The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current, October 07, 1977, section b, Page page 7, Image 19

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    friday, October 7, 1977
section b
page 7
Writing i only the beginning of getting published
""""""
"I'm a writer."
Poet Charles Bukowski wrote that these three words,
as an introduction, were the quickest way "to get laid". In
a more sober- mood he also said that those same three
words, were some of the toughest and emotionally rend
ing words in the English language.
Writers tend to live Jhe Great American Novel rather
than write it. Most of the greats seemed to have their
moments of eccentricity and anxiety. It might be
surmised that the multitudes of unpublished and frustrat
ed writers of the world have their moments too. Still they
seem to plug onward, writing in every spare moment, and
spending a fortune on postage, sending out their works,
sometimes getting them back, sometimes never seeing
them again.
Several forests had to die to create the paper that goes
out in rejection slips. F, Scott Fitzgerald papered his wall with them. Steinbeck received
thousands of them, as did Hemmingway, Sandoz and many people you'll probably never
hear of.
At this point the novice writer can roll his eyes heavenward and ask, "OK, what does ii
take?"
Chuck Colding, who has been writing professionally in one capacity or another for
nine years, will grab eye contact when you're talking with him and answer you directly.
"You've got to believe you've got something to say, otherwise you have no business
doing it. You're asking the world to sit down and pay attention to you. You've got to
wanto write." s
What this means in time, is that you are committing a sizeable portion of your life to
it. In other circles this is what is meant by the word "discipline." Colding put it simply,
"it means you write every day."
He'U be the first to tell you that writing fiction isn't easy. He'll also tell you that to
some extent, writing is a learned ability and not an inborn gift and determination is half
the battle. "If you're easily put off, don't do it," he said.
The rewards to the successful are alluring. A book might net you 20 to 30,000 dollars
and a short story might get you $2500. But the market is very limited. A first novel is
seldom - if ever salable. Short stories are drifting toward extinction. Few magazines
still even print them.
In part, this is one reason Bernice Slote, editor of Prairie Schooner Magazine continues
to run them. . -
The Schooner is a respected literary quarterly which has been based in Lincoln since
1927. It publishes poetry, fiction and articles and generally runs 96-100 pages in length
hardly a large volume considering the 5 to 6,000 pieces of work that Slote says will be
submitted from all over the world this year.
Working with a small staff, Slote says that each piece is read at least twice. She says
that in a sense, at least you learn to be a little callous and critical.
"You see so many people who all want the same thing. Each one thinks he is the only
one, when in reality there are hundreds."
ttfcause of the nature and size of the magazine, often the best stories are not always
printed and rejection does not always mean the work is poor. There are other factors.
Length and subject matter for instance are taken into consideration. . ,
"If we have two stories in the file about a man dying, we. don't need a thiid " she said.
"We don't like to discourage people, Because you get a story back it doesn't mean it is
bad, just that we can't use it at the time," she added.
Both Colding and Slote are wary of agents.
When you talk to Colding, words like "hucksters" and "pimps" are likely to crop up.
In the same breath he'll admit that they are essential.
Slote is somewhat more reserved. Her words tend along the line of "untruthful".
"Young writers are often in awe of an agent," Colding said. "Agents complain about
reading sixty manuscripts in one week, but all they need is one to give them an income
tor three years.
Although many publishers only deal with people represented by an agent, Slote is
quick to say that having an agent docs not influence her choices at all.
It goes without saying that the agent is out to turn a buck. It's his job.
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Photo by Bob Pearson
Bernice Slote
Photo by Bob Pearson
Chuck Colding
A representative for the Scott Meredeth Agency in New York City guaranteed me that
the agency will read everything submitted - for a consultation fee. That starts at about
$200. :'
Trie agency rep answered succinctly and quickly to most questions. Notable among the
answers however was an indication that unsolicited manuscripts aren't always welcomed
with open arms. The company deals with several thousand manuscripts a year. How many
a month? In his words: "Figure it out." 1
A side note here. One of the Scott Meredeth agency's bigger coups this year was the
negotiation for the rights to Gary Gilmore's story.
Although you are likely to hear that agents are the "scum of the earth" you are also
more than likely to hear that they are indispensable.
A little light was shed on the subject by associate professor of English Roger Welsch.
"A publisher friend has told me that major firms seldom deal with unrepresented
clients,' he said. , v
Welsch is currently teaching a mini course on "writing for publication for the UNL
Learning center.
Welsch has managed to publish five books without being represented. His books are
in a scholarly area though, and he's been lucky. His first manuscript on Nebraska
Folklore, was snapped up immediately. "I came away thinking how easy this business
wasEOineto be, he said.
Still, the
his position
For the limited
his (the agent's) while." And finally: "It depends on the individual case.
In other areas Welsch indicates that the going for the new writer isn'tYery promising.
He says that poetry for instance is hard to place. Non-fiction and "how to" books seem
to be about the easiest to place. Novels are virtually impossible. He said that with the
volume of work that most publishers get, including the small press, it is safe to say that
not all manuscripts get read.
The desperate to be published writer will sometimes turn to what is called a vanity
press and print his or her own work.
Horror stories about naive people being taken in by this sort of enterprise are legion.
Even that once crystal clear evil area is blurring. Welsch says things are happening to blur
the distinction between vanity and the "legitimate" press. Sussidiary publishing, fof
instance-forfeiting the royalties on the first . thousand copies as a term of publication,
are prevelant.
Many things about publication remain unclear. One thing that is clear though,
is that lis harder to be printed now than it was ten years ago. If you can deal with that
reality and still want to wrtie, you've crossed the first of a million barriers.
question ot agents has grossed his mma. his conclusion in mis area is inai in
at least, it would be "crazy." "It just wouldn't pay.
sales (a few thousand in his case) the royalties aren t going to be wortn
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Roger Welsch
Photo by Stve Boerner