Part 1

Transcriber's Note.

A list of the changes made can be found at the end of the book. Formatting and special characters are indicated as follows:

_italic_ =bold=

THE AUTHOR'S DESK BOOK

OTHER BOOKS BY MR. ORCUTT

GOOD OLD DORCHESTER. _A Narrative History_

PRINCESS KALLISTO, _and other Tales of the Fairies_

ROBERT CAVELIER. _A Novel_

THE FLOWER OF DESTINY. _A Novel_

THE SPELL. _A Novel_

THE LEVER. _A Novel_

THE MOTH. _A Novel_

THE MADONNA OF SACRIFICE. _A Story of Florence_

THE WRITER'S DESK BOOK. _A Companion Volume to "The Author's Desk Book"_

The Author's Desk Book

_Being a reference volume upon questions of the_ RELATIONS OF THE AUTHOR TO THE PUBLISHER · COPYRIGHT · THE RELATION OF THE CONTRIBUTOR TO THE MAGAZINE · MECHANICS OF THE BOOK · ARRANGEMENT OF THE BOOK · MAKING OF THE INDEX · _Etc_

_By_ WILLIAM DANA ORCUTT _for many years Head of The University Press · Cambridge · Now associated with_ THE PLIMPTON PRESS · _Norwood Mass_

_New York_ · FREDERICK A STOKES COMPANY · _Publishers_ · MCMXIV

_Copyright, 1914, by_ FREDERICK A. STOKES CO.

THE·PLIMPTON·PRESS NORWOOD·MASS·U·S·A

CONTENTS

PAGE

RELATIONS OF THE AUTHOR TO THE PUBLISHER 3 Submitting the Manuscript--Publishing at the Author's Expense--Making the Contract--Contract Form--Moving-Picture Rights--Reports on Royalties.

THE COPYRIGHT 31 How to Secure Copyright Registration in the United States--How to Secure Copyright Registration of Periodicals--How to Secure Copyright Registration of Motion-Pictures--_Ad Interim_ Protection--Assignment of Copyright--Fees--The Duration of Copyright--The Protection of Titles--Application Forms--Practical Procedure--International Copyright.

RELATIONS OF THE SHORT-STORY WRITER TO THE MAGAZINES 58 Copyright--Practical Suggestions--Dealings with the Editor--The Literary Agent.

MECHANICS OF THE BOOK 65 Estimating the Manuscript--The Sample Page--The Typesetting--The Proofs--Proof Marks--The Plates--The Cover Design and the Illustrations--The Engraving--The Die Cutting--The Paper--The Presswork--The Binding.

ARRANGEMENT OF THE BOOK 88 The Layout--Bastard-Title--Advertising Card--Title-Page--Copyright--Dedication--Preface--Table of Contents--List of Illustrations--Introduction--Half-Title--Limit Notice--In General--Basic Sizes of Books--English Paper Sizes--Margins.

MAKING THE INDEX 98 What to Index--Plan--Definition of Terms--Procedure--Arrangement--Adjective-Headings--Subject- Matter--Rules and Examples.

GLOSSARY OF TERMS 131

INDEX 153

THE AUTHOR'S DESK BOOK

RELATIONS OF THE AUTHOR TO THE PUBLISHER

THERE is much which is intangible in the relations between an author and his publisher. While it is true that modern commercialism has invaded this field as it has all others, there are probably no actual business relations more dependent upon mutual confidence than those which exist between the writer who produces a manuscript which he wishes to have published, and a publisher who wishes to secure for the purpose of publication a manuscript which he believes to contain elements of probable success. This is due to many reasons, the first and most important of all being that each is in a position to add to his reputation and success by the efforts of the other. Many a publisher has by legitimate and judicious business sagacity established the reputation of a previously-unknown author; many an author has placed a small publishing-house in a position of importance, or added to the fame of a house already established.

Another reason for these closely-identified interests is the fact that the average writer is not experienced in business matters, but relies largely upon the integrity of the publisher to whom he intrusts himself. For the same reason, the publisher feels an added responsibility to protect the interests of the author, realizing the fact that he has been placed in the position of agent, to conduct affairs in the joint interests of both. Even if there have been cases where this confidence has been misplaced, they are exceptions which do not affect the general statement.

The fact that the average author is not versed in business detail has brought into being the literary agent,[1] who offers to stand between the author and his so-called natural enemy, the publisher. There is no doubt that frequently the efforts of these literary agents result in temporary pecuniary advantage to the author, but the common consensus of opinion is that in the long run the author will best serve his own ends by co-operating with his publisher, rather than by employing any intermediary. Confidence begets confidence, and fair play invites a personal interest which is an asset, the value of which cannot be over-estimated. When a manuscript has been offered competitively, and is finally secured by the highest-bidding publisher, it by no means follows that the net returns from this contract will exceed or equal what the author might have received through some other publisher, better equipped to sell it, who would have taken a pride far beyond mere commercial advantage in making it a successful venture.

Take, for example, the question of advertising. If a publisher issues a volume written by an author whose later work is likely to be given to another house, he realizes that whatever investment he makes must be charged off against this particular book. On the other hand, if he feels that the author's relations are such as to make it probable that the present publisher will have an opportunity to share in his later success, then it is good business for him to invest a larger sum in advertising the _author_ than he could possibly afford to expend upon any single _book_. Here again is the mutual interest. The author's reputation rests in a large measure in the hands of his publisher, and he shares equally in any advantage which accrues to the publisher from the publicity which comes to both.

From still another standpoint, the author can secure material assistance from intimate relations with his publisher. Many a novel owes its success to the advice given by the editorial staff of the publishing-house. Many a strong story would never have reached its audience because of mechanical or structural defects, which the publisher helped to overcome. There have been instances of unwise editorial advice, and of undue pressure brought to bear upon the author to the detriment of his literary production, but these cases are rare compared with those of helpful assistance, which every successful writer will gratefully acknowledge he has received from his publisher. In general, the publisher is a wise person in his own field, and as the ultimate success of a book depends upon its sale, his advice is usually based upon a knowledge and an experience which the author cannot possess. To make his business a success, the publisher, as well as the author, must interject his own personality, this expression taking the form of personal suggestions, of determining the physical aspect of the volume, of selecting the artist, of arranging methods of publicity, and of making plans for interesting the retail booksellers.

Few publishers depend upon the judgment of their "readers" to the extent of accepting or declining manuscripts wholly upon their opinions. It is inevitable that a large proportion of the manuscripts submitted should be culled out and discarded by the professional reader without ever reaching the final court of appeal. These readers consider each story from two distinct standpoints: (1) Has the author a real story to tell? and (2) How well has the story been told? If the manuscript fails to stand the test of the first question, its doom is sealed at that point; if it passes through this test, even though it fails in the second, it will be referred to the publisher for a final reading, with the critic's comments affixed to it.

It is remarkable how many manuscripts in this state are actually read by the publisher himself, in view of the countless other details which naturally devolve upon him; but here is where he recognizes the first claim upon his personality. His viewpoint differs from that of his reader only in that it has narrowed down to three main questions which he demands of each manuscript: (1) Does it conform to the standards of the house? (2) To what and how large an audience will it appeal? (3) Will the probable returns warrant the initial investment?

Having settled these points in his mind, the publisher will further consider the literary value of the story. If the plot is strong and original but clumsily constructed, he will discuss the situation frankly with the author, and will advise him to rewrite such portions as demand revision. Many a successful author has learned how to tell his story through his publisher's assistance, and owes his present reputation to the fact that some publisher discovered in his early, amateurish efforts the germs of strength and originality, almost smothered by structural faults.

After the manuscript is ready for the printer, it is the publisher's function to decide upon its physical aspect, combining business judgment and personal taste in producing a volume in keeping with its content, and in such a dress as to attract to it that class of bookbuyers who are influenced by its attractiveness. Nowhere, perhaps, is the fickleness of the public shown more than in the taste displayed by this class of buyers, and styles obtain in this as much as in millinery or in dress.

With the plan of the building of the book determined, the publisher undertakes to create a demand, first from the booksellers and later from the public. The traveling salesman is the usual means to accomplish the first end. He makes his regular trips at stated seasons, covering the entire country, carrying with him "traveler's dummies," which usually consist of a stamped cover of each book, inside of which are fastened representative pages and proofs of illustrations. From these samples, the salesmen take their "advance orders," and the publisher usually awaits the tabulation of these before deciding upon the size of his first edition.

Other methods are employed in addition to these, varying with the ingenuity of each publisher: such as the sending out to the booksellers of advance copies or sheets, writing special letters, giving synopses of the stories, etc., all of which advance preparation requires time and thought. Authors sometimes become impatient over what seems to them to be unwarranted delays, when in reality the publisher is serving their interests as well as his own by creating a market before actually placing the book on sale.

To create a demand on the part of the public is as difficult in marketing books as any other commodity. Advertising helps, of course, but as to the amount, nature, and method of advertising, each publisher has his own ideas. Each author naturally regards his own work as deserving of the maximum publicity, but the publisher is obliged to consider his list as a whole. If he thinks it wise to invest a large sum in advertising a particular story, it is because he believes that story to possess an appeal to the public sufficient to warrant this investment. His judgment may be wrong, and often is. The book he depends upon does not respond as he expects, and some other book, in which he did not have as much confidence, for some unknown reason suddenly shows unexpected strength. But the publisher has been honest in his attempt, even though faulty in his judgment, and the author who recognizes this in his attitude to his publisher will go far toward cementing the bonds of co-operation which inevitably bring success to those writers who actually possess, the genius to demand it.

The fact that one author's contract differs from another's cannot be taken as evidence that the publisher has not fulfilled his entire responsibility to both. An author without an established reputation has no right to expect as attractive a contract as one whose name is of known value to the publisher's list.

SUBMITTING THE MANUSCRIPT

The enormous number of manuscripts with which the publisher is deluged makes it absolutely necessary, for self-interest, to submit typewritten copy. Some houses make it a rule to return handwritten manuscripts unread.

The manuscript should not be bound together in any way, but the pages should be carefully numbered consecutively.

The best size of paper is the standard 8½ by 11, and the sheets should be uniform in size.

The paper should not be shiny or slippery, as this affects the eyes of the reader unpleasantly.

Each page should contain approximately the same number of lines, as this assists the publisher in estimating the number of words, and in determining the probable size of the printed volume.[2]

Always retain a duplicate copy of a manuscript, to prevent loss by fire, theft or other accident. It is an undue responsibility for an author to place upon a publisher to submit to him the only copy of a manuscript in existence. If the manuscript be accepted, it is also an advantage to have a copy for the use of the artist, etc.

Write on one side of the paper only.

Deliver the manuscript to the publisher flat rather than rolled or folded.

Manuscript copy costs two cents an ounce for mailing; when mailed with proof it costs one-half cent an ounce.

In fastening one piece of paper to another, or in fastening addenda upon pages already written, use mucilage rather than pins or clips.

Be sure that the author's name and address are plainly marked upon the manuscript. The usual location for this is the upper left-hand corner of the first page.

PUBLISHING AT THE AUTHOR'S EXPENSE

It may be taken as a general statement that if a book possesses sufficient merit to warrant its publication at all, a publisher can be found who is willing to assume the entire risk of the expense of publication. This statement does not apply to scientific, technical, or special works which publishers are glad to have upon their lists, but which must be subsidized from some source in order to make publication financially possible. In the case of a novel, the statement has no exceptions. No first-class publishing-house will issue with its imprint, at the author's expense, a novel in which it cannot have sufficient confidence to warrant it in assuming the entire expense.

Frequently the unknown author, eager to secure the publication of his work, is willing to make any sacrifice, or any terms, with almost any house which is willing to assist him in accomplishing the desired result. In fact, there are publishing firms who confine their operations to the publication of manuscripts to be paid for entirely by the writer. The general proposition is that the author assumes the cost of publication, the publisher places against this his expense of doing business, and the value--such as it is--of his imprint; and then author and publisher divide the profits.

Unfortunately, it is the rarest thing that there are any profits to divide; and the part of the whole transaction which is deplorable is that the publisher must know in advance that he has, to a certain extent, played upon the vanity of the author,--not so much, perhaps, in what he has actually said to him, as in the fact that he has shown an enthusiasm which leads the author to think that he has really produced a "best seller." There is a legitimate fee for privately-printed books if the author goes into the transaction with his eyes open, and accepts the services of the publisher as an agent, allowing the publisher's profit to stand as a return for services rendered.

Authors should be particularly wary of heeding solicitations from publishing-houses for manuscripts to be published in this way.

MAKING THE CONTRACT

There have been several new elements, in recent years, entering into the contract between author and publisher, which have made it a more complicated business-partnership than in the past. It was not so long ago, for instance, that neither author nor publisher would spend much time discussing the clause relating to dramatization; for few novels were then dramatized, and the chance of having this clause become of importance was remote. To-day, however, nearly every author considers his work teeming with potential dramatic probabilities, and the fact that so many plays have been produced, based upon successful novels, naturally leads the publisher to wish, if possible, a share in this supplementary reward. In considering this clause, therefore, the author must take into account the part which his publisher is likely to play in advancing the interests of both along these lines.

The present stock contract of most publishing houses assigns the dramatic rights to the publisher, but provides that the author shall share in such profits as may accrue from the dramatization.[3] Just where the division shall occur is a subject for discussion. It seems a fair contention on the publisher's part that any interest in dramatization comes from the popularity which a novel attains, and that this attainment results from his energy and ability in placing the book before the public as much as from the merit of the story itself. If the author feels this position to be warranted, he will undoubtedly accept an equal division; if not, he will insist that the clause be stricken out.

The moving-picture rights[4] add a still more recent factor to the consideration of the contract. The development of the moving-picture business has been so rapid that the demand found both publishers and authors unprepared for the unexpected, but no less welcome market for what must be considered a by-product. And the possibilities of its further extension are so unlimited that the returns from this single source alone may easily prove of greater value than the original right to publish the novel. Here, then, is a point which could never have appeared in the old-time contract, yet which now warrants the most careful consideration.

The serial rights[4] have long formed a definite clause to be included or omitted. Often the publisher's contract is not made until after the serial publication of the story has been arranged, in which case it is naturally an entirely independent business transaction. Frequently, however, the publisher places the story serially for the author, arranging his own date of publication to conform. Obviously, under these conditions, the publisher is entitled to share in the returns from the serialization.

The "second serial rights" represent still another phase. It is the custom for publishers to sell these rights to newspapers, and to receive their pay not in cash but in advertising space, since by so doing they receive more than they could get for a fair equivalent in cash. This second serialization does not ordinarily take place until a story has had its sale, and its appearance in this cheaper form is not supposed to affect the author's royalties one way or the other. The advertising space thus secured is used not to advertise the story so serialized, but other, later books issued by the same house. The publisher usually credits the author's royalty account with an arbitrary sum, equivalent in his estimation to the value of the transaction. Few contracts contain any clause covering this point. The publisher argues that the author, in all probability, could not have disposed of these rights at any price, and that whatever amount he receives is clear gain.

The contracts of various publishing-houses differ in their clauses covering "author's alterations," which include all changes made from the original manuscript as delivered to the printer. Some publishers allow a flat sum of $25[5]; others allow 10% of the printer's bill for composition and electrotyping. The average author cannot understand the expense of making changes after the manuscript has been put in type, and this point is one of the most disagreeable features which creep into the relations between author and publisher. It is inevitable that certain changes should be required when the author sees his work reduced to the rigidity of type, but the publisher should certainly not be expected to pay the penalty for elaborate changes which are the results of the author's carelessness or change of heart.[6]

The rate of royalty depends upon the value of the author's name to the publisher's list, but the normal rate is 10% of the retail price.[7] Some publishers demand that the first thousand copies shall be exempt from royalty, but this is looked upon to a certain extent as taking advantage of the author's lack of reputation. The best houses, if they are willing to publish a book at all, are willing to take the whole risk, allowing the author returns on every copy sold.

On fiction, the rate goes up from 10% to 33⅓%, but at this latter rate the publisher is giving the author more than he can afford, hoping to make up for his plunge by the impetus which this fortunate author's name will give to the balance of the list. Broadly speaking, 20% is the maximum a publisher can afford to pay, and then only on a book which is practically certain to win a place among the best sellers. A method which seems fair to all concerned is what is called the "progressive royalty." This gives the author say 10% on the first ten thousand copies, 15% upon the next ten thousand, and 20% upon all copies sold over twenty thousand. An arrangement such as this gives the publisher an opportunity to charge off all his initial expenses of manufacture, and to be liberal in his advertising appropriations in extending and continuing the sale of the book.

The royalty upon common-and high-school textbooks is normally 7½% to 10%, but as the publisher frequently makes special prices to secure large adoptions, the rate may be less. Special clauses are usually inserted into contracts made with authors of books of this nature, to cover these contingencies. College textbooks command 10% to 15%.

The clause relating to English rights[8] is unimportant to the average American author, for American stories do not as a rule sell well in England. As a leading English publisher once jocosely told the writer: "The average American novel deals either with society or sport, and we in England don't think you know much about either in America." If, however, the author believes his book has a chance, in all probability the publisher will strike out the clause, and give him a free hand to make his arrangements direct. The question of Colonial rights should not be overlooked, as these sometimes prove to be of greater value than the English rights themselves.

The "option" clause,[9] giving the publisher the refusal of subsequent books, is one which every publisher is glad to have, as it binds him to nothing and may prove of value if the earlier story of the author is successful. On general principles, it is the part of wisdom, in any contract, to make no agreement which does not bind both parties. An author should consider the probable advantage to himself in having the publisher feel sufficiently certain of retaining him upon his list to warrant the expenditure of larger sums, in advertising and in pushing the book in hand, than would be safe if the author were free to take his next manuscript to another publisher.