R.J. Palacio's Blog, page 108

Some songs on the WONDER playlist aren't quoted, but referenced. When Auggie is going up on stage to accept the award, he thinks he can almost hear the Star Wars music playing in his head. Here it is…

And yet another song from the playlist. Beautiful Things.

Love love love Annie Lennox. Beautiful Child, beautiful song.

Before becoming an author, I was an editor. Before becoming an editor, I was an art director. When I made the switch from art to editorial, which was about five years ago, some of my designer colleagues teased me a bit. "So, you've crossed over to the other side!" I laughed, of course: they were trying to be funny. But I knew that deep down inside there was a part of me that understood the ribbing: from their point of view, I really had switched sides.

Not that there's anything wrong with editors, btw. Or designers. Both jobs are essential, and creative. But the nature of the jobs will often put editors and designers on opposite sides of a table at a cover meeting, like the two lines of kids holding hands across a grassy field in a game of Red Rover. Designers create things that editors have to approve of, and editors are at the mercy of what designers give them to choose from. That, in a nutshell, is the grassy field. And there's all the other stuff. Designers sometimes feel misunderstood, like editors don't get what they're trying to do with a cover. Editors sometimes feel patronized, like they get what the designers are trying to do but simply don't like it. Designers often need to get things from editors before they can start working, and resent when editors don't meet deadlines because it shortens the time they have to work on things. Editors are often at the mercy of authors who are late delivering manuscripts, or publishers who don't like the title of their book or sales people who don't get their book at all. And on it goes.

Here's the thing: they're both super-hard jobs. To me, being an art director is like being at bat behind home plate (not sure why this metaphor comes to mind given that I'm not a sports person, but anyway). People are constantly pitching balls at you, and your job is to simply swing at each one. Doesn't matter if it's a good pitch or a bad pitch: you have to swing away. Sometimes you miss. Sometimes you hit a homerun. But you don't have time to reflect on what you've done because people don't stop pitching those balls, and each ball is different. Oh, and by the way, know that every swing you make is being seen—and judged—by EVERYBODY. Besides the author, yours is arguably the most visible job in book publishing because everyone has an opinion about book covers. And yes, people really do blame the cover if a book doesn't sell. They say they don't, but they really do—at least a little. No pressure, by the way, I'm just saying. 

Being an editor is like being a juggler. You have to keep as many balls in the air as you can, and the balls stay the same for a long time. Some are very heavy and some are very light, but you have to juggle them all the same. When you add a new ball, it doesn't mean you can drop an old one: you just have to keep juggling all of them, without pause, without dropping. Oh, and by the way, know that the financial health of the company, the salaries of the people you work with, commission reps, and indeed the bread and butter of bookstores everywhere, are directly reliant on those very balls you chose to juggle and now cannot drop. No pressure, by the way, I'm just saying.

I've known art directors who have very contentious relationships with editors. I've known editors who think all art directors are dumb. Every once in a while at my last job, a new editor would start working there, and I could tell from the way they talked to me—either with great dubiousness or with tremendous wariness—that I would have to spend some time healing them from previous war wounds, proving to them that I actually wasn't an idiot and that I really did want to listen to their ideas. And I've talked to art directors who get frustrated by editors who won't let go, who don't see that, in the long process of getting the book they acquired published, their all-important part ends—to a certain a degree—once they've turned in the manuscript to copy-editing. That's not to say they're not shepherding the book the rest of the way, because of course they are—it will always be their book—but once they let it go, it becomes everyone else's book, too. The entire company is publishing that book—not just them, and everyone takes ownership and has a vested interest in seeing it succeed. 

When I became an editor and found myself on the other side of the table for the first time, I must admit: it was a strange feeling. I was careful to treat the designer I was working with the way I had always liked to be treated: respectfully and with great optimism. Imagine my surprise when this designer, who's no longer there, completely dismissed all my ideas (without even giving them a chance), and came up with designs that had nothing to do with the book. I could tell he hadn't really even read what I had given him to read. Wow, I would never have done that as a designer! And then I realized that I was dealing with the kind of designer who turned editors into that wounded kind—the dubious, wary kind I used to have to heal.

Having been on both sides of the table, I can't tell you which side is better or worst, just that the best thing of all is when editors and designers work together, like equal partners in a great collaboration. You might even think of it as a fellowship of a sort, and we're on a quest to do the best thing we can for this book as we send it out into the world—make sure the words are right, give it the best cover we can, and hope for the best. That's all we can do, after all. The most important thing to remember is that we'll have to do it again soon enough—together. New author. New book. But same team. Editors, remember that next time you're tempted to pull a Larry Tate on the designer (this is the act of really liking a design when you're first shown it, and then disavowing it if the author doesn't like it—without ever acknowledging that you had once liked it). Designers, remember that next time you're thinking more about whether a cover design will get into Print's Regional Design Annual than whether it's actually the best cover for the book. Truth is, sometimes your type really is too small, and sometimes you really do just have to start over from scratch. Don't try to force a cover down an author's throat: life is too short. Editors, designers: the point is you'll have to work together again. Be mindful.

In my day job, I'm an editor, and I'm now also art directing again (long story, not worth going into). When Wonder comes out on February 14th, I'll officially cross over into new territory as a published author (more on that to come in future posts, I'm sure). But in whatever capacity, I love being involved in the publishing of books. Everyone I know who works in this industry would agree: we love books, whether we're editors or book jacket designers, and that's why we're here.

Here's the thing about Red Rover: I always hated it as a child. Someone always got hurt, and by the end of the game, we were all on the same side anyway, so what was the point of the game?

Here's a song from the playlist you might not have heard. I picture it as being Justin's warm-up song whenever he picks up his violin. It's called SOLDIER'S JOY.

Enjoy!!!!

Another song from the Wonder playlist. Can only download one a day.