Authors: Richard Laymon
I was still in the middle of writing
Island
when Mike Bailey called to ask for ideas about the cover art. I told him a little about the story. Then I said that the cover might show a sunny tropical beach with an inlet in the background. Offshore is a yacht. The illustration might be from a viewpoint as if we’re looking out at the beach and yacht from just inside the border of a jungle.
As we discussed the possibilities, we came up with the idea of showing a palm tree in the foreground with a weapon stuck in its trunk.
My Headline covers almost always depict a weapon usually a cutting implement: a saw, a meat cleaver, an ax, a knife, etc.
Whatever it is, it usually drips blood.
So I told Mike about some of the weapons used in
Island.
He said he would give the matter some thought, talk it over with the artist, others at Headline and Bob Tanner. (Bob seems to have a lot of influence on the packaging of my books.)
The result, some time later, was a very nice artist’s sketch of the beach and inlet and yacht, with a palm tree in the foreground. A spear was stuck in tree trunk.
Uh-oh.
I phoned Mike.
“It
can’t be
a spear,” I explained. “They’ve made their spears out of sticks. The points are
whittled.
They’d
never
penetrate a tree trunk.”
Mike, of course, immediately recognized the problem.
I suggested that the spear be replaced by a Swiss Army knife a sharp weapon that not only appeared in my story but could definitely stick in a tree.
But I also mentioned the presence on the island of a straight razor.
The straight razor had already
appeared
in my book, but had not been used in any significant way. Unlike the Swiss Army knife, which played a bigger role.
I’m not sure why, but the decision eventually came in against the Swiss Army knife.
Stuck into the palm tree on the cover of my book would be a straight razor.
Here’s the thing.
As mentioned early, I was still in the process of writing
Island.
And I now knew that a straight razor would appear prominently on the cover.
So I beefed up the role of the razor.
And the book was better for it.
That razor…
Ooo, the places it went, the things it did!
All because of some decisions about what to put on the cover.
Before leaving the subject of covers, I must mention that nearly all of my Headline dustjacket and cover illustrations have been done by the artist Steve Crisp. They’ve all been great, and I’m sure that no small part of my success in the United Kingdom has been due to his artistry. My deep appreciation, Steve.
On “Real” Jobs
YOU’RE AN ASPIRING WRITER.
But everyone warns you that you need a “real job to fall back on.”
An annoying thing for them to say.
It demeans you from the get-go.
Besides, everyone has it backwards. You don’t need a real job to “fall back on” in case the writing career goes on the fritz. Instead, you need the real job to sustain you during the early years,
before
the writing career has blossomed enough to provide you with a decent annual income. (See “On Money.”)
There is little doubt that you will need a “real job” during the early stages of your writing career.
Now, what sort of job should you take?
First, it should be one that you like. If you’re very lucky, you may only need it for five years. More likely, though, you may need to turn out fiction for ten years before you’ll be able to make a decent living at it. It may take longer. And some people are never able to make it as a full time writer. (Which I figure is their fault. In my own opinion, those who don’t make it generally fail because they don’t try hard enough. My theory is, I’m an average guy. If I can do it, anyone can.
If
he works at it hard enough.) Okay. So try to find employment in a job that you won’t mind keeping for a decade or longer. That is most important. But be careful. If you like the job
too ‘much
and let it consume your time and energy, that’ll be the end of you as a novelist.
Second most important, look for a job that gives you the maximum amount of free time.
A job in education is ideal for this reason. Most teachers get off work in mid-afternoon and receive three to four months of vacation each year. An entire novel can be written during one summer vacation. (I wrote
The Cellar
during one.) Being a teacher is an ideal side-career for a great many reasons. A possible drawback is that some educators get so caught up in preparing lesson plans, grading papers, etc., that they have trouble getting around to their fiction. This need not happen, though. Even the most conscientious teacher in the world should be able to find an hour or two each day for pursuing a career as an author.
If a career in education isn’t right for you, look for any sort of job that might allow you extra blocks of free time. The fewer hours per day you need to work at the “real job,” the more time you can devote to writing. If you can earn enough money at some sort of part-time job (such as substitute teaching, construction work, “consulting,” office temporary work, etc.) so much the better.
It is probably best to avoid jobs that involve writing. (A lot of people might disagree with this, but it’s my opinion.) In many cases, the writing you do for your job will put an enormous strain on your urge to write fiction in your spare time. You’ve been writing all day. Probably the last thing you’ll want to do, after getting home from work, is to sit down in front of your computer for another hour or two.
The need to hold a “real job” is not entirely a bad thing.
Nonwriting jobs can be valuable to you as a writer beyond their function of providing a stable income.
You might want to seek out jobs that will provide you with colorful background material for your fiction. Some of the most successful novelists have been doctors, seamen, police officers, lawyers, and soldiers. But such jobs require a lot of time and dedication. They aren’t for everyone. Also, some of the most colorful jobs can get you maimed or killed.
No matter what sort of job you take in order to make ends meet, you’ll find that it offers you a lot of valuable experiences. You’ll learn the ins and outs of whatever business it might be.
And you’ll probably be forced into contact with
people.
People!
People characters are at the center of everything you will ever ‘write. (They’ll also be your audience.) So pay close attention to everyone you meet at work. Learn their physical characteristics, their quirks, their charms and flaws. Then, when you sit down to write your fiction, use what you’ve learned about them.
Take full advantage of the situation. After you’ve given up the “real job,” you’ll no longer have such close contact with so many people. You’ll actually loose a great source of fresh material.
(However, you’ll be more than glad to lose most of it.)
Finally, you should try to avoid taking any job that
involves
you to any large extent intellectually or emotionally. Your job should not consume you.
It’s something you do to make ends meet while you write.
When you’re not actually on the job, you need to be able to shut it out, ignore it, leave it behind.
In a very real sense, you’ll be an imposter at the “real job.” You’re putting on a good show at being a clerk, a secretary, a teacher, a carpenter, a truck driver, an accountant, a computer repairman, a salesman, a lawyer, a doctor, a janitor, a guard, a cop…You should do a
good
job, but you’re an imposter and a spy you’re a writer.
On Money
NO ASPIRING WRITER LIKES TO HEAR THIS. I SURE DIDN’T. BUT IF YOU want to write fiction for a living, you will need another source of income.
Either find yourself a full-time job or marry yourself a working spouse unless you have plenty family money and don’t need to worry about income.
Though it is certainly possible to earn a living at the writer’s trade, the chances of making much money early in your career are very slim. Virtually non-existent.
First, be advised that you can’t earn a living by writing short stories. There aren’t enough markets. And the markets that do exist (anthologies and a few magazines) don’t pay much.
Unless you sell a story to a really top market (such a
Playboy)
you’ll be lucky to get more than a couple of hundred dollars for it.
Take a look at the math. If you’re incredibly good and prolific and write a story every two weeks and they
all
sell, you would have 26 stories over the course of a year. If every one of them sold for $200, you would be earning an annual income of $5,200. (At least you wouldn’t have to pay income tax.)
To earn a living, you must write novels.
Here is another tough truth: the first novel you write probably won’t sell. When you hear stories about a “first novel” that takes the literary world by storm, they’re referring to an author’s first
published
novel. It might be the second, third, or twelfth novel that the author actually wrote. Those earlier ones just weren’t fit to be published.
Almost
nobody’s first
attempt at writing a novel results in anything worth reading except maybe as a curiosity. (This truth wouldn’t necessarily apply to the first attempt at a novel by a seasoned poet, playwright, screenwriter, journalist, or short story writer.) Why bother to write the first novel if it won’t sell?
For one thing, there is a chance, however slim, that it
might
sell. For another, you have to write the first novel or you’ll never get down the line to the one that does sell.
It’s a step toward your destination. Without taking the first step, you just don’t get there at all.
Okay.
Let’s move on to your first novel that sells.
When you finally hear that a publisher has made an offer to buy your novel, celebrate! No matter what the publisher intends to pay you, this is one of the great moments of your life.
Your book has sold!
Almost everyone
dreams
of selling a novel, but you now stand among the select who have
done
it. Enjoy your triumph. You deserve it. Scream and dance. Call everyone you know and blurt out the news. Break out the adult beverage of your choice. Go to a fine restaurant if you can afford it.
But don’t quit your job.
You’ll want to.
Oh, boy, will you want to!
In the euphoria of your first novel sale, you’ll have an overwhelming urge to quit your job and write full time.
Resist it.
Here’s why.
For one thing, the publisher probably won’t let you have the full amount of the advance all at once. Depending on your contract, you may get half the money when you sign the contract (known as “on-sign” money) and the other half upon publication of the book.
That second half can be elusive. They probably won’t publish the book for
at least
a year.
Maybe not for a year and a half. After the book
is
published, you’ll have to wait two or three months longer before you actually receive the payment.
As for the “on-sign” money you probably won’t see a penny of it for four to six months.
A couple of months might pass before the contract is even finalized. After that, most publishers will keep the on-sign money for at least two more months before sending it to your agent. Only the very best agents will then send the payment to you immediately.
They have clerical work to do such as removing their 15% (very few agents take only 10%). Like the publishers, many agents will take their time about sending your money to you. (It appears that they have other uses for it.)
The upshot is, don’t expect to see your on-sign money any time soon. My advice: after a month has gone by, start bugging your agent. Ask where the money is. You might get it faster particularly if your agent isn’t naturally aggressive if you pester him a bit. (The squeaky wheel gets the oil.) Encourage him to pester the publisher.
In my own situation, I had an excellent agent named Ralph Vicinanza who was very diligent about getting money from publishers. After a reasonable amount of time had gone by, he would start phoning the publisher
daily
to ask about the missing payment. My current agent, Bob Tanner, does a great job of getting the money and sending it to me as fast as possible.
If you have an agent who isn’t aggressive about obtaining your money or who doesn’t forward it to you promptly find a new agent. Find one who cares about you, who realizes you
need
that money, sometimes desperately.
Let’s move on.
You finally receive the on-sign payment for your first novel less your agent’s fee.
Look at the check.
How long will you be able to live off it?
At the lower end of the scale, you might get only $1,500 to $2,000 for a first novel, especially if it’s to be published as a paperback original. Somewhat better houses might offer you $5,000. You’d be lucky to get an advance of more than $5,000 from a U.S. publisher for a first novel.
At that rate, how many novels would it take to earn a good annual income?
If you wrote
four
books in a year, they all sold and you got the entire amount on each acceptance you would be up to a grand total of $20,000 for a year of writing. ($17,000 after the agent has taken his fee.)
Not exactly a fortune, is it?
And I hate to write this but your next novel
might not sell.
Mine sure didn’t.
After your first sale, your publisher will have an option to buy your next work. But they don’t
have
to buy it. And for any number of reasons, they might not. You can then try to sell it to a different publisher, but that might not be easy.
The advance money from your first sale could very well be the only writing income you’ll get for a whole year or longer.