I know a young writer. A very, very young writer. This is unusual. Most writers are old. Very, very old.
Cade is determined to be a mystery author. He’s bursting with ideas. Some are pretty good. Or at least pretty gruesome. But this is mystery writing, and in mystery writing people die in athletic ways. And with remarkable frequency. Write what you know, is the old adage. Mystery writers creep me out.
Barely out of college, Cade has a degree in business, and works as a Systems Analyst for giant credit card company. I asked him what systems he analyzes. He pursed his lips. I don’t know, he said. It’s just a title. Well then whaddaya do? I put data into a program, he says. Right now it’s about former credit card holders in Maine, where they live, how much money they make, all that. Then I send the file to my boss.
“What’s your boss do with it?”
“I have no idea.”
Probably no one does, even the boss. Cade isn’t really interested in what his company is doing. He’s into writing. My kind of young person.
Every week or so he’s got a few more pages to examine. He’s definitely improving. At first, the reader had no idea what’s going on. Now you know what’s going on, but don’t care.
We’re all a work in progress. I ask what he is reading. Or not reading, because Cade is a one-writer reader, and that writer is Stephen King. He wants to be the next Stephen King, and although I can’t applaud the writing, I can applaud the results. Stephen King sells books like McDonald’s sells hamburgers. Probably made the same way too, but now I’m just being snarky.
As a more mature writer, or at least older, I tend to look at the big picture. My fear, I told Cade, is you will get as good as Stephen King, and be ignored. How is that possible? he asks.
Oh, it’s possible. Think about it. You’re one of thousands, even millions, all waving manuscripts. Agents don’t need manuscripts. They have plenty of manuscripts, from insiders like academics, social media stars, entertainment employees, celebrities, journalists, editors and publishers, even other agents. Agents write books, too. Which is probably why they’re agents.
Which leads me to the best advice I can give Cade, or any other aspiring novelist. Learning to write superbly, laudable in and of itself, won’t get you published. Any perusal of new releases confirms that. There’s not much good writing. But all the authors have an in, whether as academics, social media stars, etc.
The key to success? Become an insider.
“Have you thought about working in the industry?” I asked Cade.
“Whaddaya mean?” He’s picking up my lingo.
“Go to work for Penguin Random House. Or Disney. They must use Systems Analysts.”
“I suppose.”
“Then when you’re ready, or at least have a finished manuscript, you’ll have someone’s ear.”
“But if I write a great novel, won’t I have someone’s ear?”
No.
Working in the industry is the key. Cade said he’d think about it, but I could see what he really thought. He’s young and idealistic, with plenty of time for mistakes. I’m just some old grouch. I suppose I could have told him to marry, or at least date an agent. That sounds less brutal. But first you have to find the agent, and now it’s back to square one.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com