Follow-up to the Sloane/Emily Question

From you handy tipsters, we have aquired this info:

1. The Original Publishers Marketplace Deal for Sloane: Vintage/Anchor associate publicity director Sloane Crosley's I WAS TOLD THERE'D BE CAKE, humorous essays about the glamor of inadequacy, to Jennifer Pooley at William Morrow, for publication in fall 2007, by Denise Shannon at Denise Shannon Literary Agency (NA). Apparently the book was originally more ettiquette themed, and at some point, the focus changed, as did the publisher.


2. A claim the Emily's book went for $250k, and Sloane's for $75k.


3. A claim that Sloane's book went for much less than $75k.

All I can verify is that the book was definitely in the five figure range, based on Leon Neyfakh's May Observer article. I think we can safely assume that Emily is at least raking in six figures more than Sloane. Although, the question remains, who will ultimately win? Sloane must have earned out her advance by now, and royalties should start coming in. Depending on what Emily's book does...well, she might never see more than her initial paycheck.

Do Tell,

The Editor

Speaking of Sloane...

Sloane dicusses if the NY publishing world is mean. Well, we are, but she handles it nicely...

Leaked: Sample from Emily Gould

Afterwards we sit on the fire escape half-naked and smoke a cigarette. Because he spends so much time working out, his smoking seems glamorous --louche and earned, not depressing and desperate like my ex-boyfriend's. He passes the cigarette to me and looks away, letting the sunset caress his profile and make him look like a still from a French movie, his face in sharp focus against the tenement blocks and the taller towers in the distance, dark against the streaky pink summer sky. I exhale into a breeze that feels like a caress. The day has cooled and now the air is the exact temperature as the blood that's slowing its race through my veins. I slump against him and feel his body stiffen almost imperceptibly. He has five more minutes and then he really has to leave for wrestling, and besides, sex never seems to relax him. Sometimes, I've noticed, he wakes up in the morning with balled fists.

Hmm. It's just so easy. Now, I know we've given Sloane a lot of shit in the past, but wow. This leaked excerpt from Emily Gould's book proposal just gave me a whole new level of respect for Ms. Crosely. At least the samples I read from Sloane (no, I never read the book. yes, I am a hypocrite) were amusingly self-deprecating. And maybe some of Emily stories (told through her TATTOOS. um, yeah.) will be as well. But if it's gonna be a whole book of prose written in the style of a 14 year old girl trying to be deep, well then. The air is the exact temperature as the blood that's slowing its race through my veins? I call bullshit. Was the air 98.6 degrees? 'cause that's by no means "cool." Or is Emily Gould's core body temperature freakishly low? Is that why her writing is so sluggish?

Also, any bets on who the boy is? Based on the pics of Gawker/Page 6 writer Joshua David Stein and his muscley torso, I'm going with Josh. Which means ex-boyfriend is probably poor Hugh. You remember Hugh, right? Of course you do! Emily talked all about him and how she flirted inappropriately with Josh while they were till together? In that NY Times Magazine piece? Remember? Of course you do.

Anyway, to quote Emily, "While nothing that has happened to me in and of itself has been that noteworthy: Lots of young people have lived in big cities, and have had an assortment of strange and ordinary jobs… there are some truths about doing these things and about writing about them online that haven't yet been expressed."

That's true, dear. Nothing has been noteworthy. Which is why people hated your piece in the Sunday Magazine. And which is why they will tear apart your book. And while perhaps there are "some truths" that haven't been expressed, that doesn't mean they should be.

--Paige Sexie

Sloane to HBO?

We can only pray that it won't be as horrific as Jonathan Ames's pilot for Showtime.

--Slunchie

This was in my inbox yesterday...

PUBLISHERS PUBLICITY ASSOCIATION
www.publisherspublicity.org

President · Judith Haut
Random House Children’s Books


Invitation June 2008

JOIN US FOR OUR JUNE LUNCHEON

With special guest Sloane Crosley, Associate Director of Publicity at Vintage and author of I Was Told There’d Be Cake, who will share her perspectives as both author and publicist. Attendees will receive complimentary copies of her book.

DO NOT WANT

Is Emily Gould the New Sloane Crosley?

Let's compare, shall we?

Publishing Experience:

• Emily used to be an associate editor at Hyperion and now blogs for Galleycat.
• Sloane is the associate director of publicity at Vintage/Anchor

Books:

• Emily is the co-author of some YA novel called Hex Education
• Sloane is the author of the New York Times bestselling essay collection, I Was Told There Would Be Cake

Gawker Connection:

• Emily is a former co-editor of the blog. It now mocks her.
• Sloane has never worked for the blog but is still mocked repeatedly.

Freelance writing pieces:

• Emily has had articles published in the New York Times op-ed section, Radar, Bookslut, and the New York Observer.
• Sloane has had pieces published in the New York Times, Village Voice, Maxim, BlackBook Magazine, Playboy, and the New York Observer.

Jimmy Kimmel:

• Emily was torn a new asshole by JK when he guest-hosted on Larry King Live.
• To my knowledge, Sloane has no connection to Jimmy.

Over-exposure:

• Emily's piece has spawned coverage in media outlets such as NPR, Slate, Atlantic, L.A. Times, New York Observer, Huffington Post, Philadelphia Weekly, New York Magazine's CultureVulture, Wired online, countless websites and blogs, and of course, Gawker.
• Sloane's book got her coverage in New York Observer, New York Times, Daily Candy, Radar, San Francisco Chronicle, Publishers Weekly, New York Magazine, Forbes, Newsweek Online, Paste, Salon, Gawker, etc.

Connection to one another:

• Emily interviewed Sloane for Radar

Hair:

• Emily's looks a bit lackluster and even in a little greasy in one of the pics.
• Sloane has been proven to have the shiniest hair in the publishing.

Slunch opinion:

• Emily is a nice girl and a funny blogger, but "Exposed" was the most boring, self-involved piece that I have ever read in the New York Times Magazine. Appropriate for Glamour? Maybe. But the New York Times?? No way. DO NOT WANT.
• Sloane is a nice girl and a good publicist, but the coverage of I Was Told There Would Be Cake was ridiculous. Is Sloane a good writer? Sure. Is she good enough to merit more coverage than all the other authors. Um, no.

So, there you have it. Young, cute ladies with publishing connections trying to make it as writers. Unfortunately for them, while the connections they have made may help them "further" their career, they also might piss off their peers to the point of never-ending mockery and skepticism about their true abilities.

Oh, also, I think Sloane wins the battle. New York Times bestselling books trumps cover story of New York Times Magazine.

--Paige Sexie

Why I love some BREs....not

So, a lovely publicist friend just passed this along to me. For those of you too lazy to click through, it's a Publishers Weekly blog entry by Editor-in-Chief Sara Nelson, entitled "Why I Love (Some) Publicists." Bascially, Sara acknowledges that we have a hard job (duh) and face constant rejections (sigh, it's amazing we retain any self esteem). But, then, she goes onto say how she appreciates it when publicists tell her the "truth" - ie, admitting that this book might not be for everyone, but here's why she should look at it anyway. Sara goes on to say:

"It’s not easy – and it usually helps to have been in the business a few years and to know the tastes of the person you’re addressing. The greatest publicists, even, will privately admit to a book’s faults without damning its author – and those, above all, are the publicists I like. No book is going to be 'perfect' to everyone, and by admitting flaws, honest publicists are helping reviewers and editors do their jobs."

Ok, first of all, I don't know anyone's tastes. I don't even know my own. I mean, I know Marilyn Stasio likes mysteries. I'm not going to pitch her a memoir about Iraq. And I know that Pat Towers isn't going to review the new advice book about how to pick up chicks. So yeah, fine. But do I have time do look through a pile of literary fiction and think to myself, hmmm, would Dwight Garner prefer the moving one about the boy coming of age during the Holocaust, or the comical story of a young woman trying to make it in finance. Um, no. And I certainly don't have time to do it for Sara Nelson - no offense, Sara.

For every book I work on, I'm pitching hundred of reviewers, editors, producers, and reporters. And yes, I try to tailor those lists based on the type of book and to tailor certain pitches. But, the book review editor in Tulsa is probably going to get the same pitch as the BRE is Atlanta (if the AJC still had one, of course). That's just the way the cookie crumbles. I don't have time to research all of you and discover your tastes. And if you care so much, why don't you let me know? How about sending me some guidance - ie, I only review this. I prefer this. Then, I can stop wasting your time and mine.

--Ladytron

Bonus question: Thoughts on who the favorite unnamed publicists are?

You say "charity," I say "PBR"...

So I dragged my butt down to Crosby Street last night in the name of charity - Housing Works "First Words" Silent Auction and Cocktail Party. And, you know what, it was kinda fun. I thought the whole cash bar thing was gonna be a real downer, but wine was only four bucks, AND they had PBR for three. I like a place that caters to their audience. It was like being at doc holliday's - but without the smell emanating from the bathrooms. There was also free food. I guess I should have realized that there would be the usual cheese/assorted fancy meats/fruit/veggie spread, but thankfully, I had been planning to be drunkorexic for the night and didn't bother to eat beforehand, allowing me to take advantage of those adorable little cherry tomatoes.

I, of course, didn't bid on a book since, whatever. Like it's hard to get a free signed book. My office is filled with them! Oh, also, I'm poor. Slunch has no expense account kids, so those three glasses of wine I drank? Yeah, all coming straight from my pocket. So Housing Works better make good use of the $20 I spent (if anyone points out that three glasses of wine is $12, I will kill you. I also tipped and payed $10 to get in. So, really $25). I'm thinking that it's gonna be by 20 (25) bucks that finally helps doctors and scientists discover the cure for AIDS. Or, at least provide a couple packs of cigarettes to some hard-working, stressed-out smart person. And really, isn't that the most important thing?

Oh, and the most exciting part (not really, that was the relatively cheap booze), people I saw: Ron Hogan and Andy Heidel of Galleycat; Nathaniel Rich, author and son of Frank Rich; Mark Mangan, co-founder of Flavorpill; shiny-haired Sloane Crosley, author and publicist; Elizabeth Spiers, original Gawker contributor who now does other stuff that I can't remember; Alia Habib, publicity manager at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; John Freeman, former NBCC president; and tons of other people that I just plain didn't recognize but I'm sure were equally important.

And, now, as 5 pm rapidly approaches, I will pretend to do work for another 30 minutes while contemplating whether I want to drink whiskey or beer after this. That is all. Happy Thursday.

--Ladytron

Sloanch Recap

I know that you have all eagerly been awaiting the Slunch recap of Sloane's party last night. HOWEVER, Publitron seems to have submitted his synposis to galleycat instead - I think maybe they offered him money or something. Bastards. But, whatevs, here are some notes kindly submitted by Publitron's date, who I suspect has a secret crush on me. Kidding. But, no, really. I mean, you don't know who I am, but believe you me, I'm quite dashing.

Anyways, the list follows.

Do tell,

The Editor


Publitron's Date's List of Observations

1. Julia Allison let me pet her dog! Lily is adorable in person (in puppy?). She might have been my favorite part.

2. Mary Rambin is scary skinny. And I diskline being surrounded by people who are the size of my thigh bone. I also dislike being in a room of people dressed in outfits that cost what I made last year.

3. I was greatly angered when one of the hot waiters LIED to me. As he took my empty mojito glass, I said/slurred, "You're gonna bring more, right?" He assured me that another tray was coming out pronto. I waited for forever (five minutes) before deciding to investigate. Apparently, they had stopped serving, but were allowing you to get refills if you held onto your glass - which I totally would have had the hot waiter not LIED. Anyway, I was forced to swipe a dirty wine glass, wipe it out with my dress, and have them fill that. And before you judge me, there were a lot of people doing the same thing. Suddenly, everyone seemed to be drinking mojitos out of smudgy wine glasses.

4. Another problem with the staff? I questioned their judgement. A couple people were asked not to smoke pot in the stairwell - because the staff wasn't sure if people were allowed to stand there. Because, obviously, that's the real issue in that scenario.

5. I felt bad for the lady selling books - If she'd been selling glasses, she would have made a killing at the end.

6. There was a real lack of food. When you serve wine, there should be a cheese platter. That's party throwing 101.

7. Everyone is correct - Sloane's hair is very shiny.

In summation, cons were the staff, the lack of food, people better dressed and skinnier than I. The pros, shiny hair, JA's dog, and free booze. And as any good Slunch reader knows, in the case of a tie, the win goes to the side with free booze.

Slunch is famous (kind of)

Just a quick Sunday evening announcement that we are famous. That's right, y'all. Check out the mention of Slunch in this SAN FRANCISCO FREAKING CHRONICLE article about, what else, Sloane Crosley. Sloane, thank you for getting so much publicity that our coverage of you getting publcity got us a mention. Hmmm, if only we weren't anonymous so we could all gloat in public. Congrats, Ladytron.

--The Editor

ps. Yes, I know this isn't really a big deal, but whatever. Were you in the SF Chronicle on Friday? Yeah, exactly.

Congrats, Sloane: The Party

So...we've been slacking in all aspects, having Californication as our literary event of the month for, oh, 6 months or so. But, an invite just fell into our anonymous laps to a party that is worthy of topping David "Why Don't You Love Me" Duchovny and cast. Everyone's favorite publicist, Sloane Crosley, is having another book party! Unlike the official launch party earlier this month, this Tuesday's event is a "Congratulations for Your Immense Success" party thrown by Crosley BFFs Elizabeth Spiers, Jonathan Ames, A.M. Homes, and Nick Stern

If you can't get an invite, don't worry. We'll give the full report - hopefully in a drunken haze from the "I Was Told There Would Be Alcohol" open bar.

--The Slunchies

ps. I know we seem to be covering Sloane a LOT lately, but come on. She is everywhere. But, we promise, after the party, we're going to put a moratorium on coverage and pick on someone else. Like maybe my author who won't stop calling me.

Why I Want to Hate Sloane Crosley…but can’t actually seem to

Every time I turn around, I see her name. Sloane Crosley. Publicist extraordinaire, author, all around perfect New York publishing success story. I should say first that I’ve actually interacted with Sloane before. She was pleasant, helpful, and overall very sweet. Her name was vaguely familiar to me at the time, but publicists run in small circles, so if you haven’t worked with someone before, odds are you have met her at an event or you know someone who has worked with her or she’s a friend of a friend. We’re a bit incestuous that way.

Somehow though, Sloane has started to invade the publicity circle in a way that I’ve never experienced before…she is everywhere. And everyone seems to have an opinion. Last month, she came up at three separate drinks dates I had. And opinions run the gamut: hatred, jealously, admiration, and – from some of the few straight men still daring to enter publicity - crushes.

I think it all started with the Observer piece, titled “The Most Popular Publicist in New York.” Now, I must confess, I don’t check the Observer everyday. I rely on Galleycat, Gawker, Pub Lunch, and my Goggle Alerts (I’m still trying to master RSS feeds – shut up. It seems hard) to provide me with any necessary links to any new publishing-related stories. So, I learned of Sloane’s new title from Gawker , which tore apart Sloane’s assertion that the suffered from “spatial dysphasia disorder.” Apparently, that’s not really a disease but whatever.

That’s hardly the point – at least from a fellow publicist’s point of view. I take issue with the entire tone of the article. First of all, author Leon seems a bit biased – as if he wrote this entire article in hopes of scoring a date. Yeah, yeah. Sloane is cute, clever, funny, and a joy to work with. Whatever. So am I. Once I’ve had my coffee. My hair is pretty shiny too, when I have time to wash it. Oh, and all of her authors LOVE her. So what? My authors love me too – they just happen to be less known. Sorry that I didn’t get assigned to Jonathan Ames and Joan Didion. But my author who sold 2,000 copies of his first book – well, he sent me a bonsai. Take that! I bet Toni Morrison never did that for you, Sloane.

So began the Sloane-hating. Than, this showed up – a little piece in New York Magazine in which Sloane endearingly acknowledged how over-the-top the Observer piece seemed, “If I read that about me, I would hate me – I would think I was an overhyped, overrated, smiley idiot.” Hmm, well….

Now, I felt torn. Here was a girl that was approached for an interview, and she gave it. It’s not her fault that Leon drooled all over the pages while writing it. Perhaps if someone had dedicated a piece to me (snort), I would also seem vapid and over-glorified. Perhaps she isn’t really a good publicist only because her only friends are media people that she uses to promote her books, while the rest of us have actual friends that we don’t use for professional gain. Maybe she doesn’t create a perfect social persona just so her boss will invite her to getaways on the weekend. Maybe she is just a sweet and talented person, and I’m just a bitter, jealous hack who doesn’t condition my split ends enough.

Oh, but we’re not done yet. While reading the Sunday Metro section a couple weeks ago, whose name should appear? Why, yes, dear reader: Sloane, in a charming essay about an epiphany she had on the bus . Um, what? This is a woman who is about to publish a collection of essays, based off some emails she sent to friends. She has received amazing blurbs and more pre-pub buzz than many bestselling authors. So I expect this sample of her clever and funny prose to be just that. Instead, I was left with a bizarre story about riding the bus in the snow, popping some woman’s arm into place, and somehow leaving with a feeling that balance had been restored. What? Could I write an essay about my experience on the subway the other day? It involved a realization of sorts too. When the N train pulled up one Sunday, the car that stopped in front of me was remarkably uncrowded. This was very exciting as I was guaranteed a seat so I could zone out and work on my crossword puzzle. It wasn’t summer, so it couldn’t be the AC was out. No worries. I stepped in, along with 5 other people, and as the doors closed, I realized with horror why the car was empty. Let’s just say, there was a woman passed out on the far bench, covered in her own shit. Yes, people, shit. I spent the next three minutes dry-heaving in the opposite corner until I could switch at the next station. Epiphany: Even in winter, don’t get in the empty subway car. Could I write an article about that?

This is the New York Times. We strive every day to get our authors some kind of coverage, whether in the Style section, a Modern Love column, the Book Review, ANYWHERE they might take us. And this publicist has written some crappy story about the bus and she makes it in? It makes me mad. I had two authors write beautiful essays that we rejected. I’ve pitched (in my opinion) some pretty creative feature pieces. Nada. But Sloane writes something…well, go right ahead and don’t forget to slap a big stock photo above it.

I walked into work today, and lo and behold. Sloane pops up twice before I’ve even had my coffee. Quoted in yesterday’s essay in the New York Times Book Review on romance and book taste and as the author of the Publishers Weekly Soapbox essay on, of all things, why book titles have become long…sigh. REALLY? Also, when I googled her to find these links, I can’t even tell you how many other pieces popped up. Apparently, Salon just did an excerpt from her book, Emily Gould interviewed her for Radar , and there’s an interview in the Kansas City Star . She even has her own Wikipedia page!

And, now, I realize – the problem is not Sloane Crosley. Sloane probably is a good person and a good publicist to boot. People do have very nice things to say about her, and that’s hardly her fault. And she’s not a bad writer. Most publicists aren’t. We have to have some kind of skill in a world of email pitching, and we certainly have to be creative if we want our emails to even get opened. And, if I had the opportunity (or the time) to write something worthy of being published outside of Slunch, I sure wouldn’t turn down the opportunity. So, I guess I can’t really hate her. However, I can hate on book media for the flood of Sloane-coverage. In a world of shrinking book coverage, where over 300,000 new books are published each year, and we are all fighting tooth and nail for a tiny mention, Sloane Crosley is popping up everywhere. Excerpts, essays, profiles. Give us a break, Sloane! Leave some space for the other authors. It’s hard enough.

--Ladytron