Editors on Editing: What Writers Need to Know About What Editors Do (37 page)

A first-rate piece of crime fiction is never ordinary. It has a voice unique to the person who created it. That’s admittedly ambiguous, but an editor recognizes the voice right away even though I cannot really define it other than to say it’s an individual way of communicating unlike anyone else’s;
its appeal is that it is fresh, different, perhaps even quirky. When a manuscript has these qualities, an editor is willing to work long and hard with an author if necessary in order to make the book what it can ideally be. Indeed, realizing the work’s potential is the challenge that makes editing so exciting and so rewarding.

Mel Parker

M
EL
P
ARKER
is vice-president and publisher of the paperback division of Warner Books, where he oversees a paperback list featuring some of America’s most popular authors, such as Scott Turow, Sidney Sheldon, Nelson DeMille, P. D. James, Larry Bond, Sandra Brown, David Morrell, and Alexandra Ripley
.

Before coming to Warner, Mr. Parker was editor-in-chief of the Berkley Publishing Group, where he acquired a number of major paperback bestsellers, including
The Hunt for Red October
by Tom Clancy
.

“
When I look back at the essay ‘Born to Be a Paperback’ I wrote for
Editors on Editing
nine years ago,” writes Mr. Parker, “I realize how much that essay was a product of the 1980s—its point of view was brash, confident, bullish on the business…. Let me tell you, mass-market paperback publishing has changed a lot in the last ten years
.”

How those changes have affected paperback editors and writers is the theme of Mr. Parker’s new essay. Seeing the recession of the early 1990s as “the single overriding factor” in mass-market publishing, he discusses its impact on the editor-author relationship: what kinds of books work in mass-market publishing today, how they are edited and marketed, how and when mass-market writers can make the leap into hardcover, the competition of TV and movies with paperback publishing, the decline of paperback reprint publishing, and the increased editorial emphasis on publishing originals
.

Mr. Parker cautions writers who want to start out in paperback “to become savvy trend watchers. They have to know when a trend is growing
and to capitalize on it, with an eye toward finding what will work … as a lead-title paperback
.”

“
There’s beginning to be no difference in the working relationship” between working with a paperback or a hardcover editor, Mr. Parker says, observing that many hardcover houses also publish paperback lines, and that many of today’s best-selling hardcover authors started as writers of paperback originals. Paperback editors work as closely with their authors as do hardcover editors, and have the same high standards of quality. Detailing the crossover of Sandra Brown from best-selling paperback author to best-selling hardcover author, Mr. Parker notes that “Sandra Brown’s paperback editor also served as her hardcover editor. In this case, as in many others, sometimes paperback editors show us where to begin
.”

When I look back at the essay “Born to Be a Paperback” I wrote for
Editors on Editing
nine years ago, I realize how much that essay was a product of the 1980s—its point of view was brash, confident, bullish on the business. Although we were headed toward the end of an era, the mid-1980s still seemed like the go-go years of paperback publishing. I believed that mass-market publishing was at the very center of popular culture, and that if the special job of a paperback editor was to see people on beach blankets all over the country reading paperbacks, then that made it all worthwhile. Yes, when books sold in the millions, paperback publishing was fun! But as we pay off our debts in the 1990s, the job I do now is a bit more difficult. As Warner’s paperback publisher, I’m no longer in charge of only my own books; my responsibility is to publish and manage an entire paperback list. And let me tell you, mass-market paperback publishing has changed a lot in the last ten years.

In the recession of the early 1990s the negative economic climate has been the single overriding factor in mass-market publishing, as corporate downsizing and consolidations, escalating costs, shrinking “markets,” and competing media have slowed the momentum of paperback publishing. In a way, the sins of the 1980s have come to haunt us all, as publishing now resembles the motion picture industry, with big stars (i.e., best-selling authors)
and powerful talent agents (i.e., literary agents) determining the health of the industry. This has had a ripple effect throughout the business as publishers, under pressure to recoup their investments, have published too many titles, escalated print runs on undeserving books, and in general have flooded the distribution network with more titles and copies than retailers (or customers) can handle. And since publishing is one of the only industries that allows its booksellers or distributors to return unsold merchandise (in this case, millions of copies of books), many smaller and less efficient retailers and distributors returned more books than they sold. In essence, we were all greedy in the 1980s, and because we thought the prosperity would never end, publishers also created conditions that have now made it difficult to develop more successful authors and reap corporate profits.

In my earlier essay, I said that “the mass market is made up of many specialized markets,” and by that I meant that midlist category publishing still had a chance in those days. It was always clearly preferable for editors to search for lead titles in the big genres of glitzy contemporary women’s fiction à la Judith Krantz, Sidney Sheldon, or Danielle Steel, or international intrigue in the manner of Ludlum, Follett, and Clancy. But there was also a place in the middle of the paperback list where aspiring authors could learn their craft and develop as writers by writing romances, mysteries, westerns, and male adventure. An author who dreamt of being the next Clive Cussler could cut his teeth on a category male adventure series, eventually working his way up to, say, a lead paperback original. When midlist category books thrived during the years of strong growth in paperback publishing, when there was a demand for
more
titles, the midlist served as a kind of farm team for future authors. While working on the big paperback lead title, an author could at least support himself as a writer by writing a category series.

But publishers soon learned that they had to shorten their lists. From their point of view it became preferable to try to make more profit with fewer titles—since fewer titles meant less staff, overhead, plant costs, etc. And from a bookseller’s or distributor’s point of view, fewer titles meant tighter, more manageable inventories and lower costs. The victim of all this was the midlist category book, and the author who was trying to start a career by writing them. Ten years ago, a typical supermarket, for example, featured racks as far as the eye could see filled not only with the top ten
New York Times
best-sellers of the week, but an ample supply of popular mysteries, westerns, male adventure series, and other category books. But as customers threw fewer paperbacks into the shopping cart—simply because in hard times, a box of laundry detergent is far more important than a $2.95 mystery—the accounts responded by displaying fewer mysteries, in turn
putting pressure on the publisher to publish fewer titles. Now that same supermarket carries only the top ten best-sellers, in multiple quantities of each. Readers have far less to choose from; writers have fewer opportunities.

So, if the economics of the business have made midlist category publishing far less important than it once was, how do you break into the business if you’re a first-time author who wants to write the big commercial book? First of all, think
big
. In my earlier essay I suggested that a book born to be a paperback embraces one of three major markets loosely defined by gender: the women’s market, the men’s market, and the “crossover” market. And by that I meant—and still mean—that books for women that succeed on a grand scale touch on the issues and feelings that are important to the greatest number of women at the time—whether it be the challenge of succeeding in a man’s world, or escaping back to a time when love seemed less complicated. For men, the big books still focus on the big concerns, intrigues, and conspiracies. Men love thrillers—because adventure is a fantasy for them. Books that propel male readers into a world they’ve never seen before—whether inside Gorky Park or on a submarine in
The Hunt for Red October
—sell in great numbers because that kind of escape is the ultimate reading entertainment for men whose real lives may be far less adventurous. And the monumentally successful epic novels such as
Roots, Exodus
, or
Shogun
are the ultimate crossover books—few and far between these days. Those novels were blockbusters because they “crossed over” to both men and women by incorporating all the elements that appeal to every reader—romance, adventure, and intrigue all in one book. So now, if you’re trying to break into the business by writing a paperback book, it’s still true that the so-called big books I’ve just described provide a model for the kinds of books commercial publishers are always looking for, books that are born to be paperbacks.

But while all of us wait for the next Danielle Steel, Tom Clancy, or Alex Haley, and since publishers have fewer opportunities (e.g., categories) in which to publish, it’s absolutely critical for authors who want to start out in paperback to become savvy trend watchers. They have to know when a trend is growing and to capitalize on it, with an eye toward finding what will work not as a midlist category book, but as a lead-title paperback. Sometimes a blockbuster novel can create a new trend.
Presumed Innocent
and
The Silence of the Lambs
burst onto the scene with such force that whole new genres seemed to spring forth.
Presumed Innocent
created keen interest in legal thrillers, and
The Silence of the Lambs
made psychological thrillers enormously popular by focusing on a new kind of horror—the serial killer. Add to the publication of those books two blockbuster movie versions starring Harrison Ford and Anthony Hopkins, and it’s safe to say that the public expressed its enthusiasm for those genres. Have Scott Turow and
Thomas Harris created future opportunities for authors? Seems to be so.

Sometimes movie tie-ins alone set the cultural pace, stimulating the development of new genres. The impact of Oliver Stone’s controversial and successful movie
JFK
touched a chord in the country; the film is now widely regarded as the catalyst behind the government’s decision to look into opening the Kennedy assassination files. For enterprising authors looking for the next big lead-title category, is it possible that
JFK
will spark the return of the so-called paranoid political thriller, books in which the enemy may be inside our borders, not outside of them? Certainly Warner’s nonfiction paperback,
On the Trail of the Assassins
, one of the books on which the movie was based, showed that this was a
subject
people wanted to read about. The paperback hit the No. 1 spot on the
New York Times
best-seller list, selling nearly 750,000 copies. Perhaps political thrillers, drawing on the public interest in conspiracy books, is a new subject for the big suspense novel of the future. Remember
Seven Days in May
and
The Manchurian Candidate!
Is another great paranoid political thriller waiting to be written?

Television also seems to be a cultural marker. “Tabloid” television, for example, seemed to literally create the public interest in true crime. From programs such as
A Current Affair
and the TV movie of
Fatal Vision
, the mass-market appetite for true crime stories seemed insatiable. It was no wonder, then, that mass-market paperback publishers tried to satisfy this hunger and reaped success from the trend. A flood of true crime paperback originals resulted (published quickly as paperbacks to follow the outcome of specific cases), and many became best-sellers, such as the St. Martin’s Press paperback on the Jeffrey Dahmer case,
The Milwaukee Murders
.

Finally, sometimes the trend isn’t created by a brilliant new author like Scott Turow, or a blockbuster Hollywood movie or popular TV series, but by the general social and political atmosphere of the country at any given time. Take the enormously popular genre of recent years, the military technothriller. Although Tom Clancy single-handedly created this genre, the mood of the country had already been created to welcome its emergence. In the early 1980s, Americans had finally begun to make their peace with Vietnam, and as patriotism grew during the Reagan years, the military community, largely scorned by many during the Vietnam era, was no longer an outcast. As the wounds of Vietnam healed, soldiers were good guys again, and everything about their lives—including every inside detail about the men and the hardware of military life—fascinated readers. In other words, the mood of the country was already there to make
The Hunt for Red October
a huge best-seller and set the stage for a best-selling trend for new authors.

But just as important as looking for the cultural signposts that signal the emergence of a new trend or genre, you have to know when the market has
become glutted with cheap imitations. True crime, for one, has suffered from overexposure, with books on every sordid—and uncompelling—case. True crime books that offer little more than portraits of gratuitous violence without probing the psychological motivations of the killers or following the trail of an intrepid investigator are rip-off books, pure and simple. And the same can be said for the genre of horror, which has already been tarnished by overpublishing. Simply inspect a typical “horror” section in the bookstore. If you see more than a dozen horror/occult novels featuring demonic children, it might be time to worry about that genre. Publishers call this problem title pollution, and even though authors such as Stephen King and Dean Koontz still sell in huge numbers, the horror “trend,” so to speak, has been hurt by shoddy, derivative imitations that have flooded the market. Readers, like consumers, want the real Rolex watch, not the street-corner fake.