John Shore

Archive for the ‘Business’ Category

Overcoming The Harsh Realities of Book Publishing

In Business, HowTo, Religion on September 17, 2008 at 9:22 am

On Saturday, September 26, I’ll be conducting a workshop at the annual San Diego Christian Writers Guild  conference entitled “Overcoming The Harsh Realities of Publishing.” Since most of the conference attendees will be curious about getting published in the Christian book market, I’m sure its the “harsh realities” of that realm of publishing I’ll be expected to address.

So I should probably start thinking of what some of those harsh realities are.

Hmmm.

You need a platform.

That’s pretty much it. If you’ve got a solid platform, all the other problems with Christian publishing—needing an agent, needing ideas, needing marketing savvy, needing to know how to write—pretty wholly dissapear.

A “platform” is the means by which you personally, without any help from its publisher, can sell a minimum of 30,000-50,000 copies of your own book. It’s the nationwide ministry or mega-church that you lead, the nationally-broadcast television show on which you preach, the popular radio show you host, the seminars or conferences that have you speaking before tens of thousands of rapt listeners a year. Your platform can even be the blog you write, if your blog is insanely popular. But it’s got to be something you do that makes thousands and thousands of people want whatever else you do.

All publishers need to make money off their books. (And that definitely includes Christian publishers, by the way. The first thing any aspiring Christian market writer should do is rip off those rose-colored glasses.) That means they need to sell  their books. And that’s really, really  difficult to do, because there are some 200,000 books published in America published every twelve months. How do you break through the water’s surface in an ocean that packed?

One way to at least have a chance is to start out being a big fish. Publishers don’t want to market your book. That costs them way too much money; it takes mad cash to run even the most modest ad campaign. What a publisher wants is an author who shows up with their own advertising campaign, their own marketing clout, their own known brand.

What an author can do and bring a publisher doesn’t have to make and deliver.

Publishers aren’t risk takers. They can’t afford to be. (And who can be these days?) What publishers are—or certainly what those holding the Publishing Purse Strings are—are business people. And—and this is everything—they’re business people trying to make money selling art.

Business and art: that’s the Ancient Dichotomy. The people in publishing who cut the checks that keep the rest of us in publishing aren’t artists. They’re not Aesthetic Visionaries. (And again: Who is?) They’re people trying to make a living. They’re people trying to keep their jobs.

Just like every other company that interrupts your television viewing for twenty-two out of every thirty-minutes, book publishers are people with products they need to sell.

But how do you sell a book? Books are based on writing—and writing is, still (and ever, of course) an art. Business people don’t understand art. Or, rather, what they do understand about art is that it can’t be quantified. They can’t predict it. They can’t turn it into a formula. They can’t anticipate who’s going to like it, or why, or when.

Business people don’t like that. They want numbers they can count on, formulas they can depend upon, market analytics they can apply. They need stuff that, as much as possible, they know will work.

The answer? Publish a book with the name of someone on its cover who can effectively promote and sell that book.

You tell a publisher how many copies of your book you can sell, and you just became someone that publisher can work with. Make that number even fairly substantial, and you just became that publisher’s best friend.

If you’re a writer going into publishing without a platform, you’re going in without much of a chance at all.

Now. That’s true.

But, ultimately, it’s not the whole story. Look at me! Not that long ago at all, the only platform I had was on the forklift I maniacally drove around in a warehouse all day. I had no connections; the only person I knew in “publishing” was the dimwit who used to tag the inside of the trucks I was helping load. And look at me now! Arguing with atheists on my very own blog!

So while needing a platform is huge, it’s not everything. Like all Monolithic Realities, it leaves all kinds of holes you can wiggle through. So it’s how to do that about which I’ll be speaking at the conference. ( “… about which I’ll be speaking…” See? That’s what I’m talkin bout!)

Come to the conference if you can! One of these days I’d like to meet at least one of you guys.

 

Related posts o’ mine: Why A Book Proposal Is Everything, and How To Make A Living Writing.

 

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How To Survive as a Co-Author

In Business, HowTo, Writing on September 7, 2008 at 1:11 pm

I was surprised at how many people read my last post, which concerned how a book I co-authored was unexpectedly edited. I figured, who would care? But I got a fair number of emails about that post, and a fair number of those expressed, basically, this sentiment: “How can you so sanguinely let someone change your words?”

Sanguinely! I just had it at Olive Garden! Too many capers!

No, but that’s a fair question.

And the answer is this: When you go into a co-authorship deal, you do so knowing that the final product won’t be yours. It’ll be partly  yours, of course—but mostly it will be the result of a collaborative effort. In a book that’ll have my name alone on its cover, I don’t let anybody change any word I’ve written without my permission. I’m a veritable Word Nazi when it comes to that; it’s an area about which I’m obnoxiously uncompromising. (Which isn’t to say my ears are ever closed to the ministrations of a great editor. I’m fond enough of the work I do, for sure. But I’m not stupid.) The simple fact is that the books I’m doing with Stephen Arterburn aren’t mine. I’m expected to chime in with my opinion on anything having to do with the text of our books, and, God knows, I do. But at the end of the day, I’m not famous. I don’t have a nationwide ministry. Nobody listens to the radio show I broadcast every day to some 250 stations across the country. I don’t speak to tens of thousands of people a year. My name’s not on the front of a major bestselling Christian book title.

That would be Steve. 

Which is why on the cover of my books with Steve his name is above mine, in larger font.

Steve’s the star here, not me. It’s his game. His name. His fame.

A while back Steve happened to read my book, “Penguins, Pain and the Whole Shebang.” He liked it enough to then ask me if I’d write something with him. I had a couple of suggestions, and the next thing I knew (sort of), we had signed an extremely nice four-book deal with Bethany House. We met a few times with the Head Honchos of Bethany, and I liked them a great deal. You couldn’t ask for nicer guys.

Steve opted to be exceedingly generous to me relative to my percentages on the books we’d do with Bethany. He offered me a significantly larger cut than is customary in such deals; he knew I’d have happily taken less than he gave. It was his way of initiating between us the kind of relationship he wanted us to have. He then went on to prove himself extremely easy to work with.

I just bought a new house that’s better than not just any place I’ve ever lived, but than any place anyone I’ve ever known has lived. I can’t even believe this place exists, much less that by some freakish confluence of circumstances my wife and I came to live here.

I’m pretty big on suffering for my art; I’ve spent the lion’s portion of my life doing just that. Learning how to write in my own voice, with my own style and tone and so on, proved a longer, more brutal, less forgiving haul than I ever imagined it would be. I don’t even like thinking about how hard it’s been.

Point being: This little chapter in my writing life is just fine with me.

Sometimes, to win a game, you have to let yourself not be quarterback.

 

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An Example of How My/Our Book “Being Christian” Was Edited

In Business, Writing on September 5, 2008 at 10:22 pm

The very kind response I got to the excerpt I ran yesterday from “Being Christian,” the just-released book I co-authored with Steve Arterburn, moved me to want to run another (and more serious) excerpt from that book. So I found on my computer the finalized text of “Being Christian,” and began the business of cutting and pasting the excerpt from it that I thought I’d share.

In clearing that text of its MS Word formatting goblins (which is of course accomplished by first pasting it into Notepad to clean it, and then cutting and pasting it into WordPress), I lost some of its line breaks. So I opened my hardback copy of the book itself, so that I could be sure of where to properly insert those breaks.

And that’s when I discovered that after we had sent off what we understood to be the finalized text of ”Being Christian” (rendered via back-and-forths with the book’s exceptionally talented editor, Christopher Soderstron), someone at the book’s publisher had decided to go ahead and further edit that text.

So here’s an example of what resulted. This passage now appears in the book as published:
 
“That we are saved not by works but by grace alone—the grace that comes through an unshakable faith in Jesus Christ—is central to the doctrine with which the German theologian Martin Luther profoundly challenged the Catholic Church and which ultimately resulted in the Protestant Reformation.

“Read the following carefully. It is the Great Reformer’s interpretation of the apostle Paul’s words, and it’s something all Protestants believe: …”

And here is how, the last we knew, that same passage was going to read:
 
“That we are saved not by works, but by grace alone—that is, by the grace that comes from having unshakable faith in Jesus Christ—was central to the doctrine with which the German monk and theologian Martin Luther lit afire the profound challenges to the Catholic Church that ultimately conflagrated into the Protestant Reformation. (“Protestant” as in, “protest”; “Reformation” as in “reform.” See? Luther protested! He wanted reform!)

“Read the following carefully. It was written in 1537 by The Great Reformer, and it’s something all Protestants believe. … “

So you see the differences. Certainly nothing substantive was changed, and—what with them having paid for it, and all—the book does, after all, belong to its publisher, who is ultimately free to do with it as it pleases. (And of course it’s possible Steve okayed such last minute changes. He’s a busy guy; the book was on a schedule … just because I didn’t see this stuff doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t.)

I only mention this little bit of business because I thought it possible that those of my readers who are particularly interested in the Publishing Process might find it vaguely diverting.

 

Related/follow-up post: How To Survive as a Co-Author.

Pink! God Is Outraged!

In Business, Christianity, Family on August 26, 2008 at 7:13 pm

The picture above is of what you see when, in our new home, you’re walking up the first set of stairs from our living room.

That’s right. It’s pink. That’s the way we wanted it—and by Gumby, that’s the way our extremely intense Korean house painter, Eun Koo Kang, painted it. (I took this picture right after it was painted, to show my wife that day at lunch. You see the painting tarp there.)

Eun Koo, as it turned out, is a Seriously Devout Christian—which means, for instance, that he isn’t free to work Sundays, since he spends literally all day at church. Commendable man of faith! It was my estimation of Eun Koo Kang that he also comes fully charged with about all of the testosterone a man can regularly process before he begins to actually grow hair on his internal organs. And while he did an admirable job of hiding his consternation at how willing we were to paint a perfectly good wall pink, he fell just short of displaying true equanimity.

Ever since I’ve been wondering what, exactly, Eun Koo thought as he applied the first stroke of pink upon the wall that only moments before he had with rather arresting vigor encouraged us to paint, “Any color not crazy.”

I figure that what went through Eun Koo’s mind as he lifted his glowing brush from the paint can was one or some combination of the following:

1. What’s wrong with eggshell?

2. I miss Korea. We’re such a sane people.

3. Why does the man allow his wife to tell him what color to paint the walls?

4. Why not just ask me to wear a skirt  while I’m painting?

5. They will never know that beneath this paint lies the Korean characters for “God Is Outraged!”

6. This actually looks kind of nice. I was wrong to show my condemnation. Humility is the key to grace. I must remember.

7. It’s their money.

8. The husband does have an engagingly animated, very expressive, almost manically creative way about him. Maybe he’s fegulah.

 

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God Says: People Are Good

In Business, Religion on August 15, 2008 at 6:19 am

It’s 5:30 a.m. Here are some Random Thoughts zipping around the fringes of the muddled abyss that Little Sleep and Crucial Details have made of my once not-all-the-clear-anyway mind.

I have to drop off my car for servicing at 7:45 this a.m. I will then go spend the day sorting through the mountain of books donated to my wife’s thrift store this week. I am doing this because the store’s volunteer book person took the summer off. I will fill literally half a dumpster with the books I throw out. First, though, I throw them into the huge garbage cans near the sorting area. Those cans are right next to the long line of homeless people who everyday show up for free food. Invariably and constantly, these people will take an intense interest in what seems to them like the perfectly good books I’m throwing out. 

Tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. (our 27th wedding anniversary!) my wife Cat and I are to meet at our new home the guy who’s going to spend three days painting the interior of our house. I found this man on Craigslist. He barely speaks English; I believe he is Korean. He’s an extremely intense guy. I like and respect him very much. I know he’ll do work of the quality I’d like him to.

Tomorrow at 9 a.m. another guy will also show up at our house, to install our new air conditioner there. This is a huge, $4,000 project. Like our painter, this man is exceptionally knowledgeable and experienced at his trade: he teaches classes in air conditioning (!) He is thoughtful, patient, kind, and very easy to respect. It’s a blessing to have both he and Eun Koo Kang the Painter in our lives.

Relative to our new home, we have, this week, accomplished these things:

1. Bought the thing. (Interesting snag at the very end: My driver’s license had expired, bringing to a screeching halt in its final moment the culmination of everything that had gone into the finalizing of the purchase of our house. The escrow people, the sellers, the sellers’ agent, our agent, the title people, our lending bank … everyone involved in the deal simply stopped, while I ran to the public zoo that is the DMV. Imagine my chagrin. But check this out: After my license extension had been seen to, out of nowhere the woman helping me at the DMV volunteered to fax proof of my extension to everyone who was right then waiting to see it. Without even looking up at me as she finished processing my license, she goes, “Give me the numbers. I’ll fax this for you.” Then she went back into her Operational Labyrinth, and did just that. Pure awesomeness.)

2. Changed the locks in our new house. (And in so doing made acquaintence with an amazingly great guy, Tony, owner/operator of KlickLock. What a guy—and with what an honorable past. Tony is the man.)

3. Had our house thoroughly cleaned by the two very kind, very hardworking women sent to us via Merry Maids. Tipped them heavily for their Awesome Work.

4. Had the gas and electricity turned on by Ron the Power Guy, with whom I had a wonderful time. Ron’s extremely funny, and extremely smart about All Things Gas and Electric. He taught me all about my new water heater. Awesomeness redoux.

5. Had the carpets in our new house cleaned by the sweetest kid (I dunno … I’d say he was 23) you’d ever want to meet. He works for Stanley Steemer. He did a wonderful job on a carpet that looked like it had been used as a surface for terrorist training. Afterwards, Manuel and I totally hung out in my kitchen. He’s a freak for granite countertops and whatever kind of range/stove we now own. I think he would have cooked us lunch if he didn’t have to go.

6. Got phone and internet service started at the new place, via a superb customer service woman at ATT, who took my account info home with her so she could call us after hours to keep us up on the status of our account. I’m so sure! This woman definitely deserves a raise, because whatever she makes can’t possibly be enough.

7. Bought a new washer and dryer for our new place at Home Depot. The man who helped us there was so great I can’t even tell you. Kind, patient, knowledgeable, thorough, generous … dealing with him was just a wonderful experience.

8. Bought, at Home Depot, some 20 gallons of paint, in four colors that my wife and I spent a month deciding on. Again: extraordinary customer service, for a long time, over a lot of complicated variables. I don’t know how Home Depot finds such great people, or what they do to make them so consciencious and gracious, but dang, they have good people. The one by my house does, anyway. Same thing with the HD guy who sold us our new ceiling fan. He couldn’t have been better.

Anyway, stuff like that. We’re spending a lot of money getting our new house in order, and one of the things we’re getting for our money—in some ways the best thing—is what feels like a divine affirmation of the goodness of people. This whole process has been an object lesson in the very encouraging fact that the world is filled with good, loving people who take true pride in what they do every day.

And now I’m off to get my car serviced by the best mechanics I’ve ever dealt with. You wouldn’t believe this local garage. The guy who owns it is so good my standard deal with him is to say, “Do whatever you think needs to be done.” And I’m not stupid about cars. But this guy has proven himself to be exactly the kind of guy you can actually say that to.

There’s a lot in me that tends toward cynicism. These days so many people, everywhere in my life, are daily showing me how wrong, stupid, and ridiculously unnecessary cynicism is.

 

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The Lease of My Concerns

In Business, Family on August 7, 2008 at 5:56 am

Random stuff floatin around in my head:

A reader asked if what I wrote in The Spoiled Rotten Adult is an “original analysis,” i.e., my own ideas. They are. I’m sure some Brainy Psych Types somewhere have done plenty o’ writing about the people whom in that post I called “Shruggers,” but I don’t know of that work. I don’t read the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, or anything. I would—it’s a fascinating book. But it must be said there aren’t nearly enough pictures in it.

In my dream world, “Shruggers” becomes the  word for describing the type of personality disorder for which I used it.

In my dream world—the actual one, where I’m asleep—I can also, at will, hover in midair.

This morning my wife Cat and I are going out to see, for the first time, the interior of the home we’re buying when it’s empty. Up until two days ago, it was occupied by a renter. The walk-through is one of the final steps in the home buying process, which is so phenomenally complex I’m stunned everyone in America doesn’t live in a box on the side of the road, since they can’t figure out how to buy a house. In a year the United States Justice Department doesn’t generate as much paperwork. Lenders, loan agencies, Realtors, escrow people, title companies, home owner’s association folk … it’s like one huge administrative train wreck.

Only, you know: No one got hurt, and we’re buying our first house. Final papers should be ready for us Monday. Signing those that will kick in a rapid series of processes I can’t even begin to understand, all of which should result in our taking ownership of the house on Wednesday the 13th. Then, in short order, we have come in the air conditioning installer man, the painter man, the carpet cleaning people, and the housecleaning people—and, finally, to where we are now, the movers.

Catherine (Cat) is Officially Insane. Turns out she (and certainly I) had no idea how deeply and passionately she wanted to own her own home. It’s been a revelation. By nature Cat tends toward intensity. But yikes, man. Basically, I’ve been staying out of the way and trying not to wreck or (God forbid) lose any Vital Documents. She has spent about three months being one major, sustained manifestation of sheer Desire and Focus. Cat now knows more about real estate in San Diego—about real estate, period—than Donald Trump knows about … hair care products.

I, too, of course, look forward to no longer renting. I was reminded of why I hate to rent when I told our current landlady that, two months into our year lease (!), we were leaving. Despite my assurances that we would happily pay every month of our lease payments until we found someone suitable to replace us as tenants—not to mention that our leaving will net her $1,300 ($500 flat fee for breaking the lease; $800 security deposit)—she still called me a “lease breaker” about eight times, in the same tone she might have said “child molester.” (We worked it out, though. I’m actually very fond of this woman. She was just mad because I think she’s had too many experiences with, like, miscreant lease breakers, which I believe she was relieved to understand we’re not.) 

Wow. This post of Random Thoughts grew obnoxiously long. Sorry about that. So. Later, my friends. (Oh, one more thing: I found the whole deal with A Broken Soul Cries Out For Our Love extremely touching and inspiring. But you knew that.)

Another Exceptional Painting Bought at a Thrift Store

In Business, entertainment on July 27, 2008 at 9:10 pm

click picture twice to enlarge twice

Here’s another original work of art I bought at one of the thrift stores my wife operates in her capacity as Director of Finance and Thrift Store Operations (!!) for Community Resource Center, a nonprofit organization located in lovely Encinitas, CA.

The painting is done on what I believe is goat skin—making it a great painting and a great drum. This is easily the best sounding picture I’ve ever thumped.

The painting is unsigned, and measures, frame included, a mere 9 x 11 inches.

The colors just pop with that kind of primal intensity of hue that makes so much folk art so viscerally impactful. The work is infused with appreciation and even gratitude for life. It’s such a vigorously sentimental affirmation. It makes me think of how heavenly life can be right here on earth.

  

Related piece: Speaking of Orignal, Heartbreakingly Perfect Art I Bought At a Thrift Store

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What Was This Car Salesman Thinking?

In Business on July 25, 2008 at 5:57 pm

Here's what I saw when I opened the phone box in the elevator of my dentist's office building

I was in an elevator; I opened the emergency phone box (because what else is there to do in an elevator?); what I saw’s above.

So my question is: What was the car salesman who left his card inside this elevator phone box thinking? Right after people who are stuck in elevators have desperately phoned for help, the next thing on their mind is usually buying a new car? People stuck in elevators are ready to deal?  Phones and cards with phone numbers on them shouldn’t be apart? That maybe the guy who services the phone might give him a call, so that the two of them can then go out and pal around a little?

A car salesmen purposefully left his card next to this phone, and then closed the door hiding the phone back up again. You guys are all smart. Whaddayou think the thinking was here?

 

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The Worst Trucking Slogan Ever

In Business on July 22, 2008 at 4:46 am

Yesterday my wife Cat and I were driving on the freeway when she said, ”The slogan of the truck we just passed is ‘Always Late.’”

“Take a picture!” I said. ”Take a picture!”

Being a Superior Human Being Who Always Gets It, Cat immediately started scrounging around in my bag for the camera I keep on me for those occasions when life insists I make fun of it.

“Got it!” she said, pulling out and holding aloft my Kodak Cynico-Matic.

I cleverly maneuvered alongside Mr. Party Tardy; Cat leaned over my lap to get the picture; I tried not to cry as she used my crotch to steady her elbow; and voila: the image above.

So what’s the deal with that slogan? Does the owner of the truck have it on his business cards? Is his big sales pitch, “You can count on me to be late! If I’m supposed to be there Tuesday noon, look for me Wednesday morning! If then! Now where’s that produce you want hauled?”

And what’s with the Evil Death motif? The truck and trailer—both painted Ominous Purple—were festooned with skulls and crossbones. It was like a truck driven by Cap’n Jack Sparrow’s son, Thrasher Sparrow, who’s into metal. Or maybe the driver’s the ultimate fan of the band Death Cab for Cutie. Who knows?

Maybe the skulls aren’t meant to be scary. Maybe they’re supposed to show what this trucker’s customers look like by the time their delivery arrives.

That actually makes sense, because I could not drive slow enough to stay next to this truck—and I drive a Ford Focus.  When we first saw the truck we had just started up a long, slight incline on the road, and by the time Cat grabbed my camera, Mr. Purple Wane was so far behind us it was like he was driving in reverse. I basically had to park on the freeway and wait for him to catch up.

I used to be a Teamster; I loaded trucks, and knew a bunch of truck drivers. They were good guys. They took speed—”bennies”—to keep them awake: out of shape, grey haired, big rig drivin’ pill poppers. Maybe whomever was driving this truck was the son or daughter of one of those guys. Makes sense.

 

(Sort of related post o’ mine: Grilled by a Truck.)

 

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Is This Really The Right Name For a Port-a-Potty?

In Business on July 7, 2008 at 3:57 pm