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For
many years, while I worked at a pretty lowly level in the Indian Express
chain of newspapers, the one thing that always drew a sharp reaction was
mention of my designation. “So, what do you do?” Barely audibly the reply, “I’m a sub-editor at
the Indian Express.” “SUB-editor!” the
response, loud and clear. When this happened
many times, I realized that most people thought the sub-editor came next
only to The Editor! No wonder they sounded impressed!
Today, when I have
become an editor, if not The Editor, in a children’s books company, and
when I tell people that we produce children’s books, the most common
response is silence, sometimes followed by, “Oh, a magazine, like
Chandamama?”
I suppose what this
means is that people now know that the production of children’s magazines
requires human intervention, but books? You write a book, it is published.
What else could it be?
But you don’t let
matters rest, you insist on explaining that no, these are not textbooks. And
then comes the final cut: “Oh, moral stories!” Well, you could jump up
and down and tear your hair in frustration, but that would only give
children’s books a bad reputation and that’s worse than no reputation.
Of course, this is the worst case scenario. Sadly, though, in matters
relating to reading materials for children, the worst case is the most case
as far as the general public is concerned.
As for many of those
who write and draw for children, an editor stands irritatingly between them
and the world. Editors are the devils at the door.
Nobody’s
even talking about the consumer, the child. Because the ones who control
these consumers are the ones who monitor the wallet: what to buy, why to
buy, when to buy, if to buy. And counsel, typically, not to buy. It
happens ever so often: a child at a book fair, holding tight to a book,
screaming he or she wants it, wants it. The parent drags the child away.
Occasionally, the parent takes a look at the book and then gives the child
any number of reasons why it is just not worth it. Often, the clinching
argument for the parent is the price. If all this fails, the parent diverts
the child’s attention to an information book, “at least it’s
useful”, then lets fly one last missile: “You have so many textbooks to
read, look at those first!” and physically removes the child from the
scene. That, as far as the parent is concerned, is that.
It’s true, it
happens all the time.
Books are definitely at a low premium in India. People complain that
children are watching too much television, they are not reading. But it
seems this is more because they themselves want to watch television at the
very moment their children are. Besides, not many of these complainants
themselves read anything other than the occasional magazine. Yes,
literacy is big in India. But we’re not talking reading bus numbers and
signing your name. We’re talking literature: books in which we find
ourselves, books that stay with us all our lives,
the classics, the eternal favourites: The Little Prince, Swami and
Friends, The Snow Goose…. Books that evoke creative responses
in the reader. Even the simplest picture book by the great ones — Maurice
Sendak, Raymond Briggs, Micky Patel, John Burningham, Pulak Biswas, Helen
Oxenbury, the Ahlbergs, Sybil Wettasinghe, Mitsumaso Anno — shape the sort
of adult we grow up to become.
In a 1999 interview,
Zimbabwean writer Chiedza Musengezi put the issue in perspective. She
bemoaned the fact that parents didn’t encourage their children to read,
and to read good books. She said they would spend priceless dollars on
fluffy, flouncy frocks and fancy suits for their children, but will stint on
buying books. “Books put words at our command,” she pointed out, which
makes for better citizens, more difficult to manipulate. She couldn’t have
put it better.
So, the first lesson for the potential editor is that attitudes describe and
prescribe the brief well before she or he has had a chance to have a go at
the job which begins right there, outside. It
starts with understanding what the world is like, with knowing that before
producing a book, one must also create a need for it, a taste for good
reading material. The editor must know that because children and their
reading are so low on peoples’ priorities, there is a glut in the market
of rank bad books that should not be seen. How does it matter whether the
traces of pesticide in fizzy drinks are large or small? What matters is that
they are harmful either way.
The editor steps into
the job knowing that he or she is responsible for the production of good
reading material, and that by ensuring their continuous production and
supply she or he will facilitate a change in taste and demand.
So what does an
editor do? Well, an editor takes a lump of moist clay, shapes it according
to its own energies, takes it in the directions in which it pushes, helps it
along until the lump of clay is ready to be fired as a water pot, a vase, a
votive offering… An editor takes an idea either buried or floating in a
loose-leaf manuscript through various transformations until it appears
shining and new as a printed book and then hands it over into the hands of
the reader.
It has been said that
books lying on the shelves of libraries are incomplete and sketchy, they
have no meaning on their own. They are only “references, allusions,
scribbles”. Many people believe that books come alive only when there are
readers. So in a sense, books have only half a life
after being created by a writer, readers bring to life the other half.
But in the fine space
between these two halves exists the full and challenging life of the editor.
What happens in this space is what the editor makes happen.
Broadly speaking, an
editor tests the waters and pushes for space, prepares the content, produces
the material, and works on strategies to reach the reader. In other words,
the editor, in India at any rate, and certainly in the smaller businesses,
functions at several levels simultaneously, shifting gears continuously in
the effort to negotiate a space for children’s books.
Most people have a
distinctly patronizing attitude to children. It’s not surprising, then,
that most people carry this attitude over to children’s books. Therefore,
one hat the editor wears proclaims: How to win friends and patronage.
The first step is to take a good, hard look at what’s in the market. Then
take a good, hard look at what you and your company stand for. What is your
profile? What are you looking for in children’s books? What are the
standards you wish to set? Who are the kind of authors and illustrators you
wish to have in your list? What are the kinds of titles you wish to create?
Focusing on strengths is the key.
But you never forget
the hat you’re wearing. So, you also speak about quality children’s
books at different fora so that you play your part in helping to create a
taste, a demand. In Tulika, we regularly have students from the National
Institute of Design, Ahmedabad, and the Srishti School of Art, Design and
Technology, Bangalore, interning with us. They work for anything between one
month to six on conceptualizing, visualizing, designing, producing —
depending upon the needs of each project. Others too have apprenticed,
either for the experience or out of interest. Other things being equal, they
end up with published books to their names, something we are proud of. It is
definitely a bonus to have young people, with new and fresh ideas, blowing
into our lives. Dialogue is the staple diet of an
editor. Interestingly, our experience has been that there seems
to be greater interest in children’s books among young people: in 2003,
three students of the Asian College of Journalism, Chennai, did their
dissertations on aspects of children’s literature!
Before we get into other aspects of an editor’s multilayered job, a
brief note on contracts. When a work is accepted for publication, one of the
first things is to put together a contract. This is an agreement between the
Author / Illustrator and the Publisher setting down terms and conditions:
that the work is original, that a certain royalty payment will be made, how
the manuscript or art work is to be presented, the time frame and so on. If
the author and illustrator are one person, there is one contract; if the
author and illustrator are two different persons, the publishers prepares
separate contracts for each one. Once the terms are found to be agreeable to
both sides, the contract is signed.
It goes without
saying that without written down content, there is nothing to read. So the
editor has to set about finding content. Content can be sourced from outside
or generated from within the publishing house. It may be solicited or
unsolicited. Sometimes, unsolicited material is easier to deal with. If the
idea / material fits in with the profile of the company, if it appeals to
the editorial team, then it’s easy to say yes, we’ll do this book. If it
doesn’t, then it’s not too difficult to deal with. But when a book or
project has been specifically commissioned by the editor / publishing house,
and when it does not meet the expectations and when — worse — it shows
no signs of ever meeting expectations, then the editor has to make the
difficult decision to rescind. Explanations have to be made, the contract
has to be cancelled. It’s not a pleasant business but there is no other
choice because you cannot compromise on the book, half-measures will not do.
Better then to accept that a mistake has been made and end that
relationship. Saying no is the most difficult thing
to do but an editor has to say it, gently.
Because editors work
constantly with words and ideas and ways of seeing, many of them eventually
evolve into writers, good writers, themselves. But a publishing house needs
more than editors who become writers. It needs many good writers. Sometimes
editors have to dig and dig for writers. Finding good writers, finding good
illustrators, designers, ideas people, printers…. all this falls within
the purview of the editor’s job.
But where do ideas
come from? Editors have this question thrown at them all the time. Well,
ideas come from everywhere: a film, a newspaper clipping, a conversation, an
experience, imagination, a scent, a memory…. Specifically, again, ideas
can be generated from within the publishing house and many more from
without. The thing, however, is to always find the right person for the
right idea… and vice versa… The editor’s nose and eyes and ears have
to work extra time.
There is a school of
thought that you cannot give someone an idea and say ‘write’. Maybe. But
that idea can spark off a train of thought and it is possible to work at
writing so that your words work out the idea…. With regular doses of
assessment by the editorial team / editor.
Okay,
so now we have a manuscript. After it has been accepted and a date has been
set for its publication, another careful reading is done for consistency of
detail and style, for missing information, and so on. Then it has to be
copy-edited for spelling, punctuations, consistency and so on.
Publishing houses
generally follow what is called a house style. These are basically editorial
guidelines such as whether to use single quotes or double quotes, to go for
the z spelling or the s, what kind of indents to use for paragraphs, and so
on. Of course, the nature of the book may also dictate the style, and these
vary from company to company, although there are some publishing conventions
that are practiced all over the world.
With children’s
books, there are usually illustrations, and very often, pictures have to be
commissioned after the text. Finding the right illustrator becomes the next
task, after a discussion with the writer on what kind of illustrations would
be most appropriate. Of course, this is subject to change depending upon
many things, including the illustrator’s inputs as well as decisions on
size of the book, format, colour, purpose and so on.
Illustrators have to
be given clear instructions, and we tend to work with them very closely.
Often ideas and styles evolve as we go along. The pictures for
the first four titles in our
series Under the Banyan were done by a student of NID, Mugdha Shah, as part of
a project.. These were folktales from
different regions of India. One day we had the bright idea that the
illustrations should also be linked to an art style typical of the region
from where the story was taken. Mugdha had to do a lot of research into art
forms. But her sun-princess in the very first book, Eyes
on the Peacock's Tail, turned out to be way too much of a stereotypical princess to suit the contemporary feel of Vayu
Naidu's (the author's) tone. Clearly there was a lot more work to be done.
Other examples of
editorial intervention making a difference abound. For instance, who
doesn’t know Eric Carle’s work? His The Very
Hungry Caterpillar must be among the best known children’s
books in the world. Yet, did you know that it was originally going to be
called A Week with Willi Worm? When Eric Carle showed it to the
editor, (Ann Beneduce) she suggested making the worm a caterpillar, even
though when he showed it to her, it was in dummy form, hole in the center
and all! When he first showed her 1,2,3 to the Zoo
(1968), a conventional counting book, Ann
looked it over and said, “There are many children’s counting books. We
have to give this something extra to take it out of the ordinary. You can do
it!” This something extra stayed with Eric Carle in all his work.
There is very little
critical literature about children’s literature or magazines. Much of it
learned from other cultures and experiences. Much of it is gut feeling. And
much of it is good advice well received. For instance, I would never presume
to know anything about children. Because, for one thing, each child is an
individual. And in India, which boasts a plethora of cultures, languages,
experiences, expectations, each child is even more individualistic. So
when, Mahasweta Devi says to us that she respects a child just the way she
respects an adult, that’s one to be absorbed into our editorial
consciousness. When Libby Hathorn advises us never to test our stories with
children, they’ll tear your confidence to shreds, that’s another useful
insight to ingest. For the rest of it, we do what we believe in. We know
that if we want to create a generation or generations of good, discerning
readers who will grow into good literature in adulthood, we need to give
them good literature in childhood. Literature is a continuing process:
It’s not as if children’s books end at age 16 and literature begins at
age 17.
So that’s the major test: does the writing have that something extra? Do
the pictures and words create something special?
One question I’d
like to raise here, stop for a while to discuss, is the question of children
writing. We get many parents calling to tell us how well their
children write and would we publish. So far we have resisted. But what do
you think? And what would the considerations be, if you were editors? . . .
I remember that when
we were kids, one of the serious games we played was to put together a
magazine. In full colour, original artworks. Of course, the artists always
hogged the limelight, writers didn’t even make a ripple, though I suspect
the reason was mostly the handwriting. And anyway, what got noticed was how
bad your handwriting was with respect to someone else, not what you had
written! Isn’t that something all children do? These days especially, we
encourage children to write and illustrate their own stories, we encourage
them to tell because we recognize the potential of stories to help them deal
with life.
In this context, Katherine
Paterson’s comment is pertinent. “… stories will not have any power if
they are never heard or read. Which brings me to a concern about education.
Why, in places of ‘higher learning’ is the reading of fiction considered
some kind of aberration?” She quotes from an issue of
Psychology Today which told about a student of Princeton University who
finally transferred. He felt he was socially ostracized at Princeton because
in his free time he would read novels.
How
do you recognize a potentially good writer, a good book. What is that little
extra we are looking for? This comes with experience, it is part
instinctive, but it is also learned by looking at books. It comes with
reading and with reading the best writers. Today, I can look back to my
childhood reading and recognize what I enjoyed and why, and what stays.
There are books I can go back to, but there are others to which I cannot. Yet,
an editor worth her salt has to understand the place of all books in
a child’s life, while at the same time ensuring that she is
contributing to the body of work that qualifies as literature.
Sidney
Sheldon may be a good read, or John Grisham, but they’re not literature.
These belong to the realm of popular fiction. That has great value, and we
need it. So too with children’s literature, we need the popular as much as
we need the classic. If the two can meet, nothing like it. ............
Producing
the material: the nuts and bolts
Going
back to the role of the editor in making the writing and reading experience
possible: I’d say, the editor is the rose between two thorns, thank you
Jinnah. Rather than the Devil at the Door.
Ideally, and in many
big houses in the west, publishing houses have teams of editors, yes even
children’s books publishers do. There are commissioning editors, sorting
editors, reading editors, copy editors, picture editors, art editors, layout
editors, and so on. Each one is seen to have a special skill. Well-known children's editor Charlotte Zolotow used to be an editor at
Harper & Row. “I did just about everything, including some typing and
answering the telephone. It was also part of my job to meet writers and
artists at the elevator and screen the new ones who came wanting to show
their work.” Later she began to write flap copy. Then she got manuscripts
to read. Cleaning up the manuscript is done by one kind of editor, another
copy-edits or looks to sort out spellings, punctuations, grammar and so
on.
Charlotte Zolotow
(quoted in Ways of Telling, Conversations on the Art of the Picture Book
by Leonard S. Marcus) also shares an important insight in this direction.
She had started to work in Harper & Row with Ursula Nordstrom, a
well-known editor who had worked with such big names as Tomi Ungerer and
Eric Carle and who blooded other editors such as Susan Hirschman of
Macmillan.
Charlotte
had an idea for a book about the cycle of daily life in the park near her
home. “It was the continuous cycle that seized me, the fact that each time
a new group came along it completely changed the park’s personality.
Margaret Wise Brown (a well-known writer) was, of course, still alive and
writing new books every year. I adored her work, and so I wrote a long memo about the park to Ursula, suggesting that it would make
an ideal subject for Margaret Wise Brown. … when she’d read it she came
over to me and, sounded sort of irritated, said, “I don’t know what you
mean. What do you mean by this?” So I wrote down more of my observations
and gave my memo back to Ursula, still thinking of it as a good idea for
Margaret. This time when Ursula came over to me, her tone of voice had
completely changed. She said, “Congratulations, you’ve just written your
first children’s book!” Then she went on, “You
must never, ever tell a writer what you think would make a wonderful book.
The idea has to come from the writer. What you have here is your book, not
Margaret’s.” So in that one explanation, Ursula taught me about being an
editor and about being a writer. It was a tremendous piece of education that
has lasted for the rest of my life.”
Here
in India, the editor generally plays many parts, right from replying to an
enquiry about manuscripts in which case you are a dispatch editor and you
say the editors will look at the mss and get back, not revealing that you
play that part too. Then when the manuscript is in hand and is being edited,
you don that role…. Shakespeare’s comment could have been written with
editors in mind. When you write to an impatient author that the pages are
being laid out, you don’t tell him or her that you’re doing that
too….!
After you have gone
through the copy, and you’ve raised questions with the author and had
replies, got copyright permission for quotations longer than the stipulated
permissible and so on, proofs have to be sent off. Finally then the book has
to be readied for press, with instructions given to the printer on the
number to be printed, on what kind of paper, in how many languages, whether
plates will change…. Etc etc….
With experience,
and goof-ups, one picks up the technical aspects of publishing. But there are some other
larger questions that need more serious consideration. We don’t have
answers, only examples of things that we look out for when editing a book.
Each one has to work out its own ‘traps’.
(Just
the bare outline of points discussed have been retained here; not the full
discussion....):
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The
cultural question: Ekki Dokki
has two sisters — one has one hair, one has two. There was a comment in the UK
about it being offensive to children who have lost hair due to cancer.
But in India, baldness need not have these connotations — shaving the
head as an offering in a temple is common.
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Stereotyping:
Sometimes you miss important clues. We once received a story, very visual and very
well written, evocative… but with a very central issue concerning attitude
to gender, very pat, very obvious, which we missed completely. When we sent
it to a well-known artist to illustrate, at first she too said yes. Then
she wrote back saying no, she couldn’t possibly be part of a project
that very clearly endorsed stereotypes…. The
writer was not willing to change and we didn't, couldn't possibly,
do the book.
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Cultural
inconsistencies: Often stories are inconsistent with the
immediate environment, culture, region. In India, black-haired,
black-eyed children habitually write stories peopled with blonde haired,
blue-eyed ones! What does one do with sounds? Are there 'universal sounds'
— for the way bells ring, for instance?
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Absence
of location: Writing in a vacuum, typically, “Once there
was a man…..” Speaking of realism, Katherine Paterson says,
“Nothing becomes dated more quickly than certain contemporary fiction,
which then of course seems most unrealistic to the young reader.
Anything, as you know, that takes place before a child’s own immediate
memory seems to the child ancient and exotic. My own children have the
perfect phrase to describe this phenomenon. “Back when you were alive,
Mom…” Some writers try to avoid this dating process, so that when
you read their books you are struck by the lack of anchors to the real
world. There is no date, no description of clothing or current events,
no slang….”
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Leads
on to plain Bad writing: If you have read enough good
writing, you recognize bad writing… Benjamin Zephaniah has a poem by
Mahmood Jamal that you might enjoy:
There
is punk poetry and junk poetry
There
is monk poetry and drunk poetry
There
is sad poetry and mad poetry
But above all there is good poetry
And
bad poetry.
But it’s amazing how much bad writing passes muster. So, watch out!
Especially for clichés and mixed metaphors and Indianisms where they
don’t work… Integrity is important.
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Sounding
like someone else, imitative: You get the feeling you’ve
read this before somewhere….
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Connotations:
The MC-PC debate — political correctness, about not
offending, basically. But it can differ from culture to culture. Farrukh
Dhondy says: "India
is the most multicultural region in the world, most naturally
multicultural anyway. As an idea, multiculturalism is transnational and
it has nothing essential to do with race. Its first law is that cultures
clash. Its second law is that cultures may clash in one and the same
person and can do so with spectacular literary results."
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Taboos
in children’s books. Death, for instance. Handled
sensitively, sensibly, nothing needs to be taboo. Astrid Lindgren’s
famous The Brothers Lionheart starts with the death, a horrifying
death by fire, of a young boy. The entire story happens in a world after
death, as a matter of fact, and is in fact the favourite of many young
people even today. Our folktales and our epics are full of these
stories. It is how we understand and how we represent… sensitively and
sensibly. It’s for each
publishing house to decide.
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Discrepancies:
Even if the logic is not so important to the story, even if
it is minor, the editor has to be alert to any possible discrepancies.
-
Visual
consistency: For instance, we had a picture of a bull when
the subject was a buffalo, or pyjama instead of dhoti…
Yet,
as an editor, if you feel convinced about something, it is your duty to
fight for it… If only authors knew, maybe they would think more kindly of
their editors….! The editor is not always right, but then nobody, not even
the writer is always right. That editor has best
discharged her duty when she engages actively and positively with all the
players: the writer, the illustrator and the publishing company.
There are
times, though, when a text may be completely rewritten. I’d like to quote
from Diana Athill about a book by ‘lazy old Sir Whatsit’ whose
manuscript was interesting but unreadable. Andre Deutsch needed desperately
at the time to buff up its nonfiction list. So Diana edited it herself. “I
doubt if there was a sentence – certainly there was not a paragraph – that I did not alter and often have to retype, sending it chapter by chapter
to the author for his approval which – although he was naturally very
grouchy – he always gave. I enjoyed the work. It was like removing layers
of crumpled brown paper from an awkwardly shaped parcel, and revealing the
attractive present which it contained (a good deal more satisfying than the
minor tinkering involved when editing a competent writer).” It was
reviewed in TLS as being “scholarly and full of fascinating detail, and
beautifully written in the bargain. The author promptly sent me a clipping
of this review, pinned to a short note. ‘How nice of him,’ I thought,
‘he’s going to say thank you!’ What he said in fact was: ‘You will
observe the comment about the writing which confirms what I have thought all
along, that none of that fuss about it was necessary.’ When
I had stopped laughing I accepted the message: an editor must never expect
thanks (sometimes they come, but they must always be seen as a bonus). We
must always remember that we are only midwives — if we want praise for
progeny we must give birth to our own.’
I will
only say this: we have had our share of what’s all this fuss about…..
and this is a lesson for keeps!
Possibly
the most important feature of an editor’s job is to help the writer find
his or her voice. Children’s books in India in particular, like
the children, are often voiceless, unheard, unknown…..
Listening
does an editor make. You have to watch out for all the other
signs as well. Simply having told a child stories at bedtime does not a
writer make, as we all know. Less does it make a great book. Editors
themselves have to have a highly developed critical faculty, which, no
matter what the weight or reach of the writer or illustrator, sometimes even
colleagues, has to stand up and raise the issues concerned. For
this it is important to be passionate about your work, but dispassionate in
its execution.
Editors
also have to be good with their PR, patient while they coax the writer and
even more patient with illustrators, fall all over themselves doing the
research on their behalf…. so we get what we want in terms of what is good
for the book and good for the reader….
Just a word about
translating: because in India, most of us are translating all the time, in
our minds if nowhere else. And when you are doing translations, it’s a
challenge. Something that works so easily in one
language, just won’t in another. A simple example: Eecha
Poocha. Eecha means fly in Malayalam, Poocha is cat. Sounds good,
we thought, for the title of a story about these two friends: Eecha Poocha (and remember, titles have to work).
It took so long to convince the Malayalam translator because, she said, in
Malayalam it doesn’t work, it has to be Eecheyum Poocheyum. I suspect she
is still not convinced!
Anthea Bell, famous
for her Asterix translations with Derek Hockeridge,
says: "It’s a low profile
profession. If you’ve done your job properly as a translator then readers
will not notice that the words on the page are actually your words. You
interpret your author in much the same way as an author interprets a play,
but with less leeway for freedom of interpretation because your duty is to
the author and not your own ego."
Anybody
who has tried her hand at translating into Tamil will understand…. But can
we have a sangam-style literary language if we want to get children
interested in reading? We also know that there are as many ways of using
language possibly as there are people. Yes, there are certain conventions.
But the tone and register and style, these depend upon the translator.
Then
again, the translations in different languages of the same text have to have
some consistency amongst themselves too… When it comes to bilingual texts,
it’s an even tougher job. Since the texts in both languages are on the
same page, they have to be almost exactly similarly expressed. The purpose
is to teach language in the process of having fun reading.
When
all is said and edited and ready, the book has to be sent to press with all
the work that that involves. The time spent waiting for the book to arrive
from the press is the most anxious.
When
these ideas and ideas of identity and voice are reflected in the books, that
makes for the possibility of a good book, I suppose. An editor’s job
reasonably done.
Reach
the Reader
Can
the editor sit back after feverishly and fearfully checking out the advance
copies for mistakes? No way. Now the book has to be sent out, reviewed,
talked about, reached to the distributor, made available…..
Chatterbox
after several trial and error efforts, have now pitched on Direct marketing
as their technique. They don’t know yet if this is the answer they’re
looking for, but they can only try. The newspaper supplements are luckier.
They don’t have to bother, the supplement will keep happening so long as
the editor’s ears are not poisoned against it by the marketing or
advertising departments. Karadi Tales believes in brand positioning, so
they’ve been going all out with this single brand and making it available
everywhere.
But
for any of this to reach a large audience, the media has to get into the
act, we need reviews. Not patronizing comments on how lovely the pictures
are and how sweet the stories are, and then proceeding to divulge the entire
plot, with the final barb: too expensive. We need discerning reviews by
discerning reviewers. In the absence of a full-fledged marketing
team (a luxury in a small publishing house), editors have to sometimes work harder than they
perhaps care to on this! Also talk to booksellers, bookshops and beg for shop space….
make sure that royalties are paid on time, reprints are organized if
necessary, book launches are organized, and authors and illustrators are
kept in touch with for more ideas, more books. The seasons change and the
cycle continues.
Costing
Books
There’s
one last thing I’d like to say before winding up. Related to the cost
factor. How are books priced? Small publishing houses that do print runs of
say 2000-3000, per unit cost is higher because of paper, printing, royalties
to authors and illustrators, and a hefty anything between 40 per cent to 75
per cent to distributors. Sometimes you may make something as little as
nothing, or even go out of pocket. You then work out ways to offset this.
But this is bad business, because we are working in publishing companies
that are businesses, not social service organizations. So, it is part of the
editors’ job too to ensure that costs are worked out effectively to run
the business, produce high quality books, and have happy consumers. For
which the consumer often has to be made to understand that buying a book is
not like buying a pizza and most often costs less than a pizza.
At
the same time don’t let anybody browbeat you into thinking that only a
shoddy 8-rupee book is worth it for children. There’s room for lots of
books and different kinds of books. See where you fit in and what are the
requirements in that area.
Aditi
(present here and also a writer-editor) and I once had a wonderful holiday in Ooty, with her aunt and
uncle, Ratna Mashi and Methai. He always stayed under the quilt and on one occasion
stepped outdoors for a bit to sing songs under the stars. He always referred
to us as comma and full-stop. As far as he was concerned, that’s what we
did for work, inserted commas and full-stops! I’d like to think there will
be no full-stops for children’s books in India, that they will go full
throttle ahead!
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