GENREALITY

From most reports Norton is a terror behind the scenes–yet brilliant in front of it. He’s arguably one of the best–and most versatile–actors working today. So how is this possible? How can someone so talented also be such a well…bitch?

This got me thinking about difficult personalities, specifically in the world of book publishing. I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about difficult authors. Authors who demand outrageous amounts of time, money and effort from their editors and publishers. Authors who do everything but march down to the company themselves to ream people out (and some have done this). Authors who demand conference calls when their book drops off the New York Times bestseller list (after having spent 8 weeks on it). But one thing most of these difficult authors have in common is that an unusually large amount of them are massively successful. For some reason, their intense desire to succeed–even in spite of many social graces–often allows them to actually succeed. So what is it about difficulty that allows writers–and people in other mediums–to be so successful while everyone cowers when they enter a room?

I think a large part of it is that whatever a person demands from their publisher (or studio, etc…) they are putting a similar, if not greater effort into the work themselves. They’re not sitting in an easy chair barking out orders, they’re putting the kind of time into their work that Michael Jordan did into his jump shot. They’re authors who started small, and worked themselves to the top. They didn’t sit back passively, they demanded those in charge put effort behind them. And in return they showed the effort would be matched, and then some. Sometimes they’re right, sometimes they’re wrong, but more often then not they’re just asking for the same effort to be put into publishing their work that went into creating it.

Crime authors, at least those I’ve met, at among the nicest people in the world. They support each other. They mentor new writers, and give infinite tips on how to navigate the industry. I have been the beneficiaries of almost unfathomable kindness from my peers, and have tried to pay it forward the best I can. Sure there are egos–as in any profession–but for the most part crime authors are an absolute pleasure to be around. 

Yet it’s well known within the industry that there is very little correlation between the respect a person gets from one’s peers, and success in their field. Some of the most beloved authors, the ones who never pay for a drink at a convention, who win the most awards and whose panels are constantly full, don’t sell all that well. And many authors who simply don’t go to conferences (unless they’re the Guest of Honor) and don’t schmooze are huge bestsellers. There is often a massive gulf between personal reputation and professional success. Fair? Probably not. True? Unfortunately so.

Yet nobody wants to be difficult, or at least I doubt people who are difficult consider themselves to be. I doubt if you asked authors with the worst reputations if they considered themselves difficult, the answer would be unequivocally “no.” Difficult? No. Passionate? Hardworking? Demanding? Hell yes. 

Perhaps that’s a fine line, but the most difficult authors seem to be the ones who, first and foremost, expect the most from themselves. They work harder, and most importantly they see the forest from the trees. Yes, there are many examples of authors who are gracious and kind and have comparable success. They are examples what we aspire to be: people whose books are as beloved as their personalities. And there are also those authors who are simply assholes, who treat others like dirt without offering anything in return (chances are they won’t be published for long, as publishers rightfully tend to tolerate difficulty only when it is worth the effort). 

So maybe nice guys don’t always finish last, but while most nice guys are buying everyone a round there’s a difficult–nay, passionate–author hunched over his desk, with his editor, agent and publicist on speed dial. 

Writing is an art. Publishing is a business. And just like in business, it’s often better to be feared than loved.