The MuseInks Interview with Activist, Storyteller, Screenwriter, and Poet Andie Woodard

Andie Woodard is a queer writer and activist. They recently earned an MFA in Creative Writing at Antioch University, where they developed their skills at writing culturally sensitive, relevant creative nonfiction and poetry. 

Andie has been awarded runner-up twice in the Mayborn Literary Nonfiction Conference’s Personal Essay Contest and received a Best of the Net nomination from Prometheus Dreaming for their poem “Self Portrait.” They are also an accomplished screenwriter.

I met Andie when we both freelanced for Scribe Media. We became "publishing siblings" when we both had chapbooks published this year by Bottlecap Press (read on!). 

I'm so glad they agreed to chat with me about their writing journey. Take it away, Andie!

Andie Woodard:

I have always wanted to be a writer, since I was a little kid. 

I had multiple interests, so I always thought I'd be a writer and something else—a lawyer, or a detective. But I'm grateful for that perspective these days, in this "gig economy." It set me up for success to know early on that writing would always be part of my identity, part of what earned my living, but not all of it. 

I journal several times a week, and out of those journal entries will bloom a poem or a gnarled part of an essay that needs to be straightened out with a lot of elbow grease. 

I'd say I produce more poetry than anything else, but that has more to do with the volume of words, how quickly you can call a poem "done." This perspective is also why I tell people I'm a writer who happens to write poetry, but I wouldn't call myself a "poet." Poets have a particular way of seeing the world and will languish over each word, each line break, in the poems they produce. They're careful. My philosophy has always been, "Good enough means done." When it comes to succeeding in Capitalism (I'm not a fan, as a general construct, but whether you're winning or losing in Capitalism, you're still playing the game, right?), you could say that this mindset makes me marketable. 

My writing superpowers, though, are my introspection and curiosity. I know what questions to ask to fill in the gaps. I know how to communicate a feeling as well as an idea because of these values I hold in my back pockets.

My biggest writing success to date is having my chapbook, Trailer Trash, published by Bottlecap Press. I have been working on Trailer Trash since 2016, and it has seen a number of revisions. 

I thought I had a full-length collection of poetry, but upon closer inspection, I realized I had just 25 polished, succinct pieces that communicated what I wanted to say: being perceived as a woman in Capitalism means you're already losing. But: when we share that burden together, when we do not look back at trauma with gratitude for "making us stronger" but envision a future where the people we love may be treated more fairly, there is hope.

I started working in publishing in September, 2020. Honestly, at the time, working for Scribe Media was my dream job. I found the company by doing a search online in early 2019 and applied as an Author Success Manager, but then, I had no experience in working with books of any sort (I had just been working in content marketing), so they didn't move forward with my application. 

The online videos about the Scribe Tribe encouraged people to apply again and again if they felt this place was the best fit for them. There was a video of a woman who had applied three times before she was brought on. When I applied again in August, 2020, I didn't expect Scribe to hire me. I did have one book under my belt at that point—a wonderful man found me on LinkedIn and took a chance on me because he liked my writing voice and thought I was the right person to help him finish his book—but it was just the one. I thought this would be my second "no," one step closer to getting hired, maybe when I finished my MFA. 

To my surprise and delight (and to the chagrin of my Imposter Syndrome Demon), they hired me, and I have enjoyed basking in the literary realm ever since. 

With the flexibility of "full-time" freelance work from Scribe, I finished my MFA in Creative Writing, with a focus in Creative Nonfiction and a "genre jump" to Poetry, at Antioch University in 2022. Antioch is focused on "literacy citizenship," writing about identity with thought, research and care, which has helped me "babysit" the books I worked on at Scribe as well as write more carefully for my full-time work in the nonprofit sector.

I no longer work with Scribe, but I still make time for literature. I work full-time at a nonprofit funder, working to fight sexual violence by uplifting nonprofits with relevant missions across the country, but in my off time, I help other authors cross the finish line of their own books. Whether they need structural editing, line editing or proofreading services, I'm there for them.

People who are interested in my services may email me at ModusOperandiee@gmail.com or call or text me at 972-341-4802. They can read samples of my work—from books to short screenplays to media criticism—on my website at https://ModusOperandiee.com.

The MuseInks Interview with Publishing Operations Consultant Vi La Bianca

I am beyond thrilled to introduce you to the incomparable Vi La Bianca! 

A writer, editor, and publishing operations consultant ("What is that?" you may be asking? Read on!), Vi lives in Portland, Oregon with their partner and one-eyed rescue cat. Vi holds a BA in Journalism and has a Master's degree in Writing and Book Publishing from Portland State University.

Vi is the founder of Media Alchemy Guild, a one-stop shop for industry experts in content creation, writing, and publishing. They are also an Associate Editor at SAGE, a global academic publisher. I've had the great good fortune to work on numerous projects that Vi spearheaded, and their drive, organization, and project management skills are second to none.

Go to ViRoseLaBianca on LinkedIn to learn more about their services. I'm so grateful to Vi for taking the time to answer my questions. 

*****

Ami: How long have you worked in the publishing industry? What are some of the positions you’ve held?

Vi: I’ve worked in publishing since 2014. I’ve worked in trade publishing, indie publishing, hybrid publishing, even headed up the content publishing division of an SEO marketing firm. Most recently, I’ve picked up an editorial position with an academic publisher. So I’ve seen this industry from just about every angle.

As far as positions I’ve held, I’ve pretty consistently gravitated to content. I’ve got over a decade of writing and editing experience, but in the last five years I moved into the operations and management side of things. Turns out, I love it! I served as Head of Content at First Page Sage and Content Operations Manager at Scribe Media. Now I’m back in the editorial world with Sage Publishing and doing growth and operations consulting for small to medium-sized publishers as a passion project. 



Ami: You include “process refinement” as one of your specialties. What does that entail? What kind of client benefits most from it?

Vi: Process refinement can look very different based on where you are as a company and what your services are, but basically it looks at how you do what you do. Can you do it more efficiently or effectively? Is it scalable? Is it agile?

The pre-process refinement publishing company.

Pretty consistently, I’ve seen small to medium-sized publishers grappling with implementing a technology stack that may have served them in the past, but is struggling under the weight of their new goals. It could also look like not having an up-to-date playbook or resource library that effectively trains new hires and maintain quality assurance. Process refinement identifies and repairs the holes in how things work to save time and money. 

 

Ami: What role does a publishing operations consultant play in a startup company’s growth and development? How do you find a good publishing operations consultant?

Vi: In general, a publishing operations consultant is an industry expert who can provide guidance to startups who are hoping to avoid pitfalls and take advantage of market trends. Want to know what kinds of structural stressors stop hybrid publishers from scaling successfully? Hire a publishing operations consultant! Curious about what services authors or other clients want and how to build those services into your process? You guessed it: publishing operations consultant!

Finding the right consultant is going to depend on what you’re looking for, and that individual’s background. Some consultants are going to be much more attuned to the trends happening in the trade publishing universe. Some are going to get down and dirty in your technology and CRM architecture, others are going to be more high-level and offer more holistic growth and development coaching.

Personally, I offer both one-on-one consulting for company founders and CEOs as well as what I call “strategic integration,” which allows me to get deeper into the inner workings of the company and do the hands-on process refinement and resource creation many of these publishing startups need during that first big growth phase.



Ami: What is your favorite part of the publishing process?

Vi: Whether you’re talking to me as an editor or an operations specialist, my favorite thing is taking something with a lot of potential and polishing it into an impactful, shiny final product.

If you think about it, a startup is very similar to a manuscript: lots of time and attention has gone into it, it’s someone’s baby. The best ones are a perfect blend of creativity and technical skill. The most successful ones understand it’s all about audience building, whether you’re talking about a readership or client base.

That moment--where you’ve got a tangible, functional, and exciting thing you’ve built with blood, sweat, and tears, and you need someone to help you get it to the next level so you can share it with others--that moment is where the magic lives. And I thrive in that space. It’s the thing that makes publishing a uniquely exciting industry, whether you’re talking about the books or the companies that make them.



Ami: What is one of your favorite (or most memorable, or most rewarding) projects that you’ve worked on?

Vi: One hybrid publisher I worked with had a problem with author experience when it came to their editing-only offering. They noticed that across their services, most of the dissatisfied clients had signed up for this one service. The internal teams were the same, the editors themselves were exceptional, and it was a substantially less expensive option than their higher-end, full-service offerings. So what could the problem be?

My job was to answer that question and propose a solution.

After speaking with the teams on the ground, picking the brains of the subject matter experts on staff, and doing a deep dive into their process of delivering an edit, it became immediately clear: this offering was unique in three ways:

• wait time between contract signing and first deliverable 

• level of additional contractual negotiation before beginning their project 
• 
number of people the authors talked to prior to seeing any return on investment 


Once I had identified what was going wrong, I was able to propose a streamlined process that not only eliminated these pain points but also saved the company weeks of work hours and thousands in expenses per project.



Ami: You have worked “behind the scenes” of publishing for some time. What sort of future do you envision for the industry?

Vi: Many of the folks I’ve talked with have asked: “Is the publishing industry oversaturated?” and I genuinely don’t think it is. 

Humans are storytellers first and foremost. We will always want to tell our own stories and read other people’s stories. It’s as close to a renewable resource as we will ever get. There will always be content and a market for content.

That said, for the publishing industry to hold onto their positions as valuable team members in this universal collective storytelling endeavor, they will need to care about quality and long-term sustainability. Use AI, but know how and when. Conserve costs, but know when investment is nonnegotiable. Branch into tangential markets, but don’t lose focus on the core of what you do.

There will be many flashes in the pan in the next ten years, but what will come out of it is a new ecosystem of established gatekeepers and changemakers, even as corporate publishing begins to falter and lose relevance. Only the publishers who focus on quality and long-term sustainability will be able to claim their place at that table.



Ami: What advice would you give to someone who is considering starting a publishing company?

Vi: Be realistic about your goals and don’t go too fast. What will set you apart is not how flashy you are, or how many ancillary services you offer, or how fast you can fill up a backlist. In fact, focusing on those things will ensure you don’t make it past your first big restructure.

Focus on doing one or two things really well. Make access to those one or two things so irresistible that you build a waitlist. And then make them wait for it. Take your time making sure that you’re set up for success from a structural, operational, and process standpoint so that when you do scale, you can do so seamlessly and sustainably.

And if you want help doing that--or if you suspect that you haven’t done that and want to correct it as soon as possible--invest in an industry expert who knows the terrain and can guide you on that journey. 

The Patron Saint of Struggling Authors

More Thoughts on the Life and Times of Rev. Robert Stephen Hawker

Last week, I mused on the pranks and practices of Robert Stephen Hawker, the Vicar of Morwenstow, in Cornwall, from 1834 to 1875.

From Hawker's antics early in life, one could be forgiven for thinking he was a hopeless jester or worse, a clown. In fact, some sloppy pseudo-biographical articles slant their content in such a way to suggest the whole Mermaid phase (see previous post) occurred while Hawker was a vicar, instead of during his student years. ::sigh::

Hawker was more complex than that.

He loathed the traditional black vestments the clergy wore. When he became a vicar, he refused to dress "like an undertaker," choosing instead to assemble his own unique outfit -- each element signifying his beliefs. 

For instance: he wore a blue fisherman's jersey with red stitching in the side, symbolizing Jesus' call to His followers to be "fishers of men," with a constant reminder of the soldier's spear that caused Christ's final wound.

He also believed he could communicate with spirits, both divine and demonic, which explains why he declared the long brown cassock he wore was "the exact hue" of both Mary's and Jesus' hair.

Sometimes he wore a "flamboyant fez" instead of his typical wide-brimmed hat. (I can find no record of what the fez was supposed to denote. Still: Hawker thought fezzes were cool...)

The Vicar hated black so much that after his death, mourners honored his wishes and wore purple during his funeral.

Hawker's generosity for others often caused hardship for his own family. He routinely dipped into the family finances to feed and clothe poorer members of his community. 

The Hawkers' generosity extended to their parish infrastructure. They built a bridge over a deadly river crossing. And they built a school and restored the 13th-century "Well of St. John," all at their own expense.

Hawker was also a conflicted creative soul. 

On the one hand, he craved quiet time alone. To facilitate that, he built what is now known as "Hawker's Hut," a tiny turf-topped structure with a stable door, tucked into the hillside, facing the sea. He assembled it out of driftwood and wood salvaged from shipwrecks. Today, it remains the smallest property on the National Trust.

He and Charlotte would go together to the hut to pray and meditate. He also spent many hours there alone, smoking opium or writing.

It is clear that he relished the solitude. However, he also recognized that his remote village was, in some ways, a cross to bear.

A passionate accomplished, prolific writer, he enjoyed little acclaim or recognition, though his work sold well. In 1824 he wrote "The Song of the Western Men," or "Trelawney," which was published anonymously in 1826 and which -- to this day -- is considered the unofficial Cornish National Anthem. (Credit Charles Dickens who, years later, told the world about "Trelawney's" authorship.)

In 1848, Alfred, Lord Tennyson visited Morwenstow. He and Hawker hit it off, connected by their mutual love of poetry and obsession with Arthurian legends (the Hawkers had honeymooned at Tintagel, associated with King Arthur since the 12th century). But Tennyson went back to the world of letters and publishing, while the vicar remained on the northern coast. 

Hawker desperately wanted to be known as a writer. He remembered the days of university, when his writing won awards. Lonely, keenly aware of the rapid passage of time, he blamed both his isolated location and gatekeepers in the publishing world for his inability to break in. 

One heartbreaking journal entry includes these words: 

"I have lived on among these faraway rocks, unprofited, unpraised, and unknown."

Every manuscript of his had sold, but "to no advantage of mine."

"And here I am at the close of my days," he wrote, "unnoted, unknown, and – worst of all – unpaid."

In another entry, he lamented his place "here among the rocks" as well as not having any publishing connections:

"I never had friends [in publishing]. In my whole struggle into manuscript, I hardly remember a word of encouragement."

{Ami's note: Brother, I feel ya.}

When his wife Charlotte died in February, 1863, Hawker was more alone than ever. He was 60 years old, widowed and childless. 

Still wrestling with both his talent and his purpose, he plunged into deep depression, wishing to create something that would outlast him. 

For the next few months, he wrote, furiously channeling his grief into a creative outlet. The result was "The Quest of the Sangraal," a Cornish-themed poetic exploration of the Arthurian legend of the Holy Grail. 

Published in 1864, the poem met with both critical and public approval. Even Tennyson praised the work saying, "Hawker has beaten me on my own grounds."

At the end of 1863, 60-year old Hawker met the 20-year old Pauline Anne Kuczynski, a governess. Though she initially considered him "slightly cracked," the two fell in love and married a year later.

They had three children before Hawker died at the age of 72.

But even in death, he colored outside the lines. 

An Anglican priest his entire adult life, Hawker converted to Catholicism the day before he died -- causing a country-wide uproar as people accused Pauline of undue influence. The conspiracy theories and general religious outrage lasted for years.

So ends the tale of the Rev. Robert Stephen Hawker, eccentric, talented, mystic, poet. A prankster, an animal lover, faithful husband, and natty dresser. Publishing anonymously, then craving recognition. Simultaneously embracing and eschewing solitude. Sometimes he used controlled chemicals for temporary escape. Sometimes he wallowed in self-pity. Sometimes he heard angels. And finally, memorably, he accomplished a bona-fide publishing miracle. For these and other reasons, I consider him a contender for Patron Saint of Struggling Authors.

How to Have a Successful Book Launch: 5 Simple Steps

I spent this past weekend in Utah with the amazing Alyson Peterson, as she launched her debut middle-grade fantasy, Ian Quicksilver: The Warrior's Return, into the world. (I don't always travel halfway across the country when people's books launch. But Alyson said some really nice, mostly true, things about me in her Acknowledgements, and her husband makes excellent chocolate chip cookies, so... you know.)

Launching a book can cause a new author any number of sleepless nights and Xanax prescriptions. A veritable Who's Who of Worrisome Thoughts can threaten to monopolize one's internal dialogue:

"I just write stories. I have no platform."

"All the bookstores in the state will look at the sales figures from the launch. If it doesn't go well, they won't stock my book."

and the bete noir:

"What if no one comes?"

Alyson's launch was very successful: people came out in droves, she signed books for two hours' straight, and the bookstore manager was full of enthusiastic kudos when it was all over. Here's how she did it -- and how you can, too.

1.) Get the word out.

For weeks before the event, Alyson handed out invitations to friends and family, asking them to come and be a part of it.

Did everyone invited come? No. But many did. And they'd told people, who had told people...

Key Takeaway -- Remember: you're not begging people to buy your book. No one responds favorably to begging. Instead, you are inviting people to an event. And who doesn't love a party?

2.) Give people a reason to come.

In Alyson's book, Ian, the main character, discovers he is a member of an alien warrior race. He has a magical sword and he must learn how to use it. While researching swordfighting, Alyson began studying Mixed Martial Arts.

During the launch, Alyson had a katana sword on display. Every book purchased during the event got an entry in a drawing for the sword. At the end of the launch party, the lucky winner was announced.

Waking up the bookstore!

But that wasn't the only reason for people to show up. Since learning the skills that make one a warrior is an integral part of the book's plot, Alyson decided to stage an event that illustrate those skills in action. She invited the members of her dojo to put on a demonstration at the launch.

Drumming! Shouting! Back flips and handsprings! Swordplay! Board breaking! What a way to bring in a crowd. The Barnes & Noble cafe had never seen the like!

Key Takeaway: Instead of merely reading a few pages, find something in your book that lends itself to capturing your target market's attention. Does your main character have an interesting career or hobby? Bring in an expert and do a demonstration. Is your main character a fashionista? Hold a fashion show. Does your main character like to cook? Do a cooking demo (which lends itself to #3...)

3.) Give people a reason to stay.

Feed them.

Seriously. Have munchies. People will stay and chat if they're eating. Give them something to nibble on.

Key Takeaway: The masses require nourishment. Preferably something portable. Something that won't break your bank account. And something that won't make too much of a mess when dropped on the venue's floor.

Amy M. Hughes (l) and Alyson Peterson (r).

4.) Support others and they'll support you.

I happen to believe that a big part of being a successful author is supporting others who are climbing the same publishing ladder I am. That's one of the reasons I hopped on a plane and flew 1500 miles from home this weekend.

Alyson holds the same belief. Her book launch was scheduled from 5 to 7 p.m. But a friend -- Amy M. Hughes -- had her book launch scheduled from 1 - 3 p.m. in a different town. So, of course, Alyson went.

Later, Amy returned the favor. Because authors are awesome that way.

Key Takeaway: Your writing career is not a sprint; it's a marathon. Surround yourself with people running in the same race. Encourage them to keep on keeping on.

5.) Be genuine and be grateful.

Thank the people for coming. Be happy to be there. Do not complain about how long it took you to find a publisher or an agent, or about the weather, or about the bookstore staff.

There will be snafus. You will forget a pen. Or tape. Or your posters will have a typo. Or the information in the ads announcing the event will be incorrect. Suck it up and soldier on.

Realize that every single person who attends could be doing something else -- mowing the lawn, watching "Entourage" reruns, finding a cure for recurring bunions. Everyone leads busy lives. The mere fact that people take the time out of theirs to attend your book launch should put tears of gratitude in your eyes and a song in your heart. Thank everyone who comes, whether they buy your book or not. And mean it.

Key Takeaway: Exude gratitude.

Bonus Tip: If all else fails, wield a big stick.
Though Alyson had no intention to do a demo herself, her sensei had other plans. With her two boys behind her, Alyson showed she knows what she's writing about.

Key Takeaway: This is your book launch! You worked hard for this moment. Enjoy it! Have some fun and make it an event to remember.

Career Curveballs, Disguised Blessings, and Staying Optimistic When Your Publisher Closes

Note: I hope you're reading this out of sheer morbid curiosity, and not because a panicked search for "MY PUBLISHER IS CLOSING! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENS NOW?" brought you here.

Early in January, a small publisher that published ebooks and paperbacks made me an offer of publication.

Self-portrait: January 9, 2014

My immediate reaction was. “YAAAAAAYYY!” Which was followed almost immediately by hyperventilation and a search for a small paper bag.

Though I was thrilled to be offered publication -- that great golden ring that often feels so elusive to those of us writing in the spec trenches -- I didn't want to sign a contract in haste. Book publishing is a business. I wanted to make sure I was making a good business decision.

So I did what any sensible writer would do. I drank a pot of coffee. Then I did my research.

First, I read the contract I was offered. I made sure I understood the terms, the royalty structure, the rights I'd be granting, the termination clauses, and the duration of the contract. I compared the contract with contracts from other publishers. And I sought some professional legal advice. No red flags waved in front of me.

Next, I looked up the publisher to see if it was mentioned in Writer Beware, Preditors and Editors, or any other forum that warns writers away from sharks. No alarm bells rang.

This is not a Totoro. It is a cat wearing cut paper.
Things are not always as they seem.

Afterwards, I went to the publisher's website and nosed about a bit. I saw a site that had a few kinks in it, but nothing that couldn't be worked out. (I've worked as social media consultant for small presses in the past. I know what growing pains look like.) I liked that they had more than just a stable of two or three authors. I liked that their cover designs showed progressive improvement. I liked that their website was constructed to appeal to buyers. (Publishers' sites that try to lure would-be authors are a sure sign of sharks in the water.)

I also went to Amazon to see how their books showed up in the world's largest bookstore. I looked at their editing, proofreading, formatting, cover design, and overall presentation.

Then, I emailed the publisher, requesting a few days to consider and asking some questions about plans for marketing, distribution, and promotion. I asked if I could speak with a few of their leading authors. They responded promptly, with answers that made sense to me, and kindly provided me with contact information of several authors.

My next step was to ask advice from World's Coolest Literary Agent (not mine. yet.) who has a different manuscript of mine under consideration. I told her what I'd been offered and shared the results of my research. She generously made time to make observations and gave some sage "off the record" advice, for which I will be eternally grateful.

Finally, I contacted some authors currently publishing with this publisher and asked about their experiences. I asked about things like marketing, distribution, and editing practices. I asked what they liked and what they would improve. I also asked about their experiences with other publishers.

Iz time to celebrate, yes?

I weighed all the pros against the cons. In the end, I determined that -- for me -- the strengths outweighed any weaknesses of the offer. So I signed.

I diligently edited and sent the manuscript. A kickass cover was designed. I started spreading the word of the book's imminent release. I even found an awesomely talented director to do the book trailer.

And then... I noticed that the publisher had gone dark. Silent. No Twitter updates. No response to email. Nothing.

Now, don't get me wrong. I know that the publishing world is one that often turns very slowly. One manuscript spent the better part of a year in the hands of an agent before she made a decision (one that required near-catastrophic self-medication with caffeine and chocolate. I may never be the same...). So I'm not one to panic if a publishing pro is incommunicado for a few weeks.

And yet -- as the initial publication date rapidly approached, and still no contact, I grew concerned. Something didn't feel right. I contacted some of the publisher's other authors and discovered that my fears were true: last Friday, the publisher announced (to them -- not to me. STILL not to me) that it is closing, due to health reasons, effective May 1. Contracts are void. Authors are left high and dry. Don't let the door flap our fannies on the way out.

I felt as if I had been left at the altar. Wait. What? But... we had plans! You... You told me you loved me!

I am luckier than some. My book never actually got printed. It's still virginal and pristine. At least two authors whose books are already published are wondering how, when, and if they will receive the thousands of dollars in royalties owed them.

I understand that small publishers are often only one- or two-person operations. I wish the owner of my former publisher all the best and hope her health improves. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm hitting the query mines again when I'd hoped to soon be celebrating my publication day.

And yet... writers are by nature optimistic. If we weren't optimists -- committed to our work, believing in our stories, and stubbornly convinced that others exist who will love what we write as much as we love writing it -- the sheer volume of rejection that inevitably accompanies a writer's career would chew us into dust and spit us out in a graveyard of broken dreams.

Perhaps I am deluding myself, but the career curveball of my publisher closing may be a blessing in disguise. God has a strange sense of humor. I have a little experience with such things.

I present Exhibit A: The Case of the Missing MRIs:

In 2005, while I was under contract and on deadline for Geoff Teall's book, WunderGuy was working in Los Angeles when he developed serious medical issues. Along with uncontrollable seizures, he had a complete break with reality, vivid hallucinations, forgot he had a child... the whole 9 yards. UCLA examined him and determined he needed brain surgery. Again.

Since his insurance was an HMO in California, we found a surgeon at UCSF and came home to Michigan to let him recover, to regroup, and to plan a trip out West. I mailed all of his MRI films to the neurosurgeon in San Francisco. And the films promptly got lost.

As in LOST.
 
The Post Office had delivery confirmation, but to UCSF, not to a person.

The films were lost for over a month! (Some of them were ten-year old originals. This was before DVD MRI's were common.)

Finally, after a month (during which time WunderGuy stabilized and we got his seizures under control -- and he remembered our daughter existed), we learned the films had been found.

So... we geared up and went out west, expecting to undergo surgery.

When we got there, they spent an entire day prepping him, examining him, shaving his head in a few places and sticking these green Lifesaver-like things to his scalp, so they'd know where to drill. Then they told us to get a good night's sleep. As if.

On our way to the hotel, with less than 8 hours to go before the procedure, the doc called. He'd looked at the scans again, with another neurosurgeon, and both of them agreed -- the "tumor" wasn't what UCLA thought it was. It was scar tissue from WG's earlier surgery (10 years before). No new surgery warranted.

And I'm like: !!?!?!

Turns out, one of the things that tipped the neurosurgeon off was the fact that WunderGuy had stabilized for several weeks. Had the scans not been lost, he wouldn't have had time to stabilize, and they would have happily opened his head up.

We later discovered the real reason for his troubles wasn't a tumor recurrence. It was an extreme allergic reaction to new meds, which took nine months to work their way out of his system.

Now, I happen to think those lost files was God making sure WunderGuy didn't have unnecessary surgery. He moves in mysterious ways. (Feel free to disagree with me. You won't change my mind.)

Oh -- and the missing files? They were *literally* down the hall in another department -- Epileptology. Where, oddly, we had to go, since he didn't have surgery.

How does this have ANYTHING to do with my publisher closing (or yours, for that matter)?

First, I can console myself that, as bad as this is, it's nothing compared to brain surgery.

And finally, the optimist in me is confident that -- just as with the Case of the Missing MRIs -- this may be a mighty blessing in disguise. If it is, then better things are just around the corner. It would be foolish of me to complain...

Onward and upward!

Publishing's Perplexing Pickle Problem

Tom Vanderbilt, in the June issue of Smithsonian magazine, opens his article on the science of taste with a fascinating tale of Howard Moskowitz, a psychophysicist whom Vlassic once tapped to solve the mystery of the Perfect Pickle. The ensuing taste test yielded surprisingly tongue-twisting results:

People primarily picked pickles that packed a more powerful punch than predicted.

Now THAT's a spicy pickle!

When Vlassic applied its research and rolled out a "zesty" pickle, their sales skyrocketed.

"That people in the pickle business should not know what pickle consumers prefer is a reminder of just how difficult it is to tease out the vagaries of why we like what we like," Vanderbilt writes -- a statement as applicable to publishing as it is to pickles.

A friend once worked as a sub-agent for a respected boutique literary agency. She has a good eye for what makes a great story (I'm not just saying that because she loves my stuff), and can critique a blue streak. Her job as sub-agent was to mine the slush pile, searching for the gold nuggets in a cesspool of dross.

While at the agency, she discovered three manuscripts with writing she loved. Two of them told stories she loved as well. The story of the third was darker and at odds with her personal beliefs, though there was no denying the author's skill.

She took her three recommendations to the agency owner, who rejected the two favorites for all the reasons the newbie sub-agent was crazy for them. The third, however, the agency owner adored. Everything in the story that my friend disliked, the agency owner raved about. The difference of opinion was so great that when the agency made an offer of representation, my friend left because she couldn't in good conscience build a career promoting that book.

The coda to the story? The manuscript in question went on to be a huge hit. But the two writers whose work resonated with the then-sub-agent remain unpublished. My friend follows their social media personas, hoping they stick things out till they have publishing success.

This seems like a good place to wait for the bus.

Does the agent know her stuff? Obviously. But who's to say that the differently spiced manuscripts wouldn't also have found a readership?

Not long ago, a writer friend shared with me a rejection she received from a publisher of genre fiction. Though full of raves about her voice, her story, and her style, it's devastating because it's still a "NO." It's such a close no that it's the publishing equivalent of being left at the altar.

The rejection (which was very kind, as far as soul-crushing "no's" go) detailed a list of "shoulds" for any book the publisher acquired.

• The protagonist should have this experience by page 10...
• By page 25, this plot point should occur...
• The protagonist and antagonist should explore their different philosophies in this manner...

And so on.

Now, don't get me wrong: the publisher knows its audience. And the publisher will only stay in business as long as it provides what the audience wants.

I wonder, however, how many "taste tests" are conducted to ascertain that what publishers think should happen must happen in order for a book to be palatable to the public.  

Perhaps -- just perhaps -- people would be willing to try something different, but are served a steady diet of same old, same old.

See, I've read the draft of the rejected manuscript and while not a fan of this particular genre of fiction, I've read enough of it to be familiar with the "rules." The manuscript in question bends the rules a bit, but doesn't mangle them beyond recognition. I found it refreshing, enjoying it far more than the fare that adheres slavishly to What Should Be. Is it not possible that such books might attract a whole new legion of fans to the genre? But since printing *any* book by a new author is risky business, few publishers have the luxury of adding to their risk by taking extra chances. Far safer to eschew Zesty for Tried and True.

A dark flip side also colors the prickly pickle of publishing. It is this: writers fortunate enough to have their books attract a dedicated readership are sometimes held hostage by their own success. Fans tend to clamor for "more of the same" with such ferocity that many writers have traded quality for quantity. It's the industry's version of tenure.

A writer's first book has to be *AWESOME* in order to just get some poor schlub to pluck it from the pile o' slush. The sixth book, however, rarely measures up to the first book's kneecaps, let alone raising the bar to a new level.

I recently read Will Schwalbe's The End of Your Life Book Club, a warm and charming ode to great family relationships as well as to great books. At one point, Schwalbe, a long-time editor for major publishing houses, and his mother discuss what titles to jointly read next:

"Did you know this author has a new book? What do you think?" Mom might ask.
"I didn't love his last four or five," I might answer.
"Well then, why did you keep reading him?"
"I edited them."

You see the briny problem?

In order to break in to the well-barricaded world of traditional publishing, one must write something so wonderful that someone forgets to say "no" to it.

But then there comes a time when all the zesty bits that first sold people on one's writing have had the flavor wrung from them. Words that once cracked and popped, igniting the reader's literary palate, now swim limp and vinegary on the page. If a writer is not encouraged to take chances, to branch out, to bend rules, or to try tasty new combinations, soon the creative stream is dammed to clear the way for cash flow.

The pickle people were once surprised to discover their customers were not only willing to try something new, but were also eager to make it a bestseller. Imagine how similar daring could re-zestify the books we read!

3 Suggestions for Solving the Problem of Discoverability

Ask any writer (with the possible exception of Stephen King or Jonathan Franzen) what the single biggest hurdle in their career is, and chances are you'll hear the same answer over and over again:

So many pretty distractions...

"Discoverability."

Discoverability is not a new word, though Blogger underlines it in red in a vain attempt to convince me otherwise.

A hundred years ago, Websters defined the word as "the quality of being discoverable." Duh. A hundred years before that, Scottish sociologist Thomas Carlyle used it in reference to the Buddhist belief that once every generation is born "a Greatest Man; that he is discoverable; that, once discovered, we ought to treat him with an obedience which knows no bounds. This is the truth of Grand Lamaism; the 'discoverability' is the only error here."

Today, the thorny problem of discoverability has less to do with locating the perfect human than with helping the perfect reader locate your book.

So many pretty distractions clamor for attention that one can hardly blame readers for buzzing like starving bees only around the pollen of titles penned by tried-and-true authors. It doesn't matter that others might create something they would enjoy as much as -- if not more so -- than the writers they know. They don't have unlimited time to waste searching for something to satisfy their literary cravings. So they will continue to read the authors they know... even long after those authors have ceased to surprise or inspire them.

Now, if someone they know, someone they trust, someone who is familiar with their tastes and preferences recommends a title, chances are they'll embrace the opportunity to add to their stable of "approved" authors. The problem isn't that readers are averse to reading an author they've never tried before; it's just that too many don't have the time, inclination, or sheer dogged determination to plow through the tens of thousands of titles looking for something that strikes their fancy.

Discoverability, it would seem, drops the problem of the infamous slush pile of unsolicited submissions at the reader's feet. "You have a computer? Here's access to every book on the planet!!!" ~maniacal laughter rings~

So the readers do what most people do when confronted with too many choices and too little direction: they sidestep the problem entirely and stick with same-old, same-old. (It is this trait, fer instance, that keeps me ordering the same thing every time I visit Starbucks.)

How to find the right one?

The plague of Discoverability is something publishing --  both traditional and indie -- has known about for years.

It's the reason non-fiction writers need a solid platform before they can sell a book project. ("Built-in audience and awareness! Score!")

It's the reason self-published titles need to have sold several thousand copies in a relatively short time span before a publisher will make an offer for acquisition. ("People already know about it! W00t!")

Trouble is, no one really knows how to combat it. Which is not to say that people aren't trying. Many writers -- and publishers, too, for that matter -- clog up their Twitter streams with 140-character tweets of desperation that implore people to give their books a chance. Facebook pages flog books and articles. And don't forget the book trailers on YouTube and elsewhere. One of the more ingenious, though misguided, attempts I've seen at making a book discoverable involved a 5 minute advertisement that ran before the featured film at our local theatre.

The Perseus Books' Group, in an effort to address the problem, is hosting a 36-hour Publishing Hackathon this weekend, hoping that getting a bunch of bright bulbs together to "develop new approaches to digital book discovery" will create the right marketing juju. This is a Big Deal. How big? The winners get $10,000 cash and the opportunity to pitch their idea to Ari Emanuel, Co-CEO of William Morris Endeavor.

That big.

I'm no marketing guru, but I have some thoughts on cracking the code of discoverability, in the (admittedly selfish) hopes that someone will employ one or more of them and introduce me to more writers whose works I fall in love with.

Idea I: Steal a Page from Hollywood

One of my favorite parts of going to the movies and renting videos is the previews. While growing up, one could always tell the caliber of movie playing in my hometown theatre by the number of previews before it. For some reason, the more previews, the better the film. Now, I'm not suggesting that we put book trailers up on the big screen (see my previous note of disdain re: the 5-minute self-pubbed ad), but I AM wondering what would happen if publishers would routinely include the opening chapter, say, of two or three soon-to-be-released-titles in each book.

I know; often I'll get a teaser chapter from the author's next book. But it's as if each author is a closed shop -- I rarely see the writing of other writers within those sacred covers.

Here's the thing: movie previews don't just showcase a single director, actor, or writer. They show what's up and coming that should appeal in some way to the feature film's core demographic. Previews exist to expose an already committed audience to new material. Publishers could learn from this.

Idea II: Revamp Publishing Pros' Websites for Reader-Friendliness

It never ceases to amaze me how off-putting many publishing pros' websites can be. Both big and small presses have sites that lean more toward hard-sell storefront than enticing entertainment.

If the first thing site visitors see about a title is its hardcover price, with no blurb regarding content, how does that encourage them to dip into the book?

Some sites waste valuable homepage real estate on things like outdated news in miniscule fonts. Others make you jump through hoops just to find out what titles are available. Most front load their sites with their bestsellers, but don't capitalize on the bestsellers to drive readers to new authors. And practically all cram so much content on the page that it's rendered a meaningless jumble of visual noise.

Most publisher's sites are guilty of the writer's deadly sin: telling instead of showing. They tell people about their books, but show little of each one. If you already know what you want to buy, a publisher's site is fairly easy to negotiate (but Amazon is usually cheaper).  If, however, you love one author and want to see what similar books the publisher has available, publishers could learn a lot from emulating Amazon's "Customers who bought _____ also bought _____" tactic.

Idea III: Take Safety in Numbers

I don't know why, in the world of publishing, every author is an island, trying to make it on his or her own. It would make so much sense for publishers to consider the advantages of fielding "teams" -- especially of debut and midlist authors.

We're stronger & last longer when we stick together!

In much the same way that a studio promotes a new film by sending multiple cast members, as well as the director, out as ambassadors, a publisher could send multiple authors within a genre out to promote not just one book, but several.

In the same way that film buffs go to more than one movie a year, or TV aficionados watch more than one show, readers are willing to shell out hard earned cash for more than one book. They just need to know what's out there. See, each author is not in competition with every other author. Rather, each author is competing against the sheer overwhelming odds of getting noticed.

Sending a debut author out to a booksigning is generally regarded as a boneheaded financial decision because said writer does not yet have the clout or the cache to draw big crowds: the very definition of lack of discoverability. But why not throw a genre-specific team of rookies together with someone launching their sophomore title and package it as an event? Live or online, such things make sense, bringing a cadre of new authors to the attention of readers hungry for more of a particular genre, helping to raise the visibility of several of the publisher's newbies, rather than casting them adrift into the vast sea of titles to see who can swim.

I'm not certain any of my ideas would solve all discoverability issues. But I do think they'd be a start.

What about you? What's your solution? Here's hoping that someone somewhere cracks the discoverability code... and soon.

Q & A With Niche Press Publicist Kalla Monahan

I am thrilled to introduce MuseInks readers to hardworking, camera-shy Kalla Monahan, a publicist for Sirens Call Publications, a small, niche press specializing in "dark and edgy fiction." 

Kalla is the quiet one at SCP, but don't let that fool you; get her started on one of their projects and she will passionately talk your ear off.  Her literary loves include horror, science fiction and the bizarre. While she does have a weak spot for a good Zombie storyline and will greedily devour anything in the genre, she does get titillated by works in any genre that are well crafted and full of great characters.  

Kalla has graciously agreed to answer a few questions in an effort to pull back the veil and demystify the role of a publicist at a small press. 

Q:  What does a publicist at a small / niche press do? What is a typical day like?

A:  Essentially my job is to act as the intermediary between the media and the author. I do have other duties, but that is my job in a nutshell.

A typical day for me involves going to the day job first and then doing my best to address any critical issues that may have come up in any down moments I can scrounge up. Once home from work, my night is filled with emails, reading, and other additional business that tends to evolve as the day progresses.

Q:  How did you become a publicist? What is the best part of your job? What's the toughest part of your job?

A:  To be honest, I have always loved helping to connect people. As an author myself, I did a lot of the same tasks for myself and enjoyed making the contacts and fostering the relationships that develop along the way.

The best part of my job is getting to work one on one with the authors and developing plans to get the word out about their work. That’s also the toughest part of my job since each book is different and has its own unique learning curve. But I love it and I couldn’t imaging not doing it.

Q:  What can an author expect from a publisher's publicist? What are specific ways an author can help a publicist market a book?

A:  I cannot speak for every publicist out there, only for myself. An author can expect quite a few things from me: my respect (it’s hard to write a book!), my tenacity, and my knowledge of the business from numerous angles. An author can help to market their own book by being persistent but not to the point of annoyance when it comes to publicizing that they have a book to offer.

Photo by jdurham via MorgueFile.com

Q:  What are some common mistakes new authors make with regards to marketing both their books and themselves are writers? What are common mistakes authors make when working with a publicist?

A:  I’m not entirely sure that there are mistakes. When anyone tries something new, they are bound to find out that certain activities work better than others. It is specific to the person and the medium offered as well. Just think of the way that authors pen their works: some prefer to use the computer, others write long-hand; some are planners, while others are pantsers. It’s all about what works for the individual and that’s one of the great things about marketing – different approaches appeal to different groups of people.

Q:  What do you wish every new author knew about marketing?

A: That it is not as easy as telling people you have a book to sell.

Q:  Can you walk us through a typical marketing campaign? When does the marketing for a new title begin? How long does the campaign last?

A: Each campaign is different. The marketing for a new title begins shortly before it’s available. When you’re working in a genre and as the number of books that are published grows each and every day, it can be both good and bad to advertise too far in advance. We live in a world that is centered on the Now and most people want the immediate satisfaction of purchasing a book that they find intriguing. It’s a fine line to walk when it comes to timing.

The publicity for a book never ends. Each day you’ll come across new potential readers so you want to be able to introduce what you have to offer at a moment’s notice.

Q: Describe the most drool-worthy, jump-at-the-chance, ideal book project that you'd love to tackle as a publicist.

A:  Each book that I encounter is one that I would love to work on. I have a passion for the written word that extends through numerous genres. To pick just one would be a disservice to all of the wonderful traditionally and independently published books, at any stage of their existence.

Thanks to Kalla for taking the time from her busy schedule to talk to us. Find out more about Kalla on Facebook or on her blog, The Bizarre Kaleidoscope. She tweets as @KallaMonahan.

Have you worked with a publicist -- either one you've hired or one that worked for your publisher? What did you wish you had known beforehand? What worked best for you? Please comment and let us know.

For the Sake of Argument

I remember very little of my actual university course work, but I remember most of my "American Literature" class. Not because the professor was interesting, erudite, or inspired in any way. Far from it. The best that could be said for him was that if recorded speaking, he could singlehandedly wipe out insomnia. Ah, but in that class we read books. Good books. Great books! After reading them we not only got to discuss them -- but we were actually encouraged to do so!

I was 19, so I, of course, knew everything. I had read most of the titles required for the class before graduating high school and considered Twain, Hawthorne, Poe, and Salinger old friends. I'd read enough Hemingway, Steinbeck, and Crane to know that their work didn't speak to me in the same way my "friends" did. I had definite opinions and was thrilled to discover a kindred spirit in the class.

T. was 10 years older than I. Not only did she have opinions, but -- praises be! -- her views on literature differed significantly from mine. On many occasions, the two of us would take over the class with our discussion of the work at hand. The professor never stopped us. I'm not sure he could have. And the other students would privately thank us for Siskel-and-Eberting because they learned more and found the class more interesting than when the professor droned on unchallenged.

That class introduced me to F. Scott Fitzgerald. How I'd managed to miss out on reading him before then, I'll never know, but I became an instant fan. We read "The Great Gatsby," and it was like finding a book that someone had written just for me. Oh. My. God, how I loved all of its glorious, golden tragic excess.

Until I got to the end.

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

WTF?

To young, know-it-all me, that was the DUMBEST ENDING EVER. I thought just about any ending would have been better than that. If the book had ended one paragraph sooner ("And one fine morning..."), I argued, it would have been perfect.

T. disagreed with me on just about everything with "Gatsby."

While I loved the metaphor of the eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg, T. found the imagery tiresome.

I hated Daisy with a purple passion. I thought she was a conniving, simple-minded bitch. T. took into consideration where Daisy came from and sympathized with the choices she made.

I thought Gatsby's "you loved me too?" is one of the saddest lines of dialogue I've ever read. I still do. I don't remember whether T. agreed with me or not on that. What she thought didn't affect my supreme enjoyment of that line in the slightest.

In fact, one of the few things T. & I agreed upon with regards to Gatsby was that we both loved the book and hated the Robert Redford / Mia Farrow-ization of the movie.

Today, years later, "Gatsby" remains one of my all-time favorite books. And here's the thing: I no longer hate the ending. With age comes wisdom, perhaps. Maybe there's just something to be said for accepting another's creative vision, even when it differs from your own.

For the sake of argument, imagine if Fitzgerald was an unpublished writer tackling today's publishing system with his manuscript for "The Great Gatsby." (Yes, yes, I know Gatsby was his 3rd published book. But honestly, do you think "This Side of Paradise" would ever make it past the intern in charge of the slush pile?)

Gatsby falls just shy of 50,000 words: too short for a novel / too long for a novella. It includes flashbacks, inventive punctuation, and has no clear antagonist. We don't even get to meet the book's protagonist, its namesake, until Chapter 3.

For the sake of argument, imagine if Scott, fresh from finishing his manuscript with a metaphor that (ahem) some 19-year olds might hate, attended a writer's conference where he got to spend a glorious, hope-infused 3 WHOLE MINUTES with a harried editor or agent, pitching his story about the doomed relationship between a poor little rich girl and a hopeless romantic. Show of hands: how many times would he hear "I just don't love it" before he got a green light to submit a synopsis and a partial?

Do we live in a world where agency interns would recognize Scott's brilliance if it shone at them from their email inbox? Would Scott himself have been able to craft a query letter that would "hook" the reader into requesting a partial -- or would his query render him Query Shark bait?

If he did get a partial, either from a conference connection or from shining through slush, would the fact that his protagonist doesn't appear in the first 50 pages of the manuscript nix a request for a full?

In order to get Gatsby published, he would have to find an agent who wasn't trolling for Amish romances, paranormal, YA, steampunk, urban fantasy, horror, mystery, or freaky zombie / vampire / werewolf mashups involving literary or historical characters.

Once such an agent was found, Scott would have to write a hell of a query letter that piqued the interest of the agent's unpaid intern enough to get the intern to request a partial. Then he'd have to rely on the intern liking the story enough to request a full, read the whole thing, recognize its merit, and pass it to the agent with a recommendation. The agent would then have to sell a publisher on the project -- a process as fraught with potential pitfalls as finding an agent.

Could such a thing really happen without Scott receiving notes like:

• Need at least another 20,000 words. Perhaps add a paranormal element? Better market share.
• Consider bumping up erotic tension between Nick and Daisy.
• Does Myrtle have to die? If so, show in more detail. Make me feel her evisceration.
• We need to see at least one sex scene between Daisy & Gatsby. Ramp up the heat.
• The final paragraph doesn't work. Suggest rewriting and / or eliminating completely.

For the sake of argument, I sincerely hope so, though privately, I wonder. Because if F. Scott couldn't get Gatsby published in today's world, then what hope do I have of succeeding where he would fail?

Words You Need To Hear (If You Wonder Whether You Have What it Takes to Be a Writer)

NOTE: You may not need to read this post today. You may not need to read it tomorrow. But if you're a writer, especially one still looking for his or her first byline, you will need to read it at some point.

One day you're going to get a rejection that stings, or see a less talented rival's name on the bestseller lists, or hear "it's just not right for us" one too many times in a week, and you're going to wonder-- "Is this writing thing really for me?"

That will be the time to go back into your bookmarks and find this post. It will be here, ready and waiting for you, with words -- honest words that even your mother might not tell you -- that you really need to hear.

From the in-box:

"I think it is that time where I do a life eval again.  Hate those.  So anyway, I was browsing the new releases aisle at my local ma and pop book shop (favorite place to be as it is an old timey joint with no caffeine and the actual smell of books to it.  Love it) and was reading a few dust jackets.  Aside from the fact that I can't believe the drivel being printed, I noticed a frightening mass of books in my genre and style of writing.  Makes me wonder how well my book (should it ever be printed) is going to fare.  

"Not only that,  but I've been chatting around my hook line [of current project] just to see how it would be received.  That's not going so well either.  My friends "get" the concept. Yet there was little excitement on the idea.  That gave me pause.  Was it a dud?  To date, I have written five duds. Five!! 

"Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Doubt"

"Regardless of all this, I know I can write.  I finally figured out my voice and how I like to move my stories.  I have the plot for [current project] mapped out with a shocking twist that even surprised me at the brilliance of it. However, I don't want to fall in love and get my heart broken yet again and again and again.  

"Did you know: all of my writer friends (7 total) have been picked up by agents? Six have publication dates and 1 with a deal on the table.  I've been at this for four years and I still can't take my books past a partial or a full request and a boat load of rejections. Makes me wonder. What is in my writing that I am missing?

"I've met a lot of amazing and creative folks. Maybe I'm not one of them and ya know what?  I'm becoming okay with that..."

This is the second time in as many weeks that a writer wanted me to comment about the "dud-ness" of his or her book. I responded to both writers in the same way. Then I thought I'd share my thoughts on dud books & determining the merits of a project with other writers who might have the same questions but were afraid to articulate them to anyone but themselves.

Wonder if your book is worthwhile? Here's how to tell:

Live! L-I-V-E!

The only one who can determine whether or not a book is a "dud" is you. Not the public. Not the editor. Not the publisher. Not the readers. If you love it and are willing to fight for it, rewrite it to within an inch of your life, polish it till it gleams like chrome, and promote the heck out of it when it's finally in print, then it's not a dud. If you're not willing to do those things, then it's dead as soon as you drop it.

See, IMO, the writer provides the book's heart, spirit, brain, and soul. The author is responsible for the book's very existence. The author is the one who conceived it, carried it through to completion, wrestled it into reality, and unleashed it on the world. If, at any time, the writer turns her attentions to a different creative project or outlet, the book's development stops. It literally requires the writer to enervate it and breathe life into it.

Dud or bestseller? Some see dead fish. Some see tasty trout.

Asking whether or not a book is a dud is like asking if one's child is a dud. There are many, many, many books out there that I, personally, would have considered "duds" long before they got published. ("Twilight," for instance. "50 Shades of Grey." Anything by Nicholas Sparks. ::shudder::) Those books don't speak to me. Regardless of the stories they have to tell, IMO, they're so poorly written, with such cardboard characters, and so reliant upon emotion rather than reason, that they could all benefit from a major edit & rewrite. Which certainly hasn't stopped them from being wordwide bestsellers. Their "dud-ness" is not up for debate, because their writers loved them enough to keep pushing them out into the world.

I hate to tell ya, sweetie, but you WILL fall in love and get your heart broken again. It's going to happen. Also, you can't judge your writing merits (or the lack thereof) against your agented, published friends. That would be like judging your worth as a woman by whether or not you have a husband. Or children. It's a dangerous, slippery slope of self-loathing. And it's bullpuckey. So what if your writer friends have agents? So what if they have multi-book deals, and movie deals, and are being feted by press and public alike? They aren't you. They haven't written the books you've written. Their success has nothing to do with your lack thereof. You are just on a different rung of the same ladder.

Lots of good, if not great, authors are out of print. (For a fascinating look at the vagaries of the publishing world, watch the documentary "The Stone Reader" some time. Eye opening on many levels.) Lots of crap, no-talent writers get published. The question is not one of "dud-ness," but one of diligence.

Keep on keeping on. If I'd given up after 4 years of not being published, I'd still be unpublished.
Turning 30 was extremely hard for me. I wasn't published & felt that life just wasn't going according to my plan. In hindsight, I see now, that it was probably all for the best. If I'd have experienced early success, I might have thought that it was because of something *I* did. I might not realize how fickle the industry is and might not be willing to work with struggling writers now -- something I really love to do.

Early success doesn't mean your book is great.
Just as lack of success doesn't mean it sucks.

Lots of writers who experience early success think they are Hot Shit on a Silver Platter when, really, their easy accolades rapidly render them merely cold turds on a paper plate.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: All books have merit, as long as their writers remain passionate about them. Just because your book isn't ready to shop around yet doesn't mean it's a lost cause. If you are tired of working on it and never want to see it again, that ultimately renders "unsavable" because it will have lost its champion before it was ready to be cut loose.

What's missing in your writing? Difficult to say. Chances are, if there's something really missing in your mastery of craft, you know what it is. You know if you have trouble with dialogue, or grammar, or character. You know in your heart of hearts if your plotting is predictable or your pacing flat. You owe it to yourself and your future readers to work at improving your craft. But even before you fill in all the missing pieces, you can find publishing success.

Mastery of writing is a process -- a lifelong love affair with words. It is a thing quite apart from finding a willing publisher or a rabid readership. One does not necessarily lead to the other. The common thread that unites your craft and your commercial success is your passion. As long as you have that, your words will live.