Why would anyone chose to take on all of the necessary functions of a publishing house when they really didn’t have to?
For starters, publishers want a book which will sell twenty million copies. Now you may very well have written a book that will sell thirty million copies and if so then traditional publishers will cheer and start fighting over you. That’s what advance auctions are all about.
But if you are a first time novelist like moi, then the likelihood is you will sell maybe a hundred copies. Harsh but oh so true. The public just doesn't know about you and they don’t trust you and they don’t love you so they’ll head right to the latest James Patterson novel and so would you.
Oh come on, when you are looking through the new releases at Amazon, you start by picking out a writer you know. After all if you know them and you liked their last book odds are you will like their new book.
Then you look at the cover.
Yes, it is just like the flashing lights on a slot machine, dazzling and wild and so fascinating and you just love to watch. And if you think for one moment this isn’t true, just look at all those Robert McGinnis Carter Brown books. Sure when you were fourteen you were totally devoted to quality literature and never allowed yourself to be hijacked by a sexy cover. Yeah, that’s why every actress under eighty posts a new bikini selfie every other day.
Now I don’t mind, either Robert McGinnis covers or new bikini selfies, Heidi Klume could post more, but that doesn't do much to attract sales for your book, unless you happen to have a Robert McGinnis cover.
So you really do have to devote some thought to what you are going to use and how polished you can make it cause it is the biggest calling card you’ve got.
Then there’s key words. No I had no idea what they were either. Turns out you have to select five key words to direct folks to your story and if you don’t choose wisely you will drink from the wrong challis and turn to dust like the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.
But then you have to guess what the best five words might be. Yodel is a good word, but it won’t attract much attention. And much as it pains me to say so dirty, filthy sex is great but might attract the wrong sort of attention.
Key words—I’ve fought with it and fought with it and so far the best one for my book is Runyonesque.
And what precisely is Runyonesque? It means pertaining to Damon Runyon and his New York stories specifically the touts, gamblers, grifters and the like well, you know Guys and Dolls.
Fine, but and I know this will come as a surprise, not a whole lot of people know what Runyonesque is.
I did find the tern picaresque, another good term, the story of a rogue, usually of low or common birth. Coupla heavy hitters in this category, Tom Jones, Moll Flanders. Huckleberry Flynn, but they are literary and my book is I am proud to say, pulp.
No not self-denigration at all, I am a happy pulper, along with Erle Stanley Gardner, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Earl Derr Biggers, Sax Rhomer, a fellow named Hammett and my all-time idol, Maxwell Grant, (Walter B. Gibson) These guys wrote for a penny a word and turned out some of the most wonderful stories ever written. And their characters, Charlie Chan, Tarzan, Perry Mason, Dr. Fu Manchu, Sam Spade and the Shadow, who wouldn’t want to follow in their footsteps?
But publishers today see them as dated stories and not the sort of thing million sellers come from, so my throw-back story, full of dem guys and broads and gats just looks like poison to major publishing houses.
But if they looked a little closer they’d see that the story is about people and their relationships, how even the most desperate and downtrodden can make friends, contribute and become more than they seem.
So circling back to the first question, why would someone take on all of the chores of publishing, promoting, believing in a book that clearly no one wants? Because I do. And I believe that if people meet King and his boys, Harry, Dakota, Moose, Moll the Doll, and Big Dore they’ll have one helluva time and want to spend a few hours in the dark and dirty streets.
King picked up the sack that held the can. “I guess these are yours. I’m glad to be rid of them. I don’t like so much excitement.” He handed the sack to Dore.
Moll swatted the big man on the back of his head.
“Julian?”
“Yeah, right Moll, I know what to do.” He gave Moose the sack. “Look, Mr. King, Moll and me we’ve been talking. She, I think you cleared up a big mess that could have gotten way out of hand so I think I owes you for what you done. Now being as how you is an independent sort of man, I won’t give you no job or nothing like that. You need your free time. But I do have something I think will come in handy.”
Moose fished in his pocket and handed Dore a key.
“Me and Moose had us a talk with the boys at the Steak Out. They think that they ain’t done right by youse. So from now on, you want to eat with the swells, you got a table. You want a private party? You go to the front door, the back door, whatever and you tell’em and they’ll bring it anywhere you want it. You want a picnic? They’ll drive you there, they’ll spread the blanket and they’ll sing sweet songs for your dining pleasure. And because I know you lost your home helping me out, I think youse should get a new one from Snorky. So, here are the keys to his Cadillac. I’m having the boys park it in the alley behind the Steak Out.”
King looked up. “Look Dore, this is real nice, but I don’t need a car.”
“Think of it as a new house. It has more room than a...?”
“Crate,” Moll nodded.
“Yeah, right, a crate. The boys are gonna come down once a week to wash and wax it for you. They are gonna check the battery and the oil and start it for you on Saturdays. And if they miss one meal or don’t show up to wash your house, me and Moose is coming back and there will be a change of management at the Steak Out, see?”
But King was already thinking about his new house. Windows and leather seats and he could store his treasures in the boot, but his face clouded, “What happens if Snorky comes back?”
“He ain’t coming back.”
“How do you know?”
“Julian, ixnay opcay niay hetay extnay oomray.”
Dore looked at Moll with a blank expression and she kicked him in the shin, very hard.
“Oh, right Moll. Moose had a talk with him, right Moose?”
“Right, Boss. He said he’d like to put down roots and maybe get a little plot of land and he don’t need the car no more,” Moose folded his arms across his chest.
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