Deborah Lipp

I’ve been working on The Study of Witchcraft since, I think, forever. Seriously, I think I started it in utero.

Okay, I wrote this book, because I thought it was a good idea. I thought it was something that would be useful to beginners of a studious bent. I wanted it to be a slim volume, for two reasons. First, because I thought it would be interesting as a study guide, where I would point towards knowledge and you (the reader) would go fetch. A Cliff Notes to Wicca, if you will. Second, because everything I write is MEGAHUGE and I wanted to see if I could be more terse. It was an exercise for me as a writer.

So I wrote the book and I shipped it off to Llewellyn. Now, you need to know that this is the fourth book I have sent to Llewellyn, and the first three were immediately snatched up. So I sat home, waiting for snatch to happen.

Not so much.

I hear from Llewellyn some weeks later. They like the book, but it’s too light, too short, too everything I was interested in writing. They want depth, they want length, they want it to be more chewy.

So I added a homework section to each chapter. I thought that was chewy. (Please know that chewy is my word. I have never gotten a letter from an editor requesting chewy goodness. More’s the pity.) I mailed it away with much anticipation.

Too soon.

So now I’m rewriting for the third time. The letter I have on my desk, from my editor, says, in part:

“should be expanded upon”…”should not be limited to the bare beginners’ [material]”…”Do some research”… “flesh the book out more and provide greater depth.” … “Right now the book is too superficial in some parts”… “We need more inspiration in this book, more of the meat”.

If you are Pagan or Wiccan you are now laughing hysterically, because you know, you know, that Llewellyn would never ask such things! “Everyone” knows that Llewellyn is shallow, that they hate scholarship, that they publish only tripe and silly, fluffy beginners’ books.

Yet this is not my experience, and in truth, never has been. I have defended my publisher numerous times, but there’s a limit to how much you can do that, because it sounds self-serving and, well, defensive. And people say, “Well, Deb, they publish you, but other than that they suck,” or “You’re the exception that proves the rule.” But I don’t think so. I don’t think they have editors on staff who write letters like that just for me.

Reputation is virtually unshakeable. People like to believe they know what they know. And people like to feel superior. It is lovely to be able to snort disdainfully when a certain something or someone is mentioned. For a Witch to say “Llewellyn SNORT” is like an art critic saying “Norman Rockwell SNORT.” How plebian. How beneath my lofty self.

Let’s be honest here. Lewellyn has published some suck-out-loud books. Books that have made me snort so hard I inhaled gnats. Books that have damaged both the publisher’s reputation and, quite possibly, the brains of those who’ve read them. But to honestly critique a bad book is simply not the same as dismissing an entire body of work, most of which the critics haven’t even seen.

So…gotta get back to work. Must. Write. The Meat.