August 03, 2008, 08:50 PM ET

Publishing Weirdness -- Part 2

So my friend is publishing her first book and I’m trying to offer her practical advice, right?

So this is what I tell her: I tell her that while it’s tempting to call the editor “just to check in,” the impulse usually translates most directly into the following (if thinly disguised) screed: “What are you doing, anyway? How long can it take to FINISH PRINTING the damn thing? Why is it taking longer to publish it than it took me to write it? Why aren’t you showing me examples of the possible covers, why aren’t you asking me to write up a decent press release, why aren’t you returning my calls, answering my e-mails?” What every author wants to know is, “WHY AREN’T YOU TAKING CARE OF ME?”

The short answer is: If your book is slated for publication, your best line of attack is to keep writing OTHER THINGS and stop calling the editor.

Look — here’s the hard part — it isn’t the publisher’s job to care overly much that you wrote a book. So did the other 300 people she’s dealt with this year.

Every day they’re dealing with people who have written books. Every day except Friday afternoons during the summer, that is, when the entire publishing industry mysteriously shuts down as if they’ve all been abducted by aliens who, by the way, also want to be published.

So you wait.

When, finally, the actual book is in your actual hands, only THEN do you truly embark on the best and worst of times.

You will encounter the unspoken and unsolvable mystery; you will ask yourself the questions all authors have at some point asked: Why have the publishers printed this volume if they don’t intend to sell it? To sell it, they must advertise it, get it reviewed, get somebody somewhere to take note of its very existence.

“Isn’t that somebody’s job at the publishing house?” my friend asks.

“Yes, it is, but you have to help them do it. You have to get the book attention. You have to write op-ed pieces, give talks, appear in forums, send letters, talk it up.”

“While I’m writing my next book?”

“If you want that next book to be printed on real paper, yes, you do.”

“And why exactly are we doing this?” she asks.

“Because there’s nothing like it in the world,” I reply.

And that’s the truth. Because when somebody announces “IT’S A BOOK!” and you know your words can cross over into someone else’s hands all by themselves, you’re finally proud as well as scared.