Janet Berliner

As one of the senior members of this motley crew, in years, anyway, I feel it incumbent upon me to start trouble every once in a while. That’s one of the prerogatives of age and, dammit, I’ve earned it.

If anyone has a good, juicy, troublemaking topic, feel free to send it to me. If it buzzes my mean button or my mad button, I’ll put it out there on the 26th of whatever month it comes my way. For now, I’m picking my own set of waves: ANTHOLOGIES.

What are my qualifications for tackling this prickly subject, you might well ask. I’d like to answer by saying go to my website (www.janetberliner.com). Heck, I will say go to my website (www.janetberliner.com). For those of you who don’t or won’t, let me say that I’ve edited a bunch of them (anthologies) and appeared in a whole lot more–from literary ones like Harper’s Ariadne’s Thread to straight genre like 100 Wicked Little Witches. I’ve been making a living at this game for decades, I’ve had well over a hundred stories published, mostly in anthologies, and I still shake in my boots before I say, “I don’t do spec stories” or “How about an invitation?”

Like so many writers, I read short stories in anthologies I never heard of before and I wonder, why does no one think of me? Remember me? Not even the ones who were in the books I did. I don’t have an answer. Not really. What I can tell you, however, is what it takes to put together the concept for an anthology, sell it to a publisher, and take it through to publication.

All right, so what then are the steps in creating and selling an anthology? What are the controversies that seem to plague each and every one of them?

The anthologies I’ve done were created by me. For the most part, the spark was lit because I had written a story that begged to be in print. With the (David) Copperfield anthologies, he had to “approve” my stories but insisted that he wouldn’t do the books unless I put my money where my mouth was and did two originals to use as examples of what we wanted. For Immortal Unicorn I & II, HarperColins insisted that I contribute two original stories (as did my co-editor). For Desire Burn, the publisher made the same demand. And then there was SNAPSHOTS. My co-editor was Joyce Carol Oates. She did the same thing David did. “You will do a story,” she said. And I did.

That takes care of that part of the topic. The next part is, how do you go about putting together a pitch package for an anthology in a climate where editors and publishers hide their heads at the mention of the word? Well, like the song from “Gypsy” says, “You Gotta Have a Gimmick.”

Tom Clancy has a real tank in front of his house. We know who =he= is and still, he has a gimmick. “O” is a musical circus, partially performed underwater; Ziegfried and Roy…Hmm. Scratch that thought, so to speak.

So, you have to have a gimmick, one that appeals to a wide enough audience to induce marketing to become enthusiastic. That’s where it is, you know. It’s all about marketing. Take Blair Witch Project as an example. No brilliant acting or photography or story there. What they had was–all together now–”A gimmick.”

Okay, so let’s say I have the gimmick. Now I have to put together a package. What do publishers require on that package?

Sigh. All together now–Big Names.

Now I’m treading in quicksand. If I call in Markers from the Biggies I know and the project doesn’t sell, my credibility is down the toilet. If I use reprints, the publishers will want originals. I can’t get originals without money. And the wheel turns. I ask five or ten Names for contingency commitments, but I need those in writing. The contingencies are a) Find a publisher b) Pay us what we think we’re worth C) If we have time.

Does the potential publisher understand? Yes. Does he care? No. He says, “Five biggies?” I think, five if you’re lucky? He says, “Anthologies don’t sell. Our last one didn’t do well. Five names out of seventeen or eighteen stories? Not enough. Give us a list of all of the names. Show us some stories…” Guarantee us a Preface by someone famous. Be sure you have introductions or afterwords for each story.

The wheel goes around and, while it’s turning, always and forever, there are the following issues: open versus closed anthologies; BIG name versus no name; cliques versus individuals. Any way you go, people will berate you.

Now for the money end. Here, too, there are decisions to be made. Do you pay per word, the same per word to every one? After the initial advance, do you pay equally for each story. Or do you pay per story? Do you pay some people more than others? How much are reprints worth? Do you pay a kill fee out of your own pocket if the publisher decides against a particular story or cuts the book down in scope and size? I generally do–which more often than not means that, for all of my trouble, time, and work, I’m lucky to break even.

And the Rights. Let’s not forget about those. When it’s a reprint, you have to track down the original printing, make sure you have the right permissions for the right country from the right person. That can be unbelievably time-consuming.

You have now put in a lot of hours and spent not inconsiderable money out of pocket. You’ve put together your sales package, made sure the gimmick is highly visible, and addressed the issue of marketing.

So what’s the next step?

If you have a (potential) coeditor, address the question of a contract, copyright, and payment. Put a contract together for your writers. Make sure you have the right of refusal if there’s a story you don’t like or a writer who won’t take editorial guidance. Once you have all of the stories and they’re perfect, you need to decide on their order of appearance and acquire updated bios for each author. Then find out if checks (Dear God, let there be checks) will go directly to them or via their agents, who generally treat you with no respect at all because you’re paying their author so little. Next you have to note which authors and agents prefer to hear from you via e-mail, fax, telephone, snailmail.

Is it soup yet?

Oh no, baby, not by a long shot. The sale hasn’t even been made.

Fast forward and assume that, miracle of miracles, a sale has been made and the numbers have been crunched. Now it’s time to solicit the rest of the stories, hand out deadlines, and make sure you have an approved back-up list in the event of non-delivery. Then you read the stories, edit them and/or make rewriting suggestions where necessary, deal with fragile egos. I have held the anthologies I’ve done to the highest possible standard. The other thing I have always done is insisted upon the right to invite in a small percentage of relative unknowns, people whose writing talent has caught my attention but who have not yet made it to the big pond of NYT bestsellers.

When the stories are all in and you’ve reconfirmed that there will be enough copies of the book sent to you for all of the contributing writers–each to be sent out by you individually–the crud begins. The outcry by the uninvited, the innuendoes, the determination that never again, in this lifetime, will you do another anthology.

Until the next time.

Maybe.

–Janet