Manuscript Evaluations
These samples were written as an assignment for my fall 2022 Book Publishing Essentials class with Daniel Weaver. The prompt was to read four manuscripts as if I were an acquisitions editor for a small publishing house and evaluate each manuscript’s strengths, weaknesses, audiences, and– ultimately– potential to sell. My marketing plan and budget from this class is based on the title Crushed.
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1. Philosophilia: REJECT
It is my recommendation to reject the title Philosophilia by Helena Troy. In Philosophilia, Helena Troy dissects her complicated relationship with philosophy from precocious child to infatuated young adult to inquisitive professor. Her personal philosophies evolve through struggles with romance and tenure, giving her—and her reader—new insight on what life must really mean.
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Overall, the memoir is hard to follow and lacks the stakes necessary to keep to reader interested. The memoir lacks structure; though it moves in chronological order, Troy often jumps haphazardly between events and picks up and drops characters without considering the reader. For example, the narration moves rapidly from a meditation on the mood at MIT (with a page dedicated to the winter season and the campus aesthetic) to a move to California with a previously unmentioned boyfriend (80). Troy introduces Jake to the reader by saying he “had kept [her] emotionally afloat for the previous three months,” yet the reader has never heard anything about him before (81). Why would we care about the mood at MIT if the narrator is leaving immediately? Why haven’t we heard about Jake? Moments like these make the reader feel like they’re not getting the whole story or that the story is not complete. Another moment like this occurs when the narrator gets her Wellesley job: she mentions she “found I had a tenure-track job” and “had just finished a two-year postdoc at Stanford” (98). These details are thrown away by Troy but are pivotal to the story she tells. To the reader, the manuscript feels rushed and unorganized.
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Another major issue I notice is the lack of stakes throughout the title. The most engaging part to me was seeing how the romance with Phil would end up; once that was over (and it was over early into the manuscript), I was asking myself why the reader should care. What’s keeping us reading? I think one answer would be to see if/how philosophy provides insight into one’s relatively ordinary life (job struggles, failed relationships, chronic illness); however, the philosophy bent to the book was puzzling. Though it offered the book character and a unique outlook, Troy often went into distracting, unnecessary detail about philosophies and the practice thereof. In one example, Troy explains how philosophy papers are structured (75-76).
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I am hesitant to reject this title because of its potential for easy marketability. Its audience initially seems to be 35–65-year-old women who might consider themselves intellectuals or are interested in learning about philosophy; this middle-aged female audience might be further drawn in by the author’s focus on disability and/or her numerous love affairs. The book’s focus on Troy’s self-fulfillment as a single woman might be a way to market the book as a comp to Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love, with philosophy as a replacement for travel, to appeal to the same audience. I could also see the title being popular on “BookTok” with some promotion because of its “dark academic” mood (an aesthetic frequently used to promote books with gloomy, mysterious academic settings on TikTok). I think this title could fit this niche and thus be marketed to younger audiences if the cover were designed in the vein of dark academic titles—like The Atlas Six or Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi—with a minimalist design and gilded details.
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Despite these attractions to the title, it is in my interest to protect my house from poor reviews. I believe the title requires too much restructuring and developmental work—as well as substantial additions—to be well-received by its time of publication were I to accept it. I would be open to reviewing the title a second time after Troy has addressed these concerns.
2. The Memory Game: ACCEPT
It is my recommendation to accept The Memory Game by Mike Speegle. The novel follows Montgomery Pope, a hard-boiled-yet-loveable private investigator caught in the crossfire between crime bosses obsessed with digital cloning technology in the Portland, OR of the future. A love letter to noir detective stories dotted with sci-fi elements, The Memory Game’s emotional core is Pope’s reckoning with his sense of self in the context of the city and its inhabitants. The title combines a witty, funny voice with a page-turning plot full of satisfying twists.
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I accept this title because it’s a story with wide, cross-genre appeal and because it has consistent excitement and reveals to keep audiences invested. The title also lends itself well to potential sequels: a way to cash in on the audience investment. First, the title incorporates elements of noir, mystery/whodunit, sci-fi, crime, action, and thriller. These elements could grab readers from lots of different genres, widening the potential demographics interested in the story. I see the main audience as men 30-65 years old, but the mystery element might bring in women in the same age range, and the sci-fi element might bring in younger men and women, around 18-30. I didn’t think I would be initially interested as someone who doesn’t read heavily in any of these genres, but Speegle’s jaunty voice and penchant for dramatics won me over (a 22-year-old who typically reads literary fiction, romance, and fantasy).
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I think comps for this title include James Patterson’s bestselling (according to his website) Jack Morgan series about a private investigator solving organized crime cases. Patterson’s audience is huge and eager, at least based on the sheer number of books he publishes each year, and a series featuring grizzled Pope could easily capture their interest. Another comp—though in a different medium—is The Penumbra Podcast, a fiction podcast set in the future on Mars about a PI who investigates organized crime assisted by a plucky assistant and a homme fatale. The podcast has a large fanbase on TikTok as well as other platforms like Instagram and Tumblr. To compare the title to the podcast on BookTok—or to advertise the title on the podcast—might attract younger readers outside of the typical age and gender range of James Patterson’s audience, for example.
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Another success of this title lies in its pace and excitement. Speegle leaves the reader one step behind Pope so that every reveal feels like a satisfying answer to a small mystery. For example, when Pope is kidnapped and brought to a fancy home, Pope catches on that it’s his mother’s house right before the reader does. Speegle’s delivery reflects this plot twist: “Catherine Moreau. Of course, I knew her by a different name. ‘Mom,’ I said” (143). The reveal of Pope’s familial background reframes the entire story for the reader in a way that puts puzzle pieces—like his divorce and relationship to organized crime—into place. Speegle’s turn of phrase creates minute, funny, shocking mysteries from the first chapter: “Sal looked almost as good as the last time I’d seen him—if I ignored the mess where his head used to be” (1). One might say this is my own bias; but, what else does a reader come to mystery for other than a well-crafted reveal?
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I think this title is also valuable for its potential to generate sequels. If the title sells well, it could create reader demand for more Montgomery Pope novels. The title lends itself well to new stories in this setting (more about Sinead, Moreau, Georgia, Pope’s cousin, and how the Manetti drama played out). I think this a dynamic title which would sell because of its wide area of interest, and then—because of its well-crafted mystery—Speegle would create desire for more titles based on this one.
3. Crushed: ACCEPT
It’s my recommendation to accept Crushed by Una Spetralle. When Marielle’s fiancé breaks up with her three weeks before their wedding, Marielle turns to the breakup app Crushed to process. With the help (or hindrance) of the app, Marielle must decide between a workplace flirt, the frustrating almost-one-night-stand with green sneakers, and being true to herself. The title is a great fit for romance readers, especially those with workplace romance or “frenemies-to-lovers” preferences.
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Spetralle’s witty, funny voice will make Crushed stand out from other romance titles, as will the device of the Crushed app. Spetralle as Marielle toes the line between telling quietly devastating truths and humorously pointing out absurdities of life. This dynamic was most immediately apparent in the scene where Dash and Marielle first kiss: “It’s like he wants to consume me—in the most reciprocal and consenting way, I’m sure” (54). Spetralle follows up with: “I’m now sitting on the counter in lingerie bought for another man” (55). These quips break the predictability of the make out scene and indirectly comment on topics of consent and desire within the genre. I think this voice is smart and would quickly engage frequent readers of romance titles. Another strength of Crushed is its inclusion the near-universal experiences of a breakup and trying to find one’s own identity. If the reader has also experienced these, she might be more likely to relate and empathize with Marielle and thus recommend the book, review it favorably, or buy more books by Spetralle.
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Some problem areas I see in the manuscript are some unrealistic dialogue—like “Baby sis!” “Big bro!” (192)—and some unbelievable, flat side characters, especially in family conversations. The mother character, for example, seems completely hostile with zero empathy for her kids; I understand Marielle doesn’t have good relationships with her parents, but part of her struggle was she didn’t know until recently how much she had kept bottled up. Why didn’t she realize her mother is a jerk and why does she still go to see her? This might be more believable if the mom character was a bit more aloof or tried to relate to her kids in some small way. A smaller issue I notice was that the headings or chapter titles are inconsistent. It might be neater—and easier for the reader—if the heading of each section was a Crushed notification related to the chapter (with time and date in the corner like a smartphone notification, to keep up with the story timeline). I think these areas can be easily cleaned up in editing and don’t reflect on the book as a whole.
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The audience for the title is 20–45-year-old women who read romance novels. Comps for this title include Ali Hazelwood and Alexis Hall’s romance titles. Both authors build romances around their main character’s profession or obsession much like Spetralle does with Marielle’s programming and app preoccupations. Hazelwood’s focus on women in STEM seems especially relevant because Marielle’s focus on programming is important to Crushed like Hazelwood’s protagonists are fixated on space, environmental science, etc. I think the app component, as well as the breakup at the beginning of the book, sets Spetralle apart from Hazelwood just enough to be unique but will still appeal to Hazelwood’s audience. However, both Hazelwood and Hall include erotic scenes throughout their books while Spetralle doesn’t. In my experience, a “spicy” scene or two seems to be par for the course for adult romance. However, there have been recent bestsellers that don’t include sex in the book but still focus on adult romance: notably, Emily Henry and Jasmine Guillory are both incredibly popular romance writer whose sexy scenes “fade to black” with sex implied but not written. On both BookTok and Goodreads, there exist user-compiled lists of romance books without graphic sex or, in other words, “with little to no spice.” Both Henry’s readership and these list show that there is an audience for romance titles without erotic scenes. Overall, I think any romance fan would be charmed by Spetralle’s exciting voice and Marielle’s complicated love life.
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4. Damage: REJECT
It is my recommendation to reject Damage. The memoir follows Doe’s journey from alcoholism to traumatic brain injury and back, dotted with sexual violence and pop culture comparisons. The edgy, introspective title asks what recovery really means when you’ve always been “damaged.” I’m rejecting this title because of its inconsistent pacing and direction and its inability to fit into existing, profitable genres.
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The memoir feels confused and somewhat dry from the beginning: Doe makes academic references as a lens through which to read her story, but then recounts drama and violence between acquaintances that will only become relevant much later (7-11). There doesn’t seem to be any cohesion or integration—only loose ends, random characters, random references. There are little-to-no stakes in the story except for a hope that Doe’s condition will improve (which Doe miserably sabotages until the last few pages). The story does little else but make the reader feel sorry for Doe. The reader wonders why she’s reading a page-long description of how a feeding tube feels, for example (70). What are the stakes of a series of catheters? The title seems like a way for the author to process her own pain rather than something crafted for an outside reader. Doe’s turn-of-phrase is similarly clunky. She introduces new information seemingly as an afterthought: “Some quick background on my mom“ (44) or “side-note: Vinaka is a small independent coffee shop I worked at” (45). Together, these inconsistencies, lack of stakes, and awkward transitions make the subtitle, “a fragmented, hybrid memoir,” feel like an excuse rather than a stylistic choice.
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In addition to my reservations about the story and its organization, I’m rejecting this title because I’m not sure how to market it. Is this an addiction and recovery memoir? There doesn’t seem to be as much of a focus on recovery, except for in the last few sections, compared to other titles in this realm like The Recovering by Leslie Jamison or Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher. Doe herself says, “people prefer horror stories to recovery recounts” (170), but I don’t think this is a horror story either. I associate medical miracle memoirs with big revelations or sensational writing, but Damage doesn’t fit this genre either. It’s both complex cultural commentary and a personal journey through a TBI, abusive relationships, and addiction.
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I see its closest comp as Something That May Shock and Discredit You by Daniel Lavery, a collection of autobiographical essays about pop culture and Lavery’s transness. I think if Doe’s title were restructured into essay form, it could reach the same audience as Lavery’s: 25-45-year-old intellectuals. (Currently, I’m not sure about the audience. Maybe 20-35-year-olds interested in experimental literature?) I think the essay form would also be the most appropriate structure for the information Doe wants to share: each stage of trauma and recovery might correspond with an academic or cultural reference to analyze, perhaps starting with the coma in movies section (36-37) to get the reader interested in how Doe is writing if she was in a coma. The essays could overlap in content but would make Doe reconsider what is important in each section and what the reader should get from each bit. As it is, I can’t publish the memoir without a clear direction and an audience. I don’t necessarily want Doe to sacrifice her vulnerability by shoehorning the book into a recovery story, but I think the approach would have to be changed somehow to make Damage readable and marketable.