The Minnetonka Salty Pickle Award Strikes Again

I know you've said it before: if it's self published, don't mention it. Self publishing is imaginary publishing. But what if that imaginary-published book won a not-imaginary award? Can you mention it then? If so, do you mention that it's self-published or do you just say something along the lines of "My book, TITLE, won the 2010 Real Award,"?

Yes, that would be fine. Congratulations! But before you skip off to put that in your query letter, are you sure the award isn't imaginary?

And the Minnetonka Salty Pickle Award Goes to....

I just got my publicity questionnaire from a large house, and I noticed that it doesn't ask questions about specialized publications that might review my book, or specialized awards that my book might be a good candidate for. ("Specialized" meaning specifically related to the topic of the book, as opposed to standard children's lit stuff.) Will they be offended if I share this information? How do I find out if they are willing to follow up on it? Should I give the same info to my editor?
Also, is it normal that the publicity contact would not want to give the author a list of the reviewers who have been sent advance copies?

Ah, awards. It seems like there are more and more out there.
I was recently asked by one of my authors to submit her book to an "award" that, upon investigation, we found to cost $200 to enter and which runs out of some RenFair in West Virginia.

That answer was no.

So your answer is: maybe. There are smaller, more specialized awards out there that we wouldn't mind submitting to (the Giverny, for instance). But it depends a great deal on:

1. How much does it cost to put a book in the running? The Newbery, for instance? $0.00. We just send books to the committee.
Some legitimate awards have entrance fees, but an entrance fee does and should always make me think twice.

2. How many people will hear about the winners of the award? Some "award" winners will be noticed only by the 212 other people who submitted a book for one of the 16 different "awards" certain charlatans are giving out. And when the entrants have each paid $200 to enter, I'm guessing the award's organizer is awarding himself a Bahamas vacation.
I also don't care if a small but earnest group of Rocky Mountain hicks wants to give an award. Know who awards mean the most to? Teachers and librarians. Will they hear about the award?

3. How good will such an award sound if we put it on the book jacket or in the marketing materials? "The Podunk Vermont Award for Excellent Depiction of a Bovine" is not something we want to publicize. "The Willa Award for Women Writing the West" sounds a hell of a lot more like something you'd buy, doesn't it?

So no, they won't be offended, but do phrase your email to them in a way that says you're not trying to tell them how to do their jobs. Something along the lines of "Here are some awards you might want to consider entering my book for. Would you let me know which, if any, you decide to pursue? Thanks much, your author." It doesn't hurt to copy your editor on that correspondence.

It's normal that Publicity wouldn't want to give names of reviewers, yes. But which publications they sent review copies to isn't any secret. They're very, very busy, though. If you just haven't heard from them, in my experience it's because they've sent the book to everybody who counts and they don't understand why you can't just wait to see who does or doesn't review your book.

(I know, the waiting is terrible. Authors and the waiting are a bad combination. Keep yourself busy however you can.)

CSK: Redux

First, I want to thank everyone who has participated in this conversation. The people who have commented here, who have commented on other blogs, and who have emailed me directly have all helped me think harder about this, and explore the issue that was bothering me—and which I now see should really be approached as several issues.

As you know, I’m not the first to raise these concerns.
Marc Aronson, Esme Codell, and Mitali Perkins have all been a part of this discussion ahead of me, and Andrea Davis Pinkney’s thoughts are not to be missed.
I hope, however, that I have something to say that will add a little this debate.

As the primary award for black authors/artists and black topics in the industry, the CSK weilds a psychological force on the industry's ideas about who deserves recognition and for what, and I think that by trying to serve two masters, the CSK is in effect diminishing both its objectives.

Issue 1: There Are Too Few Black Authors and Illustrators in Children’s Books
No argument. But… thus, we need an award honoring black authors and illustrators?

When I think of this question in terms of other people, I see little harm and much value in the practice. I respect and admire the motivation behind wanting to laud outstanding members of a community that has a lot to be proud of—and which yet struggles with incohesiveness and disadvantage. I know the people who support the CSK are not my—or anyone else's—enemies. They are smart, sincere, and proactive people—people I am proud to call colleagues.

But… it's naive to think that the only effects the CSK has are the ones outlined in its description and mission statement. And when I think of this in terms of myself—putting myself in a parallel scenario, for instance being given an award for being a woman in a particular profession—then I do see the harm.

Women compete separately from men in athletic competitions because in terms of athletics, women have a handicap. Basing the CSK on race, I think, runs the very high risk of implying that the people contending for the award are handicapped in some way, so that they must compete separately. The prejudice that black people face in America today—whether the instances are deliberate or unwitting—is not their handicap. It’s America’s. I think it’s very important for all of us to keep making that distinction. Black participants in this debate can certainly never forget it—but they must remember to keep sending that message to others. Separate is not equal.

But let’s say that the CSK committee wishes to continue the practice of honoring black authors and illustrators separately. If the primary purpose of the award is to do this, then the CSK is doing itself a disservice in only allowing black topics.

If the goal is to have more black authors and illustrators in children's books (which I think is a wonderful goal), then that goal would be best served by recognizing work in any topic by black authors and illustrators.

Issue 2: There Are Too Few Black Stories in Children’s Books
Again, no argument. But if the primary purpose of the Coretta Scott King is to honor the publication and exploration of black topics, then the award is doing itself a disservice in only allowing black authors and illustrators.

If the goal is to have more multicultural and/or multiracial children's books published (which I also think is a wonderful goal), then that goal would be best served by recognizing work on that topic by any author/illustrator.

Issue 3: But Isn’t the Real Problem That There Are Too Few Minorities in Publishing?
This is a multiple choice question.
a. Yes.
b. God, yes.
c. Hell, yes.
d. Are you f***ing kidding me? Yes!

I would posit that it's this more than any other thing that keeps the number of minorities represented in books low. As many of you have intuited, this is not because the people in publishing are racist themselves—at least, not deliberately. The people I work with are kind, hardworking people who want to be responsible—socially, environmentally, personally. But that’s not to say they couldn’t use a little help.

Let’s be clear, though—the CSK, whether in its current form or in any other possible form, is not going to have any impact on this problem.

Want to do something about this? Initiatives to address the ludicrous dearth of anyone but upper-middle-class white people in children's publishing would be a tremendous thing for the industry. As has been pointed out before, internships are the gateway for many beginning editors, and no publisher can afford to pay its interns a liveable wage, if they pay them at all. Thus many people starting out in publishing are leaning on their families—and it’s relatively wealthy families that can support their children as they get started in publishing.

I would highly recommend a grant program for minorities who are applying for internships in publishing. Yes, that’s discriminatory, and can be called racism (or reverse racism, if you like). But I wouldn’t be against it. I think such an initiative would speak directly to what we all see as a problem.

If somebody wants to set up a grant program like this, I will pledge $1,000 of my own money toward it.

Issue 4: It’s Not That You Don’t Know What It’s Like To Be Black, It’s That You Can’t Know What It’s Like To Be Black
Here, I think, is one of our biggest problems, and the negative effect that the CSK doesn’t want to admit it’s having on publishing.

There are still plenty of people who think this—as one response to my original post wrote, “…hell, the CSK doesn't have to suggest that you cannot understand what it's like to be black in America unless you are black (for the record, that's not what the award suggests). I'll say it, because it's true.”

In a wider cultural sense, our progress towards a less divided nation is hurt by the attitude among many black people that others cannot imagine what it is to be black—and that to try—to want to go beyond sympathy to empathy—is not only foolish, it's disrespectful.

We who know the tremendous power of books to allow readers a complex and world-expanding experience of another person's point of view should know better than that. And we who hope for a world in which there is no separate-but-equal have to understand that the first thing to go has to be the 'separate' part.

I can bear witness where people outside of the publishing industry—and indeed where black people within the publishing industry—cannot: there are many people who are afraid to attempt to publish a book that describes current-day black experience without a black person to vouch for its authenticity (implicitly or explicitly) because of this attitude and the scorn and rejection such a book risks before it.

I strongly recommend inviting more people of other races into the fight to make black people an equal part of the American dream. Many people have posed the question of whether there is any intrinsic value in white people writing about non-white people. To them I say, Are you kidding me? The more people who are not like you want to know what it is like to be like you—and the more you praise and celebrate them for the effort—the better our world is going to be.

Many of the upper-middle-class white people in children's publishing would love to be more involved in this fight. But as the preeminent award around that issue, the CSK is implying that the only people worth recognizing for their efforts to tell black stories are black people, and the only stories worth recognizing black people for are black stories.

Fact vs Fiction, Men vs Women, and Brian Lies vs the World

How does an editor go about editing a nonfiction book? (e.g., does she read up on the topic, etc.?)

I'll send nonfiction out to be proofread and fact-checked, and possibly to a specialist for verification. Certainly if I acquired a book about a nonfiction topic, I'm interested in that topic--but I don't have the time to do the reading that would make me an expert. And anyone who is an expert in something knows that sometimes it's the people who have only done some reading that make the worst mistakes.

Why do men get more Caldecotts?

That's an interesting question. And by "interesting", I mean "something I am trying very, very hard not to jump to conclusions about".
If you want to look at the list yourselves, it's here. The score rests at 51 to 24, which in other arenas might be called a landslide. I honestly wish I knew why men have won 68% of the time, and if anyone has an explanation that doesn't involve name-calling, I would be so grateful.

Can you ever publish with more than one imprint at one house? (say, a picture book at Schwartz & Wade, a novel with Random House?)

Yes, of course.

What marketing efforts have made a difference to anyone? (website? school visits? signings?)

Who can read this question and not think of Brian Lies? I know it's disheartening, but in self-promotion it does seem that more is more. But off the cuff, my recommendations would be: DO: put up an attractive, easy-to-use, and informational website. It gets easier every year, and you can do it from home, so you really don't have an excuse. DON'T: enough with the cheesy bookmarks, ok?

What are your early Newbery, Caldecott, Printz picks? Who's got buzz?

I'm sure you realize how unpredictable the awards are. But if I have to name some names:
The Underneath
River of Words
The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks
The Trouble Begins at 8
We Are the Ship
...there are other front-runners, too. Sign yourself up for a mock if you're very interested.

How will the economy affect children's publishing? What's the climate like?

Nervous. Children's books are a bright spot for many publishers, though, and historically books fare better in economic downturns than more expensive entertainment (like movie tickets). So while we're all keeping a weather eye on the economy, we aren't building bonfires and discussing the end of publishing as we know it (I mean, not more than we normally do).

Is That a Statuette in Your Pants, or Are You Just Trying to Impress Me?

I have two related questions. Is there a point in time when an award becomes too old to mention in a query? I won an EdPress Award for children's fiction in 1996, but perhaps that's ancient history.

This is relative to the award's reknown, difficulty in winning, and influence on sales. Having won a Newbery in the 70's isn't jumping-up-and-down exciting, but it's still interesting. Having won your junior high's highest honor two weeks ago for this very manuscript is so unimportant I can't believe you care.

Question two is similar. Are some award nominations too tiny to mention? I assume state award nominations are noteworthy, but would an editor just guffaw if I listed something like the Cochecho Reader's Award nomination or the Gate City Award nomination?

Yes. Worse than guffawing, I would wonder why you're deliberately including material that I, your reader, have no context for and will not understand. It's like introducing one of your characters as a Flxioxan Green Wvbbl and leaving it at that. Just what the hell is a Van Nuys Rotary Club and why would I care that it loved your book?

So what you should do when determining which accolades to include is to consider (1) how many competitors you were up against in the running for this award (actual number), (2) how many judges there were and how close to the publishing or book-buying world the judges were (children's editors, agents, nationally syndicated book reviewers, and members of the ALA committees get 200 points each; published authors, editors and agents outside of children's books, and locally-important librarians get 100 points each; everyone else gets 5 points), and (3) how many sales the honor resulted in (actual number).

Add those three factors up. If you got a number under 2,000, I probably don't care. If you got a number under 1,000, I definitely don't care.

Yea, Verily, Coff Thee.

What were your favorite children's/YA books published in 2007. Why?

Which were your least favorite? Why?

Which books do you most look forward to reading in 2008?

Oh, these questions are always hard, because it means remembering what I've read.
I have a predisposition to smart ass writers, and at the top of that list would be The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian, Wednesday Wars, and The True Meaning of Smekday. Oh, and how about Spanking Shakespeare?
Elijah of Buxton was certainly awesome, but does not qualify for smart-assness.

A couple of my favorite read-alouds in picture books came from England this year: That Rabbit Belongs to Emily Brown and When a Monster Is Born. Frustratingly, the most prestigious picture book award in this country is not for whichever picture book became available to Americans in the past year and rocked. It's for illustration. I'd also like to point out the irony in the fact that a bunch of librarians (and don't get me wrong: fine, brilliant librarians) get to choose which picture book art is the best. As opposed to, say, people with a background in art.

Least favorites are even harder, because it means remembering books I started and never finished. It's also kinda unfair to complain by name about books you haven't read all the way through (though one or two do spring to mind).

The Newberys will be announced on Monday, but I'm already over them. Why? Because I've already read the best book of 2008, and it blows 2007 out of the water: Gary Schmidt's Trouble. Hie thee to a bookstore in a couple of months and coff thee a copy! It releases in April.