1) Write a book
2) Send your book to various agents, who ignore you
3) Send the book directly to publishers, who also ignore you
4) Severe depression
5) Alcoholism
6) Suicide
7) Upon your death, have your mom/widow continue submitting your proposal, arguing that you were a "misunderstood genius"
8) Finally, an agent takes notice, because dead people sell better
9) Agent calls up his contact at Random House, the two cut a deal over lunch at Spago
10) Profit!
I was lucky: I didn't have to go this route. My book deal started with the following e-mail:
From: Kensington Publishing
Sent: January 22, 2005 9:18 AM
Subject: Feedback for John Hargrave
Hi, I am wondering if you'd be interested in writing a book. I represent Robert Hamburger, who recently wrote REAL ULTIMATE POWER. Let me know what you think.
When you picture your lifelong dream of becoming a published author, you imagine it happening in some upscale New York bistro, signing a contract over espresso at the end of a leisurely meal with your new editor. You don't picture it happening in a three-sentence e-mail. Welcome to the wacky world of publishing!
You have to understand that I get a ton of e-mail, and half of them are ridiculous offers to do projects that never go anywhere. Last month, for instance, I was contacted by a guy in L.A. who wanted to hire me as a writer for his new TV pilot. After speaking with him on the phone, I realized that he was clinically insane. And that man's name, my friends, was William Shatner.
Still, I responded to the book offer e-mail, just in case it was legitimate. Turns out, it was. Kensington had recently published REAL ULTIMATE POWER, a successful humor book based off a Web site about a nine-year-old obsessed with ninjas. It's the kind of book no traditional publisher would ever touch, but the Web site had become such a cult hit that Kensington gave it a shot. It sold over 100,000 copies, and now they were looking for other Internet-based humor authors.
I didn't hire an agent, because I enjoy money. I briefly had an agent during the dot-com heydey, and as far as I could tell, the purpose of an agent is to take 15% of your money in exchange for not returning your phone calls. I've got an MBA; I don't need a fucking agent.
I did, however, hire a lawyer. In my line of work, I need an army of lawyers. I had a friend in publishing who recommended an excellent literary attorney, and she helped me refine the contract that Kensington sent me after we hammered out the concept. In exchange, I only had to pay over a quarter of my advance. But hey, at least I screwed an agent out of his fee. As long as the agents are starving, the world is a better place.
My advance, by the way, was $5,000, which I'm told is typical for first-time authors. What this means is that I have to make $5,000 in royalties before I will see any additional money from the book. I make roughly a dollar on each book that's sold, so I have to sell 5,000 copies of the book before I'll even turn a profit -- because I spent my entire advance creating the book.
Here are a few of the things I had to pay for: illustrations, cover photography, postage, costumes, BIG BLACK BUTTS magazine, a limousine, a Michael Jackson lookalike, and about 40,000 copies of the manuscript. I have no doubt you could write a cheaper book, but the kind of shit I do gets expensive. I had to look at it as an investment: I needed a killer book to sell, and happily, now I have one. It just cost me $5,000, meaning I essentially wrote it for free.
But hey, it was only a couple of thousand hours out of my life. What else did I have to do? Spend the time with my family? Be a good father? Volunteer for the needy? Screw the needy. I had a book to write.
But at the time of the book deal, I still had no idea what kind of book I was going to write. That story is coming up next.
Next: The Big Idea!