Maybe I should write a memoir…
Then again, maybe not, because, like Margaret Seltzer, I’d probably have to start embellishing. ‘Cause, well, I haven’t had a boring life, but I haven’t had an extraordinary one, either. I’d probably start slipping in freaky magic stuff and then I’d have to claim it really happened.
Anyway, it’s strange, this story of this novel cum memoir, Love and Consequences: A Memoir of Hope and Survival. Strange that Ms. Seltzer, writing under the pseudonym of Margaret Jones, would choose to push this as a memoir. I don’t know a lot about her, but I wonder if it was because she thought it would be that much harder to sell. Or maybe she thought it would sell better as a memoir. I can’t imagine that memoirs, as a general rule, sell much better than novels. Maybe it was started as a novel and she got some bad advice along the way. But the strange thing is that she would think it would go unnoticed. Then again, maybe she didn’t think that. Maybe it was sort of a joke against the system.
Strange, too, that the publisher, who had been working with Ms. Seltzer for three years, didn’t figure this out. I guess, knowing what I know about publishing, it isn’t all that inconceivable that an editor would have little contact with an author. I get that part. What I don’t get is why they wouldn’t dig a little more into her background, seeing as it was a memoir. There was that flap a while back about A Million Little Pieces. Remember that? And I’m sure there have been others. Wouldn’t the publishers be pretty nervous about this stuff and do at least a modicum of fact checking before publication?