Today we’re going on an odyssey… in publishing!
No, come back, please! I promise this is going somewhere!
My novel HOUSEMOMS comes out today. For those of you who made the wise choice to NOT go into publishing for a living, let me explain the usual multistep process in birthing a novel, at least for those who have already published:
I (the author) look at my bank account and realize I yet again do not have enough money to live indoors long-term.
I list all the book ideas I’ve been percolating and I run them past my agents and current editor. They hopefully give me a thumbs-up on The One.
I write a brief proposal, detailing the beginning, middle, and end of the novel. I do this because the professionals want to make sure that I don’t bring sexy werewolves out of the woodwork for no damn reason around page 271.
I am given some money, and also a year to write the book.
I spend the money. I also spend the first 8-10 months congratulating myself on getting a book deal, while spending the money. (Note: the book world has changed DRASTICALLY since the advent of streaming media and podcasts. In the heyday when I first started writing, I used to be able to buy new cars with the spoils, as books were the biggest game in town. Books are barely a game at all now and I spend the money on things like credit card bills and trips to Costco.)
I spend the last two months frantically writing, but it always works out, as I’ve been penning this bastard in my head for most of the year, largely while shopping for rotisserie chicken at Costco.
Edits, edits, edits, and done. I believe it was Tessa Dare who wrote, “Write what you love, because you’re going to have to re-read it 1,000 times.” She is not wrong. Then, despite my 1,000 re-reads, and multiple reads and edits from my executive editor, my developmental editor, a team of copy editors, and a legal review, at least one mistake will slip through into the complete manuscript. THIS HAPPENS TO EVERYONE ACROSS THE BOARD, EVEN STEPHEN KING. EVEN JAMES PATTERSON. For those who write snarky reviews when they find an error in anyone’s book, I promise you it’s not because anyone was lazy. Imagine a bucket of white sand, then tossing in a teaspoon of black sand before shaking vigorously. The editorial process is basically picking out every black grain with needle-nose pliers. It is tedious and thankless and irritating.
The book comes out and I am obligated to talk about it in public places for far longer than I am comfortable.
Readers hopefully buy and like the book.
Repeat steps one through nine until death or disability.
This has been the process for my novels as well as all my nonfiction. But this book had an entirely different trajectory. A decade ago, I wrote THE TAO OF MARTHA. This was the first—and only—one of my books to ever be optioned for film/TV, for reasons too infuriating to detail here. Let me just say this—when there’s a possibility that Melissa McCarthy may have an interest in my work, the correct response is not TO DO NOTHING BECAUSE SOMEONE ELSE FIGURED SHE WAS TOO BUSY WITH HER NEW JOB ON MIKE AND MOLLY TO EVEN REPLY TO HER AGENT. (Oh, look! Another blood pressure spike!)
Ahem.
Anyway, in this process, my agents at CAA paired me with Austin Winsberg, an accomplished TV and film writer who you might know from his creating ACAPULCO and ZOEY’S EXTRAORDINARY PLAYLIST. (He’s amazing and so talented and I love him. No notes.) Because I didn’t know shit about screenplays, my film/TV agents had Austin adapt the book for television, under the banner of Imagine Entertainment. He did a magnificent job, but what’s funny is when you’re writing TV, everyone makes changes. Austin wanted to stay true to who I am, but given everyone’s notes he was obligated to take, the Jen character went from being happily childfree and married to unhappily divorced with kids. (Also, thinner and younger. I am on board with this part.)
Austin and the CAA team managed to get Martha Freaking Stewart herself involved in the pitch meetings. The project got offers from both NBC and FOX, which was absolutely surreal. Ultimately, it was sold to FOX.
I was not in the LA pitch meetings. I was at home in stupid Illinois. I got the call about the offers while literally picking up dog poop in the dining room. I’m talking phone in one hand, hot baggie of doody in the other. WRITE BOOKS, they say. IT’S SO GLAMOROUS, they say.
By the way, the most realistic portrayal of an author’s life comes from the scene in Romancing the Stone where Kathleen Turner’s character Joan Wilder finishes her manuscript, cries, pours herself a drink, and opens a can of wet food for her cat.
The pilot didn’t get made, which was a huge bummer, but networks always buy far more than they will ever actually make, so that was the most logical outcome. Austin was kind enough to mentor me for years after that, and I could not be more grateful to him. That his star has risen so high is no surprise.
What I realized from the Martha experience is that if I want to be the one in the room without the dog poop, I have to be the actual screenwriter. So, I bought a copy of Final Draft and started learning the craft.
Scripts are so different than books. With books, the writer has the latitude to do what they want, when they want, as long as they follow the three-act structure of rising action. A screenplay is a precise piece of writing where they have to hit certain beats between pages 1 to 5, then 6 to 10, etc.
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