School and library market books, part 2 of 2

Please come back tomorrow for the continuation of the massive "Super '70s and '80s" series, running most days between now and 10/12/11! And for today, a post of "regularly scheduled content":

In part 1 of “School and library market books,” I cliffhangered that my name is on nearly all of my books. Twice in my career, I have asked a publisher to take my name off a school/library book before production.

The first time was because the publisher and I disagreed about the validity of my primary source. However, I was bummed to rediscover that my contract prevented me from requesting a pseudonym. I did the best I could to deliver a final draft that felt true to my research but also worked for the publisher.

The second time, I did not feel the editing was competent. I’d started the book with one editor but for some reason, partway through, a second editor replaced the first. When the second editor asked me to rewrite material that the first editor had already approved, I said I would but only for additional payment. The second editor probably didn’t have that option so, to her credit, she said she would write that material herself rather than push me to do extra work for no compensation.

But she turned out not to be as versed in the subject as I feel she should’ve been to take on that task, and I found a lot of her changes alarmingly flawed. I told her, pointing out specifics, but for a reason I still don’t understand, she didn’t make most of my suggested fixes. However, she did agree to remove my name. I am glad for that, of course, but disappointed that I could not stop a book from going to print with mistakes, generalizations, and redundancies.

In truth, when I started my writing career, I didn’t yet know that some authors use pen names till they break into trade publishing. But if I had, I still would’ve used my real name on my school and library market books. I typically don’t spend time promoting them, but I gave each one my all. Without them as training, I don’t know if I would’ve been able to write my passions, such as Boys of Steel.

Speaking of which, in the author bio I proposed for Boys of Steel, I included that I’d published 70 books to date. My editor Janet Schulman suggested I take that out because it would make it seem like I’m “not serious.”

I was miffed. As you have just read, I admit that many of my books are not timeless literature, but I remain proud of all my work. I didn’t see how indicating that I have a history with publishing could be a bad thing.

But like various other points Janet had made that at first seemed harsh, this point soon made sense, so I cut the number. It wasn’t about discounting my previous books; it was about shining the full spotlight on my current book. Boys of Steel was special to me, and Janet knew that. It wasn’t just book #71. In some ways, it was actually book #1.

Three lessons I learned from Janet Schulman

My Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman editor passed away in February 2011. Here are three things she said or did that continue to resonate five years later:

Judge each work on its own. Some months after Janet bought Boys of Steel, she asked me if it was the first book I'd written. Even though my query clearly stated I’d published before, it apparently didn’t factor into her decision to make an offer on the manuscript. All that mattered to her was the quality of the manuscript in and of itself. Credits can help you, for sure, but it was nice to be reminded that a lack of credits won’t necessarily hurt you—if you are lucky enough to find a certain kind of editor.

Quantity does not equal credibility. When I wrote my author bio for the back flap, I included how many books I’d published to date. (Yes, this is somewhat related to lesson 1.) Janet suggested I take that figure out; she said it would make it seem like I wasn’t “serious” about writing. At first I was miffed; of course I was serious! But I thought deeper about it. I came to see that throwing out a number may impress some but may indeed trigger skepticism in others. (Of course, if most of my previous books had been bestsellers, I’m sure this wouldn’t have concerned Janet!) Though I've long felt that an author blurb should reveal a quirky aspect about you or your book, I now also try to avoid using any of that limited space to convey the kind of thing a simple Internet search would reveal.

Avoid the phrase “eyes on the floor.” A variation of this was in the first line of certain drafts of Boys of Steel, but Janet reasoned that we should rewrite it because Jerry Siegel’s eyes were not literally on the floor. Some idioms or turns of a phrase don’t adhere to this level of exactitude, but since it was Janet who felt the wording was distracting, I felt wise to agree.

Joanne Siegel, wife of Superman co-creator Jerry Siegel, 1917-2011

The same day I learned my Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman editor Janet Schulman died, I learned that the widow of Jerry Siegel, co-creator and original writer of Superman, also died. (Janet died on 2/11/11 and Joanne today.) Two grande dames that did much for the cause.

Jerry said Joanne was the inspiration for Lois Lane. From what I hear, her real-life character bore out Lois’s combination of charm and tenacity.

Joanne with Jerry and their daughter Laura, 1976

Joanne at the Breman Jewish Heritage and Holocaust Museum in Atlanta; circa 2007; photo via Hogan's Alley

I never had the honor of meeting Joanne. I sent her a copy of my book, which (in a metaphor I am surprised I am using, even on Valentine’s Day) was my love letter to a phenomenon and my public thank you to the two young men who dreamed it up for us.

Joanne never gave an interview—or if she did, we don’t know about it yet. Since Jerry passed away in 1996, there are questions only she could’ve answered. (Jerry and Joe’s daughter Laura would certainly have great insight, too, but Joanne goes back the beginning of the character.)

The Siegel family has been involved in Superman-related litigation on and off for decades. They do not accept interview requests from any writers or journalists, even ones who are their friends. Like many, I want the family to receive a fair share of the profits from Superman. Yet I feel that the family also has an obligation to posterity, and one that would not undermine the actions they had to take on their own behalf.

Therefore, on 3/26/10, I meddled. I e-mailed the following to Joanne’s lawyer Marc Toberoff (with whom I’d already been in touch about other matters):

[Case Western professor] Brad Ricca is a good friend and [respected] academic who did a documentary on Siegel and Shuster called Last Son. It has been very well received on the circuit. The movie [helped get] him a deal to write a bio (already under contract with St. Martin's Press) on Siegel and Shuster. Brad has had friendly direct contact with Joanne and Laura and met them both last summer in Cleveland since he was a key organizer. I know Joanne and Laura have not talked with other writers and I understand why, but I'm hoping you'll consider talking with them about talking with Brad. He's a grade-A class act and if they are ever going to trust anyone with any anecdotes and memories that they have not yet shared, this is the time. I would hate for Joanne to not get the chance to tell her side of the story on record. I told Brad I would ask you this [meaning Brad did not ask me to ask you]. This has nothing to do with me other than that I would want Joanne's words to be in trusted hands and that is Brad.

I’m holding out hope that someone did conduct a secret interview and that it will surface eventually.

Janet Schulman, editor, 1933-2011

Today I learned that Janet Schulman, my editor for Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman, passed away on 2/11/11 after a battle with lung cancer that apparently began in the late 1990s.

(Incidentally, she was born the same year Superman may have been; though in Boys of Steel I attribute that historic moment to 1934, which is the year most commonly cited, I've since read evidence suggesting it could've been 1933.)

There will invariably be tributes to Janet by people who knew her far better than I did, so I will be brief in sharing my small experience.

I was so fortunate to be able to work with her, and not just because 22 other editors rejected the manuscript. After reading only the first two or three lines of her first editorial feedback, I saw firsthand why she had earned her towering (and, at times to me, intimidating) reputation in the industry. (She was an author, too.)

Almost any comment she made was a study in efficiency and, often, a valuable mini-lesson, even if she wasn’t presenting it that way. Here’s one comment that has stayed with me, from her 2/14/06 notes memo, addressing certain concerns I had:

You are the author. You may tell me to go to hell...but you better not! Seriously, I do not expect you to accept everything that I am suggesting but I do expect you to take my comments seriously.

(It didn’t resonate because of the request to take her seriously—I was way ahead of her on that—but rather because of the invitation to disagree with her. Only the most confident of editors would tell an author—especially one they’d not worked with before—such a potentially risky thing.) Upon revisiting that memo today of all days, I was struck by the spooky coincidence of her sign-off:

I regret that Janet and I didn't have more (really, any) personal talks, but that seemed to be the way she wanted it. (I didn't even know she was ill.) She kept her focus on the story. Consistent with that, I am told that she requested that no memorial service be held for her, and that Random House is honoring her modest wish.

Yet all of us who love children's literature should honor her memory, privately. I'm quite sure she'd feel an apt way to do that would simply be to stop and appreciate a children's book. Not specifically one of hers. Just any good one.

I'll end with the end. I was struck by her ability to make her no-nonsense, waste-not aura seem polite. When she wanted to get off the phone, she wouldn't attempt to wind down with small talk the way many would. She would simply announce, "I'm going to hang up now."

No, please don't, Janet. No one wants to stop talking with you yet.

More remembrances.

Speaking of Superman

When writing nonfiction, "dialogue" can be a dangerous word. My first drafts of Boys of Steel did not contain any.

Librarians cast doubt on books which claim to be nonfiction but which don't source quotations they include. If any of its dialogue is made up, a book is (obviously) not pure nonfiction.

Once I discovered a picture book about a celebrated poet which included lots of dialogue. I asked the author about that. He said the words were a combination of excerpts from the poet's autobiography and some things the author "rather assumed." For that, he told me, the book got "whacked in a couple of reviews."

Get a review that questions your authenticity and you run a real risk of losing library sales.

That is why, when an editor read an early draft of Boys of Steel and suggested I liven it up with dialogue, I balked at first.

However, I grew curious. I went back through the Jerry and Joe interviews I'd used as source material and found instances where I could replace exposition with a quotation. As luck had it, these happened to space out fairly evenly throughout the manuscript. In one or two cases, I had to change a verb tense, but otherwise, I was quoting verbatim.

This was the version that sold. However, at one point my editor said she doesn't feel picture book biographies need dialogue. I told her I didn't, either, but another editor had encouraged me to try it and I liked the outcome. Later, I asked my editor if we could add this to the acknowledgments page: "All dialogue is excerpted from interviews with Jerry and Joe." She didn't feel that was necessary, either. Referencing my fellow author's misfortune above, I pushed for it. My editor kindly obliged me.

The very first review of the book singled that out: "A bibliography and assurances that 'all dialogue [was] excerpted from interviews' puts factual muscle behind the subject’s literary brawn." My editor joked that now I can blog about how she resisted that at first. One factor that makes her an exceptional editor is that she respects her writers' instincts—and another is that she has the style even to mention this.

I've always been careful with how I use and cite information in my work. Absolute truth may be unknowable but writers owe it to readers to come as close as possible.

9/8/14 addendum: what can happen if you do not cite sources and other dangers of writing dialogue (an article I wrote for The Horn Book).