J.C. Hallman: PROPOSAL FOR TALK ON “GRANTS, PROPOSALS, AND QUERIES”
TO BE DELIVERED AT THE 2010 AWP CONFERENCE, THURSDAY, APRIL 8, COLORADO CONVENTION CENTER, STREET LEVEL, ROOM 203, 9:00 AM
J.C. Hallman
For all you lucky enough to be in Denver, if only marginally lucky to be at AWP, here's a talk on writing nonfiction proposals sure to bring a few laughs (as well as confusion if you think publishing is all about the cream rising to the top). If you're unable to attend, here's a copy of the talk posted over at The Quarterly Conversation.
Share on FacebookINTRODUCTION
Insight into proposing book-length literature is difficult to come by if for no other reason than that modern publishing is a many-headed hydra, and no one, not writers, not agents, not editors, can truly be said to know a great deal about it beyond whatever wisdom their own narrow sliver of experience has afforded them. In the brief essay that J.C. Hallman will deliver at a panel discussion at the 2010 AWP Conference in Denver, Hallman will offer up his own insights as to the nature of this admittedly flawed practice. The essay will be, to some extent, experimental. It will have a self-referential quality, it will aspire to innovation, indeed it will even be accurate to describe it as “meta-,” but of course Hallman will use none of these terms, though he would like to. Book proposals are not places for words like innovation and experimentation. Instead, Hallman’s essay will be “quirky and fun.”
Book proposals are as problematic as they are necessary. Hallman will be sure to note that even though the language of book proposals grates and annoys—that serious writers can feel a certain “whittling away of the soul” when they translate aesthetic goals into the language of car salesmen—but he’ll be anything but overtly discouraging. Far from it! Rather, he’ll describe the state of modern book proposals, flawed as they are, with terms like “savvy” and “pragmatism.” Of course Hallman won’t mention that his second book was about William James, founder of Pragmatism, and because of this he knows that “pragmatism” in the businessy sense of the word has nothing to do with actual pragmatism. But that’s another important—even critical—point Hallman will make. Words in book proposals do not serve the normal function of words. In a sense, they are not “words” at all. They’re more like bullet points. This principle applies broadly. Proposal language is not “language,” and stories in proposals are not “stories.” Hallman’s essay will be absolutely chock full of essential material and hard-to-come-by insights despite the narrow sliver of Hallman’s experience, and not the least among this veritable cornucopia of good thinking will be the suggestion that the language of the modern book proposal is mostly one of exaggeration and euphemism (even as proposals tend to deny this). Hallman’s essay will hammer this point home in a smart, un-alienating, and completely-understandable-to-the-average-reader kind of way: book proposals are not plans, they are utopian dreams. They are dreams in which one suspends all doubt, in which one assumes that all speculation has already translated into reality, and in which, during the course of their production, the proposal writer sublimates all the reasons why he or she wanted to be a writer in the first place, and instead operates under the assumption that the only reason anyone ever writes a book is to make assloads of money. In a totally fun way, Hallman will emphasize that the sad truth of modern publishing is that in order to write the books one wants, good writers have to figure out how to suspend their “voice,” suspend their ambition, and instead channel the insipid prattle of exciting, invigorating, and inspiring corporate seminars.
The absolute necessity of this knowledge in the modern publishing climate will make the panel on which Hallman sits the most absolutely sought-after ticket at this year’s convention.
