Goodbye with enormous gratitude to my friend and editor Marjorie Braman

Stunned and sad to see this news today:

"Marjorie Braman, 60, died July 2 at her home in Taghkanic, NY of complications from breast cancer. She began her 26 years in publishing as an editorial assistant and worked her way up to svp, publishing director at HarperCollins and then vp, editor-in-chief at Henry Holt. She has worked as a consultant at Open Road Integrated Media. Authors she worked with include Elmore Leonard, Michael Crichton and Sena Jeter Naslund. Most recently Braman worked as an independent editor and was a member of the independent editors' group 5e..."

It's an understatement to say that Marjorie changed my life. She acquired my memoir Bald in the Land of Big Hair for HarperCollins in 2001, my doorway to what was then The Big 6 and my first crack at the bestseller lists. While it was in the pipeline, she encouraged me to start a syndicated newspaper column and, even though it was way outside her job description, provided feedback and advice that shaped the direction of that column ("Earth to Joni") and a national magazine column that followed.

HarperCollins published my third novel, The Secret Sisters, in 2006, and Marjorie's feet-to-the-fire editing took my craft sense to the next level. In the years I worked with Marjorie, I learned most of what I know about the art of writing, the craft of editing and the business of publishing.

Elmore Leonard had this to say about how she worked:

"Marjorie was never a pushover, we talked all the time while I was at work on a novel. She would question the identity of pronouns wandering through a paragraph, or cite passages where I was telling rather than showing what was going on. But for the most part Marjorie liked my style and let me run with it." 

It says a lot about Marjorie that this perfectly describes my experience with her. She worked with a lot of big names, but she made a little nobody like me feel like my work was just as important. And she would sharply correct me for calling myself a little nobody. Every once in a while she would send me a fax (and later email) with instructions to print it out and post it on my office wall. One that remained there for almost 15 years simply said: JONI RODGERS: YOU ARE NOT A HACK.

Whenever I felt deflated by the industry slings and arrows, she would chastise me for "acting like an orphan in the storm" and remind me that an author has to be the bravest champion of her own work. We can't depend on the editor or the agent or the PR department. She is solely responsible for kicking my ass into the big girl pants that make it possible for me to thrive as an indie author and freelance editor. And I often hear myself repeating time-proven Marjorie-isms to my editing clients.

When I started putting myself out there as a freelance editor, Marjorie encouraged me and sent me some great advice in the form of this incisive PW article she wrote on the changing roles of in-house and freelance editors:

In this changing landscape, as publishers look more and more at their bottom lines and continue cutting back on in-house staff, I can envision a model in which the in-house editor is the jack-of-all-trades that the publisher requires, while still editing select projects. For other projects, the in-house editor might need to work with a trusted freelance editor to help move things along. But publishers have to acknowledge what every editor—in-house or freelance—knows: editing is crucial and can make the difference between the success or failure of a book.

Marjorie's sure editorial hand made an enormous difference in the books we did together. Her advocacy and mentorship made a huge difference in my career. Her friendship made a profound difference in my life.

An Open Letter to Houston Chronicle President/Publisher Jack Sweeney (upon the whacking of their book editor)

Wednesday night, I was up late, crafting a scathing post on how I’ve been alternately irked and bored hypnagogic by the Houston Chronicle’s coverage of books over the last fifteen years. A send-up of Jonathan Swift’s “Modest Proposal,” it suggested that half the working writers in Houston should be processed into packing peanuts so the remaining few could be shipped anywhere they wouldn’t be prophets in their own country. My rant was derailed when a friend emailed me a link to a Wall Street Journal article reporting that Jack Sweeney, president and publisher of the Houston Chronicle, had announced the layoff of 12% of its staff. Among the fallen was book editor Fritz Lanham.

My heart sank. How would it impact Houston authors if the Chron’s book coverage got even worse? Oh, wait. That’s not possible, unless they’re planning to actually set local authors on fire.

In 2006, Mr. Lanham was interviewed on “Critical Mass,” the National Book Critics Circle board of directors’ blog.

And I quote:

Q: I don't think most people think Houston when they think literary life, but I get the impression there's a lot going on there. What makes it a lively book town?

A: The University of Houston's Creative Writing Program, one of the largest and best in the country...We also have two first-rate independent bookstores -- Brazos Bookstore, which brings literary writers to town, and Murder by the Book, one of the best mystery bookstores in the country (EVERY major crime novelist comes through here on a regular basis).

Without these two bookstores and the UH program, the books scene in Houston would be pretty grim.

When I saw that, I wanted to slap some yes ma'am right upside his pointy head. There are dozens of talented, hard-working, well-published authors of all genres living in the Houston metroplex. Two indies? There are many! Book clubs buzz in every subdivision, coffee shop, and country club. Houston is the birthplace and headquarters of the RWA, one of the leading professional organizations in the publishing industry worldwide. The Winter Gathering of Authors at the Barnes & Noble flagship store was routinely jammed to the rafters. Nuestra Palabra "gives Latino writers their say." The New Yorker was right; we live in a lively book town. I don’t know where Eeyore gets off calling it “grim” because no one was in a better position to appreciate, facilitate, and preach the gospel of Houston’s literary scene.

Our man Fritz’s nose for book news was chronically stuffed up. Week after week, the Chronicle farted forth dry-as-dog-biscuit fare typified by last Sunday’s ponderous condemnation of a John Cheever biography. (In light of recent events, it’s likely Lanham was already asking for whom the bell tolls, but it's still a fair example of his taste.) There's value in throwing a critic’s well-written two-cents into the cultural conversation on John Cheever, but that’s why God created literary journals.

And why did God create newspaper book pages?

“They inform readers about new books readers might want to pick up -- a consumer-guide function,” Lanham said in that “Critical Mass” interview. “And they tell readers interesting things they didn't know -- they enlighten, teach, unnerve.”

I’m completely on the bus with that, but with the economy suffering, the book industry suffering, the newspaper industry suffering, and dozens of worthy, widely appealing books daily lobbed over his transom, Lanham could have better implemented that philosophy by devoting precious column inches to positive, engaging reviews instead of hurling himself between We the Readers and our potentially disastrous purchase of an eighty-pound Cheever bio.

Asked if local bookstores followed Chron book coverage, Lanham said, “Local bookstores are aware of our coverage, but as a rule I don't hear that our reviews move a bunch of copies. But come to think of it I don't think I've put the question directly to them.”

If he had, he would have been told that in order to be of use as a “consumer guide” (not to mention an advertising space), book pages need to feature timely reviews of books during their excruciatingly brief shelf life. Preferably books that people without elbow patches might actually want to read. Market appeal and artistic merit are not mutually exclusive. Shakespeare wrote his plays for the rabble. Dickens was directed at the mass audience. The book industry won't thrive – how can it even survive? -- if the most visible book coverage inculcates the widest market demographics with the belief that they are not smart enough to read. Somehow chortling academics have stretched this Grand Canyon of elitism and inefficacy between hungry readers and the intelligent, artsy, totally happening "let's do lunch" vibe of the book industry.

If the book business is dying of lung cancer, pasty little pedants like Fritz Lanham are the Marlboro Men. I'm sorry to be blunt. I don't want to kick the guy when he's down. (I wanted to kick him when he was up, but I missed my chance.) Mr. Lanham is an excellent writer. I hope he’ll carpe diem, grow a pair, and write a book of his own. I’d definitely buy it. Meanwhile, I hope the powers that be at the Chronicle will take this moment to reinvent the form and function of its book coverage, understanding that (hello!) encouraging reading is good for the newspaper business.

We get the culture we beget, Mr. Sweeney. The culture we carve, decision by decision. Books and newspapers are a vital, dynamic, and undeniably symbiotic aspect of American life. Well-crafted, hilarious, sexy, thought-provoking, educational, enormously entertaining books are being published every day, and there's an intelligent audience wanting to know about them. Ding dong the Fritz is dead, but where will the Chronicle go from here? Will future book coverage be a dynamic, relevant thread that appeals to an untapped audience, attracts advertisers, pumps people into bookstores, and lights a fire under the Houston literary scene? Or will we be yawning over wire service rip 'n' read reviews penned by circle-jerking academics and laid-off book editors?

Jack. Darling. I'm begging you. For the love of words on paper. Let's do lunch.