Interview with writer / editor / columnist

Bev Vincent

“Writing for wealth is like stubbing your toe consecutively  on the same stool.”

Everyone who writes has a reason for writing. I write as a means to satisfy a need to create and express. Some write to release the howl of their inner demons or to speak out against or for some principle in hopes of making a difference. Whatever reason, a writer should never approach the craft with the intent of becoming wealthy and famous. For many that do, great disappointment follows.

To shine a light on the subject of writing, I have arranged for Cold Coffee readers to hear the words of a published author whose path to the top might give hope to all of us who aspire to master the craft. This writer lives in Texas, where he writes novels, short stories and essays, as well as a column for the well-known magazine, Cemetery Dance. His path to Texas and the writing success he has achieved mirror each other in that they were both long journeys.

CC: Welcome to Cold Coffee, Mr. Vincent. I would like to expose readers to you and your work but also to your view on the writing business. According to your web page, you were born in New Brunswick and lived in Nova Scotia, Switzerland, and now Texas. Have your travels helped you become a better writer?

BV: Thank you for having me. Do you offer hot refills?

I don’t think my travels and the places where I’ve lived have helped me become a better writer—only writing more, learning through practice, studying how other people work, and having an open mind about how to improve can do that. However, my travels have provided me with tons of local color and a broader worldview that allow me to create credible and diverse settings. I have set stories in all the places I’ve lived, as well as in many of the exotic places I’ve visited around the world, from Switzerland to Hong Kong to Australia.

CC: As I stated, I write to create and express. Why do you write and what is your motivation?

BV: I like to tell stories—it’s a simple as that. I don’t have a master plan or a long-term goal that drives me to the keyboard each day. I get up each morning eager to write. It’s an enjoyable way to pass the time. I don’t have themes I’m compelled to express or any particular message I’m burning to impart. Messages and themes may arise in individual works, but they aren’t something I’m conscious of as a motivation for what I do. In that sense, I’m very holistic. Often I don’t discover what a story is about until after I’ve written it.

CC: I would feel disheartened if I were to discover that I was the only writer in America who had to work a day job. At this point in your life, does writing provide you with a means to sustain your lifestyle or do you have to work a day job too?

BV: I never say I “have to” work a day job. I have two jobs, one that I do from 5 AM until 7 AM each day and one I do from 8 AM to 5 PM Monday through Friday. I enjoy each of them for different reasons. If I regarded the day job as something I had to endure so I could write, I would grow to resent it. I’ve worked for the same company for nearly two decades. It’s been a major and enjoyable part of my life. It’s where I earn most of my money, but it’s also the place where I’ve grown and matured as an adult, and where I have most of my social interactions outside the home.

I know a lot of writers…and I know a lot of writers who have day jobs. I don’t know many who can sustain themselves solely through writing—especially through writing fiction. It’s not my goal to do so. The only way I would ever consider writing full time is if I were to get to a place where I was publishing novels through major publishers on a regular cycle. One per year, for example, like many bestselling authors do. Anything other than that—say, a nice two-book deal—wouldn’t be enough, because there might never be another deal after that, and even a very nice two-book deal isn’t going to carry me through to retirement. I’m pragmatic about the writing business. I make some money from it, but if it never became my primary source of income, I wouldn’t be heartbroken.

CC: What was your inspiration to write your book, The Road to the Dark Tower?

BV: I’ve been writing about Stephen King’s works in one way or another for a number of years, primarily through my column “News from the Dead Zone” in Cemetery Dance magazine. People would ask me when I was going to write a book about King, but I’ve never had any interest in writing a book about King. There are enough unauthorized biographies out there already, even if I were inclined to write something like that, which I’m not.

As for a book about his work, his published oeuvre is so massively daunting that I wouldn’t know where to start to examine it all. However, when I heard that King was going to finish his Dark Tower series, I realized that it was a kind of microcosm for his complete work. The series is small and manageable, only seven books, but its tentacles permeate much of his other work. I thought that, by exploring the Dark Tower series, maybe I could find something meaningful to say about the bigger picture.

Besides, the Dark Tower series is a fascinating work, with its metafictional overtones and long publishing history. It’s as much a look inside the creative mind as On Writing.

CC: From a business aspect, what was required for you to write the companion book and how much input did Stephen King have on its writing?

BV: King’s major input into the project was providing me with the manuscripts for the final three books in the series two years before they were published. That was huge, because it demonstrated his faith in me and in the project, and it allowed me to get the companion completed early enough to be published soon after the final book in his series appeared. King was familiar with my style and approach through my Cemetery Dance column, so he knew what he was agreeing to, more or less, right from the outset.

He granted me blanket permission to quote from any of his works, and was available for questions from time to time, though I tried not to abuse that privilege. He’s a busy guy, so I mostly left him alone.

One reason he maintained his distance was that he didn’t want it to seem like he unduly influenced me or the work to avoid accusations that I’d pulled any critical punches. When the book was finished, he read the manuscript and did not ask for any changes. Finally, he provided a wonderful quote for the front cover of the book, a generous endorsement that made my publishers and me very happy.

CC: When did you first become a published writer and how many attempts did you make before you were successful?

BV: There are several different answers to this question from different stages in my life. My first published work was a play review I did for the local newspaper when I was in high school nearly thirty years ago. Then I was a newspaper reporter for two summers while I was in university, so I have scrapbooks full of clippings from articles I wrote back then. As a graduate student and later as a research scientist, I coauthored dozens of peer-reviewed articles in scientific journals.

More to the point, I started writing fiction seriously in 1999 and received my first acceptance letter from a semi-pro publication by the end of the year. Unfortunately, the magazine was more semi than pro and it folded before the issue that was to contain my story appeared. In 2000, I won a short fiction contest run by The Harrow and was paid what would have been considered pro rates at the time to publish it.

CC: I understand why some writers quit when I think about the sheer amount of rejection letters that are accumulated. Did you at any point in your career consider not writing any more and how did you overcome the disappointments?

BV: I’ve never considered not writing any more. One acceptance letter cancels out two dozen rejection letters, in my view. Wipes the slate clean. I’ve received enough acceptances over the years to maintain my confidence in my work. I know that I can write well enough. The only issue is whether I can write the kinds of stories that interest and attract individual editors. A rejection is simply a failure to connect with one person. I’ve published stories that have been rejected by over a dozen markets. I’ve published stories in high-profile markets that were initially rejected by royalty-only anthologies (and I’m thankful to those editors for rejecting the stories and making them available to the places where they were ultimately published!)

My approach is to have a lot of stories in submission at any given time. That way, rejection becomes routine. Hardly a week or two go by where I don’t receive a rejection letter. Eventually, it gets so that each one doesn’t sting as much. That’s not to say that they don’t sting at all, but they aren’t devastating. It’s just part of the business. I used to jokingly call a story submission “applying for a rejection letter.”

CC: I don’t think anyone will argue that having a Master in Fine Arts degree would help a writer achieve writing success but does not having one diminish ones chance of getting published?

BV: I can’t comment on your assertion. It’s not a statement I would ever think to make. I know many writers without MFAs—in fact I know only a few who have one. I don’t know enough about what the degree program entails to judge how it might enhance an individual writer’s ability to succeed. I have heard the counterargument, though, that such programs can stifle creativity. I simply don’t know one way or the other. All I can say is that I’ve never felt handicapped by not having one. What I have found helpful, though, is a course in classic literature I recently took at the local community college, which gave me an excuse to read some of the classics I’d never gotten around to. There’s a reason they’re classics, and why their themes continue to emerge in contemporary fiction.

CC: It’s no secret that great movies and books can, and often do, spring from comic strips. However, despite the public’s marvel with these films the spotlight is not always held by superheros and mutants. In fact, films like Steve Niles’s vampire wonder, 30 Days of Night and Robert Kurtzman’s direct to video, The Rage are just a couple examples of movies that either grew from a comic book or spawned one. Steve Niles wrote a book based on his comic, 30 Days but publishers passed on it until after the movie had seen success. Do publishers often pass on good books if they don’t see the possibility of a movie in them?

BV: I don’t believe publishers are driven by concerns about a book’s potential to become a film adaptation. Publishers are in the business of issuing books that people want to read. If the film rights are sold, the publisher might benefit financially from that down the line, but I don’t think many editors have that in mind when they’re considering a manuscript. Selling the film rights is a downstream process that doesn’t involve the acquisitions editor and often not even the publishing house.

CC: I’ve heard it said by some of your fellow writers at Cemetery Dance that some of the best horror stories were passed on by publishers due in part to their lack of length. Does a writer stand a better chance of being published by writing a fat novel even if the story might not be as good as a shorter version?

BV: Major publishers probably do have a fairly specific word range in mind for first manuscripts. Very short and very long books are problematic. If a book is less than 60,000 words, publishers believe that people will perceive that they are being cheated. By the same token, if a new writer arrives with a 300,000-word manuscript, even if it’s the next Lord of the Rings the book will have a high cover price and readers are already hesitant to take a risk on an unknown author without spending more money on one.

Editors are looking for reasons to reject submissions, so a savvy novice writer would do well to avoid giving them reasons, such as submitting very long or short manuscripts. Establish a track record before trying to go outside the traditional boundaries. These aren’t hard-and-fast rules, of course, but they’re something to keep in mind.

If you have something in the novella range, though, there are opportunities in the small press.

CC: I read where Stephen King wrote a short story titled “Memory” that he submitted to a magazine called Tin House and then, after seeing the short story’s success, turned it into a novel titled Duma Key. Do you think writers should follow Stephen King’s example and test the water with short stories and then expand them into novels if they do well?

BV: I don’t think people should follow Stephen King’s example as a way of succeeding in the business. King can get away with things that simply aren’t possible for most of us. He is the asterisk beside just about any situation you could think of. Besides, I’m not sure that your anecdote is strictly accurate. The story’s publication in Tin House wasn’t a momentous event. It didn’t win awards or garner much mainstream critical praise or notice. It’s likely that he always planned to write the novel and the short story was simply an excerpt he considered worth publishing by itself.

The success or failure of a short story isn’t indicative of an idea’s value for a novel. For example, King won the O. Henry Award for his short story The Man in the Black Suit. A prestigious award—but I doubt you’ll ever see a novel-length work based on that story. The idea was suited to its length. Few short stories can withstand being expanded to novels. They’re very different forms. One of the things writers learn is to recognize when an idea can sustain a novel and when it’s better suited to a shorter form.

CC: How did your relationship with Cemetery Dance begin?

BV: I started out as a subscriber of the magazine and an occasional purchaser of their books during the 1990s. I guess I established something of a reputation as a know-it-all about King’s projects during that time as well. After the magazine returned from a hiatus in 2000-2001, they decided they wanted to go in a different direction with the King news and reviews column that has been part of the magazine almost from its inception. Rich Chizmar, the publisher, asked me if I would be interested in writing it.

To date I’ve written 25 columns for the magazine, along with a number of feature articles, interviews, and book reviews. Rich has become a great friend, and he’s also published several of my short stories in the magazine, in CD anthologies and in chapbooks. He was the guy I bounced the idea of The Road to the Dark Tower off before I broached the subject with anyone else, and I was delighted when he decided to do a limited edition of the book.

CC: Does writing columns and articles for newspaper and magazines better an author’s chance of seeing his or her work published?

BV: There is some value in name recognition—having someone become familiar with your name and your writing ability. And writing regularly, especially for someplace that provides critical editorial feedback helps you improve your writing. But name recognition only gets you so far. That’s the myth behind the concept of “payment in exposure” –the belief that if editors have seen your name elsewhere they will be more inclined to consider your work when you submit to them. If an editor recognizes your name, she may bump your story a little closer to the top of the slush heap, but ultimately the work has to stand on its own. The only real way to improve your chances of being published is to write better.

What writing the column has done is gotten me advanced copies of books, movies and miniseries for review, and last spring it allowed me to visit my first movie set, The Mist, which was filming in Shreveport. Fun stuff. Cool stuff.

CC: What’s your thought on PODs and self-publishing houses like iUniverse and Lulu? Do you recommend them?

BV: POD is simply a technology used by numerous small presses. It is neither good nor bad but rather a tool that can be used well or poorly. The term is often used as if it were synonymous with self-publishing, but it isn’t.

I am not in favor of self-publishing. It’s used too often by people seeking shortcuts to get published. Very few people burst onto the writing scene fully formed and publishable from day one. Writing has a learning curve, and you only learn through practicing, listening to feedback, reading what works (and what doesn’t) and writing more.

The biggest problem with self-publishing is that it allows people to immortalize their works in print before they’re ready. There is a popular misconception among advocates of self-publishing that editorial feedback intrudes on the writer’s vision and impedes his ability to present his work as he conceived it. At its best, writing is a collaboration between the writer and an editor. Writers are too close to their work to see imperfections. Editors have enough emotional distance to spot things the writer can’t, and to suggest alternate courses for stories. I say “suggest” deliberately, because it is ultimately the writer’s responsibility, but many suggestions are worth considering. Most self-publishing houses don’t even proofread, let alone provide editorial feedback.

The net result of people publishing their own work without editorial oversight is that there is an awful lot of crap being “published”—I prefer to say “printed” because that’s closer to the truth. Also, because self-publishing outlets have no marketing plan and no distribution and, thus, no visibility, few people will ever get to see these works outside of the author’s immediate circle of family and friends. That probably sounds harsh, but there’s a reason why the publishing industry evolved the way it did.

CC: My first published work was picked up by a burgeoning magazine from an online writers community. Do you recommend writers who are just getting started become involved in an online writing community?

BV: There is some value in becoming part of a community, either live or online. The trick is in learning what advice to heed and what to ignore. Other writers may want to revise your work in their own image. They may object to your style. It’s far easier to find fault than to reinforce, so you need to have a fairly thick skin. Conversely, if everyone is just a cheerleader and hesitates to point out faults in your work, you won’t learn anything from the group. In my experience, people who start out in amateur critique groups eventually outgrow them. They reach a certain point where they know many or most of the pitfalls in their writing and the time spent with a critique group might be better spent writing. I now have one “first reader” who gives me valuable feedback on early drafts of new work, but beyond that I trust my own gut and the eventual response of any editors who see the finished product.

CC: How valuable are reviews from other non-published writers?

BV: If you mean critiques, then I think my previous answer covers that. They have merit, but you have to learn to pick the parts of a critique that apply to you and ignore the rest. If you mean formal published reviews, it’s difficult to make a blanket statement. Some reviewers—whether writers or not—are more perceptive than others.

CC: What weight if any does it add to a query letter that a story appeared in a self-published anthology?

BV: In my opinion, none. Credits from high profile pro markets might pique an editor’s interest, but beyond that, nothing has any real impact other than the story itself.

CC: I always have two or three story ideas in the works. What is the next novel by Bev Vincent going to be about and when can readers expect to see it?

BV: I’m currently finishing coarse revisions to the first draft of a crime novel. Once I’m finished with those, I’ll send the manuscript to my agent for his thoughts. If he likes it, there will be a rewrite period before he starts submitting it to publishers. In the absolute best-case scenario, if he can find a publisher, the book wouldn’t be out before 2010. However, I have a number of short stories in the pipeline before then. See my website, bevvincent.com for details.

CC: When it comes to seeking a literary agent, what are some pointers you can give readers to help them sign with the right one?

BV: First, do your research. Find a list of agents who represent the kind of work you’re likely to produce. There are books in the reference section of bookstores and libraries that list agents and their submissions guidelines. Look at the acknowledgements pages in books similar to what you’re writing—authors always mention their agents! Absolutely do your research. There are a lot of shady people out there presenting themselves as agents. Beware of anyone who wants to charge you anything up front, even something as mundane as a few hundred dollars to reproduce your manuscript for submission to publishers. A good agent will risk those expenses because he gets his cut once he’s sold the manuscript. Beware of anyone who wants to hook you up with an editing service. Check out the agent’s website to see what sort of sales they’ve made lately and be alert for warning signs, like the agent who has sold numerous projects only to a small press in Germany you’ve never heard of before.

Ideally, your agent should be a member of AAR, the Association of Author’s Representatives, and though the world has grown smaller metaphorically, he should be located in New York City.

Don’t e-mail queries unless their websites state that they may be contacted that way. Submit only what their guidelines specify. In some cases that will be only a cover letter at first. In others it will be letter plus synopsis. In others still, it will also include a few sample chapters. Always send chapters 1, 2 and 3, not chapters 5, 14 and 28, no matter how exciting they are. Don’t submit more than they want or you will disgruntle them, and the last thing you want is a disgruntled person deciding the fate of your work. Don’t be afraid to query numerous agents simultaneously. If you do them one at a time, you could be old before you finish the task!

Your relationship with your agent will be the most important one in your writing career, so make sure it’s a good fit. He’s one of the few other people on the planet who will be seriously vested in seeing you succeed as a writer, because when you succeed, both you and he profit. My agent has helped guide me editorially and is a wonderful source of moral support.

CC: Are literary agents necessary?

BV: Not absolutely necessary, but incredibly helpful. Literary agents do a lot of the pre-screening of work that editors who work for publishing houses used to do. Many publishers now only consider agented submissions, so if you don’t have an agent, you limit the places where you might submit your work. There are ways to get around this limitation—meeting editors at writing conferences is one way—but agents know what publishers are looking for, they know who’s working where and who has moved to a new imprint, all the sorts of insider knowledge that allow them to do their jobs better. A good agent will also help you negotiate a better deal with publishers and exploit all of the rights to your material in ways you might never have anticipated. I don’t begrudge a penny my agents earn from the work they’ve done on my behalf.

CC: I read where you were nominated for the Bram Stoker award and where other writers have either been nominated or won. This must be a great honor. Who distributes this award and what significance does it place on a writer’s career?

BV:  The Bram Stoker Awards are presented annually by the Horror Writers Association. My nomination was in the non-fiction category for The Road to the Dark Tower, but they also present awards for achievement in novel, first novel, short fiction, long fiction, anthology, single-author collection, etc. The nomination plaque occupies an honored position on the wall leading up to my office. I mention it from time to time in cover letters. It’s another credit.

CC: How does a writer who wants consideration for the award go about submitting their work?

BV: If you want to be considered for awards, write well and publish well, by which I mean publish in the sorts of places where your works are likely to receive attention. In the cases of juried awards like the International Horror Guild Awards, you might want to make sure each member of the jury receives a copy of the work you would like considered so it won’t slip under the radar. However, in general, I take a very laissez-faire attitude. If a work is award worthy, it will probably get noticed. If it doesn’t, c’est la vie.

CC: What benchmarks should today’s writers reach for before seeking publication?

BV:  I don’t think there’s any problem with trying to get something published early on, so long as you don’t settle for the “for exposure” or “royalty only” markets that do nothing for you except print whatever you send them to appease the needs of the ego. Aim high, right from the start, and don’t be discouraged if all you get at first is form rejections. The only way you’ll know you’re ready to play in the big leagues is to get accepted. Along the way, you may find yourself passing certain benchmarks. A hand-written scribble on the bottom of a form letter. An annotation that says “not for us, but we’d like to see something more from you.” These are signs of progress.

CC: I read Stephen King’s book, On Writing, and found it not only entertaining but extremely helpful and I can say the same thing about John Warner’s book, Fondling your Muse. Who were your guiding voices and was there a particular piece of advice that you took to heart?

BV: My guiding voices are the cumulative sum of everyone I’ve read over the past forty years. I don’t think I consciously emulate any individual writer. I’ve been influenced by Ray Bradbury, for example, but I would never try to write the way he does. I’ve read many of the great crime writers, from cozies to noir, but I don’t think I sound like any of them, and I can’t think of any specific pieces of advice gleaned from any of them. It’s mostly a process of assimilation. I’m a plant who has been watered by and drawn nutrition from all those who have come before.

CC: It’s become a Cold Coffee tradition to ask the people I meet if they have any advice they would like to share with those they inspire. For all the readers who long to write, become better writers, and or hope to one-day walk in the company of greatness, what is the best advice you can give?

BV: Write all the time. If you write a mere 500 words every day, you could produce enough material for two novels every year. Do your homework constantly to make sure you are sending material to appropriate and suitable markets. Avoid taking the easy way out and settling for a non-paying market. Never, ever pay anyone to publish your work. The adage we all live by is “money flows toward the writer,” and that holds true in seeking an agent, a publisher, or a market for a short piece of fiction.