Picture
 I am a completely reasonable person. I love free speech and debate. I love forums where people can express opinions.

But I suck at taking criticism.


Actually, I think I should phrase that the other way around: I’m far too efficient at taking criticism and take it to heart way too much—that is, when I have poured my heart into something. I want to play Smiths songs all day long and curl up in the fetal position.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m pretty confident in my abilities. After all, I support my family by writing (my husband is a stay-at-home dad). But I think that particular kind of “career” confidence comes from learning to distance myself from most of what I write about. It isn’t that I don’t care about the topics. In fact, I love to write about things like running and good nutrition and beautiful gardens. I enjoy researching, interviewing experts and pulling stories together, and I want to make sure that I do the best job I can on every assignment. I have no problem with edits, and when it comes to service-based stories or corporate copywriting projects, I don’t get married to the language of anything. If an editor tells me I missed the mark, I’m not going to cry and stress (too much); I’m going to take a deep breath and fix it. That’s because these pieces-for-hire rarely reflect the essence of me. They’re my job. They’re not who I am. (Personal essays are the exception to this, of course, and I have one coming out that is keeping me up at night, if you want to know the truth.) A reader doesn’t like my story on interval training? As long as my editor likes it, the reporting is sound, and I’ve done my job, I don’t so much care. The reader’s opinion is valuable, but I don’t take it personally.

But writing Sew Retro has been a whole other matter, where every single reader comment feels intensely personal! Having it out there is absolutely terrifying, because the book is a huge piece of me. It’s my (other) baby: it was this little seed of an idea, and I nurtured it and stayed up with it and listened to it have tantrums, and finally, it was ready to leave the nest (pardon the gooey, overly sentimental metaphor: I’m pregnant and hormonal!). As the reviews come in on blogs and on Amazon, I hold my breath every single time I start reading. Good comments make me smile (and thank you for all those good comments!), but then I’m on to the next thing.

It’s the biting comments that I can’t shake, and I find myself reading over and over again. I read a negative comment and think, “That’s it. I’ve failed. I’m terrible.” Of course, that feeling goes away eventually, but man, it’s crushing for those minutes or hours or days. For me, dealing with the negative criticism is an exhausting cycle: first, I’m mad at the reviewer (“you freaking idiot, you don’t know what you’re talking about”); then, I’m worried what others will think (“everyone will think my book is terrible and it will wind up in the sad 1/2-price bin!”); then starts the second-guessing (“what was I thinking, writing a book? Who am I to write a book? I’m ridiculous!”), and finally, finally, finally comes the acceptance (“hmm, okay, so this person didn’t like it. No big deal. You can’t please everyone.”)

I need a way to get to the final stage of acceptance and moving on much more quickly! I wonder if other authors go through this too, and if it’s more exacerbated with craft books, where the essence of your creativity is really out there, completely up for discussion and debate? I’d love to know how other authors/designers deal with this!

 Until then, cue Morrissey (“please, please, please, let me get what I want this time . . .”).



 
Picture
  I often get asked about how I sold the idea for Sew Retro, so I thought I’d do a two-part series about selling craft book proposals. I know a little something about the process since I just went through it. But I also wanted input from the people working in the industry every day, so both my agent and the acquisitions editor I worked with at my publisher were kind enough to take the time to answer some questions. Today, I’ll offer some tips from my agent, Joy Tutela, who’s been an agent for over a dozen years and represents the bestselling knitting book Mason-Dixon Knitting among other craft titles.  

Using an Agent
Before we even get to the tips, I wanted to address the process of working with an agent. Not all authors use agents—you certainly don’t have to. But for me, using an agent was a no-brainer. I knew that I didn’t know the book industry well enough to negotiate smartly. I also didn’t know who was who, and which publishers/acquisitions agents I should target (and I didn’t want to spend the time intensely researching it). I also wanted feedback on my proposal. Plus, my agent and I just clicked, and she really believed in the project (I can’t stress enough how important this is). So why do authors sometimes go it alone? Money. The agent takes 15 percent of the advance and royalties (you don’t pay them directly; checks come to the agency on your behalf and the agency takes their cut and then re-cuts the remainder of the check for you). But I found it a smart trade-off and it made good business sense to me. Plus, once you develop a strong working relationship with them, agents can be great at finding work for you.

Strong Ideas

So, back to the process of selling your craft book idea! That’s actually the first point to make: you need a CLEAR IDEA and a clear sense of what your projects will be, and that should be spelled out in the proposal. “The projects always have to be of quality, and should be interesting and new,” Tutela says. Don’t bother completing every single project in the proposal stage; instead, pour your energies into creating a strong showing of selected ones, which could be either one completed chapter or a sampling of projects across the different chapters. (Tune into the next installment for tips on how to present your projects to publishers in the proposal stage.) Your proposal also needs to show how your idea is a good fit in the current market, and have a strong “why now?” component—such as a new approach to an old craft, a different twist on techniques, or a growing niche demographic. Some books, like Sew Retro, have a strong narrative component. But all craft books don’t need this. Tutela says there is still plenty of space for straight project books—it just depends on the publisher and what they’re looking for (which is why it’s handy to have an agent who knows how publishers like to fill out their book lists).

Strong Platform

Tutela stresses that one of the main things an author needs is a pre-existing audience, whether through a well-read blog (20,000 to 30,000 unique visitors a month will likely impress a publisher), through speaking engagements, through a brick and mortar destination store, or through a strong Etsy shop. “They need something that puts them in front of potential consumers of craft products—something that shows that when the book comes out, they’ll have the opportunity to be heard,” she says. This is often the most challenging part of selling a book—not only do you need the idea, but you need to show that you’ll be able to sell books. In my case, it wasn’t that I had a blog or a shop at the time; rather, I think it was that I had good connections at craft/shelter publications and web sites, and that I was consistently publishing articles about crafts/DIY/ and decorating—and I shaped that into a platform.

 Writing Matters

Even though craft books are visual in nature, the writing still matters—a lot. “You need clear instructions and good writing. If you can’t deconstruct what you do, find a good technical writer who can,” Tutela advises. She says that there is nothing wrong with positioning yourself as the “idea” person, and then bringing in different people with different expertise for other areas (like design or technical work). Just make sure that you are transparent and upfront.

 Think Digital

Print isn’t dying, but digital is booming, and print can’t ignore it. Embrace digital in all its applicable forms, Tutela says: videos, multimedia slide shows, podcasts, blogs, etc. If you’re not comfortable with digital, educate yourself and get comfortable, because it’s not going away. “Recently, I have addeda new requirement: a section all about digital play, where the author talks about things like how-to videos or other digital applications. It’s all about how consumers can interact with the community that’s reading the book and how can they have a value-added experience through digital enhancement,” Tutela says.

 Embrace the Crafting Community

The crafting world truly is a community: book authors support and reference each other constantly. That’s somewhat unique to the craft book world. Get familiar with who is who, (humbly) find your place in the community, and always be generous. “The best craft books are seeking to inspire the reader to get the techniques by doing the craft in the book. But it’s really only a launching board for the reader to figure out their own artistic position,” she says. Think of your craft book as part of a larger discussion and experience—not as the be-all and end-all of everything.

Realistic Expectations

Lastly, keep it real. Writing craft books won’t make you rich. It doesn’t have to bankrupt you either, of course. But keep your expectations about advances realistic, Tutela says. “You really need to understand the costs of things like photography. It’s a huge investment for publishers, and they tend to be fairly modest in supporting these books today,” she says. “I don’t think anyone should set out to write a craft book to make a lot of money; it has to be part of an overall strategy about where they want to be in the craft marketplace, whether it’s lecturing/teaching, or having a business/studio that relates to their book.”

So there you go: some advice to get you started on your craft book proposal journey. In the second part of this series, I’ll bring you tips from the acquisitions editor I worked with at Voyageur, as well as some links to more information about writing and selling craft book proposals.