The Happy Writer
The Happy Writer
By Writer’s Relief, Inc.
Having recently heard about The Happy Writer on social media as a possible resource for grappling with rejection letters, I figured it was worth a shot to read. I’ve always held the belief that any craft book could be worth a try because what may work for one writer may not work for another. That being said, I went into reading this book with the hope that it might offer at least a few different perspectives on how to approach rejection in the pursuit of publication.
And I was sadly disappointed.
While I maintain the belief that the effectiveness of writing advice depends on the writer and their mindset, I found The Happy Writer to be more of a tool for a well-crafted sales pitch. There were some nuggets of wisdom I’d already heard in some literary circles from workshops to grad school lectures that I felt were spot on. And it’s fair to say that there were one or two interesting ideas offered in the text to help a writer better focus.
But as someone who has been practicing the craft of storytelling since I was in middle school, I personally feel that there are those who legitimately are out to help people become better writers and that there are those who are trying to capitalize on people who are looking for someone to offer wisdom on how to improve their writing career. And knowing the difference between them is very crucial when you’re opening yourself up to outside advice. Part of me feels that any writer looking to give advice should have to sign a “Do No Harm” oath similar to a doctor before dispensing advice for that reason.
I offer this story to you so you can see what I mean:
In 2019, I went to the AWP conference in Portland, Oregon. For those of you who are unfamiliar with what AWP is, it stands for the Association of Writers and Writing Programs. Publishers, writers, writing panels, representatives from writing programs, etc. come from all over the country so people in the literary community can network and be a resource to help each other. It’s truly a terrific organization, and the conference is HUGE.
It was my first conference ever. I had a few stories on my hard-drive, pages of works in progress for grad school (I was attending Vermont College of Fine Arts at that time), and a novel in limbo but nothing I’d want to sell. I went in with the idea that I’d just get my feet wet and see what the conference is all about as someone who had never been.
My first night in Portland, I attended a mixer at a bar across town to network with some other writers. It was a nice opportunity to talk to new people (since I’m typically the quiet type, believe it or not) and see what others liked to write about. While talking with one gentleman about what he’d previously published, he confessed to me that he had three books self-published through a service which altogether charged him about six thousand dollars upfront (two thousand a title).
It was at that point that I had no words.
Traditionally, the route of publication (let’s say, through one of the Big Four) would be finding an agent (some of which do not charge for reading/deciding if they want to represent you—although that kind of depends on the agent), the agent submitting it to the publishing house, and the publisher making an offer to buy the First North American Rights to publish the book. Depending on the deal made, this could include a printing of trade paperbacks, hardcovers, and/or standard paperbacks. The money paid up front to the writer in this deal (the advance) is then paid back to the publisher over time with the amount that the book sells. So, for example, if you get a $15,000 advance from Simon and Schuster, you won’t see any more money from them until your book sells enough copies of it to pay the publisher back their money and warrant another printing.
It’s an investment.
In this case, this fellow writer in particular invested his own money upfront to a self-publisher who required him to also do some of the marketing. I didn’t ask what he makes off of each sale, but I felt bad that someone could give him such an unfair deal. Especially when it takes a lot of time and effort to create something like a book while working another job to stay afloat.
I share this not to bad-mouth the self-publishing trade but to help you understand what I mean by advice in good faith versus advice with the intention of making a sale. Whomever sold this man on using that service—in my mind—did more harm to him than good because the service probably gets away scot-free if the investment flops. Whereas, in the traditional publishing route, the writer keeps their advance but may just have a more difficult time making another sale to that publisher.
The Happy Writer personally struck me as capitalizing, which is disappointing. With advice on how to inspire yourself (spending money on a top of the line chair, spending lots of money to take courses that have nothing to do with writing, and spending money to go away on vacation) and how to professionally present yourself in the publishing field (posting to online critique groups the very work you’re submitting for publication so others may help “pick you up” when you’re having a tough time—something that many publications consider a form of self-publication), this book tries to subtly sell the services of Writer’s Relief, Inc.
While I’m willing to give it credit that it has one or two interesting ideas on how to go about a writing career, I’m skeptical of their intent for a few different reasons. 1. No writer has offered their name to the byline of this publication. 2. In a section where it is referenced the number of times select famous authors have been rejected, there is included a disclaimer which says that their “facts” of the number of rejections could be wrong… These numbers are usually a matter of public record in some fashion (interviews, autobiographical works, and biographies). 3. They have devoted an entire section (Part Four) to the specifics of the services their organization provides while making a mountain out of a mole hill (in my opinion) in Part Three, where they go over rejections.
Needless to say, I was curious after reading this how much this organization charges for services. According to their website, their subscription packages start at approximately $200 per one set of 25 submissions and go as high as $700 per two-month cycle. I’m not certain what the financial situations of those who are reading this review are, but for me personally, I could never afford this kind of service.
It’s possible to that their intent is sound, but I don’t personally feel the need to use this service or read any other resources printed by this company anytime soon. And while every writer is always free to choose their own route (again, what works for me personally may not work for someone else), I did not find this book as helpful as I was hoping it might be. I would never stop someone from using a service like this or from reading craft resources printed from companies like this if it is their choice, but for me, personally, I can’t recommend it. As much as I wish I could.
Sorry, everyone.
If you’d like, below are some craft book titles I found helpful:
1. Attack of the Copula Spiders by Doug Glover
2. Writing the Breakout Novel by Donald Maass
3. On Writing by Stephen King
4. Structuring Your Novel by KM Weiland
While some of these are geared mostly towards novel writing, their nuggets of wisdom may be applied to shorter works.