Writing a picture book © 2007

By

Shirley Parenteau

LUNCH WITH AN EDITOR

To many of us, an editor is like one of those people with clipboards outside trendy clubs. If you’re not on their list and don’t impress them as media-worthy, good luck in getting past them into the rarefied world of the published. If there is proof in this comparison, it’s because in today’s publishing world, the last word on purchases is largely in the hands of marketing.

The days of an editor like Maxwell Perkins nurturing a talent are largely over. A writer must prove herself with sales. Over and over.

So lunch with one of the guardians of publishing’s door can be unnerving.

A few tips: First, wear comfortable shoes.

It took me a surprisingly long time to realize that New York editors expect to walk. There was the downhill trek from a Seattle conference hotel to a café in the Pike Place Market and back, for example. What was I thinking when I set out in high heels?

The editor of my first children’s book was not a New Yorker. But when she flew from Chicago and suggested we meet for lunch in San Francisco, she also suggested a tour of Fishermen’s Wharf, complete with nearby hilly streets.

I should have known better when I met my Harlequin editor at her office in New York City, but yes, I wore a business suit and heels. She took me on a long, fast walk to a favorite restaurant, on the way pointing out the Chrysler Building and the headquarters of the United Nations.

Small town girl that I was, I feared she would get us both killed by hurrying into traffic before the pedestrian light signaled okay. She was far from alone. Apparently New Yorkers notice when the opposite cross signal changes and confidently anticipate their own light change.

Another editor impressed me in Washington D.C. by stepping into traffic and whistling down a cab. Words burst from me, “Wow! A New Yorker in action.” She looked at me. “What?” (Blush).

Long story short—if you’re going to lunch with an editor, make a point of wearing comfortable shoes.

Tip Number Two: Order wisely. I prefer to play safe by following the editor’s lead in price range. Beyond that, take a moment to picture your selection. Lunch with an editor can bring out the klutz in the best of us. Will your choice drip from a fork onto your blouse, leap from the plate when you try to cut into it, possibly onto your editor’s lap? Personal tip: Look out for those tantalizing gourmet stacks of vegetables perched one on top of the other.

Can you eat your entrée easily? Pasta is not only unwieldy or slippery, but usually comes in a sauce certain to spatter at the worst moment. Soup is another dish best approached warily.

Tip Number Three: Keep in mind you’re there to talk, not gorge. You don’t want to be chewing a mouthful of something when she asks about your next book.

If you’re still an aspiring writer, you probably won’t be meeting for lunch, but may well schedule a conference interview. Relax. Forget the guardian with the clipboard. See her as the hardworking and likely underpaid and underappreciated employee that she is. Yes, she hears a lot of pitches for hopeless projects, but her job depends in part on finding and recognizing an occasional diamond when it surfaces through the glittering bits of semi-precious stones surrounding it.

A popular children’s writer told her workshop years ago during Duane Newcomb’s Sierra Writing Camp, “When you meet an editor for lunch, excuse yourself to use the ladies’. She’ll probably decide to go with you. Take the next stall and you listen. You’ll hear that she’s as human as you.”

This sounds a bit extreme and obviously, you must both be women, but if you’re overawed by editors, it’s an image to even the playing field.

In my wide-eyed editor-fearing early years, I squandered more opportunities than I like to remember in social chitchat. How did it benefit me to discuss Paul’s commute or Joyce’s family? I was too nervous to remember I wasn’t there to make nice, but to learn.

What should you talk about? If it’s an interview set up to pitch your book, the answer is obvious. Well, not obvious, but the effort needed to refine your book into a one-sentence synopsis of the sort that sells movies needs a column of its own. (Basically, think TV Guide capsule summaries).

But what if you’re meeting over a casual coffee or happen to meet during a conference mixer? Or you’re seated next to an editor with eight or so others at a conference meal?

Do not pitch your book unless asked. This is especially important at a shared lunch or dinner table. If you insist on describing the plot of your book, everyone else at the table will resent you—they all have projects close to their hearts, too. Worse, the editor will remember that you put her on the spot.

On the other hand, try not to sit there like a deer caught in headlights. (And for those who know me, I hear you snickering. This is a case of “do as I say, not as I do.”) Have questions ready that will benefit everyone at the table. Here are a few suggestions:

What is the editor working on that especially excites her?

What project did she fall in love with during the past year?

What was her biggest success so far? How did that book come about?

Where does she see her publishing program going over the next couple of years?

Has she visited the Frankfort Bookfair? What did she do there?

What does she consider to be a successful web site? Has she visited any that particularly impressed her?

Any of these should start the entire group talking. Bon appetite!

I would love to hear your feelings on this subject or on any other aspect of writing for children.  Questions? Thoughts you’d care to share?  Please email me at shirleyp@softcom.net.

My web site just went live! It’s a bright, happy place. Come and visit! Bring the kids! Bring your own inner kid! You’ll find me here: www.shirleyparenteau.com.