The most difficult thing I’ve been asked to do as I prepare to publish my first novel, Patterson House, is to offer comps, or comparable titles, to the publisher, Inanna. I’ve been trying to sort out why this has been so hard.
I’m widely read in my genre. I wrote the kind of book I like to read. So it’s not that I am unaware of other historical, multi-generational, family sagas. I know of many. I can list them in seconds. I think the problem is that they are all so good. I’m talking about classics like my all time favourite novel, The Stone Diaries, by Carol Shields. Or Fall of Your Knees, by Ann-Marie MacDonald. These books are almost sacred to me, I love them so much.
Not only are they comparable because of genre, they are comparable because of their use of multiple points of view. It was natural for me to weave multiple POVs into my story. I had to fight to retain them in the draft I worked on during my MFA. I was told repeatedly to keep it simple. I did not. How can we know anything without looking at it in multiple ways? (And the more ways, the better.)
These books are also comparable because they are sociological–that is they are as much about the society around the main characters as they are about the characters themselves. I come from a school of thought that says everything is political. Because everything is.
But it would be hubris in the highest degree to compare my work to this work. The most I can say is that these books inspired me. And they did. They made me want to become a writer. I can hear someone out there saying, “Well, she’s no Carol Shields, I’ll tell you that.” It’s okay. I already know.
I did a little searching and read a blog post by Paula Munier about comps that I found quite helpful. Maybe you will too. Between that and a friend suggesting The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver as a comp (again, another big name I can’t possibly use), I came to realize that I could focus on theme. Maybe something like women finding new models of motherhood or the intimacy of women’s friendships and the great loneliness of life without them. Munier’s post taught me that it might be acceptable to list a well known best-seller, but only one, and then add a mid-list author (a phrase I despise for it’s dismissiveness) and another first time novelist to the list.
Again though, I seem stymied. For example, I admire Katherine Ashenburg’s gorgeous debut novel, Sofie & Cecilia. Like my novel, it is historic. We are working out similar themes–what it costs women to maintain marriages and families and to retain their respectability, and the pain experienced by women who are unable to use their talents. But Ashenburg was published by Knopf and her novel had huge success. All deserved. I can’t compare my effort to hers. (I highly recommend you read it. It’s beautiful. Her deep knowledge of Swedish art is just one astonishing feature of her novel.)
So what is my problem?
What I’ve discovered is that my inability to suggest comps is, more than anything, a self-esteem problem. And who can solve that?
In our house comps is short for competitions, specifically athletic competitions, so every time you used the word comps I had to say to myself ‘She means comparables.’
But then I began to wonder… And by the end I was amazed to realize that, no, competition was as much a part of the meaning for you as well.
I always remember the words of an adjudicator for one of our writing competitions “People seem to think that writing is a competition where Shakespere always ends up in first place and everyone else is an also-ran. Literature has value to us because it reflects our world and our values to us.’
List those damned comps and don’t let it bother you if someone misinterprets the abbreviation. 🙂
I guess it IS like competition too, (what are your competitors) because they use the titles to figure out potential sales. I just have to make my list and let it go.