All this recent bet-hedging in the publishing arena makes me want to get dangerous with my literature. It makes me want to read and write books that only the most fearless editor would ever dare to publish, and only the most uncompromising writer would ever endeavor–at the risk of starving their family– to write. Whether you’re talking about narrative decisions or acquisitions, nothing is worse for literature than safe choices. The closer you get to the sure-thing, the bigger turd you’re bound to unleash on the world. And I fully expect a steady diet of turds from the big houses in the coming years unless they decide to get dangerous (and I don’t mean fiscally irresponsible). Thus, I begin my tenure as the fourth of ‘three guys’ with a challenge to corporate publishers: bring me something dangerous. Bring me something that demands to be read. Send me a galley that will insinuate itself to the top of my impossible pile not because of a marketing push, or a big print run, but because the writing is viral and the word-of-mouth cannot be stopped. Then I’ll have my intern read it.




























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