Shelf Life

When someone mentioned the cover of this week's The New Yorker during a meeting I was attending, I thought it a curious non sequitur. I'm a committee member of The New York Round Table Writer's Conference and we were finalizing the line up for our upcoming fourth conference when the cover was briefly brought into the discussion. If I had glanced at the magazine after pulling it from my mailbox and before immediately stuffing it in my purse for later reading, I would have realized that the comment wasn't a non sequitur after all and understood why the cover was deemed "sad."

If you haven't seen the cover by Adrian Tomine, which is titled "Shelf Life," it shows the life of a book via nine frames with well, yes, a sad ending. The first frame shows a writer at her laptop. It's an inspiring image. The next few frames, one that writers' conferences tap into, is hopeful with a finished bound book hot off the presses -- every writer's dream. And there we were in that conference room, my committee members and me, trying to help make that dream come true. What differentiates our conference from many others is that besides empowering and educating writers about the publishing industry, it also gives close accessibility to agents, editors and published writers. Eager scribes of every genre have attended in the past looking for a break; looking for someone to believe in them; looking to be published as the end all. What they often miss, though, is how rewarding the process is of "getting there."

With that in mind, on my train ride home after the meeting, I began to study The New Yorker cover and realized that the writer was only in the first two frames before the book was handed over and journeyed elsewhere. Quite likely, the writer wanted to impart something visceral on those pages to move readers, touch emotions, highlight a wrong, or exemplify a right. However, in the end, the reality is that most books have an ephemeral shelf life. The last frame on Tomine's depiction is indeed sad, since after time, commitment and energy, the final product may end up being part of its own funeral pyre. This is why writers, especially those desperate for their big break, should savor the process.

Comments

[PJC]

Hoenig makes an excellent and very important point regarding "the process" of writing. The true life of a book is shorter than the next fashion trend. What can make the difference in the shelf-life of a book is a publihser and writer working together after the finished product is shipped. After it's all said and done, the reality of a book's chance to sell in a traditional bookstores is about six weeks. It's the publisher's duty and I do mean "duty" to put their promised efforts into the overall book campaign, BUT the writer who is willing to do 100% of the promotional support for the book has a far better chance of succeeding with a winning outcome and thus extending the length of time their book can remain viable in the marketplace.

At the New York Writer's Conference, attendees will learn as much about the "business" of writing as they will the process. I encourage every writer wanna-be and published authors who want to maximize the sale of their book to sign up now for a once a year chance to be a part of this worthwhile and viable writer's gathering.

[ShawnMichel]

Left unstated of course is that most writing has an ephemeral shelf life ... because most writing is, well, crap.

The publishing industry isn't after quality, but quantity. As in cash. Whatever will get them rich is what gets published. With such a vile model upheld and defended--likely by the Carol Hoenigs of the world--is it any wonder that this week's new arrival is remaindered next week?

Just asking.

[cktirumalai]

I hope we avoid a situation where writers are essentially writing for other writers, reviewers, and critics. Some books please the general public but leave reviewers cold. Other books do the opposite. Some of the most memorable books please both.
Concentration on "the big break" may be a mixed blessing. One knows of writers who had an astonishing fiirst success and never wrote anything good afterward.