“If you want to be original, be ready to be copied.”

— Coco Channel

I am not worried about a bet I’m about to make because, as noted in the hilarious AF movie The Hangover, “It’s not gambling when you know you’re going to win.” 

I am also not worried about people copying me because “your next move can’t happen until I make mine. You will always be behind,”  writes Germany Kent, author of The Hope Handbook: The Search for Personal Growth).  

First, the bet. I know suspect that (most) people who have worked in Canadian publishing for many years — sometimes decades — never leave their desks, and when they do, it’s for some conference or book fair of industry insiders, where they talk to the exact same people who work in the exact same industry about the exact same topic. 

Apparently, you publishing types are such gamblers. “Publishing is such a mystery!” is the one un-uniquely, unoriginal phrase everyone in publishing says on repeat, like it’s a line they were forced to memorize, making me instantly think of the lyrics, “You spin me right round baby, right round, like the record baby, tight round, round, round.” 

So, I highly suggest that all major book fairs and events be held in Vegas from here on since “publishing is such a mystery” automatically means you are not risk-averse. (And, more importantly, maybe you’ll actually leave the conference and converse with normal others outside of the publishing industry bubble by making small talk around the blackjack table?)

So, I will make a bet with the people who work in traditional publishing houses. Ready?

If you win, I’ll give you $100. If you lose? I don't fucking care. Well, we are making a bet, so you should follow through and send me your $100 here. (You should be confident enough to win! Or at least take the risk…because “publishing is such a mystery,” and no one likes a sore loser! Plus, you can help support this newsletter celebrating female authors.)

So, here's the bet: During my two+ years researching the publishing landscape in Canada, I didn’t just go back to school, read a ton of books, watch numerous webinars, and speak to everyone I knew (and those I didn’t)  in publishing — from publishers to agents to salespeople to employees working at independent bookstores; 

I also spent five hours, for five days, standing outside various Indigo book stores pretending to be someone who is not a hot mess works at the Toronto Public Library. 

Clipboard in hand, with one of my daughter’s old lamented school ID cards (which no one noticed, by the way — people are extremely responsive when you say you work at the library), I asked random book buyers exiting the shop three questions:

1. What book or books did you buy?

2. Why did you choose that book? (Word of mouth/bestsellers list/eye-catching cover)

3. What else did you purchase?

I bet no one who works in a traditional publishing house has even so much as thought of asking anyone these questions.

If you have (and can prove it), I’ll settle our bet and send a C-note. But if you work in publishing and this idea has never entered your mind (25 hours, in total, polling strangers with these very specific questions), please be a generous loser and, again, shoot that $100 over here (where, again, we support aspiring female voices).

I'm actually not kidding. 

This is a big reason why I launched the re:books newsletter, re:books annual #WriteAway Summer writing contest and, of course, the re:books publishing house. (Keep reading to see how we're trying to bring sexy reading back!)

I am focused on the real people who write, read, and buy books. Of course, traditional publishing houses know a thing or two about what the book stores will buy, but what do you (who just lost a $100 bet) know about the lady sitting socially distanced next to me at the nail salon getting a pedicure, who is reading All Is Well by Katherine Walker? Why did she choose that book? What other books (or chachkas) did she buy? 

This is the intelligence re:books uses in deciding what books to feature and what books to publish. Polling the right people.

I’m taking a risk, not on the $100 bet (you lost, admit it, please pay up) but on sharing some of my secrets. Again, not really. What’s the risk? That you will copy me?

I’m used to being copied. People are always copying me, stating their writing has been compared to mine. To be honest, it is pretty fucking annoying — like when you see it’s time for a software update on your phone or when you can’t skip the ad on your social media feed after five seconds, and you think, “Fuck! Again?”

How do they copy? Oh, let me count the ways.

It’s part of my job to subscribe to every single writing or publishing industry newsletter. 

Within a month of launching the re:books newsletter, I suddenly saw a noticeable uptick in the number of publishing or book-related newsletters in my inbox on Tuesdays. This made me laugh. Yes, because I've worked at websites, I understand analytics — everything from age and gender to timing, location, and open rates.

A lot of people copied assume I chose Tuesday nights at 7:11 p.m to blast out the first bunch of newsletters based on some super-secret analytics-based algorithm. Guess fucking what? I chose that day and time, not based on analytics but entirely on a personal Jewish superstition. So…

Then came copying my stories, which I was used to, especially while I was working at a Canadian parenting website. But on February 22, 2022, I wrote a piece in my newsletter entitled, “Goop and good books: How shopping for other people’s books became a real profession," where I write about “book curators” — usually interior designers — hired to pick books that should be on your bookshelves, either to match the decor (light fixtures before literature!) or to make you look well-read and intelligent. I got the idea because one of my friends had done this.  

On March 28 — less than a month later —The Washington Post published an article entitled, “These unread books have a long shelf life — as decor.”

Coincidence? Perhaps. Or is someone watching me?

Numerous other publications, like the above, added their own twist to my original ideas. (And yes, there are Washington Post writers and editors who read my newsletter.)

So, I don’t think imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I find it…sad. And creepy. Not to mention lazy AF. I don’t think, “Hey! Your idea to use my idea is a great idea,” unless you are trying to say, "I'm not original or creative, so I'll go ahead and steal your idea.”

This is straight out of the mouth of teen music sensation Billie Eilish, who everyone seems to be trying to copy: “Basically people just do a lot of the same shit that I do. And I’m just like, ‘Can you not?’”

Yes, I agree. I’m also like, “Can you not?” 

I’ve long given up even caring that people steal copy my ideas. Admittedly, some people have had success by copying someone else’s idea or topic. But if you really want to be noticed, you have to do something different and take chances. Again, Billie Ellish shows wisdom beyond her years, and I love her point when she says, “You’re italics. I’m in bold.” (Italics and bold added by yours truly!)

The greatest idea-theft I suffered was at the hands of an editor at the Globe and Mail, to whom I pitched a column inspired by a piece I adored featured in, ironically, The Washington Post. The column highlighted someone who worked out, sharing their exercise routine and eating habits. And then an “expert” weighed in — no pun intended — on how they could improve their routine. 

We set up a meeting. I went into her office. I pitched that people are interested in what others do to work out and added other elements, such as what’s on their playlist, how they fit in their workout, what they wear during their workout — things that could take the column I was inspired by to the next level.

This editor loved it! 

She loved this idea so much that…within two weeks, another reporter on staff suddenly had written the exact same column I had pitched, just not as well. Said reporter had somehow managed to take something that would interest people into something that was as boring as being put on hold with Air Canada. (I’m not sure what’s worse.) I actually think that what this editor did was intellectual theft laziness. To take someone’s (my) idea and, without any effort, attempt to run with it is doomed to fail. And guess what? It did — like the fate of most imitators. 

I have always said this: You don't have to be the first; you just have to be the best, or at least better than the original. (If you've improved on what I’ve done, I really would be the first to congratulate you. In fact, I would admi:RE you!

Another time, I pitched a column called “Ms. Conventionality” to an editor at the Globe and Mail. 

First time? Shame on you. Second time? Shame on me. 

Each week, I wanted to attend a conference at the Metro Convention Centre and write about the scene, what I learned, who I met, and what was on the menu — there are hundreds of events that take place there, from Canada's Bridal Show to Money Shows to the Canadian Aesthetics Expo. 

I had come prepared to the meeting, prepared as I always am, having printed out all of the dates and conventions. This editor said he’d get back to me but NOT before asking ME, “Can I have all that information you printed out?” (So, yeah, if you want to hire me to be “Ms. Conventionality” and cover the millions of interesting conferences at your publication? YAY! If you copy my idea, well, at least I can point here and say, “Well, actually, I came up with the idea first. And now have a “receipt,” as the millennials say. (Which basically means I have proof.) 

I literally walked out of THAT second meeting thinking, “Most people don't use their brain very often at The Globe” “You are actually way worse than I first thought.”

Coco Chanel says it much kinder than I could manage, although I completely agree: “I don't care what you think about me. I don't think about you at all.”

And it’s, for the most part, entirely true. Sometimes, I won't even look at some of these multiple book-themed newsletters — suddenly, every author who has a book coming out now has their own newsletter — not for fear that someone has copied me, but for fear I may copy them. So, I stay away. Ignorance is bliss.

Copying only bothers me (and I think I can speak on behalf of all creative types) when you don’t improve on an idea. Candidly, a poor job of copying my writing, topics, style, and format is only annoying when done poorly.

When people try and copy what I do, how I dress, where I shop, where my kids go to camp, even dating my exes, for fuck’s sake, simply because they were in re:lationships with “Rebecca Eckler,” it does feel like someone is trying to steal what is unique about my life.

Here's the cold hard truth: You can copy my ideas. You can copy my hairstyle. But you can’t be me. I may envy your cooking skills or that you can speak multiple languages, but I can’t be you either.

There is a fine line between copying someone’s idea and being inspired. “I always believed that one woman’s success can only help another woman's success,” Gloria Vanderbilt said.

So, if you are still trying to do what I do, please just do it better.   

To help, this week I’m giving a cheat sheet on how re:books’ publishing house differs from traditional publishing houses and, more importantly, why I am always saying, and truly believe, that the Canadian publishing landscape “needs a makeover.” 

Understanding the why is the only way you can execute the how. (Which is why I stood outside of Indigo for 25 hours — wishing I had one of those comfortable mats to stand on that people use while washing dishes — all to get the “why” behind the book buyer. I believe you can tell a lot by what else they bought, along with their book, which is why it was one of my questions: You bought a lunch box? Okay, so you must have children. You bought a serving tray? Maybe you like to host. You bought a wearable blanket? You like to be comfortable or get cold easily. You bought a foam yoga block? You either have a bad back or are taking yoga, which means you’re probably into spirituality and de-stressing.)

Many, in their uniquely unoriginal way, will relay to me that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” to which I bite back with, “But you forgot about the rest of the sentence,” which, in turn, prompts people to look at me like I just wiggled my ears.

So many forget don’t know the second half of this Oscar Wild quote: “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness.” What he’s trying to say is that if imitation — or copying — is going to happen? Let the mediocre imitate you.

Or, on a nicer note, some of what I have done has inspired people to pursue their originality, as if I'm a doctor who’s just looked at your blood work and declared, “You need more vitamin D, but your Vitamin Me levels look good. 

In this piece, author Marci Warhaft shares five unexpected experiences after becoming a first-time author published by a respectable publishing house (one is her realization that she’s a lesbian. So, yeah, you’re going to want to read come back to read it!)

I asked her to text me how we met. She wrote, “There are people that you know and people that you don’t know, and then there are people you feel like you know even though you don’t. That was the way it was for me and you. I had heard and read about you for years and we were social media friends but had never communicated. You were the cool writer chick who wrote controversial books. At the exact time that I decided to write my memoir, I saw through Facebook that you were releasing a new one. I ordered it and then took a shot and sent you a message asking for advice. You could have easily blown me off, but you didn’t. You were incredibly encouraging and told me to "Write, write, write!” I listened and sent you some of my first drafts (which were horrible) but you kept encouraging me. You invited me to your book launch and told me that even though you were going to be pulled in a lot of directions that night, you really wanted to meet me and made me promise to approach you. We chatted for a few minutes and you were amazing. I left that night more motivated than ever.…and the rest is history.” (or now “herstory?”)

While it is humbling to realize you have inspired someone to create, take action, or support others (I’m blushing re-reading what Marchi wrote), I am resigned to accepting that if a copycat wants to emulate everything you do, well, what can you do? There is nothing you can do to stop them.

Besides, the best thing for a writer, after all, is to be read, and the worst thing is to be ignored. So, for those who notice me and what I’m doing, please keep at it; both supporters and haters who hate. But for those who follow me just to copy me? I’m begging you to at least do it just as well or better than me. I will even help you! If you’re going to play the imitation game, you should at least know THE rules. So, here it goes:

7 plays from the re:books rule book on re:inventing Canadian publishing

1. You are not me: Other women are not my competition. I am not against them. I’m actually encouraging, supporting, and empowering other female authors. That is a big part of re:books’ “why.” You will not get into my brain (and trust me, depending on your sensibilities, you don’t want to. You won’t ever fall asleep), but if you don’t have your own “why” for writing, your copying will be nothing more than a mediocre imitation. 

2. We don’t pay advances: Proudly. The most successful enterprises have identified a fairly widespread problem and created a solution that solves that problem at a price people are willing to pay without hesitation. We at re:books believe that traditional publishers are not structured to benefit aspiring authors (or readers by extension). Too many great books are not published because they are not economically feasible. The average you will get from a Big House and their traditional advances, which are for many just a disguised loan from the publisher against future royalties, are so small nowadays that you could blow your entire advance on one outing at LuluLemon. re:books wants writing to be, if not a career for you, at least an avenue to get you published and share your creation. That’s why we are structured to let our authors participate with higher royalty splits. We have developed innovative ways to structure our book contracts to address the author’s priorities or reasons they want to be published. This way, you’re investing in yourself. If you believe in your book so much, why wouldn’t you invest in you? Guess what? It’s a risk for re:books too! (Now, let’s see who, and how many, copy this idea.)   

3. Timing is everything (well, almost everything). We don’t adhere to seasonal book dumps (release dates dictated for the most part by book stores, and why? Just because it’s always been that way?). I never understood how it helped me to have my books released at the same time as all others labelled as a spring or summer book.  This seems unfair, doing a disservice to new authors who will not get the same publicity as bigger-named ones. re:books releases books when the release will most benefit the author, or simply when it’s ready. We do not rely solely on traditional distribution channels or publicity. We want your book to be read, and we will find those who want to read it and make it available to buy wherever those readers shop. Here’s a re:books publishing house example to copy: I’ve already been in contact with one skating arena, where my daughter played hockey every Saturday and Sunday for two years, while I mindlessly watched the Zamboni driver clean the ice. Desmond Brown, a former journalist turned realtor (and friend), had his business plastered all over the Zamboni. Hundreds of parents would watch (or pretend to) their kids play hockey at that arena — a built-in audience of hundreds of hockey moms who stare mindlessly at that damn Zamboni week after week. Let’s see if anyone at an old-fashioned, big-named publishing house starts featuring THEIR authors on Zambonis, which, here we go again, is only one of a thousand ideas I have when it comes to marketing re:books authors. (Now, let’s see who, and how many, copy this idea.) 

4. Lose the review mirror. The worst reason to do something a particular way is because “it’s how it’s always been done.” Our mantra at re:books is to be innovative and forward-thinking. From acquisitions to distribution, promotion, marketing and development, our success is tied to the success of our authors. For example, thanks to my originality, re:books plans to buy all re:books authors a portable debit/credit card machine. This way, they can sell their books wherever they are, be it at a conference, a small dinner party, or a gas station. We encourage ALL authors to carry books around with them wherever they go because you never know when someone will say, “Oh, I really want to read that!” Authors will be able to whip out their portable debit/credit card machines and say, “Hey, you can buy one right now!” (Now, let’s see who, and how many, copy this idea.)

5. Pretentious is not fun, and kindness is queen. Literary snobs, troll at some other house, please. We want writing to be fun and for authors to enjoy the process and feel supported. We champion our authors and pride ourselves on being their biggest cheerleaders. I don’t care if you have the best idea in the world for a book. If you’re an ass to work with or not kind-hearted, feel free to go pitch to another house. I wish you luck! re:books authors are treated as family — a family who supports one another in selling and promoting their books. With all my heart, I will throw parties for my authors and, of course, the media when I damn well feel like they should be celebrated, not just when they’re launching. Forget boring book launch parties. We’re talking more like party parties! (Now, let’s see who, and how many, copy this idea.)

6. What followers? re:books, unlike the traditional Big Houses who rely heavily on an author’s social media presence, doesn’t believe in numbers. Anyone can say — or show — they have a certain amount of followers. But when I see that someone has 100k followers and only a few likes on average per post and little to no comments? Obviously, they do not have 100k active followers.

re:books would rather have authors with one thousand dedicated followers than an author with maybe 100k followers. To put it plainly, we don’t give a shit about your social media following. We believe that word of mouth is always the bestselling channel, and re:books has a big mouth is confident in our motto “What’s read is good and what’s good is read.” And we will sell books based on our unique ways of promoting books. So, the number of probably fake or hyped up followers isn’t really on our radar, nor should it be, which is what traditional old-fashioned publishers rely on before making a book deal these days. (If the sales and marketing team at traditional houses don’t think they can sell your book, it’s pretty much game fucking over. At re:books, we go with authors who show grit and determination, who are hard workers and hustlers — who have shown they are just as invested in their books as we are, regardless of whether they’re on TikTok or Instagram. (Now let’s see who, and how many, copy this idea.)

7. Privacy is power. I’m not sharing everything, especially since I know you’re watching (you know who you are). What people don’t know, they can’t copy. Think of Madonna or Lady Gaga (relax, I’m not comparing myself to these queens), who re:invent themselves time and time again, always with great success. Why? Because as I said at the start, your next move can’t happen until I make mine.

Until next time, flip your hair and flip the page! (And remember to take your own Vitamin Me to help with originality. Oh, and publishers? Don’t forget to settle our little bet! If you’d rather send a cheque, scroll all the way down for our address, or you can direct deposit here. Trust me, you’ll be helping to support talented authors and a forward-thinking publishing house!)