daffodils resolved
In some ways this is my least favorite time of year –and in other ways, my favorite. I’m sure you can figure out the reason for my dislike, especially if you live someplace where winter has dragged on for too long. To mitigate my dragging mood, this is the time of year when daffodils appear everywhere in NYC. They’re not springing up from the newly-thawed ground, though. They make their appearance in front of flowershops everywhere — large grey tins holding as many bouquets as you can cram into them. They only appear for a few scant weeks before they go away until the following year.

This year I made a resolution to buy as many daffodils as I could find this season. Right now, a vase of them are slowly unfolding their bright yellow petals next to my drawing board.
As if to reinforce my resolution, a friend sent me an e-mail bearing a lovely virtual daffodil, which was originally reproduced in Curtis’s Botanical Magazine in 1789. This etching was a favorite of John Ruskin, the art critic and supporter of the PreRaphaelites.
Can spring be far away?
teachers I have known

The Endicott Studio blog is one of my favorites to check out on a regular basis. I was pleased to see that they recently posted an entry about Jane Rosen, who was my foundation year drawing instructor at the School of Visual Arts.
Go ahead, take a moment to read about Jane. Then come back here — what I’m about to write will be more interesting placed into some context.
After looking at her art, I’m sure you can tell that Jane Rosen is an extraordinary artist. She is also an extraordinary teacher and an intensely colorful person. And I mean this both in personality as well as in person. I remember her having a shock of phoenix-red hair, which she would run her hands through when she was feeling intense. Which was often. Her eyes were an intense blue which she outlined in deep blue kohl.
She did not put up with bullshit or suffer fools. For example, I once asked her if I could have some idea what grade I would get — since I was a scholarship student, I was required to pull at least a B in my classes. The look of amused disdain she gave me! “So you’re telling me that you’re more concerned about your grade than your art?” she replied.
One of her favorite sayings: “Draw from your shoulder, not with your hands. The shoulder is closer to the brain.” This is good advice, since it prevents getting too fussy with details. And you can see here the muscular vitality of her drawings!
Jane had a muscular intensity herself. Powerfully thin, usually clad in jeans, a work shirt and a silver bracelet, she would circle the studio as she studied our drawings, humming a Rolling Stones song sotto voce. She would grab a charcoal to quickly, skillfully improve a student drawing without hesitation. She seemed like one of the most confident people I’ve ever met.
For our final project, we had to do a life-sized pastel portrait of ourselves. As part of our assignment, we had to visit the Metropolitan Museum to look at the Degas pastels of ballet dancers. While there, I discovered the Burne Jones’ painting, La Chant d’Amour.

I was inspired to do a rendition in pastel of it, while placing myself within that composition. To my surprise, Jane really liked it. Even though the PreRaphaelites were fairly different than the art she championed, I think she recognized how much I loved the painting. She respected that. A few years, I bumped into her in an elevator, and she mentioned it, much to my surprise.
mo’ publishing stuff
My last post seems to have flushed a few questions about publishing out of the woodwork (though no comments — it’s nice to get e-mails though). Which leads me to think that I should do an ongoing semi-formal series of posts about the inside skinny of publishing.
Anyway, one person asked me how to get started in publishing as an illustrator.
Hmmm, how to get started in the biz. . . . Well, I always tell artists that the most important thing is persistance, persistance, and more persistance. I know this sounds simplistic, but it’s really the truth. Most illustrators don’t make it because they give up too soon or become discouraged by how hard it is. Much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, it can take a long time to get a toegrip into this field, which is incredibly competitive, and then years to make a decent living. And it’s gotten worse in the almost twenty years I’ve been working professionally. Digital art has made it easier for art directors to Photoshop a stock photo or illustration to meet their needs. So why would they go to the trouble of commissioning an illustrator?
Here’s basic advice:
1. Have an easily accessible website that looks professional — don’t rely on your Myspace page or an advertising-supported freebie webhost to sell your work. Most art directors check out work online. First impressions count.
2. Put together a good mailing list. To find appropriate publishing markets, you can check out magazines, publishers, etc. at any library or Barnes & Noble; you can call them and ask for the art director’s name and any submission guidelines. Sometimes this information is listed in the Literary Marketplace. There’s also an Artists Market (similar to Writers Market) published too, which lists much of this information. I always doublecheck it before sending out any mailers, since sometimes the information is incorrect or out of date.
3. Put together an illustration mailer that you send out to appropriate markets. Follow up on a regular basis with new mailers. Make sure your website url is prominently listed on them. For cheap mailers and postcards, I use Vistaprint.com. They’re obnoxious with their follow up e-mails, but they’re the cheapest kids on the block — sometimes you can get postcards for free, if you time your printing for one of their ubiquitous promotions. And their printing quality is very good.
4. If you’re targeting the children’s book world — ie: you want to illustrate a picture book — I encourage you to put together a book dummy (see the previous entry) to show. This offers an art director information about how you would handle sequential illustrations in a book. For content, I encourage you to use your own story. Frankly, this is the way to go: You have something to show as well as something to submit to a publisher for publication — but more on that in another post. And from a financial point of view, this is a better deal: author-illustrators make double the royalties. Plus you’re not dependent on a publisher to match you with an author.
But not to despair if you’re not a writer. Instead, you can use a story that’s in the public domain for your book dummy. For example, Grimms Fairy Tales are in the public domain, meaning they are not constrained by copyright since the authors have been dead for more than 75 years. (I’m giving you the Cliff Notes version. To learn more about copyright, visit the Library of Congress website at www.loc.gov.)
5. If you’re looking to place already-completed illustrations with a publisher, you’re looking to conquer the world of licensing or merchandising. This is often a good fit for illustrators who have a clear niche or branding identity. Do you paint only faeries? Or wildlife? Or have a sassy way with a phrase, a la Mary Englebreit? Again, market research is the way to go — spend an afternoon at a book store or stationary store checking out who’s publishing what.
6. When it comes to researching markets, Amazon.com is your friend. So is the internet. Many publishers also have websites which list what their submission policies are; you can also get a sense of their taste in art too. Amazon.com is a virtual Books in Print. Have an idea for a book? Check out Amazon to see if someone’s published something similar. They also often list books that are out of print (or OP, as they say in the trade).
7. How much do illustrators make? Well, that all depends on the market and the publisher. The Graphic Artists Guild and the Authors Guild offer guidelines for what should be included in a publishing contract as well as some financial information. Unless you’re a very clever entrepeneur or win a Caldecott or have a bestselling book or are able to sell your originals for a lot o’ dough, most likely you’re not going to get rich. (Sorry!) But you may be able to make a living — if you work hard enough.
book proposals 101 — with definitions
I haven’t been spending much time with this blog lately. That’s because I’ve been in the middle of developing book proposals, an undertaking that requires a lot of attention from me. Every winter around this time I seem to do the same thing: create book proposals and send ‘em out, so I can line up work and stay in business. That’s probably because my book deadlines usually fall toward the end of the year. Which leaves the beginning of the year my first opportunity to dive into new projects.
Book proposals take a lot of work — at least the way I make them. Way back when, when I was first working in children’s book publishing, I often would try to sell a book on the basis of a pitch letter* and art samples. A lot of times I got lucky, especially since I was only working with one or two publishers at the time. But as my work evolved and my market expanded beyond children’s books, my proposals got more elaborate. And I do mean elaborate — the proposal for The Lover’s Path was essentially the book itself, ready for press with only a few editorial changes. Ditto for the Goddess Inspiration Oracle, which included a box mock up with cards.

I suppose this seems counterintuitive to what one would usually think. I mean, wouldn’t it make sense that, as an author-illustrator* gains publishing experience, a publisher would require less hoops to jump through? In some sense, this is true — it’s definitely easier for my work to be considered seriously when I present a book proposal to a publisher. But on the other hand, my work has changed as the industry has changed. When I was first starting out, it wasn’t possible to design a book on a computer, let alone present an entire project ready for the printer. With this capacity, creative opportunities have expanded dramatically for the everyday author-illustrator.
Since I’m someone who envisions her projects from start to finish as a sort of gesamtkunstwerk, I embrace these changes and have eagerly incorporated them into my work. These days, what I provide for a publisher is basically not that different from a book packager*, where I’m contracted to provide them with art, words and design.
As well, as I’ve gained more publishing experience, I’m more aware of what it takes to make a book proposal a slam dunk for acquisition*. If I’m going to ask an overworked editor to take time to look at a proposal, I want them to have as much information as possible from me, to address any concerns that might come up if they decide to take my book to the acquisitions committee*.
Since my books are usually elaborately designed and illustrated, my book proposals are elaborate. They usually include:
1. a book dummy*. I design this to look as close to the final product as possible;
2. the pitch, including the unique selling proposition*;
3. market information — what similar books are out there. Or not, preferably;
4. promotion plan — how the book can be effectively promoted to the public. I usually break this down by media (print, online and others) and by retailers (catalogs, special markets).
5. oh and author info — my bio and publication list.
As you can tell, this is a lot of information. One recent book proposal was 64 pages long — and this doesn’t include the promotion plan or author information, which was a separate enclosure. No wonder I’m not blogging much these days! Just writing all this down makes me tired.
Oh, and if you want a look at a “celebrity” book proposal, click here. Prepare to be horrified-yet-fascinated in a “yuck” kind of way.
pitch letter: letter you write to an editor to convince her to buy your book.
author-illustrator: how someone who writes as well as illustrates their books is referred to in the biz. Instead of author and illustrator. Obvious, I know.
book packager: someone who sells books to publishers as a complete editorial and design package. They tend to create more designed-oriented projects, which a traditional publisher doesn’t have the resources to deal with. Usually a book packager spearheads the project — they hire the writer, illustrator and designer, and provide editorial guidance and liason with printers. From there, they sell the book directly to a publisher, who is not involved editorially — they only serve to distribute the book.
acquisition: when a publisher decides to publish a book. Editors who can purchase books for publication are known as acquisitions editors.
committee: when an acquisitions editor decides s/he wants to publish a book, s/he has to present it to a publishing committee for final approval. This committee can include people from marketing, publicity, as well as other editors. So if an editor says, “I love this book and want to take it to committee,” it’s a very good thing.
book dummy: your book, mocked up and laid out design-wise as close to the final product as possible. Usually book dummies only come into play with illustrated or gift books — you wouldn’t make a book dummy for a novel (unless it was an illustrated novel, in the case of The Lover’s Path).
unique selling proposition: or USP for short. What makes your book different or better than others, and how it addresses the needs of the marketplace. I mean, why would a publisher publish a book unless it had something unique to offer?
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Have a question about publishing, writing or illustrating books you’d like answered on Publishing 101? Send it to Kris: e-comment at artandwords dot com.
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