Things You Should Never Say to an Author

It isn't easy being an author. It's a lot of work building worlds out of blocks of imagination, carefully studying people and methods of speech, and creating an entire rule system for a universe so we can explain it to other people. Muscling through writer's block, plotting out novels, and waiting for months for a publisher's response all pale in comparison to the single challenge authors face every day, though; not choking the life out of the general public.

Deep down, we know you mean well. We know you're trying to extend a hand in friendship, and that you're just curious about who we are and what we do. You want to touch us, because to you we're strange creatures in some exotic petting zoo. Problem is that what you say is one thing; what we hear is often something else. So, here's a little guide to the most common faux pas you can commit when faced with a chance to meet the flesh behind the fiction.

Are You Published?

Sally eventually stopped mentioning her series and introduced herself as a student.

If I was keeping count, something I stopped doing for mental health reasons, this would probably be the most common question I've heard. More often than not it's just one of those cultural differences, and I have to forgive those who live in the undiscovered country of normal. In this instance the word publish is the only one in my language they know, and so they're using it to show they're following what I'm saying. That's not what I'm hearing though.

When someone asks this question what many writers hear is, are you a real writer, or just a hobbyist? We know that many times a person doesn't mean that. We know what they really mean is, I am curious to know where you stand in your professional field and what you have accomplished as a self-proclaimed artist. Here's a tip: if someone introduces him or herself as a writer, an author, a columnist, or any other exotic and wordy profession, assume they're published. Chances are good it wouldn't be on their business cards otherwise.

Have You Written Anything I Might Have Seen?

Depends... where do you shop for books?

Probably not. The reasons for this are complicated but, generally speaking an author who isn't famous simply won't have the advertising budget or the fan base for you to have casually picked up one of his or her books. This is a faux pas because it challenges the writer's status. It has an inherent quality of I haven't heard of you, so you can't be that important. Most people don't mean to do that because they're aware statements like that are rude. To put it in perspective, this question is the equivalent of walking into a clothing store and asking a customer service representative "do you have anything here that I'd like?" How should they know? They just met you, after all.

Better questions for these scenarios are, "what have you written?", "what was your last project?", or "what are you working on now?" These express interest, while at the same time not putting pressure on the author to prove his or her professional status by rattling off a pedigree.

How Much Does That Pay?

More than you'd believe, but less than you think.

This question is rude on more levels than can be expressed in polite company. The issue of how much a person makes has become less private over the years, but asking directly is still seen as something of a challenge. The questioner is demanding to know if the artist makes enough money to justify being a professional. This is, unfortunately, a cultural by-product. Lots of people sketch, or paint, or write stories for fun, so creative things are seen as a hobby that anyone could participate in. Being told someone is a professional leads to a knee-jerk, "prove it" kind of reaction.

A solid rule is not to ask an author any question you wouldn't ask a carpenter, an investment banker, or a car salesman. In short, don't disrespect the creative types. Always assume that the writer makes enough to be at the same event you are, but that he or she will never make enough to turn away a new reader.

Remember Us When You're Rich and Famous

Sure. I'll even put you in a story. You, personally.

This phrase is a variation on the "You could be the next King/Rowling/whoever is hot right then." It's something people say when they want to be supportive, but they don't want to do more than tell you they have faith in you. That's the reason most writers will ignore it; encouraging words don't do much for one's career. If you really want to support a writer then you should buy books, leave reviews, tell your friends, come to events, and generally show that you are there and you want that person to succeed. In addition to helping that writer get rich and famous, chances are good they'll notice you and aren't likely to forget you.

Do You See Yourself in Your Characters?

Sure. We'll go with that.

Nothing is more irritating than people who want to play amateur psychoanalyst with your work. If a writer composes a visceral tale about a serial killer, readers wonder how he got into that monster's mind. If an author writes a steamy best-seller, readers may secretly wonder how many people she slept with to assemble her cast. If you write a story about a nine-foot-tall super soldier, fans will wonder if you have masculinity issues.

We, as writers, are partially responsible for this. With the sheer number of times we use write-what-you-know as a mantra, and the ridiculous tally of occasions we've used the "my book is a secret confession for what I really did" plot twist, we were going to get this sooner or later. Yes, most of us will put our life experiences into the books we write. We will also talk about places we've been, dreams we had, or little phrases we've stolen from the hundreds of novels we've read. Just be aware that when you ask this question you're implying one of two things; either the writer is in need of therapy, or the writer is composing self-insert-wish-fulfillment. This question is like the lady and the tiger, except there are two tigers, they're both female, and they're both in heat, and starving. Avoid whenever possible.

I Wish I Had Your Job

Sure. Sure you do.

No you don't. You want a job where you can wake up whenever you please, have a socially accepted excuse for partying too hard, and lounge around in your pajamas all day. Because deep down that's what society has told you authors do. Edgar Allen Poe got blitzed on absinthe, Stephen King did so much coke he doesn't remember writing "Cujo", and Ernest Hemingway was an alcoholic who eventually committed suicide... that's what writers do, right?

You don't want to spend 8 to 10 hours in front of a machine that you've purposefully disconnected from the Internet to focus. You don't want to take endless notes, and re-write a manuscript three or four times before you feel it's good enough for submission. You don't want to make less than minimum wage for years until you finally catch on with something popular, or develop a big enough following to pay your bills. Lastly, you really don't want to go through the endless frustration of people telling you they know how great your job is, and how they envy you for it. You don't. Trust me.

I Don't Read

He appears to be speaking... words of some kind.

This is the most direct form of this sentiment, but there are others. Polite inquiries like "aren't books on their way out?" or statements like, "it must be hard to compete with movies, and so many other forms of media," are also fairly common.

The next time you think about saying something like this, especially if you're saying it to someone who is an author, don't. It's the equivalent of saying, isn't your profession quaint and antiquated? This can be mitigated with the proper apologetic tone, turning the message instead into, my apologies, but I don't consume your type of media. It's a quirk. Whatever your intention when you make your entertainment habits known though, tread carefully. Readers and authors are clannish, and they look with suspicion on those who ignore the written word.


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Professional Rule Number One: Never Work For Free

It was Sir Walter Scott who first coined the term freelance, taking the two obvious words and cementing them together to form a new term. When it was put together, ostensibly for Ivanhoe in the 1820s, the term was meant to refer to a Middle Ages mercenary. It wasn't until the 1860s that the term was used to refer to writers, and specifically to journalists who wrote on a piece-by-piece basis rather than being on staff for a given paper.

Freelancers, much like their military counterparts, haven't always had the best reputations among the populace. They work cheap, they're often used in place of regular professionals, and they tend to have at least a few different paymasters at a time. They don't always belong to professional organizations, they don't always do the best work, and many times they're downright unscrupulous. But here's something you can all learn from the brothers and sisters of the gilded lance... we get paid.

I want one that says "Shakespeare Gotta Get Paid, Son."

 

There's this strange delusion among the professional world that artists are some second-class group of pseudo-professionals that act a lot like indentured servants who will work for the privilege of working. What's worse is that this delusion is catching, and that many creative persons are willing to accept the lie that they should be flattered just to have their blood, sweat, and tears featured in an ad campaign at all.

 

The Golden Rule

 

The first and foremost rule of being a creative professional of any stripe is that you have to be professional. Professionals get paid, period. This isn't just good advice either; it's a mantra, a code, and a creed. If you don't believe your work is worth something, then what does that say about you? Chances are that it doesn't say anything good.

 

Barter, Trade, and Goodwill

 

Before at least a few folks reading this start getting up-in-arms about the quality of art being measured with the yardstick of commerce, let me be the first to say that there's more forms of payment than just money. There's the credit that comes with having a story or novel published by a major company, for instance. There's the connections to be made by working with certain editors, and the goodwill that comes from offering a piece of work as a last-minute help to someone that needs a pitch-hitter. There's even the satisfaction of knowing something you wrote went to help out a good cause for those who write, paint, or illustrate for a charity. There's nothing wrong with any of that. It's only when someone hands over days, weeks, and months of effort in the form of a completed work, and then feels grateful when someone else makes money off of it that something is wrong.

 

But What About Exposure?

 

I will be the first to say that few things bring me closer to doing serious bodily harm to another human being than someone saying I will be paid in exposure. "Exposure" often translates to "you're getting nothing slacker, just be glad we're giving you page space or throwing your print on the cover". That attitude has become so common that many people just breaking into the creative field accept it as paying their dues, and will go for years allowing themselves to be exploited before turning a profit.

 

With that said, exposure is an acceptable payment if the publication in question is likely to get exposed. In my experience most places that offer exposure as payment are small presses which can't actually afford to pay their authors an up-front cost for stories, or they're events that are looking for a way to cut costs while still getting all the creative bells and whistles on signs, banners, etc. It all comes down to what you, as the creative professional, are all right with.

 

Look at the project from a marketing perspective. If you were asked to design a mascot for a local gaming convention which wasn't likely to get more than a few hundred attendees, that's a few hundred people who will see your art. Maybe they'll want to buy some, or maybe they won't. Maybe you get a free badge to go to the convention, or you make allies of the organizers who need you to create something to suck in the public. For some artists, particularly those who are new to the game and who don't have much of a list of achievements, that might be a worthwhile endeavor. For someone who has been a professional artist for several years, or decades, who has a long list of clients that are willing to offer more benefit for time well-spent, a free project like that isn't an effective use of time or resources.

 

Is This What I'm Worth?

 

Not all that glitters is gold, which is something creative types know better than most. However, for those who aren't creative professionals the work that we do is often seen as one part magic and two parts frivolity. The common perceptions that art is a luxury rather than a necessity, and worse that art is easy, leads many people to expect gratitude and thanks just for handing out praise. We can all agree that performing surgery on a heart is no small feat, but why is creating something that makes that heart skip a beat considered so much easier?

 

 

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