Here's an example of just some of the glamorous publishing things I've actually been up to in the last few weeks: dealing with the fallout of storms off the coast of Scandinavia, causing books to be delivered late into the warehouse; coping with the beast of Bodmin (I think) causing another printers' binding machine to give up the ghost just as another book is due for publication; having teeth pulling contract negotiations with various agents over small print hypothetical never-actually-going-to-happen situations; placating authors who want to make changes to their books after they have already gone to print; attempting to get an internet bookseller to change the information displayed on their various pages; debating why calling someone a 'nightmare' is libellous, but 'high maintenance' is ok.
After all that I just haven't had the energy left for all the hating and knife sharpening and back stabbing and whatever else it is I'm apparently meant to be up to. Not to mention that my sparkly dress is at the dry cleaners ...
Monday, 24 September 2007
From The Times on Friday: 'the usually sedate, dignified, slow-moving world of books is in uproar, transfixed by one of the bitterest and most gripping feuds to have affected the literary world. Phones are ringing off the hook, rumours are flying about rampantly, long-held grievances are aired as knives are sunk deep, and usually anonymously, into the backs of old rivals. “On the surface we all get on brilliantly, but on a personal level we all f***ing loathe each other,” as the editorial director of one of the country’s largest publishing houses cheerfully confided yesterday. “I’ll tell you everything but it’s career death if I go on record.' Goodness, publishing sounds exciting. Or does this journalist want to be a fiction writer, perchance?
Posted by Tom Bromley at 08:00