Take It From Me by Alia Hanna Habib

I read Take It From Me by Alia Hanna Habib.

Another good candidate for writer’s book club at the Mercantile Library, after we read Jane Friedman’s The Business of Being a Writer. Or perhaps after The Design of Books by Debbie Berne.

Thanks to Harrison Hill for recommending Alia’s book. Harrison’s first book, The Oracle’s Daughter, comes out in April. Buy it!

On interviewing

Alia conducted over 70 interviews for her book (xv). Nonfiction requires a lot of research, but I find interviews energizing. And a good excuse to meet people I’d like to know anyway.

On pitching

If your end goal...is to eventually land an agent and publish a non-fiction book, the first piece of advice I always give is to aggressively pursue publishing shorter work and to do so with as much upbeat, imperviousness to rejection as your heart can muster. (4)

I don’t know if I want to “eventually land an agent,” but I am self-publishing a nonfiction book and think pitching is a worthwhile use of time, when I can find it.

I’ve sent three pitches so far: one to WIRED, another to The Verge, and a third to Jane Friedman. The first two went unanswered, unsurprisingly, and Jane ran the third. I want to produce some exhaust (in the “learning exhaust” sense) from rejections. That could mean repurposing the writing itself into emails or book chapters or garden notes. Or writing about the rejection here in my garden.

It is not (just) the quest to add the name of another media outlet to your list of clips. Imagine instead that you are seeking an editorial reader who will understand and advocate for your work, who will improve it and help bring it to a wider audience. (7)

This is one reason I like pitching: it’s a forcing function for editorial rigor.

Per Jake Silverstein of The New York Times Magazine, it’s easier for a first-time freelancer or a new writer to break into the “front of the book” (FOB)—the beginning section of most print magazines where shorter pieces appear—than to get a commission to write a longer piece. This is part a practical decision by the magazine, a bit like not planning a weekend trip with someone before you’ve gone on a first date. As Silverstein explains, “sometimes we get pictures from freelancers who we haven’t worked with before for features where we think the proposal is interesting, but it’s a little too ambitious for us to assign to a first-time writer.” (7)

This is a mistake I might’ve made pitching “The Big Story” to WIRED, although their pitching guidelines do say that “most stories written by contributors from outside our staff are longform features.” I plan to try again!

So how do you find out which publications and editors to pitch? This is where I advise becoming a literary detective...The first step is to make a list of 10 to 20 currently active writers (no dead folks; Joan Didion can’t help you here) you like. Concentrate on writers who work in roughly the same categories and subject area...it’s probably most productive to concentrate on early career writers, those who have published only one or two books. (10)

I pitched to Jason Kehe at WIRED because I loved his meta profile of Robin Sloan.

I can’t stress enough what a rich resource the acknowledgments page can be. (12)

I’ve always at least skimmed acknowledgements, although I’m not sure why (maybe a completionist instinct). Now my antenna is up.

Above all, read the outlets you’d want to publish you. (56)

Yet another reason I like pitching. An excuse to read.

There’s a whole lot more good tactical advice in this pitching chapter. It reads like a more up-to-date (and better genre fit, for me) version of Susan Shapiro’s The Byline Bible.

On MFAs

If one of the reasons to do an MFA is “an excuse or time to write,” then I’d probably be better off doing Recurse, which I’ve heard described by Recursers as an excuse to program (and write) and is free. Both would be full of smart, kind peers. I tend to subscribe to the “you can just do things” school of thought, which doesn’t require an excuse to write, but having the dedicated time is nice. The peer group would be the main attraction for me. That’s how I framed the coding bootcamp I did five years ago.

Iowa’s “cone of silence” approach to crit—where you’re not allowed to defend/respond to critique—is interesting (43). It’s modeled after how readers will encounter your work, which makes sense, except that most of your readers won’t be writers themselves! Save for books like this. Reading book reviews could be a partial substitute for crit.

On explaining technical stuff

The writing at The New Yorker operates according to the opposite principle [from academia]; you always illustrate the complicated concept first and then name it. (56)

Illustrating a concept before you name it is a good rule for my technical writing on domains. Jargon second.

On unhurried ambition

So many writers fear being behind where they imagine they should be. Getting a glimpse of [Chloé Cooper] Jones’s wild but unhurried ambition was an unexpected gift to receive while in the midst of writing my first book. (63).

The concept of “unhurried ambition” is just what I needed, the moment I read it. I’ve been struggling to keep up with all that I’d like to do lately between my (part-time) day job and book, and unhurried ambition is part of the cure.

On platform

Platform seems like the elephant in the room for authors right now—along with AI, the elephant in every room everywhere. Both Alia and Jane Friedman hit on it early in their books. Platform isn’t (only) social media. Your platform includes your school(s), your employer, your cool aunt. Anywhere, any way you can reach readers.

To borrow Nick Simson’s tagline, I am an “internet nobody.” And I don’t mind! I don’t mind because I’m in a position most writers aren’t—a software job that not only pays well but that I quite like. I’m grateful for that. The writing is fun, but I don’t depend on it.

It sure would be cool if I got to the point where I could depend on it, though. I’ve written a bit about this w/r/t leaving Twitter.

On self-publishing

...if you self-publish, you’re going to learn a lot. (81)

Learning about books and publishing is one of the reasons I decided to write a book. I love reading behind-the-scenes books like this one (and Jane and Debbie’s books mentioned up top). I don’t know if I’ll write more books, but I do see one timeline where I DIY everything for a book or two to learn the ins and outs then find an agent to publish more books with a team of people who actually know what they’re doing.

Hanif Abdurraqib, one of Alia’s clients, got his start self-publishing (in Columbus! Point Ohio).

On...Tuesdays?

...almost all books in the United States are published on Tuesdays. (228)

Why? Apparently for uniform tracking of book sales. Lists like the NYT Best Sellers run on a Tuesday to Monday schedule.

On story timelines

Every time you start a story—and I don’t care if it’s a daily, or if it’s a two-year project—as soon as you start reporting, create a timeline, and whenever you learn about a new event or witness something big, plug it into that timeline. (240)

I really like this Benjamin Weiser quote (from Andrea Elliott, via Alia Hanna Habib). My brief history of domains helps frame my narrative—in my own head, most importantly—and reveal gaps.

On reading

And when you get stuck? Pick up a book...Read beyond your own subject of expertise and your own genre. (249)

A license to read! The best part about a writing pursuit.

Everything but the words

I quite like the jacket design and illustration. Well balanced visually with on-theme doodling. The hand-underlined title on the jacket spine is a nice touch (because while holding the book in my hands I imagine underlining by hand to be one of the jobs of an agent). The case spine underneath is well laid out, too. The sewn signatures are easy to make out and “perfectly bound” (glued) to the case for good measure, so it seems like a book that’ll last a while. There are ten 32-page signatures, so 320 pages in the book, 160 sheets of paper, including front- and backmatter. Decorative head and tail bands. The line height of the text felt a tad tight to my eyes.