It was also a chance for me to talk with several of the people who publish my music -- more than I had need to connect with last year at Pinnacle in Nashville. As invariably happens when I talk with editors, the conversation turns to my music and what of it they publish. During one such conversation, the editor was apologizing that the piece of mine they wanted to publish wouldn't be coming out for something like a year and a half or more. I tried to express to the editor that this was just fine, but the explanations continued despite my protests.
It occurred to me that the whole reason this was happening was that this editor was used to dealing with other fledgling composers and felt the need for all the caveats. It also occurred to me that this editor -- as well as the several others who publish my music -- probably didn't know my own philosophy of my composing career. It also seemed to make sense that the best way to help them understand -- and perhaps to help other composers out there, as well -- was to write an open letter to them, detailing my philosophy ...
Dear editor,
First of all, thank you for spending time getting back to me. I know that you, like many of your colleagues, are not just an editor, but also a composer, church musician, teacher, director, clinician, as well as a mother or father, (perhaps grandmother or grandfather), son or daughter, and spouse. The fact you took a bit of your hard-fought-for time and not only looked at my music, but then responded to me personally, means the world to me.
That being said, I want to help you save even more of your time. I'm going to lay out for you, in short bullets, exactly my own feelings and beliefs of my creative career, in the hopes that the next time we communicate, you don't waste time trying to allay fears I don't have.
- I understand you work for a company, and therefore can't publish every piece that comes past your desk. I know this because I'm also a church musician, and I can't have my groups perform every piece of music that I see is available. I know this because I see this in action everywhere from the new car lot to the grocery store -- I have to pick and choose, and so do you. And, I know this because I've been published enough years now (though still a small number compared to many other composers) to realize that you have a limited number of spots and need a variety of pieces published. Simply telling me that a piece won't fit your catalog right now is sufficient -- I'll understand what you mean.
- I understand you're passing on the work, not rejecting me as a composer. On those occasions you do pass on one of my pieces (I hesitate to say you "reject" the piece because it sounds harsher than what you're actually doing), I fully understand that it's not me you're passing on, it's the piece. Now, it's possible that the piece has got some inherent flaws, but again, I realize it's more likely that it just won't fit your current publishing needs. I won't take it personally -- I'll just send the piece elsewhere to try to get it published. Saying that you like the piece but have to pass on it is a more than sufficient reply.
- I understand that publishing needs change, and that pieces you might once have published you no longer will. Again, I understand that publishing -- as much as we might wish it were otherwise -- is a business, and businesses want to make money. That means that if publishing my piece has a strong potential to lose money for the company, you can't take the risk. I understand -- really, I do. Just let me know that you won't be publishing that sort of piece for a while, and not only will I accept the news, but I'll probably stop wasting your time with further similar pieces.
- I'm in this for the long haul. When I first started getting pieces published, waiting nine months from acceptance to print seemed like a painfully long wait. I had just set foot through a door into an unknown world and I had no idea how big that world was. Now, I'm here; I'm in this world of publishing, and quite frankly, I happen to like it. I'm staying, for as long as I want to, or as long as those who publish my music and for whom it is published will have me. That being said, if you're accepting my piece, don't apologize if you can't publish it for a year or eighteen months or two years or even three. I'm not going anywhere, and (I hope) neither is my music. Just let me know when you expect it to be released (I'll probably forget not long after that, or else get confused if by "Fall 2012" you mean it shows up in Fall 2012, or it's available for people to play in Fall 2012 -- either way, I'll realize it's being published when comp copies show up on my doorstep), and that's good enough for me.
- I appreciate everything you do for me. I know that without composers, publishers wouldn't exist ... but I also know the reverse is true. It would be much harder for me to be a composer and share my works with others if it weren't for you and what your company does on my behalf. That being said, I know my place in the scheme of things and what my part is to play. I understand enough of the process to know how I relate to it and it relates to me. As much as I have sent you my works to try to help your company make some money, I appreciate all the help you have provided me in return -- suggestions for corrections, changes, ideas for pieces, general philosophies on publishing, etc. -- that have helped me get further in this field. Moreover, I appreciate the fact that for many of you, I'm starting to consider you a little less as editors and a little more as friends.
Musically yours,
Jason
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