blog for a book deal when you can just turn the blog directly into a book, with the virtually free assistance of gullible swells. By which we mean readers. Our most vital resource! Wait, did we say that already?
Every aspiring author has an ideal in mind for the person he'll eventually entrust with his precious book. A description of this editor can be found on almost any acknowledgment page: patient, unflappable, gentle but thorough, willing to toil unglamorously in the service of someone else's glory - like a really good bikini waxist, basically.
This week's white-knuckle Times Book Review features a an over-educated Yale graduate reviewing the new novel by an over-educated Yale graduate. Which, everyone is going to want to read that, right? Then there's the super pretentious review of a super pretentious book that name drops every author who's ever died. And then a bunch of fawning letters to Joe Queenan who wrote about reading in which, finally, the snake of the New York literatti swallows its own tail, drinks its own Kool Aid, and bores the rest of us to death. After the jump, our own over-educated Yale graduate, Intern Alexis, tries to keep it all down.
In this very special issue of the Times Book Review, editor Sam Tanenhaus' gang tackles the difficult issue of denim. How to wear it? Where to wear it? How much is too much? Why would someone pay $160 for Joe's Jeans? And what sort of Times editor would let this business make it into the Review? After getting over this formidable issue of fashion, the Review goes with silly author websites, the trouble with erections, and a super-nasty slap across Irvine Welsh's face. After the jump, Intern Alexis puts down the pipe and gives you your semi-educated crib notes to this week's review.
Congrats to Observer editor Tom Scocca, who has sold a book to Sean MacDonald at Riverhead (MacDonald was James Frey's editor, so don't be surprised when everyone discovers that several portions of Scocca's book have been fabricated). We're not sure how significant the deal is because, as a very white person, Scocca doesn't talk about those things. But we do know that Scocca sold more rights for more cash, so he's got a decent handful. Enough to at buy at least 10 sessions at Solar Salon.
Why bother visiting the Museum of Modern Art when you can own the entire collection for $20? Jason Polan's The Every Piece Of Art in The Museum Of Modern Art Book is exactly what it sounds like — 50 pages of tiny sketches depicting everything on public view at MoMA for two weeks in January 2005. The "deluxe" edition ($100) comes with admission to MoMA, a tour by the author, a free sketch, and a "hotdog or pretzel."
Just your brief, weekly reminder that your online diary is always worth a small advance, courtesy of Publisher's Lunch:
From Publisher's Marketplace comes word that Radar "consultant" and super-secret project-monger Remy Stern has snared himself a few months' rent:
