House Slaves and The Stockholm Syndrome – The Stuck Pig Squeals
Michael A. Stackpole, Barry Eisler and Joe Konrath have been effective phrase-makers for the indie revolution.
These authors have used “house slaves” and “Stockholm Syndrome” to describe traditionally-published authors who ardently defend the publishing status quo.
The house slaves don’t like this. Passive Guy will add another phrase to describe the resulting outcry, one that originates in the American South.
The stuck pig squeals.
Since many visitors to The Passive Voice will not be conversant with Southernisms, this means when an accusation or taunt strikes a sensitive spot, the recipient is likely to make a vociferous response.
Regular visitor Bridget McKenna blogs about Stackpole and the Stuck Pigs:
I wasn’t at the World Fantasy Convention this year, but from what I hear there was considerable debate about Michael A. Stackpole’s use of the term “house slave” in blog posts to describe a type of mentality he observes in some writers who decry the trend towards author-centered publishing. Stackpole’s first post to use this term, House Slaves Versus Spartacus, published in the spring of this year, likened traditionally-published authors who defend the author-unfriendly environment of traditional publishing to the Roman house slaves whose interests lay closer to their masters’ than to their fellow-slaves involved in the rebellion of 73-71 b.c.e.
. . . .
There’s been a lot of talk since then about Mr. Stackpole’s use of the term “house slaves” trivializing the horrors of American slavery. In fact, there’s been a lot more talk about that than about the actual points Mr. Stackpole makes in that post, and in subsequent ones (Swimming Lessons for House Slaves, and Degrees of Slavery), about the economic and contractual inequalities that have always been part of the publishing industry, and the notion that with the predominance of digital delivery and the move towards independent publishing, the balance of power has shifted to the authors.
. . . .
In addition to Mr. Stackpole’s writings, blog posts and comments by Dean Wesley Smith, Kris Rusch, Joe Konrath, and Barry Eisler, to name a few really smart people with their fingers on the pulse of publishing, have been trying to explain the inadvisability of throwing all your eggs into what they believe is a sinking basket. And they’ve been attracting no small amount of hostility from writers who are doing just that, and from others who insist on attacking Mr. Stackpole’s choice of analogies, for instance, or Mr. Konrath’s tone of voice, because they can’t or won’t debate the actual points they’re making.
Link to the rest, including some pig squeals, at Points of View
Here’s what Michael Stackpole has to say about discussions at the World Fantasy Convention, which evidently deviated from the normal topics of Mythic Quests, World-Building and various species of dragons:
While I was at the World Fantasy Convention in San Diego, a bit of a controversy blossomed around my use of the phrase “house slave” in a blog post I wrote here back in May. Barry Eisler, in a guest post on J. A. Konrath’s blog, mentioned my use of that phrase; so he caught the full force of the fury of authors who resented being called a slave and who suggested that the use of such a label trivialized the pain of slavery. Alas, in making that particular argument, they proved the veracity of what Barry was saying.
If one actually reads Barry’s essay, he’s referring to a mentality in which the oppressed defends the oppressor. He mentions Stockholm Syndrome. I remember Patty Hearst joining the Symbionese Liberation Army. The concept goes all the way back to the rape of the Sabines. It’s a situation where folks come to define their self-worth in terms of the abuse they’re having inflicted upon them—their only worth comes from the fact that they’re worthy of being abused. Thus, any attack on their abuser is an attack on their self-worth and a challenge to their emotional and intellectual existence.
I don’t think Barry is at all incorrect in creating this linkage. I would not be the first person to note the irony of authors who have so long and loudly decried the abuses of publishers now turning around and claiming publishers will save them. This is the mentality to which Barry refers and, if one reads my original essay, the situation to which I refer as well.
. . . .
This is what authors do when they accept a contract and advances which are accounted against his future output. An author is selling his labor to move him into a position of future bounty. (It’s also what professional athletes do, but they have strong unions which specify how labor can be treated by ownership.) While this seems like a straight-forward contractual agreement, let’s examine the finer points of what we get:
1) The publisher does all the accounting. Tales abound of errors which are uncovered by all-too-infrequent audits. Because an author can never be sure of the accounting, he never really knows when his term of servitude is up. This problem is typified by the “reserves against returns” practice where the publisher may withhold as much of earned royalties as they wish, for as long as they wish, from the author—even if the book is being reprinted and selling well.
2) Publishers demand that authors sign non-compete clauses in their contracts that prevent them from taking any other work during the period of the contract, despite the fact that the contract might last for multiple years, but the payout schedule and advance level are insufficient to provide a living wage for that same period of time. Even if an author goes ahead, writes the books fast, delivers and they are accepted, the non-compete would prevent them from doing any other work which might be published during that same period.
3) All contracts have a “right of first refusal” clause in them, which means the publisher has the right to first look at your next new work, and the right to match any offer from any other publisher for that work. Most of those clauses, however, have a timing aspect, where they don’t have to consider your next work until the final book has been delivered, or within a time period around that delivery. The author, therefore, can be blocked from making any money with anyone else as the publisher takes his time deciding if he wants to continue to work with the author.
4) Some contracts have clauses that prohibit an author from writing any other work in a particular universe except for work to be published by that publisher. This looks great in a contract if you have a long and ongoing relationship with that publisher; but once you’ve been dropped, suddenly your best-loved work may be forbidden to you unless you, with no leverage, can get the publisher to strike that provision. (I found one of those lurking in a contract I signed a long time ago. It stings badly.)
5) Contracts regularly buy up rights the publishers know they are not going to exploit—like gaming rights, audio rights, stage play rights, movie rights. Those are lottery tickets for the publisher. If the author or his agent works hard, puts together a movie deal, the publisher wins, even if their publishing the book had nothing to do with the movie deal. (Face it, who in Hollywood actually reads books?) If an author does a treatment of his own book, sells it to a filmmaker on his own, he still owes money to the publisher and, in fact, under some contracts, may be prohibited from actually doing that side deal since those rights reside with the publisher.
6) Contracts allow a publisher to hold on to the rights to a work for a period of three to seven or more years, from the point that the work goes out of print. When that period is over, the author can ask for the rights back. In today’s world, however, with print on demand making short runs feasible, and digital meaning something is always available, books never go out of print. Publishers hold the rights to those works for a minimum of 35 years, at which point United States Copyright law allows authors to petition to get those rights back. That means, for many authors, that their grandchildren will be the ones doing that petitioning.
Publishing practices likewise use authors rather roughly:
1) Publishers can, and have, worked in lock-step to determine “dealbreaker” aspects of contracts. Is it any surprise that prior to 2009 publishers would give authors 50% of income from electronic publishing (IEP) but that after Random House sent a note to agents in early 2009 that they were cutting that to 25% of IEP, other publishers fell into line? While critics might point out that an author is free to sign a contract with an onerous provision or not, their needs and lifestyle may not permit them to walk away from an offering. If an author has a mortgage, or kids, or has to pay for his own health insurance, he’s handcuffed. Sure, in the eyes of many those handcuffs may be of gold, but they’re still handcuffs.
2) More importantly, publishers have asserted, over and over again, that they own the electronic rights to books for which they have no contract for electronic rights. Short of suing to get those rights back, what can an author do? If he does sue, there goes any chance of future deals with that publisher.
3) Publishers, as often as not, will be late in paying authors, without any interest or penalties paid to the authors. Conventional wisdom has it that payments are always late, and a welcome surprise when they arrive early.
4) Conflicts of interest abound in the industry. A publisher who owns translation rights to a book will let a foreign branch of that company purchase the rights without negotiating. That’s good for the corporate entity, but sucks for the authors. (I’ve had repeated cases where a publisher undersold my work into foreign markets and could do nothing about it.)
5) Publishers, when soliciting titles, will mention, as a matter of course, that “author appearances” are part of the marketing for the title. More than once I’ve had booksellers tell me that they’ve asked publishers if I’d go to their stores. The response is, “the author isn’t touring”—making it sound like I’m the one who refuses to honor the promise the publisher made.
. . . .
Authors dealing with traditional publishing may be put into situations, through contracts and industry practices, where they sell their future and the future of their intellectual property to people who, quite understandably, wish to profit from their labor. Publishers should and must look at the return on their investment in talent because that is their job, and their responsibility to their stockholders. Toward that end, the laborers are only good for what they can produce at a reasonable cost. Simple market fluctuations (or fad bubbles bursting) may suddenly make an author unemployable because he will no longer be profitable. It’s not his fault, nor is it the publisher’s responsibility to take care of him past any period of profitability.
. . . .
All of the above could easily lead to a discussion of whether or all laborers are slaves, but that will keep. I’d like to return to a core point which is the reason behind my choosing to use the term “house slave” in that very first post. As I point out in the beginning of that post, I know the term is incendiary. I intended it to shock and draw attention. (And, I shall admit, I found it funny that while a number of writers fumed over it at World Fantasy, not a single one of them had the fortitude to speak to me directly about it. Nor, do I imagine, they actually read the original post.)
I wanted attention drawn to the issues I addressed because I don’t want writers being hurt. Sure, we’re all adults. We get to make our own decisions. I just want us making informed decisions. While a first time author might be over 21, that doesn’t mean he has enough information and background to actually be informed about the intricacies of business. The “no further work in X universe” clause I mentioned above was in a contract I signed a good decade into my publishing career. How my old agent allowed it to go through, and how I didn’t strike it, I don’t know. Had I known then what I know now, it would have been gone, but now I’m stuck.
Those authors to which the label “house slave” has been applied are authors, in my opinion, who have not informed themselves well enough about the changes in the industry. If they have, if they’ve made informed decisions to stick with traditional publishing, more power to them. Those authors will dismiss the label and not look back.
But for those who haven’t done their homework, for those who have not informed themselves about what’s really going on in the digital revolution, the term should sting. They have the choice over whether or not they will remain indentured—wholly or in part.
Link to the rest at Stormwolf
PG would like to make clear that he’s not trivializing the suffering of stuck pigs. Stuck pigs, like house slaves, is a metaphor, a figure of speech — something with which many authors are familiar.
On occasion, pigs are stuck in the process of being slaughtered. But that only happens in the American South. In more refined places, like Manhattan, people eat live pigs and the pigs understand they are not supposed to squeal during dinner.
With respect to Michael’s metaphorical mention of the possibility of all laborers being slaves, PG will point out that in all civilized nations, a laborer has the freedom to quit the job and begin another.
As a general proposition in the United States, it is quite difficult to enforce an employment contract for more than 3-5 years. No laborer in any civilized nation with which PG is familiar can sign an enforceable contract that will bind him for 100 years or more as authors are routinely asked to do in publishing or agency agreements with life-of-copyright clauses.
As Michael points out using other words, if an author isn’t a stuck pig, he/she won’t squeal.
It’s a pity. I knew Tobias a *long* time ago online (not that he would probably remember me), and have to say I liked him a lot.
I don’t agree with what he says in his blog.
But I wish that these “house slave” posts had been worded differently. It seems like the language is obscuring the meaning to a lot of people.
And I don’t think it is just fear… I think the language used is deeply offensive to some people.
Unlike Ms. McKenna, I was at the World Fantasy Con in San Diego, hanging out and talking with Mike Stackpole, plus a lot of other writers talking about e-publishing. And while I’ve come to Mike’s defense elsewhere and I think his use of the term house slaves is perfectly appropriate, I think it’s also important not to exaggerate the degree of negative and even hostile response to that language. McKenna’s “considerable debate” is a little overblown, IMO; Mike’s own “bit of a controversy” is much closer to the mark. I mean, it’s not as if outraged authors, stung to the quick by Mike’s remarks, were chasing him through the convention hotel with torches. It’s unfortunate that a few writers got their politically correct panties in a bunch over Mike’s choice of words, but it really is only a few we’re talking about here. I talked to a lot of writers at WFC about e-publishing, and much more of them were intrigued and excited by what Mike and the other e-publishing advocates were saying, than were outraged by the way Mike stated his own position on the matter.
As I said, I wasn’t there, “…but from what I hear there was considerable debate…” but as in the quote, reporting what I had heard. Even if I had been there, I’d not have been privy to every conversation on the subject, so it would be impossible to know how many people discussed the subject in how many places. I don’t recall mentioning torches, just “debate.” The image of outraged authors were chasing Mike around, while amusing, is yours.
I’m glad to hear there was a lot of acceptance of indie publishing. That’s very heartening.
Not trying to jump down your throat on this, and my apologies if it seemed that I was, but I do think it’s important to keep an accurate perspective on this. The professionally outraged p.c. types are trying to blow this up bigger than it was. The number of people having a problem about Mike’s language is very, very small. IMO, this isn’t even the proverbial tempest in a tea-pot; it’s more like a minor squall in a thimble.
I totally get what you mean now. Yes, it almost certainly could not have been as much of a deal as some folks imply, or there would have been actual torches, peasants, the whole nine yards.
It’s good to know not so many people are out for Mike’s blood. However there’s a crazy woman out for Joe’s on Twitter at the moment, monkeys and frogs being so famously symbolic of the oppression of women and all.
The whole thing bums me out, because slavery is a part of the world’s history, and in ancient Rome the law was that if a slave killed his master, then all of the slaves in the house would be killed, giving slaves a huge incentive to rat out on their rebellious slave brethren. I normally love any discussion involving ancient history, but no, people have to get all modern history. You’d at least think it would be an opening to talk about Spartacus: Blood and Sand. But no, we avoid the history lesson and jump straight to imagined controversy.
Which, historically speaking, I suppose should be expected…
(I will admit to not having read the original House Slaves Vs Spartacus article, but that’s because I saw the title and what it was about and went, “oh, not a bad metaphor,” and moved on.)
In order to be properly PC, we’re going to have to give up expressions like “slave to love” and “wage slaves.” Or it is possible that there are going to be people who find almost any kind of analogy offensive?
Political correctness depresses me for basically just this reason. We have to be “sensitive” and “tolerant” to other people’s feelings.
No. We really don’t. We just have to learn to live with other utterly imperfect human beings while they live with our imperfect selves. I’m under no obligation NOT to offend people. Live with it.
Stackpole makes a really good point in his posts and anyone who shuts down and doesn’t read them because his metaphor offends them has bigger problems than a bruised sense of decency.
I’m reminded of the three legged pig joke:
A traveling salesman trying to make a buck was driving through the plains of Nebraska when he decided to stop at a farmhouse coming up on his left.
As he was walking up the driveway toward the front door of the house, a pig with three legs caught his eye. It was just hobbling through the grass.
When the farmer answered the door and asked what he was selling, the salesman first asked about the three legged pig.
“That pig is the most amazing pig in the land, son.” The farmer said
“Last year, our house caught fire when we were all asleep and that pig ran in and woke us all up one by one and saved our lives!”
The salesman was surprised. “That is one special pig” He said.
The Farmer replied, “That’s not all. Last summer, that pig jumped into the pond and dragged my drowning son to safety. He would have died.”
The salesman was in disbelief as to how incredible this pig was. “One question. Why does he have 3 legs, is it from the fire?” He asked
“No son, ya see, a pig like that you just don’t eat all at one time.”
Sounds like what Manhattan’s doing to me.
Thanks, PG, for mentioning my post. My mother used to say “squealing like a stuck pig,” and that’s pretty apt for what seems to be going on with some folks.
I’m not insensible of the “trivializing” argument. The American practice of slavery was a horrible, terrible thing, as was the European practice of slavery that birthed it, the biblical-era practice of slavery that was used to excuse it, and the African practice of slavery that made it easy for white slave traders to do business. Some of Tobias Buckell’s ancestors came to the new world in slave ships. I get that he’s sensitive about that term. To me, it did not in any way excuse saying things that were provably untrue in an attempt to sway opinion.
And as Catana points out, we can go too far in trying remove any possibility of offense from the language.
Bridget – Let me add to your comments that slavery was a fixture in virtually every society in the world prior to the mid-19th century. The idea that it is somehow a uniquely American issue is incorrect.
In fact, America didn’t even come close to taking the largest share of slaves across the Atlantic. Portugal gets that prize. And Europeans didn’t invent it either. Arab slave traders had been working in Africa for centuries. Europeans “just” industrialized it.
I had to do a lot of research on the Atlantic slave trade for a novel, and read some truly horrific accounts. Even then, when I read Mike Stackpole’s original article, I didn’t think he was referring to any of that. I got that he was referring to Roman times, and that he was speaking in economic terms.
And in fact the Europeans weren’t the first to industrialize slavery. The Roman “latifundia” produced food for Rome and the Legions in large quantities, all of it planted, harvested, packed, and delivered by slaves.
And if anybody’s trivializing slavery it’s Buckell, Mike Cooper, and the rest of the hyperventilators. The Romans had a favorite ethnic group to take slaves from, and it wasn’t blacks, it was the fair-skinned, blocky, sometimes blonde inhabitants of the area west of the Urals. That went on for so long, five centuries at the very least, that the very name of that ethnicity is “Slav(e)”.
Regards,
Ric
I wasn’t happy with that word choice to begin with. I was thinking about “popularize” but that didn’t cut it either. What I was trying to say was that they ramped it up and did it on a scale that hadn’t been seen before.
But, for the life of me, I *still* can’t think of the right word. Escalated it? No…too soft. This is what endless editing does to the writer’s brain – turns it into mush.
Regardless of the merits of the argument, it’s fair to point out that if someone calls me a “house slave” or a “stuck pig,” they’re not really interested in a serious discussion — at least, not with me. Civilized discourse requires … well, civility.
Mike – Take a look at Bridget’s blog post to see some terms being used by at least one writer when referring to Stackpole.
I didn’t even get into this whole issue: “Also, they talk about how you have to ‘rape’ or ‘be raped’ in order. How nice.
What wonderful human beings they must be.” -Tobias Buckell blog of 8 November 2011.
Notice the single quotes Mr. Buckell placed around the word “rape?” They’re necessary because none of the authors in question ever used that term, nor did they advocate rape in any of their blog posts, despite the fact there are people on Twitter claiming they did. There was a long running joke between Konrath and Eisler about a YouTube video, which led to their impromptu book on indie publishing being called “Be the Monkey.”
Mike, I’m all for civil discourse. I did not encounter any in Mr. Buckell’s blog post, which led to my original posting.
I was wondering about the ‘rape’ thing, too. I don’t recall Stackpole or any of the others advocating anything like that. If they in fact didn’t do so, then this Buckell character owes them an apology.
Arguably, Konrath owned frog-raping jokes in the comments at http://www.courtneymilan.com/ramblings/2011/10/29/help-help-im-being-oppressed/comment-page-1/#comments
(Arguably, as in, there could be an argument about it. I decline to participate, if so.)
@Beth, there’s a tremendous amount of virtual ink being expended in those comments in the service of who’s more sensitive than whom, and who’s more horrified by the male-on-female subjugation symbolized by a silly YouTube video that Joe and Barry put a link to in one of their discussions.
I don’t want to hijack PG’s blog, so I won’t quote or go into details, and I’m with you about not arguing the finer points of it all, but I find that kind of “look at me!” sensitivity tiresome in the extreme. I’m a woman myself, but I don’t think it should accord me any special priveleges. I hope you will not, nor will anyone else take offense if I say I think some people just really need to unclench.
I’m not going to go into the whole thing of sensitivity. We’re all going to have our own opinions. My only point was that, arguably, Konrath accepted that characterization of the video without dissent.
[...] there is the House Slave issue. Michael A. Stackpole referred to authors defending the legacy publishing industry as House [...]
The indie v. trad debate was vaguely interesting when it was less hostile. Long ago, I quit debating and just starting letting the other person “win,” no matter which side that person is on. And we’re both happier for it.
Which, actually, makes you the ultimate winner, Scott. Much respect~
As I posted on Mike Stackpole’s blog post (comment awaiting moderation at this time), attention-getting language and monolithic declarations are all very well and good for self-promo on the web and attracting blog traffic, but they’re not a good basis for making intelligent business decisions.
The problems he’s describing in that post do not represent the universal condition of writers doing business with publishers, but rather an individual state of writers who sign bad contracts and do business poorly.
(I list examples and alternatives in my comment on Stackpole’s site.)
I’m not in either of “the two camps of authors” Stackpole cites in the discussion. I don’t go along with any one-size-fits-all notions in this profession. Writing careers are highly individualistic and idiosyncratic, and new technologies and distribution systems haven’t changed that fact. I believe that doing business well is a matter of making choices (and taking risks) on the basis of one’s own needs, preferences, goals, experiences, and opportunities.
My position is not that licensing books to publishers (which I do) is better than e-self-publishing; or that e-self-publishing (which I do) is better than licensing books to publishers. My position is that doing business WELL is always the best choice, regardless of venue. And I’m never persuaded by arguments which assume that doing business with publishers is universally based on doing business BADLY–which is the assumption of the examples in that post.
Laura, I’d say you actually ARE in one of the two camps I describe in my post: you’re one of the authors who has taken a look at the industry and made the informed decision that you will pursue more than just traditional publishing. Congratulations. That you’re availing yourself of digital publishing is great; but even if you didn’t, you’d still be in this informed camp. And that’s where I think every author should be.
That’s been the point of all my posts—to let authors know there are alternatives out there.
In terms of doing business badly, I’d think you have to acknowledge that up to this point, the power has resided to the publishers, and is shifting back to the authors. Just the example of the publishes joining in lock step to cut our digital royalties from 50% to 25% of revenues shows that they, if no one else, believes the power remains in their hands. Whether or not they budge on that number in the coming years will be interesting to watch. And as PG has pointed out repeatedly, and Kris Rusch has noted in her blog, publishers offer different contracts with different terms to different agents and authors—sometimes with horrible clauses that are considered deal breakers. We’ve all seen that and have had to make tough decisions as we go.
But I go back to my original point—I just don’t want authors to think they have no choice but to accept deals that, as PG has pointed out repeatedly, tie up our futures and our work for practically ever. There are choices, thank goodness, and I’m glad that you, among others, are using them.
In my opinion, certain people are jumping on Michael’s use of the phrase to obscure the real issue; as always happens when someone speaks out against whatever section of the establishment is clinging to old ways of doing things.
I’ve expected something like that since I first read Mike Stackpole’s post with the house slave analogy (which I found problematic for precisely those reasons, though I got what he meant). In fact, I’m surprised that the uproar did not start any sooner.
Anybody who has been hanging out in the online science fiction/fantasy community in the past few years has seen plenty of flamewars erupt over unfortunate word choices that might be construed as racist, sexist, dismissing the pain of victims of oppression, etc… The points are mostly valid, the reaction mostly over the top. Those flamewars get very nasty very fast. It’s also the reason why a lot of people in that community don’t discuss these issues at all anymore.
Several of the reactions to Mike Stackpole’s, Joe Konrath and/or Barry Eisler’s posts come from that corner of the internet and involve some of the same protagonists and rhetoric, though Tobias Buckell used to be one of the civil ones even if he uses the f-word. There are worse posts that have not been linked.
There have been a lot of anti-indie-publishing rants coming from that corner of the internet lately. And most of those are from newer pro writers (active less than ten years), arty small press published writers and aspiring writers who keep submitting to the same seven SFWA approved magazines month after month. They view indie publishing as a threat, because they worked so hard to break in and did everything they were supposed to and now someone is taking all that away and other indie writers are jumping the queue. I sort of sympathize, I was like that not long ago. And yes, it’s totally the squealing of the stuck pig.
Hence, indie writers are attacked for being commercially minded, their writing skills are disparaged and they are compared to the tea party and other prominent rightwing figures. I’ve never understood the tea party comparison myself, I suspect it’s intended as an insult. And now the anti indie publishing people found potentially racist and sexist language in posts by prominent indie publishing advocates. Paydirt. Time for the stuck pigs to fight back.
The best way to deal with these people is to ignore them and do your own thing. Engaging them doesn’t work, they don’t listen and attack even more vehemently.
Oh yes and that monkey and frog video is totally funny and I say that as a women. And anyone who is offended by that has never spent any time at the duck pond at mating season.
Finally, at least one person who was outraged at the monkey and frog analogy just recently expressed shock at the fact that translators and editors do have rights.
Oh yes, and unless I’m getting something mixed up, Tobias Buckell has his Caribbean space opera series put on hold by the publisher in favor of something more commercial. Definitely a stuck pig.
I remember raising an eyebrow when Mr. Stackpole used the phrase, “House slave.” It seemed hyperbolic. But I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt because his context was solid, and as a writer especially, I think he deserves leeway with metaphor. A potentially charged metaphor, sure. But still metaphor. I think those making protestations of racism are trying too hard — and are eliding the real stink: the erosion of their surety in the system.
Mike (and Joe and Barry and Dean and Kris and Dave Wolverton) have all been fairly vocal these past 12 months, illuminating the ways in which so-called “indie” publishing can be advantageous for authors at various stages of their careers.
In the case of Kris, Dean, and Dave in particular — all of whom I count as teachers, and friends — none of them has tried to disuade me from capitilizing on my success with one of the science fiction digests. In fact, they’ve been overwhelmingly supportive. And this has been true when I’ve addressed my plans to tackle the book markets, too. All they’ve ever said is: be careful, read your contracts, ask questions when you don’t know what things are, get second opinions, and be ready to walk away from any deal if you think it’s not what you want.
I’d hardly call that terrible advice.
Gisela correctly points out that most of the guff being given to Konrath, or Smith, or Stackpole, is coming from the “kids table” occupied by writers who are (more or less) in my range: we’re all in our late 20s to early 40s, almost always with ten or fewer years in the publishing arena, and almost all of us “grew up” on various doctrines, as handed down by our elders. In my case I’ve been disabused of some of those doctrines without getting overly rattled. Others defend their doctrines fanatically.
If I can say anything with surety, it’s this:
In the past two years I’ve become cordial and/or friendly with at least a dozen or more working professionals. People with at least 20 years (or more) of experience in the business, and all of them making very good money. It’s been eye-opening to discover just how much *ALL* of them disagree with each other, about various aspects of the business, and the really amazing part is that all of them are “right” because none of them share an identical career trajectory. Each of them wound up choosing a more or less unique path, and each of them continues to choose a more or less unique path. Whatever has worked, has worked. And while there have been macro-scale similarities, at the level of fine-grain detail, no two professional careers are ever alike. Sometimes, starkly so.
I think this is problematic for people at my level, or younger. We want things to be guaranteed. We want the map from A-to-B-to-C-to-D. X marks the spot. Dig here. Treasure chests for all comers. Etc. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t work this way. Has not ever worked this way? the more I talk to some of the elder statesmen of publishing — such as my collaborator Mike Resnick — it seems clear that a certain degree of turbulence and uncertainty has been with publishing for its entirety. Cerainly science fiction publishing in particular, which did not even exist as a separate, definable category until roughly 60 or 70 years ago.
I’m sad to see invective being used. Especially when it’s my generation (or roughly thereabouts) using it. You’d think we’d be the ones most eager to find the opportunity in the crisis. Alas, some of us seem to be seeking targets, more than we’re seeking opportunity — we’re angry at people who question our doctrines.
I may not agree with every single thing Konrath or Smith or Wolverton say. But then, I’ve never thought that Konrath or Smith or Wolverton expected me to agree with everything they said, either. They tell it like they know it, from their experience. New people like me will parse the anecdotes and the data, and make our own choices. Just as our teachers did before us, and their teachers before them. These choices won’t ever be the same for all writers. They may not even be the same for even a few writers. And this is OK.
Just like it’s OK to talk about the revolution in publishing, to include all the ‘dirty laundry’ that everyone knows has been around for decades, and which very few people were willing to talk about — until now.