Rejection is my middle name

Review time

I know, I know, it's always SO exciting when Rejection posts a new book review from the only place still allowing me space, The Oregonian. But try to contain yourselves, please. This is a review of a new novel by T. Jefferson Parker, The Renegades. You can read it here. The review is perhaps of mild interest because it points out a key issue for readers of mystery fiction: the ability to "suspend disbelief" and what authors do that makes it difficult, if not impossible. When we read crime fiction or mysteries, we know going in that much of what will happen in the story is not what would occur in real life - regular people don't turn into crack detectives and trap criminals or find missing loved ones. But when a skilled writer tells a story so convincingly we forget that it's not a fantasy, and the alternative universe we become submerged in is every bit as persuasive as the real life we actually lead. It takes a number of elements, expertly orchestrated for this to happen, and for me, a key one is plausible actions and dialog from characters, particularly the protagonist and supporting cast. In The Renegades, although Parker tells an amusing, sometimes exciting story, he falls flat on his face in this department. His lead protagonist doesn't act his age, nor does a 17 year old boy, who spouts off laughable lines and then does martial arts like Bruce Lee. Sorry, T, just couldn't buy it.

Enough already

Just as your car - at least out here in the vast West - becomes an extension of your home, the bloggie becomes a representation of your inner life. Or something like that. As a result of a 4:30am revelation - yes, one of those kind, I decided to take down that negative crap of recent weeks and start anew. It's still Rejection Central, of course, but I want to focus on tangibles. Like this: Eve Pell on KQED Forum - what a great interview about her book, We Used to Own the Bronx. I couldn't put it down when I read it in galley and had the feeling this would make a splash when it was published and damn if I wasn't right.
And let me call your attention to a bit of classic Tod Goldberg, from a post called This is what it means to say Tucson, Arizona. There's little I enjoy more than Tod's recounting his strange encounters whilst on the road.
That's it for now, stay tuned.

And what we can't/don't do

When you are a publicist, you deal with many different types of people. And since you often end up spending a considerable amount of time with them, you soon learn their particular strengths and weaknesses, much the way a teacher learns her students' abilities, or a management type comes to understand the dynamics of the work place around them. A cross section of society, then, is what we deal with. And like any widely diverse bunch of humanity, there are nice people, there are not-so nice  people and everything in between.
I've had clients who have had meltdowns, bad marriages, hissy fits, abusive behavior towards little ole' me and just plain general lameness. Thankfully, these people are not the norm - if they were I'm sure I'd be somewhere else by now.
As much as one wants to like all one's clients, (and many have gone on to become friends long after a job has ended) it's just not possible. Partly this is because  not everybody clicks and that's fine, but it's also a function of what the client thinks you should be and what you are in reality.
1) We are not your therapist. Yes, we will listen to your stories of stupid editors, low event turnouts, rude store employees, low sales, dashed hopes. But c'mon, we are here to enhance, not be prey to your vampiric needs. I had a client who complained that I wasn't giving them enough "compliments". I wasn't gushing over good reviews and I wasn't enthusiastic about what efforts they themselves were putting forth. Guess what? It's your fucking book, and you should be charging ahead, hired a publicist or not. It's not really about you - it's about doing the job and hopefully helping you.
2) We can't always read every word of your book. Yup. We do understand how much of you is in that book - we respect you immensely for writing it. We certainly want to be familiar with its content, its style, its quality - but you are not our only client. And to sit here and read every word of every book (although exceptions are not infrequent!) we are working on is flat out impossible - when would the work get done? The media won't read your book either. And that's where we can help. That's why we pitch you in a way that is enticing. Well, we try anyway.
3) The more you annoy us, the less we seem to be able to do. Funny, huh? Sounds unprofessional. Sounds childish. Sad perhaps, but true.
4) I've had many people think that by hiring me they will magically get reviewed. Just like that. Of course, now that hardly any of the traditional venues for books getting reviewed exist anymore, this may not be an issue much longer. It's true that sometimes it all falls into place, the editor listens to us - when we get their attention -- but most of the time the decsions are made regardess of our desires. Shocking, isn't it?
5) Despite all the above, don't forget that we live our work lives vicariously - through you. We get a real buzz when the NPR interview comes through. We are happy to get up at 7am on a Saturday morning to see your appearance on the morning news. We are thrilled to see the feature in the insert name here paper. Hell, we like to see the little "best bets" things that are sometimes all we can get for you.
6) We can't work those glorious miracles all the time, but trust me, we want to.