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Writers are entertainers. We immerse readers in a magical world, letting them escape with our words as a guide. If a reader enjoys your ride, chances are they’ll seek you out again. And again.
This week I read a lot about branding yourself as a writer, thanks to writing friend Jill Corcoran. The subject isn’t foreign to me, having worked in marketing for a decade. But just what is branding for writers? Developing a consistent style in your stories, offering readers a place that’s as comfortable to return to as their favorite chair. It’s not about writing books so similar that no one finds value in buying more than one. It’s about finding your niche in the publishing world and working within it.
Let’s compare this idea to chain restaurants in the US. Why are they popular? Diners know the menu, they know exactly what to expect. Olive Garden promises that the chicken parmigiana in Spokane will taste the same as the one in Cleveland. They don’t just sell unlimited salad and breadsticks, they serve predictability and comfort. Repeat diners know they’ll enjoy their meal.
People often buy the same laundry detergent, the same rice and the same cheese year after year. How many of you use the same brands your mother bought? Consumers will buy an item simply because they know it and they don’t know the competitors.
Brands also have unique qualities that make them more attractive than similar products. I prefer Barilla Plus pasta because it has added protein without a significant change in flavor. While it’s just pasta, it’s very different from the other noodles on the grocery shelves.
As a new writer in an increasingly difficult book market, developing a brand may give you an edge over the competition. When I think of Grace Lin, I think of whimsical illustrations with colorful patterns like origami paper. John Scieszka? Fairytale spoofs. Roald Dahl writes humorous, fantastical tales. Think about some of your favorite authors and what kind of feelings their name brings to mind. You want to elicit that same kind of recognition when readers think of you.
On the flip side, author K.L. Going admitted that her interest in multiple genres makes it difficult for readers to get a handle on her. At the Rutgers One-on-One Mentoring conference last October she said, “You never know what you’re going to get with a K.L. Going book.” She suggested not doing this as a new author, although she also encouraged us to write what we love.
But what if we love crossing genres? What if writing a supernatural YA mystery comes as naturally as a quiet non-fiction picture book? Perhaps you can be predictable in your unpredictability? Isn’t that a brand as well? Sure it is. But is it one you want as someone who’s trying to break into a tough, competitive business? Agents and editors tout “high concept” in novels, so why not come up with a “high concept” for yourself?
I realize that branding yourself as a writer is a complex task, especially for someone new who is still experimenting with style, genre, voice and subject matter. Stories are more complex than shampoo. You can’t guarantee thicker, fuller hair and a fresh lavender scent with each turn of the page. So what do you guarantee your readers?
Ask your critique partners what your brand might be. What perceptions do they have about your stories? What qualities in your writing are consistent? What do they look forward to when you hand them a new tale? Where does your work really shine?
You might have a very good idea about what your brand is. But remember that branding is all about someone else’s perception, not yours. You can have an image or a message you wish to relate to your readers, but are you sending it? Start asking around. Get to know your own brand so readers can get to know you.
What are you thoughts on branding for writers?
This post is just one in a series about the 2008 Rutgers University Council on Children’s Literature One-on-One Mentoring Conference. Click the RUCCL tag above to read them all.
After we heard from the panelists, Alyssa Eisner Henkin opened the floor to questions.
One writer asked, “In the editor and agent bios, a lot of you say that you’re looking for two things: high concept and unique voice. Could you please tell us exactly what you mean by that?”
Chad Beckerman couldn’t resist: “Diary of a Wimpy Kid: high concept, unique voice.” Then one of the editors explained high concept as boiling the essence of a story down to one line.
Agent Stephen Barbara offered an example, shouting down from the audience, “Phonebooth!” The movie is about a man trapped in a phonebooth by a sniper. You can summarize the entire film with that single concept.
On the other hand, a literary novel or a coming-of-age story isn’t necessarily about a single concept. You may still be able to describe the story in a sentence, but it doesn’t offer the instant understanding of a high-concept pitch. The industry wants the next big thing, and high-concept often delivers it.
Next, the editors talked about unique voice. One editor told us about her friend’s personality. “She’s the most bubbly, interesting person I’ve ever met. But in an email, she comes through flat. Hi. How are you? I am fine.” That’s not what you want to do. Your writing should capture the essence of your character. Inject your writing with its own personality. The voice is what makes your story stand out among similar tales. It’s the way you tell your story that allows kids to connect and relate to your characters.
Another question from the audience had the editors a little tight-lipped. “What are the new themes coming in the next 1-2 years?” They looked around but no one spoke. The writer pressed, “Come on, what are you working on right now that you think is going to be big?”
Chad Beckerman said he hoped there would be “more books without words.” Just like an art director! Lisa Cheng talked about a new novel that’s told in text, IM and blog posts. Chad offered, “High concept!”
Then Molly O’Neill gave a fabulous answer to the next question regarding the border between YA novels and adult fiction. What distinguishes them from one another? “This is going to sound like a perfect, rehearsed answer,” she said, “but honestly I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately.”
YA novels have a sense of immediacy. When you’re a teen, every experience is new. Every hour of every day is heartbreak, tragedy, elation. There’s a heightened sense of reality and being in the moment. There’s no time for pondering, you’re too busy living. Adults have their entire lives on which to base decisions, but a young adult doesn’t have that experience to draw on. They’re making decisions in the here and now, raw and full of emotion.
Lisa Cheng agreed and added that in a YA novel, she doesn’t want to leave the reader feeling hopeless.
With their thoughtful answers and wealth of industry knowledge, the editors didn’t leave any of the writers feeling hopeless, either. (Yeah, corny ending, but gimme a break, I’ve written a lot of these posts!)
Writing for Kids (While Raising Them) 