“Many people, other than the authors, contribute to the making of a book, from the first person who had the bright idea of alphabetic writing through the inventor of movable type to the lumberjacks who felled the trees that were pulped for its printing. It is not customary to acknowledge the trees themselves, though their commitment is total.” ~ Forsyth and Rada, Machine Learning
So, I’m currently doing this workshop/internship thing in the publishing industry. I won’t go into too much detail, ‘cause I’m sure no one really cares, but I think it’s awesome.
And last week, we had to create mock imprints and publish six titles, everything from initial book ideas to drafting production reports and marketing plans. It was a hell of a lot of work, let me tell you. But it was the most invigorating thing I’ve done in a long time. We were working 15 hour days easily, staying in the office until 2am, and it didn’t bother me in the slightest. I was enjoying the work so much that I didn’t want to leave; I cared more about getting it done and getting it done right than my own health and mental wellbeing.
Now that’s a job you can be proud of.
And through the whole process, I’ve come to realize a lot about the publishing industry and what it takes to get a book off the ground. Depending on the field you’re in, you have to come up with the proposal and find the right author for it—or you have to sort through mountains of unsolicited manuscripts to find the perfect gem. Then from jacket designs to figuring out price points to the actual editing and writing, it takes hours and hours of work from dozens of people to turn a book into the polished product we find on the shelves. I have a new appreciation for all that now.
I also look at books differently now. Last week, I picked a book off my shelf that I haven’t read in literally a decade, and I found myself cracking the cover to see who published it, wondering about its translation rights, and whether or not it was reprinted in paperback. That was a bit weird to think about, but let me be clear: it hasn’t affected how much I enjoy a book one iota. Not a jot. In fact, just the opposite: books I have previously written off as being pure drivel, as poorly-written nonsense, I now appreciate. Even if I personally don’t enjoy the book, somebody out there thought it had an audience and was worth producing. Somebody devoted all their time and energy, bet their resources and maybe even their careers on the belief that this book would be worth something, that it could be successful. My taste isn’t everyone’s taste, I get that. But I’m a lot more careful now to pass judgment on a book’s quality now.
All I’ll say is that if I was the editor who had received a certain manuscript that shall go nameless, I would’ve burned it and prayed everyone else had done the same.
Okay, so maybe I’ll still be judgmental. Maybe I’ll just be a little quieter about it. Fair?
So, I’m currently doing this workshop/internship thing in the publishing industry. I won’t go into too much detail, ‘cause I’m sure no one really cares, but I think it’s awesome.
And last week, we had to create mock imprints and publish six titles, everything from initial book ideas to drafting production reports and marketing plans. It was a hell of a lot of work, let me tell you. But it was the most invigorating thing I’ve done in a long time. We were working 15 hour days easily, staying in the office until 2am, and it didn’t bother me in the slightest. I was enjoying the work so much that I didn’t want to leave; I cared more about getting it done and getting it done right than my own health and mental wellbeing.
Now that’s a job you can be proud of.
And through the whole process, I’ve come to realize a lot about the publishing industry and what it takes to get a book off the ground. Depending on the field you’re in, you have to come up with the proposal and find the right author for it—or you have to sort through mountains of unsolicited manuscripts to find the perfect gem. Then from jacket designs to figuring out price points to the actual editing and writing, it takes hours and hours of work from dozens of people to turn a book into the polished product we find on the shelves. I have a new appreciation for all that now.
I also look at books differently now. Last week, I picked a book off my shelf that I haven’t read in literally a decade, and I found myself cracking the cover to see who published it, wondering about its translation rights, and whether or not it was reprinted in paperback. That was a bit weird to think about, but let me be clear: it hasn’t affected how much I enjoy a book one iota. Not a jot. In fact, just the opposite: books I have previously written off as being pure drivel, as poorly-written nonsense, I now appreciate. Even if I personally don’t enjoy the book, somebody out there thought it had an audience and was worth producing. Somebody devoted all their time and energy, bet their resources and maybe even their careers on the belief that this book would be worth something, that it could be successful. My taste isn’t everyone’s taste, I get that. But I’m a lot more careful now to pass judgment on a book’s quality now.
All I’ll say is that if I was the editor who had received a certain manuscript that shall go nameless, I would’ve burned it and prayed everyone else had done the same.
Okay, so maybe I’ll still be judgmental. Maybe I’ll just be a little quieter about it. Fair?
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