Thomas Sullivan: WHAT’S IN A NAME?
13 COMMENTS follow
Am I in the right place? Most of the author photos herein (ladies excepted) sport dignified chin feathers or curried underbrush or facial fuzz of some distinction. I am plain. Excuse me while I glance back at the web site name to make sure it doesn’t read “Storytellers Unplucked.” Nope. Naked faces seem to be welcome. So, greetings. Nice to meet you. And I guess an introduction is in order in this first column and, despite what I said about my being plain, a label. My label usually reads “stylist.” Let’s see if I can shake the tree a little with that subject.
I suppose that if you look for a style in those first few sentences above, you’ll be justified in concluding that I am monosyllabic, platitudinous, and clichéd. But I invoke many styles, and I do what I do consciously. I am not a natural born storyteller, plugged or unplugged. Style is important to me because it has the power to make the telling of any and all things worthwhile. The most inane event can make a compelling tale if properly vested in association and meaning – the story comes about because of how that event meets the rest of life. Conversely, a great plot badly written may dwindle into a “and then and then” summary where, like a vitamin pill, you get the nutrients but none of the flavor. A plot is helpless without a decent delivery, but a style that soars with interesting or meaningful sidebars and wit can (at least for a while) sustain any narrative. What is poetry if not enhanced style? Or a song – enhanced style with sonic assists? If you’ve ever played that party game where you confide a sentence to someone, like, for instance, the fact that you hate vegetables, and it gets whispered around the room and comes out, “Broccoli rocks!” you are illustrating the primacy of style. This is because the sentence owes its metamorphosis to the fact that everyone applies his or her own style: editing, exaggerating, emphasizing, spinning, distorting, contrasting, under-telling, over-telling, invoking metaphor… If there were only one style in the world, we would only need one author (apply on-line). A unique way of telling is the distinguishing characteristic by which we parade as individual authors. At risk of placing rhetoric ahead of exposition, I will read a laundry list if it is written by Nabokov or Proulx or Poe or Lovecraft or Goldman.
And yet the term “stylist” is often a turnoff. Mention it once in describing a writer, and you may get away with it; mention it more than once and the expectation is for inscrutability at best, arty-farty pomposity at worst. We run from the term as if Shakespeare and James Joyce are coming at us, quiz in hand. Call someone a stylist – better yet, give them an award for style – and you may as well brand them with a “P” for Plague. The sin of style without substance is worse than the sin of substance without style, it seems. In fact, there are readers who to one degree or another are tone deaf to words, deaf to the rhythms, repetitions and balance of sounds as they read silently. Most of the experienced writers I know have a story about an editor or a copyeditor they would place in that category. Sometimes that’s an excuse to explain their own rejections, but I wouldn’t call it flat out wrong. I’ve run across a few in the literary chain who seem best-suited to publishing user manuals from Taiwan, and if you’ve ever corrected English papers for a range of students and assignments you can clearly see the evolution of style awareness as young writers mature in experience. But insight into style is difficult. So we tend to label authors by their plots. Publishers love the palpable aspect of that. It’s a handle of things and events as opposed to abstract, ethereal qualities. I don’t know why it has to be an either-or thing. Especially since great plots may come and go with inspiration but the ability to express a plot well tends to be a constant, enhancing all of a writer’s body of work. As you may have gathered by this point, I use the term “style” very broadly here. We are not talking simply about verbs cohabiting with nouns, but the whole trunk full of devices and enhancements, including elements of characterization, settings, dialogue, description, etc. With a little luck, you’ll give me a pass on where I’m going with this, and I won’t have to get into a debate about semantics.
Okay, it’s tough to promote writers by their styles. But not distinguishing them by their uniqueness lumps them into mindless groupings toward which readers have formed their own biases. A genre label based on the most general subject matter – mystery, horror, science fiction and so on – is about as definitive as saying one’s nationality or race. Furthermore, as much as we may grow nervous at the label “stylist,” the underlying reality is that we choose our favorites because of how they write about what they write. So what is it that is needed to give writers their due and allow them individual signatures free of one-size-fits-all plot labels?
Well, if that were easy, we probably wouldn’t have defaulted into the simplistic marketing of authors by plot generalities in the first place. And I’m not suggesting that plots aren’t important. The order of Being is first something to say and THEN a way to say it. However, the pendulum between style and content is way out of plumb. A greater effort to promote authors as individuals would zero in on the essential distinctions between literary styles, it seems to me. Granted, that does not solve the marketing dilemma of short reader attention spans and the need to grab attention quickly in promotion. Horror, science fiction, romance, western, mystery et al do that as labels. They are proud and useful shibboleths of things and events and to an extent mood. But they are limited labels, because of what they omit. And they mislead broad readerships into excluding possibilities – unlimited possibilities. Recognizing that plot labels are not going to go away as marketing handles, the only reasonable way to avoid their stunting effect is to place greater emphasis on the individual authors. Subtraction by addition. Get rid of the bias by developing the specific product, i.e., the author whole cloth, a purveyor of words, an interpreter of the human drama by dint of how the author aims the camera and edits the film, plots notwithstanding.
There are many outstanding and successful authors who are perfectly content to be marketed within the strictures of a category. They have found a loyal cadre of astute readers who, much like “Indie” fans of music, want most of all just to define their territory as fans. Both writer and readers know the rules and expectations in that instance, and they enjoy keeping to them. It is a thoroughly compelling and respectable corner of a marketplace. But it is more finite than writing in general. I certainly respect that aspect of publishing and entertainment. And I recognize that, for those writers and fans, the label is absolutely important, because it excludes and is exclusive. A writer that does not acknowledge the validity of that area is his own kind of snob. That said, there are legions of readers out there that are being excluded from literary treats well-hidden behind genre biases.
Talk about simplistic. Editors, art directors and publicists have a right to shake their heads in frustration at my sentiments. As I said, if it were easy to market individuals free of group identities, it would have become the status quo. It is, in fact, the status quo for The Biggies who have transcended labels. But among that rare elite, I know a number who claim to have succeeded in part because they resisted labeling. They kicked and screamed about it. They cherished their individuality and held up against faithless retainers with market savvy who insisted on applying the cynical formulas full force. In short, they indulged themselves. Of course, the failure heap of such indulgence is towering, if by definition invisible. Certainly there is a degree of idealism and counter-intuitive method in what I am suggesting. It won’t work for everyone. Put a generic plain literary cover on a book that celebrates winged dinosaurs falling in love with the daughters of dolphins from alpha centauri and you may sell a copy to the author’s mother, if she’s legally blind and gets the Braille or the audio edition, but you will not likely be found by literate strangers looking for just that exotic fare. On the other hand, publishers too often fail to recognize their assets. In their risk-prone business they hurl everything into the air under a genre label with minimal support, hoping to catch a fortuitous breeze. You can’t blame them for fishing with a net instead of a lure, but to a degree the larger houses have the power to make things happen and don’t. When the proof is there, both subjectively and objectively, that an author has “the goods” to deliver, they are often slow or remiss to promote that author into the laps of the broader diaspora of readers who may have already demonstrated that they will respond. I could certainly write another column arguing the conservative reasons they do this, but God only knows how many mega talents have come and gone uncapitalized upon and unheralded.
The tendency of a publisher to resist acceleration is contagious. There is a lot of inertia and a lot of entropy out there from top to bottom, starting with authors and moving through agents, editors and publishers. The system waits for an outside force to anoint a book before marshalling promotional resources. As every writer knows, getting that outside attention can be extremely arbitrary. And plot labeling further narrows the exposure window. The successes are not necessarily the brightest talents or even the brightest prospects. They seem to come from a broad pool of reasonably talented potential. They may simply be trendy. But an author who has been defined in depth as opposed to a plot label alone has a better chance of being reviewed or read in book clubs. And that initial defining process is unquestionably the publisher’s prerogative. I suppose the ultimate safe harbor for a publisher of fiction is to aim a formulaic novel at the heart of its appropriate genre. But that is more like printing and distribution – modest distribution at that. It is also patronizing to the readers of genre, who by and large will recognize and reward fully fleshed out works when given them. More to the point, risking a little by defining authors more than plots can only help storm the barriers that isolate a genre from general readers. There is a fundamental pressure on the publishing and promotional side of the business to not take any risks. Understandable and not an unhealthy philosophy for the corporate whole, it nevertheless seems to have created a culture of sameness that goes hand in glove with mass labeling. It is particularly crippling to editors who may come to feel that the only way to secure their jobs is simply not to fail. Over time, not succeeding becomes failure. A publisher will not succeed just by not failing – and failing rather often. It will succeed by taking risks and winning enough of them.
I think the penchant for slotting everything as content is just another way to try and quantify the qualitative. But no matter how hard a book publisher tries to quantify everything, its product is still qualitative. Building authors according to their individuality rather than their sameness may be a way to find more winners. I guess it comes down to having good editors and then EMPOWERING them with resources, or at least opening access to resources. That is the qualitative dilemma in-house for the decision-makers: finding discerning editors and then trusting them. In the mania to reduce risk have we lost sight of that? The prerogative to capitalize author resources seems reserved for the very few deans of entertainment, like Michael Korda or Steven Spielberg, whose successes, tempered in the ideals of another time, allow them to prove again that enduring miracles are a matter of taste and judgment.
Thanks for reading this long first column. Your thoughts are welcome, and your attention valued.
Thomas “Sully” Sullivan
http://twitter.com/thomassullivan
13 Comments:
David Niall Wilson said…
Welcome aboard, Sully. What did you do, save all your words for, like, a MONTH and then spew them forth? Wait…that’s what we all do.
You know I agree on the product before artist argument. I say call it all fantasy, because it all is fantasy, in a way – or all fiction – but let the quality of the prose dictate how it is treated. I say this, but no one listens (lol)
DNW
Janet Berliner said…
“Get rid of the bias by developing the specific product, i.e., the author whole cloth, a purveyor of words, an interpreter of the human drama by dint of how the author aims the camera and edits the film….”
Welcome, Sully. Your words make much sense. Nobody in publishing will listen., but please keep saying them.
–J.
Sully said…
Hey, Davey, the day I’m as prolific as you is the day it snows butterflies. Now watch, World, I’m betting that by sunset Mr. Wilson will come up with a story about the sky snowing butterflies. And I’ll label it “grand.”
David Niall Wilson said…
I have already done butterflies (lol). You’ll see them in “On the Third Day” if it ever sells.
DNW
Sully said…
Janet, a voice heard is a tentative step toward consensus. Things do change with enough communication. Glad to join your voice on this forum.
Sully said…
Dave, come to think of it, I published a story about butterflies “snowing” years ago called “Prayerwings.” Charles Grant anthology called DOOM CITY.
Janet Berliner said…
I did a butterfly story, too, for a Lighthouse anthology. Narrative non-fiction. Hmm, Gents. Does that mean we should be doing an anthlogy of butterfly reprints…?
David Niall Wilson said…
I don’t have a great history with bug anthologies…though I proved to have pretty good TASTE in them…all we need is a publisher.
D
Janet Berliner said…
A publisher, Dave? What’s that? –J.
Mark Rainey said…
Welcome, Sully. A fine essay on style indeed. (Being one of those guys with a fuzzy face, I’ve been told on occasion I should go for a whole new style, maybe using a razor.)
–Mark
Sully said…
Thanks, Mark. With a moniker like “Damned Rodan,” facial feathers seem obligatory. And, anyway, if I could grow something as dignified as what you’re sporting, I’d donate my razor to a Chia pet. Nice to share a forum with you, Mark.
Scott Nicholson said…
Sully, thanks for the insight. However, I’m not sure it’s solely the publisher/editor’s responsibility to break a writer out of the mold. I think the writer can do that with courage, vision, and most of all persistence. I’m enjoying “Born Burning,” proof that stories go beyond genre int he hands of a skilled writer.
Sully said…
Scott – Skilled writer, indeed. Put me in a position where I have to throw away a compliment in order to defend a position. Thanks and ego wins – I’ll take the compliment! But I never meant to imply that the push for self-determination should be a solo effort of the publisher. Hell, the author defines the product. But the marketing is surely largely the province of the publisher. Your point rounds out the solution though – if there is one. ‘Specially about persistence. Man, am I persistent. Man, am I persistent. Man, am I…
–Sully
