Securing a deal with one of the many esteemed editors at publishing houses like Knopf or Doubleday or FSG seems like fulfilling a kind of New York–specific American dream. Visions of six-figure contracts, KGB readings and TV appearances dance through writers’ heads. Even better: no more office, no more boss.
“But then, it could completely disappear and sell five copies,” added Ms. McLaren whose own book was published to little fanfare as a paperback original in the States this spring. “And you’ll never be heard from again. You’ll disappear. And that’s the real risk of writing a book.”
The above quote is taken from an article about poor authors with book contracts and thirty to forty grand a year to live on. I feel for them, really, I do. I wouldn't lie about this. I mean, imagine not being on Oprah. Imagine if your book was published by the independent press. That would be horrible. There would only be suicide for you after that.
Totally unrelated, Sean Wallace (oldcharliebrown) reckons Black Sheep will be out next week. Place your bets.
In fact, lets play a game:
Pick the publication date of Black Sheep.
Closest wins a copy of the book, assuming there is a copy to be given away, and alla that disclaimer business. Void in Tennessee.