What do you want your story to say to the reader? Lots of things, of course, but the two most are "Take me up and buy me" and "Take me home and read me." Now, how do we accomplish these ends? Many pages have been written offering us instruction in satisfying the first bit. Many hours have been consumed in lectures to the same end.
        How often we've read a review of a recent book which calls it a "page turner." In fact, phrases such as these are what the publisher pays for when he does his dickering for market share by having his friends in the industry give him the best jacket reviews. A really popular writer's publisher may have so many who owe him favors that there may be the need for a false end-paper bound into a paperback with favorable blurbs if they overflow the book rear cover or make the cover-flaps of the hardbound edition replete with favorable prose-bits. Of course they are favorable; a writer who says ill of his competition is immediately tagged as a sore loser, not a person of perception.
        That's how the business works, and I have several times traded favorable review material with others in my business. When I was first approached with a request to blurb a book, I was surprised, nay, shocked. Soon, though, I learned to conform. In almost any business (except logging) it is referred to as "log rolling."
        Now, Webster's New World Dictionary and Thesaurus defines a "page turner" as "any book, esp. a novel, which is so interesting, exciting, suspenseful, etc. that it draws the reader along, though it may be of little or no literary worth." Little or no literary worth?  Small praise, eh? That may be good enough, though. If what we offer is enjoyable and interesting, do we need to fret about the literary worth?
        The blurbs and immense advertising efforts solve the first challenge - that of having the reader pick up and purchase the book. The easiest part (at least the cheapest part) is the creation of a piece of work that makes the reader want to read on, turning the pages. One must keep in mind that the publisher's readers or editors must want to turn those pages or the work will never be printed and offered. Inescapably, the writer is writing for one person. True, there may be several readers in a publisher's house who will see the work, but there is only one who makes the final decision. It may be the most important person on the publisher' staff or the least, but the decision of that one decision is pivotal. If he says, "No!" he starts a train of doubt, not about the literary value of the piece, but its probable marketability. "Sorry - not our usual stuff" is damaging, but "Who's going to buy this?" is fatal.
        Here the writer must borrow a ruse from the fisherman or trapper. He uses bait to fool the quarry into believing that the offering is real and attractive. The bait need not be real, nor even realistic. All that is required is a resemblance to what the prey desires. No, not quite all. The prey must also wonder, have curiosity, about the offering. Is it a bit of bunny fur tied to a trap pedal? Is it a bit of brass bent so it moves like a fish when towed through the water?
        It is not the story, but the title. The fur may be a helpless - something. The fox has a wealth of experience with small, tasty animals, and they all seem to be small and furry. This offering, while not specifically a young bunny, promises to be something good because it fits into his list of edible furry things. Now, if we tried to bait the trap with a realistic bunny dummy, we might fail in some fatal way. Our manufactured bunny may not satisfy every attribute that the fox needs to make a decision. We may not even know what the fox has in his mental picture of "bunny." So, we just give him the title, "Furry Goody" and he fills in the rest from his experience.
        Similarly, the title of our story is bait. And, similarly, if it is too realistic, i.e., it too accurately describes what follows, it may cause the prospective buyer to shy off, sure that it's something he doesn't like. Instead, it's better to select a title which sounds like the prey the reader is stalking, but avoids being so specific that it telegraphs, rightly or wrongly, an undesired story.
        A few examples may clarify this. If you saw a story titled, "Villagers Strive to Resist Foreign Occupation" it might trigger all sorts of negative thoughts. Call it "The Moon is Down" and it suggests nothing except that it's a serious and perhaps dark tale. Nothing more. "Cat's Cradle" doesn't turn away people who hate science fiction or stories about the end of the world. McKenna's "The Sand Pebbles" telegraphs nothing except that it may have something to do with the sea. "Babbitt" suggests nothing more than a biography. (The name had not become slang for a "Babbitt" at the time the book was introduced.)
        So it is that the title selects the reader. Those interested in children's games soon learn that the cat's cradle is only a metaphor, but by then a few pages have been turned by the reader, trying to see the literal cradle. A few pages are all the usual reader needs to see whether he has bitten into a juicy crawfish or a chunk of yellow brass. Getting enough flavor into him to make him want to proceed even though he's been deceived is the writer's next job. How well he does that is the measure of the author.
        How well his baits his trap is the measure of the fisherman. If he doesn't select the bait well, a knowledgeable editor may supply one for him. Several of my stories have been "saved" by the change of only the title. I must admit that it was a hard pill, but a story rejected ten times needs some surgery (or euthanasia.)
        Back then, I was too new at the business to think of my little people going down the Memory

 Hole. Stubbornly, I retained the weak titles on a couple of stories and have them yet in my reject list. I changed one's title and it was accepted, then, bowing to my stubborn pride, I submitted it under its original, weak title to another publisher, who also accepted it. Plagiarism of one's own wares is not a crime, but it is an outrage.
        Not surprisingly, when readers discovered my gaffe and the word got around to those two publishers, I never became their favorite.
    
                  Critiques  
    
CRITIQUE CONTEST WINNER
        By Donald Sullivan
    
    
    
    
    
"Bunny Fur" -- critique #1:
    
        Since this article is about the importance of titles, the author aptly chose a good one.  I don't think the author could have come up with a better title.   Something like "The Importance of Book Titles," for example, would have been rather dry.
        Most books and articles on writing tell us that the critical hook is the first line--or at least the first page--of a story.  Speaking strictly as a reader, I've never agreed with that.  I've stayed with some books for a chapter or two before getting hooked.
        When I choose a book, except for the author's name, I think I am influenced more by the title than anything else.
        I disagree with the article on just one point.  I do like a title that fits the story.  If the title suggested a vampire story, I'd choose it for that reason.  But if it were actually a murder mystery--even though I like a good mystery--I would be miffed enough that I wouldn't buy that author again.
        This was an interesting and informative article, well thought out and well written.  Good show.
    
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"Bunny Fur" -- critique #2:
  
        "Bunny Fur" is a thought-provoking piece that examines some of the foibles of the publishing world. The article has a reassuring, breezy tone, and the author lends credibility by citing his/her own successful and unsuccessful experiences.
        Writing-wise, there were several mistakes—a word missing here, a comma there—that call for more careful proof-reading before submitting for publication. These, however, are minor and would not cause an editor to reject the piece. I enjoyed some of the metaphors, but found others distracting.
        While I found the content of this article interesting, both cover blurbs and titles are largely in the domain of the publisher. If your book is selected for publication, the publisher may decide to use cover testimonials, generally from other authors in that publisher’s stable. Thus blurbs serve not only to plug your book but advertise theirs.
        A catchy title may influence the publisher to at least read a page or two from your work, but in the case of book-length fiction, the title is frequently changed before the work is published. This is the publisher’s prerogative, and the wise author will not object. The publisher, after all, knows what’s already in print, what’s coming out next season, and has the marketing data to understand what the readers are looking for. The importance of an author-selected title may be greater in short fiction.
        While this piece is an interesting read and would provide a worthwhile contribution to any writing magazine, it would be a mistake for writers to think they have much control over blurbs or published titles.
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"Bunny Fur" -- critique #3: 
    
        The writer composes with authority, and a
tenor of truth runs through this piece. I agree that the work is perfectly marketable just as it is. "How to" articles by stock authors annoy me and I generally find them a waste of my time. This article is different. Though anonymous, the author demands attention, and there's a sense of  "I dare you to disagree."
        The paragraph intended to illustrate the match of titles to works was confusing and should be shortened. I'm sure the logic is perfectly clear to the author but I found the reasoning confusing. It's a bump in the road that shouldn't be there.
        In my opinion, the writer prefaces too many sentences with "Now." It's distracting. By the way, I've never seen logrolling written as two words in this context. Are you sure that usage is correct?
        The following sentence has problems: "It may be the most important person on the publisher' staff or the least, but the decision of that one decision is pivotal." To be fair, though, the problems might not be the writer's fault--Calliope does produce a fair share of typos despite the best efforts of its contributors.
        I think the piece would be more marketable if fewer gender specific pronouns were used. It isn't a given (and frankly, it isn't even likely) that the pivotal reader in a publisher's house will be a "he." Why annoy the very people to whom you're trying sell something?
        I like the article, and I think it's probably the best entry to date.