If you’re a non-fiction writer of any kind, you’ve become familiar with the demand for a “Platform”—in other words, what qualifies you to write about this topic. Platforms in fiction can be a little bit trickier. Or should I say “more tricky”? Anyway . . .
Since we deal with fiction here, let me say there are innumerable professionals’ blogs which explain this term far better than I can. Agents Rachelle Gardner, Chip MacGregor, Editors Karen Ball, Mick Silva, Nick Harrison, CEO Michael Hyatt, all have contributed information on the subject of platform either on their websites, blogs, or in interviews.
While it isn’t the unyielding requirement for publication, do not underestimate the influence of having a strong list of credentials. One thing I’ve noticed over the years of studying the publishing industry is the subjectivity in every area of the business. When you think about it, this subjectivity exists in most jobs where you must submit to an interview of any kind. You’ll naturally click with some people and won’t with others. Regardless of your qualifications, sometimes it’s just you that either charms or does not captivate potential employers. In the writing industry your words usually have to impact a potential representative or employer before your platform becomes an issue. It follows close on the heels of those words, or it can actually precede those words depending on the format of a query or introduction to a professional, but it is never a non-factor.
With a weak platform such as mine (which is really an absent platform, or a non-existent platform, or an invisible platform—you get the idea), the words become tantamount to rate a look. In other words who does Mrs. Nobody from Nowhere think she is writing a bunch of novels, breaking ordained rules assigned to the “first-timers”, really stagnant in the marketing arena, and forget this?! Get my drift? This is one of the reasons some professionals stress the dynamic configuration of query letters and why others paradoxically ignore them and skip to the first 10 pages. The words and the platform are big-ees in the publishing industry. What’s the draw for marketing if Mrs. Stay-at-home Mom has written a romance? Or if Mr. Retired Retail Salesman has written a men’s fiction novel?
The irony here is that there is a very large number of readers who fall into my “voracious” or “avid” types of reader categories described in a previous post who don’t remember the authors’ names of their favorite books (no matter how huge the publisher has made the name to obscure the title on the cover) and some who can’t even tell you the titles (and who can blame them since most of the time they’re eclipsed by the authors’ emblazoned names?). The second irony is that a large number of these reader types could care less about the particulars of said authors. Now, granted there are devotees of certain authors such as Karen Kingsbury who will turn out to her events because she has cultivated a “family” of fans, but how many of them do you think picked up her first few novels because she’d been a newspaper writer for the LA Times?
The platform issue is really used to determine why the author should be able to write at all. If he/she has an attractive education in English/literature, a bunch of articles published in magazines or respected e-zines, there is the sense that this individual more than likely has learned how to write, how to structure a novel, create characters/plot/scenes/dialogue, and establish his/her voice. With unlimited and never ending submissions flowing into the offices of professionals, it helps to have something concrete in the field of writing to make yourself credible.
Here’s the deal. Platforms often assure the professionals that a writer has the creds to bring them a novel which won’t necessarily require a major time-consuming overhaul. And somehow I’m guessing it justifies their risks in investment. They can present you to the powers-that-be with something other than . . . nothing to recommend you. It’s been said if an agent/editor has to choose between two equally valued manuscripts, one writer with a platform and the other with none, guess which one they’ll pick.
This platform-speak is not meant to discourage. For those of you who are working on your first or second novels and are not yet contracted, this discussion can be used as an impetus for expanding who you are as a writer. Do your homework. I also believe this is one of the reasons nine out of ten professionals will tell you to attend a writers’ conference. They want to find out if there is a rapport even in casual conversation. The face to a name is invaluable for both you and them because of simple eye-contact, courtesy, and personality traits. Your character can often overcome your deficiencies in platform issues. There are innumerable successes and abject failures recorded at writers’ conferences. With all the information about them on the individual conference websites, on agents’ blogs, editors’ blogs, etc., no one need go to a conference unprepared.
You are who you are. Present yourself without pretension. If there is something to be done to establish yourself more favorably in the writing venue, do it within your area of expertise. And if “expertise” is stretching it, just keep plugging away at this stuff in obedience to what the Lord has for you. It won’t necessarily be the same for someone else. Don’t compare your progress with anyone else, and don’t pretend there’s nothing for you to do. Listen to the Lord’s instruction for each day and act accordingly.
Exalt the Lord and not yourself. In reality He’s the only one worthy to stand on a platform.
Father, I do exalt you. You know what you have for each one of us. We need only to concern ourselves with our obedience to you. Thank you, Jesus, Amen.
*Please pray for the Kristy Dykes' family.*