Just when I get my golden ticket, it seems the publishing industry has gone to hell in a handcart. I won’t name names, but in the last few weeks three people I know have gotten huge blows from this industry. One – a multi-published author and brilliant lady – had her book rejected. Not unusual, I know, even for someone who’s published before, but it is my understanding than the editor in question asked her to write a proposal for this book, and then turned it down. She’s now off contract. Another friend of mine was low-balled so badly on a project that she let it drop, affectively ending that line of her writing. A third had a book that was due out next summer that a publisher cancelled. They had purchased it, put it in their lineup, and then killed it.
These are intelligent women with smart, tight, and well-written books. They are incredibly talented and amazing writers, and the industry has managed to beat them down. For now. Let’s hope they keep at it, and come back twice as strong.
But with the economy the way it is, people just aren’t buying books. I know of at least one NYT best seller who’s ready to hang it up and call it quits. So why am I busting my rump to do this? Good question.
But I am doing it, and am happy as all hell to be doing it. Because for all the pain it promises, for all the hard work it is, this is what I love. And if I can somehow hold on by the skin of my teeth through this downturn, I can make it through anything, right?