Writing

Indie book advertising that works?

Wednesday, December 1st, 2010

Yesterday, Lit agent Kristin Nelson wrote a blog post on Pub Rants–”Advertising That Works?“–that suggests a new way to publicize books. Ever hear of Groupon.com? It helps independent local businesses offer deals to local customers, sometimes at huge discounts. She sums it up like this:

It introduces subscribers to local companies that they might not have discovered otherwise and more importantly, if a subscriber buys the deal for the day, that person is committed to visiting that company or using that service in the very near future.

I’d love to know if this concept could work  directly for authors. For instance, a few indie authors  could team up and publicize book specials along a couple of different dimensions–say, “Get three books by local Portland authors for $25″; or, “Get three new YA paranormal romance books for $25.” It would be a great way for readers to connect with new authors in their geographical area, or new books in a genre they love.

If you know me, you’ll know that any kind of local publishing venture intrigues me. The “Big Six” publishers are not the bad guys–they’ve brought us every book we’ve ever loved–but I also love the idea of self-publishing, Wild West stigma and all. The number of books per year continues to climb, and yet the number of good manuscripts that get rejected continues to climb, too. If you’ll allow me a cautious flight of fancy, what potential there must be for (some) literature right now, if (some) authors and (some) readers alike move away (sometimes) from the big-box-store mentality of traditional publishing and instead write locally, buy locally, and read locally (a little more often).

Maybe, just maybe, books and reading would regain footing in American culture. As Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in.” For once, let it not be the light of a computer or television screen.

Paying for indie publishing: It takes a village?

Saturday, September 4th, 2010

I’ve said here and elsewhere, many times before, that it takes a lot of money to self-publish a book. You can write one for only the cost of your time, but to involve professional editors, designers, printers, and possibly even marketers is to commit several thousands of dollars of your own money to do it right.

I make a living by editing books. If I am correcting your novel line-by-line, I cost about $2000.  I usually pay a competent designer between $1100 and $1300 to typeset that book and design its cover. Then I will charge you $150 to write your flap copy and press release. (I know it’s a faux pas to talk about money in public. Tsk, tsk. We writers… You can’t take us anywhere.) The result will be an attractive, well-edited book that you will be proud to share with your readers.

You can find better deals, of course. And they are still expensive. David Drazul, a fellow writer, spent a bit over $1000 in workshop fees, editing, design, and marketing costs. (See his guest blog post below, or here.) No matter how you slice it, indie publishing is not as democratic as we biblio-revolutionaries would like it to be.

Until now? Michael Keefe posted an article last week on music website MadeLoud.com, “Kickstarter: Where Modest Dreams Can Still Come True,” that highlights yet more instances of successful crowd-funding ventures. While the concept is not exactly fresh from the fires of a new economy (TIME published an article on it in 2008, and it has been around for at least ten years), it offers some hope for the cash-strapped genius in all of us. By posting your project on a site like Kickstarter.com, people anywhere can read about it and donate a minimum of $1 in support of it. Some of the site users’ current writing projects include zines and a translation of “Uruguayan poet Marosa di Giorgio’s 1965 masterpiece, The History of Violets.

The concept is appealing. With over 95 percent of its revenue going directly to the artist, writer, or filmmaker, a crowd-funding site can offset the cost of a worthy project. Besides that, it also involves the public in the arts and creates a sense of ownership–supporting an idea that I am personally attached to, namely that the arts are a dialogue, not a talent show.

Why do we read?

Saturday, May 1st, 2010

Literary agent Rachelle Gardner asked on her blog what purpose books serve.

A few months ago, the subject came up between E and I on a long drive to the Naval Hospital in Bremerton, where she was going for eye surgery. I asked what novels are for, because I wondered how difficult it would be if my eyes were out of commission–how soon I would miss reading, and what I would miss about it most. E is a good person to bring your big questions to, because she never convolutes the answers.

Books are a form of entertainment. To writers, books are more than that–or at least I wish they were, but when I try to make them too much they get, well… convoluted. The conversation left me wishing for a deeper definition of entertainment, but really, we have the penny romances that fed gossip-hungry 18th-century socialites to thank for the market that later gave us Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Mrs. Dalloway, Lolita, 1984, and all the rest. Your thoughts?

1711 title page.

1711 title page.

On rediscovering the art of bad writing

Tuesday, March 30th, 2010

I used to hate first drafts. I hated them because when you write them, everything you learned not to do slips past your inner editor, supplying you with endless free refills of angsty metaphors and an all-you-can-eat buffet of bad paragraphs. Then your inner editor notices that you’re writing dreck, and she gets all puckery and cuts you off completely. Some call this writer’s block, but you don’t call it that because, as your inner editor has reminded you tartly, “writer’s block” is also a cliche. Nothing makes a writer feel worse than a first draft.

But this time, it helps to have finished a novel already. It’s easier to dismiss the editor and accept Anne Lamott’s permission to write shitty first drafts. It also helps to have finished an outline and synopsis of the new novel, and know that my shitty first draft is the equivalent of wandering around on the wrong street of the right neighborhood.

It’s too early to say if the new novel is going well, but I am enjoying the writing process more than I expected. Every draft is a chance to try a new method, and this time is different, too: even though there’s a plan, the characters still need voices, and the novel still needs to find its tone. I’m trying to write each chapter as it comes, then go back and revise it for scene structure and character development. Mainly I’m trying to have fun and experiment freely, because the inner editor hates fun and is all about the rules.

More than anything else, writing is better than not writing. While researching and outlining, I missed the moments in the shower or in the grocery line when my mind wandered to whatever problem I left unsolved that morning. I missed the sense of losing track of time. I missed listening to my draft, and responding–and I missed watching first drafts turn into second drafts that eventually turned into a novel.

It's just as possible to have fun here...

It's just as possible to have fun here...

...as it is to have fun out here.

...as it is to have fun out here.

Future of publishing, from Random House editor of 40 years

Friday, February 19th, 2010

Jason Epstein, editorial director of Random House for 40 years, has written his forecast for the publishing industry in the digital age (New York Review of Books, March 11, 2010). Here are excerpts from the lengthy article.

On e-books:

[The digital books marketplace] will be very large, very diverse, and very surprising: its cultural impact cannot be imagined. E-books will be a significant factor in this uncertain future, but actual books printed and bound will continue to be the irreplaceable repository of our collective wisdom.

On creativity:

Works of genius will emerge from parts of the world where books have barely penetrated before.

On selling one’s work:

As conglomerates resist the exorbitant demands of best-selling authors … these authors, with the help of agents and business managers, will become their own publishers, retaining all net proceeds from digital as well as traditional sales.

On booksellers:

With the Espresso Book Machine, enterprising retail booksellers may become publishers themselves, like their eighteenth-century forebears.

On the necessity of the publishing industry:

It is fair to say that book publishing is more than a business. Without the contents of our libraries—our collective backlist, our cultural memory—our civilization would collapse.

On books, morality, and censorship:

The industry that Gutenberg launched eventually made possible wide distribution of Montaigne, Shakespeare, and Cervantes, to say nothing of [I]Babar the Elephant [/I]and [I]The Cat in the Hat[/I]. But his technology also gave us [I]The Protocols of the Elders of Zion[/I], [I]Mein Kampf[/I], and the nonsense that turned Pol Pot in Paris from a mere fool into a mass murderer. Digitization will amplify our better nature but also its diabolic opposite. Censorship is not the answer to these evils.

On the future form of literature:

Though bloggers anticipate a diversity of communal projects and new kinds of expression, literary form has been remarkably conservative throughout its long history while the act of reading abhors distraction, such as the Web-based enhancements—musical accompaniment, animation, critical commentary, and other metadata—that some prophets of the digital age foresee as profitable sidelines for content providers.

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