The Proof is in the Pudding

Here’s a bit of advice on purchasing literary services: editing, publishing, marketing, anything.

The proof is in the pudding.

This is an old folk saying, especially dear to us in the Midwest. Hey, it’s even the motto of one Midwestern state: Show Me. (This Missouri motto is said to come from an 1899 speech by a congressman, Willard Vandiver: “I come from a country that raises corn and cotton, cockleburs and Democrats, and frothy eloquence neither convinces nor satisfies me. I’m from Missouri, and you have got to show me.”)

In the Midwest, we scoff at “frothy eloquence,” commonly known as “hype.” (We prefer the low-key compliment: “It’s pretty good.” Or “I’ve seen worse.” Statements which my New York publishing friends think are hysterically cornball. But they really mean something to us. And in the Midwest, to overstate something often means you’re trying to cover up some problem.)

Hyperbole (in skid loads) is prevalent in the publishing industry. Sure, you’ll hear endless promises of great things (around the corner). How many back covers of books that claim an author is the next J.K. Rowling or Tom Clancy or whatever. Fact or wishful thinking?

Look at ads for self-publishing services. They tout amazing things (that happened to one person), implying that this could happen to you, too. Yes, and someone wins the lottery. Or gets struck by lightning.

Claims like your self-published book being instantly available (on demand) anywhere in the world are probably true, but inflated. Yes, being in an online database means anyone could in theory buy your book. But will they?

These ads should all include the fine print: Your actual experience may vary.

Substantially.

If you’re trying to find a literary agent, a publisher, a promotional service, feel very, very comfortable asking detailed questions. And look for forthcoming, personalized answers that are truly applicable to you. General statements are worth the paper they’re printed on.

Ask for actual results in cases very similar to yours. Then ask follow-up questions. Why were these examples chosen as similar? What did the service provider do to create those results? What was the most influential factor? Can you see references, testimonials, track record? What can the service provider specifically do to render similar results for you?

Even then, the proof is in the pudding. (Or maybe, in the Midwest, the proof is in the hotdish.)

So what can you do to protect yourself? Does your contract have escape clauses if you’re not happy with the service? Why not . . . if the service you’re engaging is so wonderful? Push and negotiate for ways to ensure specific activity, check results, and exit if things don’t go as you’ve been promised or (reasonably) should have occurred.

Yes, you’ll hear that “we need a long-term commitment because of all the work we’re going to put into this.” Yes, but if that work is mutually satisfactory, wouldn’t you naturally want to continue? Look at how often publishers’ “boiler-plate” contracts have lots of protections for the publisher . . . and few, if any, for the author, for real possible occurrences. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. I always recommend keeping as short a leash as possible on any new relationship, and see that the protections are equal for both parties in case of non-performance, until the pudding proof is satisfactory.)

If nothing else, can you do the work in phases? Start with a small, short-term contract, then extend it only if you’re satisfied.

The Origins of the Saying

Checking the origins of “the proof is in the pudding” saying, it’s credited to appearing in print in Cervantes’ Don Quixote. But, the sources go on (curiously similarly from one website to the next) to complain that the quote is woefully mis-quoted; that the original saying was: “The proof of the pudding is in the tasting.” The language purists go on to complain, ad nauseam, that the current shortened version is “corrupted” and lacking sense.

Come on. First, the identical complaint by so many websites probably just reveals how one picks up something from the next and parrots it.

And really. Doesn’t “the proof is in the pudding” work just fine? And is shorter. I’ve never been confused in the least what that means, nor has anyone I’ve said it to. What do they think we are getting muddled about? Maybe we think the proof is in the smelling of the pudding? In the tossing of the pudding against the wall? In taking a bath in it?

Here in the Midwest, we’re practical enough to know how to test a pudding. We taste it. And if it’s the best we ever ate, we say so.

It’s pretty good.