Who’s Got The Ether? Publishing, Hugh Howey and the downfall of old assumptions

A little while ago, I ran across this Writing on the Ether article by Porter Anderson. Anderson does a fantastic job of culling together the various viewpoints of whatever outbreaks of argumentativeness spring up around the publishing industry every week. Check him out on Twitter and definitely look for his articles when they come around. Always well worth the read.

Anyway, this particular piece dealt with author Hugh Howey’s suggestions of what would constitute a fair and equitable industry for writers given the new realities of independent publishing. Here’s a brief rundown of his points, all good ones, in my opinion:

“1. No more digital rights until ebook royalties are 50 percent of net.
2. No more “Most Favored Nation” clauses.
3. No more DRM for Guild members.
4. Fair pricing for ebooks.
5. No more non-compete clauses.
6. Stop fighting “free”.
7. The Authors Guild should embrace Amazon as a friend to writers and readers.”

The only thing I would add to that is no more DRM for anybody, but he was specifically referring to a hypothetical writers’ strike led by the Authors Guild, so there’s that. Go read his full piece yourself. Howey is clearly positioning himself not as simply a successful author but a strong advocate for author’s rights and fair treatment, something we seem to be sorely lacking from the old guard (looking at you, Scott Turow). Not surprisingly, his suggestions weren’t very well received by the establishment players, and that was the gist of Anderson’s piece and what led to the comment that caught my eye that I’ll get to further down.

Here’s industry consultant and analyst Mike Shatzkin taking issue with Howey:

“Hugh, your post is so thoroughly from an indie author’s POV that it is really not relevant to anybody else and, frankly, not to all indie authors either…It is doubtful to me that indies have 25% of all ebook unit sales everywhere, but, even if they did, they’d have a much smaller fraction of the ecommerce…let’s just say that my respect for your expertise does not extend to your ideas about how publishers ought to operate.”

To be fair, Shatzkin was very complimentary to Howey for his writing ability and the successful path he’s forged for himself. I like Shatzkin, but I have to wonder about an industry analyst advocating outright ignoring the suggestions of possibly the most successful author to emerge from these technologically challenging times. (I also find myself saying, “I like Shatzkin but…” a lot the past few weeks. I really thought he was turning a corner on this stuff, too.) He has a point of sorts, in that large publishers as they exist today likely can’t continue to function in the environment Howey describes. They’d have to cut a whole lot of fat from the bone and do damn near a complete 180 degree shift on their attitudes toward writers. But, like Howey seems to believe, those kinds of changes may look optional to publishers today (admittedly, a bad option for them) but before much longer, they won’t be. Get ahead of the curve now before it’s too late. And, maybe, paying some attention to a guy who’s already well ahead of that curve might make some sense, but I digress.

This brings me to the comment from Anderson that drove me to save this article. Here goes:

“You know where I’ve heard Shatzkin’s comments before? From myself! From myself and from other news people when “citizen journalists” became a rude, unwanted, upstart presence in “our” network news. We said just these things. Citizen journalists were a minuscule part of the overall picture in media coverage, we said. Citizen journalists, with their silly cell-phone videos, couldn’t hold a camera to our superb camera crews, we said. Citizen journalists, many of them fine folks, of course, knew nothing about how genuine journalism worked, we said.

“What we couldn’t see as we said these things was that the digital disruption of journalism would neutralize most of our traditional models and modalities. The news audience would not rush to “genuine journalism’s” aid. And the ways and means of our industry would be profoundly shifted toward open access and non-expert participation.

“See, we were wrong: every cell phone really was our competition. But we couldn’t see that, not then, not for anything, not even when we tried.”

I have to give a huge thumbs up to Anderson for not only recognizing this but stating his, and others’, mistakenly dismissing major change for a brief inconvenience. I haven’t seen that nearly as much as I should have at this point. When I first shifted over from following the newspaper/periodical segment of publishing (I started out working for newspapers, after all) to the book publishing side, one of the first things I noticed was that many in the established guard were spouting the identical nonsense about the self publishing interlopers that I had seen newspaper execs espouse about independent journalists, bloggers and the like, leading directly to them getting beaten around left, right and sideways by the shifting sands of disruption.

Kudos to Anderson for seeing that and pointing it out. Even more so for recognizing the error in his own dismissals of the past. Book publishers are still following that path, one that will lead to ruin. I’ve said before that the only thing that saved newspapers from completely collapsing in on themselves was, due to the nature of that industry segment, there was no simple, inexpensive means for the talent (writers) to fire up their own directly competing products that could monetize as well as needed. Some did, but it could have been much worse given a little different dynamic.

Ebooks are that different dynamic. There is clearly a simple, inexpensive means for authors to compete directly with publishers, largely thanks to Amazon and others. Howey has shown that it’s the case, both in his own success and now the Author Earnings data collection effort that has, even at a formative stage, shown how the interlopers are increasingly snatching up a larger and larger share of the market and the money that goes with it.

Many traditional defenders have nitpicked Howey’s data and, in some respects, they have a point as Howey himself has said. You don’t release you’re raw data unless you’re trying to invite exactly such nitpicking. But, to me, many of those arguments reek of fear. And they should be very afraid. If publishers don’t wise up, the turmoil the newspaper segment suffered isn’t the worst case scenario here. Given the talent’s ability to reach the market on their own and, more crucially, monetize in more than adequate means to support the low infrastructure costs, it could get a whole lot worse for book publishers than even their newspaper brethren ever dreamed.

Dan Meadows is a writer living on the banks of the Chesapeake Bay. Follow him on Twitter @watershedchron

Amazon and The Mystery of the Great Used eBooks

I am finding the notion of first sale rights and used ebooks pretty fascinating these days. I wrote a bit yesterday about how I suspect that taking away first sale rights from consumers has damaged the book business. Today, I read this piece by Marcus Wohlsen for Wired, completely wrapped in consternation over Amazon’s patent filing for a digital goods resale scheme. There’s a few points in the article I’d like to discuss. I’m not a lawyer, so these are simply my opinions on how copyright law, particularly first sale, might affect Amazon’s actions with regards to used digital stuff.

“Digital content is infinitely reproducible. No technological limit exists to how many times a single digital original can be copied and resold.”

No technological limit exists because nobody’s bothered to implement an effective one. And maybe I’m wrong, but isn’t all that fancy DRM we’ve had shoved down our throats a technological limitation to copying? Pretty sure that exists. It may not work very well, or might be crazy-easy to circumvent, but it exists. The entire ebook market has grown under the assumption that consumers had no right of resale, therefore no screaming need to invent one. But look, ReDigi is getting sued for its used digital business and they have a method to limit copying. Amazon’s patent here is another. If second hand digital goods becomes a reality, you can bet there’ll be numerous technical methods to deal with this post haste.

As for copying infinitely for resale, that doesn’t even apply in this case. What Amazon’s talking about here seems to be totally in-house. They already know who bought what and how many times. They’re suggesting a scheme to resell the licenses not so much the actual ebooks. There’s no way somebody copying an ebook bought from Amazon is going to be selling it over and over again without Amazon being willfully complicit. They have zero motivation to engage in something so risky and outright stupid. There is no chance anyone will be selling multiple copies of the same ebook in the system Amazon’s trying to patent.

“Just as with physical books, publishers would only have a say — or get a cut — the first time a customer buys a copy of an e-book. The second, third and fourth sales of that “same” e-book would be purely under Amazon’s control.”

That would totally depend on how this was executed. If a first sale use is exerted to allow the resale, then it’s actually the customer who has control of the resale. Amazon would, theoretically, either expedite a sale between two customers and take a small cut, or create a system where they buy the ebooks from the customers, then they would gain those resale rights. The alternative is if the resale was a product of a licensing agreement with the publisher, in which case, no first sale rights were exerted and Amazon would have as much control as the licensing agreement allows and no more. Publishers would have to be nigh-on-braindead to license resale rights to Amazon, though. They’d be better off just releasing first sale rights to everybody altogether and letting the chips fall where they may than giving Amazon more power to lock customers into their world. In fact, I think they’d be better off doing that than what they’re doing now, even if they maintain the good sense not to license away the second hand market.

Wohlsen then quotes Bill Rosenblatt, who he describes as “a consultant and expert witness in digital content patent cases”:

“If Amazon is allowed to get away with doing resale transactions without compensating publishers, then what they can do is say, ‘hey authors, sign with us and we’ll give you a piece of the resale.’”

If Amazon is allowed to resell without compensating publishers, then that means buyers would have regained first sale rights. That would mean Amazon, or anybody else for that matter, wouldn’t be able to control the resale of these goods. You can’t just say “Kindle owners have first sale rights but Nook owners don’t.” Amazon could certainly cut writers in on the resale of their books on their site, but in this hypothetical, they’d be far from the only place selling second hand digital goods. As a,writer, if would definitely be something I’d listen to, though.

There is no circumstance where Amazon totally controls the resale market and doesn’t pay publishers. Either they license the content for resale, in which case publishers get paid, or they invoke first sale, publishers don’t get paid, but the real control and resale rights would belong to consumers. (Unless, of course, a court somewhere warps copyright law to create such a circumstance. Not exactly an unheard of occurrence.) Amazon might build a nice little business with used ebooks, but it would largely have to do so by offering buyers enough incentive to exert their first sale rights with Amazon. Hardly a dominating position.

“Buried in the patent is language spelling out that the technology Amazon intends to use will have the ability to limit the number of times a digital good could be resold or loaned out. Amazon could use that constraint to strike bargains with publishers and authors to cut them in on used digital sales, which doesn’t happen with used physical media.”

And would only happen here if it were a product of a licensing deal. If they invoke first sale, Amazon couldn’t uninvoke it later. They wouldn’t have the right to put any limits on resale. They could buy the license, then willingly retire it, but they couldn’t prohibit a buyer from selling it. If it were licensed for resale, however, Amazon could do just that, per terms of the licensing agreement. But again, publishers…resale licensing with Amazon…braindead stupid.

I do believe we need to return first sale rights of digital goods to consumers. I believe there will be a technological means developed that is simple enough to make this happen without unduly encouraging piracy. Even so, no matter what you do, somebody somewhere is gonna rip you off. Publishers are just gonna have to accept that reality. Taking away first sale rights devalues the product in a very real monetary sense to the buyer. That is simply bad business.

What Amazon’s patenting here sounds to me like an attempt to strengthen its walled garden. I’m not sure this method would hold up or work in an atmosphere where first sale rights are truly implemented by consumers. So it seems as though licensing resale from publishers is the point of this. But what publisher in their right mind would give Amazon this ability? On second thought, don’t answer that. Like with most things, some idiot(s) will.

Second Hand Blues: First Sale Rights and Used eBooks

That sound you just heard was the collective heads of everyone in the traditional mass media industry exploding as news of Amazon filing a patent for a process to resell digital goods spread. Many of them are having enough trouble keeping their heads above water in the current digital marketplace as it is. Now, suddenly, they might have to deal with competition from an area they thought was locked down, resale rights of customers. Oh shit.

Personally, I’m all for this development, although I would much rather someone other than Amazon be the one to push this possibly emerging market. However, the fact that they’re taking steps to be prepared for it again shows why they have essentially made fools of the traditional industry. They think ahead, they pay attention, they prepare and, most of all, their business model adds value for their customers instead of taking it away.

I’ve long been a proponent of an aftermarket for digital goods. I believe it’s lack is the one key flaw in the ebook market. In fact, I’ve started to develop a little theory about this. Far from being just simply a loss of value for consumers, I’m starting to get behind the notion that the lack of an aftermarket is a primary cause of three of the most troublesome issues with ebooks and other digital media; piracy, discoverability and the downward pressure on prices.

1. Piracy

I usually take issue with even defining the activity of file sharing, even obviously infringing file sharing, as piracy. I just don’t think it is. I also think it clouds the issue by broadening the scope of conduct corporations would like to monetize into a individual crime, which hurts efforts to combat actual, destructive commercial-scale piracy. But for the sake of brevity, I’m just going to use the term piracy here. It’s easier to type than “possibly infringing and much maligned but potentially fair use protected file sharing,” which would be a far more accurate description of the conduct to which the industry objects.

The biggest joke of all from the anti-piracy brigade is the assumption that every download is a full price lost sale, complete with lost royalties for the creator. That’s obviously a skyscraper-high pile of horseshit I’m not going to waste time refuting. But let’s say, for the sake of argument, that it’s somewhat true, who’s to say that lost sale would have even been one that affected the industry or artists at all? It’s easy to suggest that someone downloading an ebook wasn’t going to buy it anyway. But what if they were going to buy it, only a cheaper second hand version? Even if it was a lost sale, it wasn’t one that would have earned the industry a dime anyway. Or any royalties for the artists. Amazon routinely lists used alternatives to new versions right on the product page, always significantly cheaper. Is it really a stretch to think that people who choose downloading for free over buying full price wouldn’t also choose to buy cheaper used than new? Even if every download were a lost sale, if those sales were going to be of the cheaper, used variety, the industry and artists lose nothing. And it’s perfectly legal under the first sale part of copyright.

Ebooks circumvent first sale by being sold as a license for use. When that happens, customers lose the ability to resell those goods (among other things). It’s why I can’t just sell the ebook I bought last week from Amazon to somebody else on eBay. But the book publishing industry has long existed side by side with its used counterpart. There has always been a place to buy books at a significantly discounted price. When eBooks took off, however, there was a vacuum left where that discounted market used to be. Isn’t it possible that piracy grew to fill this very gap that the loss of first sale left in the digitized side of the market? We went from a system where you could get books full price new, heavily discounted used, or free from libraries to a system where it was full price new, extremely limited and inconvenient from libraries or free through piracy. The industry, through the means it chose to sell ebooks, removed the discounted option completely, hamstrung the legal free option and then loudly wondered why people pirated.

I think a lot about rights, I am a writer, after all, and I spend a fair amount of time complaining about rights grabs from publishers. But it just dawned on me that I’ve essentially missed the biggest rights grab of all. The way ebooks are sold protects publishers under copyright law, protects authors under copyright law (although I would argue in too ancillary of a way through publishers but that’s for another day) and takes away almost all the rights of consumers under copyright law. It is pretty egregious when you look at it. The first theft was committed when publishers agreed to the licensing scheme and took away customer rights. Then they turned right around, started pointing fingers and yelling, “Thief!”

Removing first sale rights created a vacuum in the ebook market and piracy was what grew in its place. Nature does, indeed, abhor a vacuum.

2. Discoverability

Here’s another thought that’s been kicking around in my head: what if, instead of causing the drop in sales, piracy actually prevented that drop from being significantly worse? Think about it. When digital music hit the scene, that industry panicked, fought the rudimentary early age file sharing spots like Napster and Limewire tooth and nail, right down to suing their own damn customers. At that point, broadband was slower, not nearly as widespread, and most people didn’t know how or have the capacity to download sometimes large music files. As first sale rights fell away, the secondary markets thinned, discovery was hampered and sales dropped precipitously. When ebooks hit publishing, there were well-established file sharing networks in place, broadband was much faster and more ubiquitous. The discovery hit from loss of first sale was mitigated somewhat by piracy and the drop in sales was much lower. Book publishing, quite possibly, was somewhat protected from itself by the very pirates it so loves to demonize.

Look at it this way, when I buy a print book, I can go sell it to someone else. They in turn, can sell it again, the next owner can sell it, then that owner could donate it to the library where it can be checked out over and over again. That one book could pass through numerous hands, all legal and all based on one sale, the first sale, from which publishers and creators reap their proceeds. The rest of that book’s lifespan constitutes exposure, or discovery, if you prefer. Now, if I buy an ebook, other than a limited ability to share with a few people under specific conditions, the life span of that ebook essentially dies immediately after the first sale. All of that exposure and discovery that was present with print books sold with first sale rights is washed away. And again, the industry is perplexed about why people aren’t finding new books as easily as in the past. That kind of thing happens when you destroy the primary mechanisms of discovery by swiping rights from customers.

I’ve seen numerous polls that suggest bookstores are the number one place for discovery of new works but I’ve never seen one differentiate between what kind of bookstores they’re talking about. Is it more likely you’ll try out new authors in Barnes & Noble where you’re paying $10-25 or so on average per book, or in a used bookstore where hardcovers are $2 and paperbacks can be had for 50 cents? I suspect discovery has been done far more at bookstores selling heavily discounted used books (and libraries, where it’s free) than at stores selling only higher priced new books.

Everybody seems to be wondering why online book discovery is struggling so much. Could it be because publishers have hamstrung libraries and blocked the development of discounted used ebook stores by eliminating consumer rights to resale, places where discovery is far more likely to happen than full price, brand new alternatives? Nah, couldn’t be that, must be the pirates, you know, the only place actually emulating the primary means where book discovery was done in the past.

3. Downward Price Pressure

Taking away first sale rights from consumers does one other key thing, it takes away the customer’s ownership stake in the product. If you can resell something, that has value, and when you buy a print book, it retains that value because of first sale rights. But with ebooks, the monetary value drops to zero immediately after you pay for it. Don’t think for a second people don’t understand this basic fact. The loss of an ownership stake, and the instant elimination of any monetary value necessarily degrades a product in the customer’s eyes. By swiping first sale rights, publishers have devalued their own products. It’s the reason why so many people complain so loudly about ebooks priced anywhere near what print versions cost. We’re not stupid out here, we know damn well you’re selling us a product that doesn’t have anywhere near the tangible value of a print book, and that has nothing at all to do with the quality of the book. I can’t sell it and its uses are limited. I possess significantly fewer rights with ebooks. Consequently, it makes no sense to pay print prices for way-less-than-print value.

Then, there’s this. With the aftermarket for ebooks nonexistent, wiping out a highly discounted layer of sales, it created a huge gap between the prices of trad pubbed ebooks and indie books. That, in turn, created a situation where indie books could be priced much cheaper and attract significant sales through super-low prices alone. That, then, set off a race to the bottom fight for those sales, culminating in 99 cent novels, and generally increasing the downward pressure put on all ebook prices. But consider, if there were a used layer there where trad pubbed ebooks could have been picked up for $2-3 or so, the massive gap in prices between indie and trad books never would have happened, the severe price advantage wouldn’t have sparked the uptick in sales that set off the race to the bottom. Indie authors would have been forced to compete on factors beyond simply super-low prices, and the downward pressure they’re experiencing now declines appreciably. Also, if those same customers now bitching about $15 ebooks knew that could get a few bucks back on them through resale, they wouldn’t be so likely to complain about price. They’d retain their ownership stake, and very likely, not balk at paying a few dollars more. There’s two key elements right there driving prices down that go away if customers hadn’t had their first sale rights taken from them.

First sale rights are hugely important. I’m of the mind that swiping them from consumers as ebooks have is responsible for most of the biggest problems in a growing industry segment. An aftermarket isn’t something to be afraid of, it aids discovery, maintains value in the product chain and gives your customers not just a right to resell, but an actual ownership stake in the product, albeit a small one, relatively. It now becomes in their best interest to maintain the value of ebooks because they have some skin in the game. Take them away, and it seriously damages discoverability, drives prices down as the reality of lost value sinks in, and it drives possible customers to alternatives like piracy.

Whatever the technical difficulties in creating a digital goods aftermarket, or giving consumers back the first sale rights that have been swiped by the ebook licensing scheme, the consequences will be far less severe than continuing to treat customers as naive dullards who don’t mind being gouged by higher prices for a lesser product. There’s a good reason first sale exists as part of copyright law, free markets don’t work when one party has too much control over economic activity. If we don’t change course soon, the ebook market will find out exactly how dysfunctional things can get when the playing field gets unfairly slanted. Customers have rights, too, and it’s high time publishing remembers that.

Bookish: New publisher-backed retail site is game-chan…eh, whatever

I was checking out Bookish today, the new Big Six backed trojan horse, supposed to look like some kinda Goodreads/retail store hybrid thing but really is a not-so-subtle attempt to build their own little walled garden only sans the hardware. Yeah, I’m not a fan, what can I say?

Actually, I don’t really see too much to get worked up about anyway. There’s nothing really new here, and it’s pretty clearly an attempt to regain gatekeeper control by imitating various popular book-related internet properties they could have innovated a decade or so ago if they’d have pulled their collective heads from their assess even temporarily. Late to the party doesn’t usually fly. That and this is traditional publishing trying to be forward-thinking, after all. So forward that the debut was about two years after it was supposed to be. I’m not encouraged by the vision or support behind this if things don’t go instantly great and end up even the slightest bit challenging.

The DRM insistance sucks but not at all unexpected. We’re still quite a ways from the biggest of publishers’ conglomerate masters getting the memo that they’re cutting their own throats with it. The part of the terms of service saying they own all rights to any user generated content is troubling, but again, publishers are behind this. Never met a right they didn’t try to grab. There appears to be a pretty stark “no refunds” policy on ebooks, too, enforceable after download, which, I guess, means store-credit-only if something’s messed up? Of course, shit-out-of-luck is a distinct customer service possibility here, too. Wouldn’t surprise me. By comparison, Amazon gives you seven days to “return” an ebook for a no-questions-asked refund. Not exactly a compelling reason to buy through Bookish rather than Amazon.

I would typically link to their site here, but apparently I would be violating their terms of use if I did so, it containing a provision allowing them to block your link if you disparage them. Lord knows I wouldn’t want to run afoul of their terms. So, good job, guys! Here’s at least one less link to you in the world.

At the end of the day, Bookish to me loses points precisely for what it’s trying to do, be a limiting factor in book shopping, and serve in a gatekeeper type capacity. It’s not so much what’s seen or recommended on their site, it’s what’s excluded that’s the problem. It’s allowing material in from sources which meet some sort of standard of approval, apparently dependent entirely on the publisher. It’ll be interesting to see if this ends up with the big boys getting all the prime, algorithm-tweaking real estate. There doesn’t really seem to be much in the way of involvement for authors, either. But, I’m willing to give most things the benefit of the doubt, so I clicked on the “I’m an author” link in their FAQ. Here’s what I got:

How can I have my book(s) added to Bookish?

Authors should ask their publishers to confirm that their respective titles are in the data feeds provided to Bookish.

That’s it? I’m an author. I’m interested in becoming involved with this innovative new method of doing the same thing other people are doing just more self-servingly and the only acknowledgement or words of advice you have for me is “go ask your publisher”? Is it me, or is the tone of their suggestion reminiscient of when you were a kid and annoyed your mother with some question she didn’t care about to the point she’d say, “go ask your father?” Seems a bit dismissive and condescending. I also find myself wondering at what point the lawyers took out the “If you’re a self-published author, go fuck yourself!” line that I’m pretty sure was in the first draft.

It’s not a bad thing for publishers to try to get some sort of more direct retail channel. But they can’t even get all the big players to back it. Hell, Apple talked them all into breaking antitrust law together, but something that could actually be a practical benefit to the industry if done right? No way! This should have been done years ago. Now, it’s just chasing, piggy-backing on other people’s hardware, yet still trying to build that mystical walled garden through DRM. Authors are pretty obviously an afterthought, and they certainly aren’t treated as any kind of business equals, more like underlings to their publisher masters. I’ll withhold judgement on whether this is useful to readers until we actually hear from some, but I’m not optimistic given what I see so far. If I had to guess, Bookish will err too far toward crass commercialism over genuinely social interactions with readers. Basically, I’m seeing a site that’s talking at readers, not with them, and that’s going to be its biggest problem.

Data Overload: Reader behavior data lacking in crucial context

I just read this piece on NPR about whether the data collected on reader behavior from ereaders is useful to writers. My gut reaction is, “nope,” but upon further reflection, I can see some circumstances under which some data along those lines could be of use. It’s not a simple, black or white question, however. It all depends on who has the data, and who’s using it and how they overcome the problem of lacking proper context.

I can easily envision a circumstance where a publisher says to a writer, “Our ereader data suggests 63% of your readers were more engaged in the portions of your last book where the hero fought werewolves. We’d like your next book to include more werewolves.” That’s not appreciably different than it is now, only with more data that appears to reinforce their beliefs. Publishing has always been an industry that, when success strikes, beats every ounce of that success into the ground. Fifty shades of erotic romance, anyone? If werewolves are showing signs of being the hot new thing, bring on the werewolves!

But is that interpretation of the data correct? Were those readers more engaged because of the werewolves or because it was a high-tension, exciting sequence that just happened to involve werewolves? That’s a pretty important distinction. The problem is, we can’t say without more data to properly explain this data.

Here’s a point made by author Scott Turow that raises a similar concern in mind:

“I would love to know if 35 percent of my readers were quitting after the first two chapters because that frankly strikes me as, sometimes, a problem I could fix.”

Possibly. But what if that 35% is industry-standard for readers dropping books after the first few chapters? How do we know? I know my reading habits often have me starting books, putting them down for other books, sometimes coming back later, sometimes not. There’s no rhyme or reason related to quality for it, either. Some of my favorite books were started three or four times before I finally followed through. And I’ve read some total tripe cover to cover.

We need a whole lot more information before making any creative decisions based on this. What if we come to discover that 35% is actually better than average? What if 40-45% turns out to be the figure? Would Turow no longer have a problem to fix? He’d still have a third of his readers not getting past chapter two, but he’d also be outperforming the industry. What if we discover this having similarities to baseball, where failing 7 times out of 10 makes you an All Star? We are lacking the frame of reference to make useful decisions based on this data. Finding answers from data lacking adequate context is like reading tea leaves or interpeting ancient religious texts; anybody can do it and find a justification to point to as evidence, even if another person can credibly interpret the proofs you site the exact opposite way.

Turow also said this:

“Would I love to hitch the equivalent of a polygraph to my readers and know how they are responding word by word? That would be quite interesting.”

Frightening might be another word for it. Hell, I sense a dystopian novel where corporations have hitched everyone to a giant monitoring device to record their every impulse and give them back only products that serve their immediate desires, sort of a permanent cultural feedback loop. I don’t see how that much data is even useful. Writers, generally speaking, have varying degrees of OCD. I can easily see the hypochondriac impulse taking over, and some writers getting obsessively lost trying to make sense of this mass of often conflicting information.

He does make a cogent point here, from a publisher’s point of view:

“Why should we publish this book if 11 readers out of 12 can’t make it past page 36?”

It’s hard to argue that. Publishers need to make money to survive. So do writers but on a different scale. If data suggests a book isn’t attracting an audience sizable enough to support publisher overhead, then why should they publish? From the other side, if a book is not showing scale that befits a relationship with a publisher, maybe that’s a way for writers to help determine if a work is better served as an independent release. After all, the term “hybrid authors” is all the rage these days. You have to choose your publishing approach somehow.

But again, this only works if the data means what we think it means. Besides, there’s also the paradox of the fact that the book has to be released in order to collect reader data on it. So, at best, unless we’re talking about turning books into software and releasing beta versions we fix after getting customer feedback, this ereader data is only really useful in a predictive sense for future work. Which means that all we’ve done is pile a lot more data into a decision we’re already making based on an already-existing pile of considerations today. Will it improve end results? Maybe, maybe not. But what it will do is provide justifications to make the initial decision more defensible, regardless of outcome. I’m not certain that’s a good thing because it has the distinct potential to provide pseudo-evidentiary cover for making bad calls on whether or not to publish.

Books will still succeed despite data that suggested beforehand that they wouldn’t. And books will still fail despite having all the indicators of a sure thing. This data is nice, but there are numerous factors at work in a successful novel, reader behavior while reading is a small part of that I can’t definitively say holds much significance. I can’t say it doesn’t, either. We just don’t have enough data. In the future, we’ll fix that, I’m sure, and be awash in all the facts, figures and statistics we can stand on reader behavior. But we’ll still be lacking the context. Without that, I’m not convinced we’ll ever be able to interpret this information properly. Short of Turow’s all-encompassing polygraph or some piece of future tech that reads minds, that context isn’t readily accessible and likely never will be.

More and accurate data is always a good thing, but who wields it and how is crucial. I have a feeling that this will turn out to be little more than echo chamber material. Anyone making an argument will be able to find the numbers somewhere in the increasingly vast data pool to support it, no matter how outlandish.

Will I use this data for something, if available? Absolutely. I can totally see its value from a marketing standpoint. Will I change a character, story or rewrite portions of work based on this information? Absolutely not. I have little confidence that any of this data means what I think it means. I have even less confidence it means what other people think it means. If it only serves to reinforce already existing opinions, then it brings little of value to the table. Maybe I can glean a way to sell more books with this data, and that’s worth a shot, but changing the actual work in response to it is a bridge too far.

The Editor Fallicy…Falacie…Fallacy…yeah, that’s it, Fallacy

I’d like to take a contrary position to the whole of the literary establishment for a moment, if I may. Much has been written, and will continue to be, on the rift between traditional and indie publishing. Hell, many traditional supporters throw a little shit-fit with just the use of the term “indie” as a moniker for self publishers. Some days, it seems like World Peace is a more attainable goal than bridging the gap between the established and emerging segments of the publishing industry.

But there is one area where both sides are in complete agreement. That is the absolute, irrefutable necessity of having any and all writing vetted by an honest to goodness editor. And who could argue with that, you ask? (If you didn’t ask, I apologize for putting words in your mouth but I kinda need that rhetorical response from “you” to keep the narrative flow going. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to do this next thing) Who could argue with that, you ask? I can!

Now before you get all up in arms and pissy, nostrils flaring, uppity defensive of something everyone seems to agree on but the implications of which very few people actually consider, let me explain. If you can’t or won’t edit your own work, both for polish and content, you’re not only lazy, but you’re not a complete writer, either. Three…two…one…ok, now you can get all beside yourself with righteous indignation. I mean, come on! Everybody knows that even the best writers churn out barely literate crap until the sainted editor gets his/her red pen into it. Plus, who would want to live in a world where writers are able, or even *gasp* encouraged to release their work bypassing the filters of the all-seeing, all-knowing editor? I shudder to think of the implications of seeing the raw, unfettered power of the writer’s creative muse. I imagine it would be a little like looking directly at an angel, their transcendent light far too bright, burning mere human eyes right out of their sockets. Our minds would turn to jelly without editors to properly harness all that writerly power.

Seriously, though, I am really sick of reading about how writers can’t possibly string together so much as a tweet, let alone an entire novel without someone else hanging over their shoulder steering the course. That’s what editors do, after all. Were you fully aware of that? Editors take other people’s material and structure it to suit either their own preconceived notions or the fiscal necessity of the platform they’re editing for. That’s the gig. Book editors are a little different than periodical editors in that they tend to shape the content to their perceived needs in their particular market sphere rather than a homogenized “style” or publication “brand.” Same difference to the writer in the end, though. I’d still like someone to explain to me how an editor who steeped within the structure of traditional publishing is going to be all that helpful to an indie. Sure, they can shape your book up into something that might resemble something else that once worked in the traditional realm, but if you’re an indie, you’re not really selling into that distribution area. You know how much real world market experience those former and current trad editors have selling digital independently? About as much as my great grandfather, and he’s been dead since 1954.

Then there’s the little matter of whether many editors are even qualified to dick around with an actual creator’s work in the first place. Let’s not kid ourselves, the phrase editor, in some circles, might still hold a bit of prestige, but from my experience, that editor you’re working with is, more often than not, a result of the “those who can’t, teach” school of thought. People become editors for one of three reasons, generally: 1) they’re a failed writer and had to pay the bills somehow, 2) they don’t have the balls to be the writer and it’s much easier–and usually pays better–to manipulate the work of others than produce it yourself, or 3) they are a successful writer who developed their own skills after years of dealing with semi-competent half wits who likely suggested adding some foreshadowing to the table of contents or some other such absurd idea at one time or another. There may be other ways to get that editor title next to your name (some folks go to school for it, I hear) but those are the three big ones. If you’ve got a #3, then you’re golden, but the other two are sure-fire paths to fucking up whatever artistic vision you lacked confidence in so much you turned to a stranger who’s primary claim to career fame is “I fixed some typos in so-and-so’s #1 bestseller back in 1996.”

Editor is the very definition of a fallback career option. Just like nobody ever says, “I wanna be a junkie when I grow up,” nobody says, “I wanna be an editor when I grow up,” either. Editor is the consolation prize in the literary job market. Ask yourself, is that the kind of person you really want impacting your career, someone who slid into a position filled with tedious shit-work just because it was kinda sorta in the same neighborhood as the dashed and discarded dreams of their misspent youth? Not me and you shouldn’t either.

The editor fallacy is willfully perpetuated by the traditional industry. It’s a ruse designed to keep writers down. I’m not kidding, read some of the criticisms floating around. You would seriously think writers turned out little more than random chunks of directionless text that no mere mortal could possibly make sense of if an editor didn’t mold it into shape first. Are you gonna take that? I mean, you fancy yourself a storyteller yet you don’t know if the story you’re telling sucks or not without third party involvement? Why should I plunk down my hard earned cash for the offerings of your literary vision when you don’t even understand or have confidence in it?

My point is that the notion of the infallibility of the editor, and their necessity in shaping a writer’s efforts can be an insidious one. It devalues the writer. If a book is a house, it makes the writer’s output akin to raw lumber and lifts the editor to the role of carpenter. The traditional industry thrived on this relationship dynamic for years, it helped keep writers in their place at the bottom. Otherwise, they, as a group, might have wanted something outrageous like being fairly compensated for work that produces every single dollar in industry revenues.

It’s a new world now. You are the raw material, the carpenter, the plumber, the electrician and the painter. At best, the editor is the day laborer who comes in and sweeps up the leftover dirt off the floor before you move in. Do you think carpenters ask the advice of a broom jockey on hanging joices joists? Would an electrician appreciate getting notes from the sweeper detailing how he could run the wiring to the ceiling fans more efficiently? Don’t get me wrong, writers aren’t infallible by any stretch, either, but there’s one key difference…you’re the fucking writer!

In the old model, the perception in a lot of ways, was that the writer works for the editor, true or not. In the new model, the editor unquestionably works for the writer. Big difference. Now, when your editor suggests that you rewrite chapters 8 through 14 and add a talking sewer rat as comic relief to break up the tension in your drama about an unjustly convicted man’s experiences with prison rape, you can feel free to snort coffee out your nose, laughing hysterically as you work on cancelling the check you paid him or her with. The old way, you’d laugh a bit then cringe at the inevitable realization that you’ll probably end up doing it if you ever wanted to retain any hope of seeing that book in print.

Look, it’s your book, it’s your story, no one on the planet knows it better than you. If you’re going to be a storyteller, believe in the stories you write. That doesn’t mean don’t seek out input or listen if somebody offers up some interesting ideas. But even then, ideas are just that. You’re the one who has to take the grains of inspiration from those ideas and shape them into the story you want to tell. You can’t rely on anyone else to do that for you, otherwise, it’s not your story anymore.

I’ve been a bit harsh on editors here, unfairly so in some ways, but I’m making a point. The editor is no longer among the gatekeeper class you need to appease. You don’t have to do everything they say, and you definitely don’t work for them. Editors are a tool for indie writers that, if properly utilized can be beneficial. Got that? The editor is at the service of the writer. And even then, they’re still only one tool of many. And don’t ever forget that they work for you now.

A truly great editor is almost worth their weight in gold. My descriptions of editors in this piece are obviously exaggerated, but make no mistake, those people exist. Very likely in far greater numbers than anyone will openly admit. Where a great editor can add quite a bit to your efforts, a lousy editor can do just as much, if not more to destroy and detract from your work. And there are an abundance of lousy editors out there, more than not, I believe. Editors are no different than any other field of endeavor. There’s four or five bad to mediocre ones for every good one, and out of every 50 or so good ones, you might see one reach exceptional status. The key is to recognize the difference. If you’re not confident in your storytelling prowess, if you can’t defend the merits of your work and the artistic choices you make, you’re actively making your work susceptible to the heavy hand of a bad editor.

Despite what you might think with my prior insults, there are quality editors out there available for hire, and in the right circumstance with the proper context, they can help polish your work. But any old editor isn’t necessarily a good editor. One of the worst things that can happen to a person is to fail on someone’s terms other than your own. Giving an editor, any editor, even the good ones, carte blanche to screw around with your story is setting yourself up to fail through no fault of your own. Unless, of course, you consider changing key elements of your story against your artistic judgment to appease an editor a fault of your own. I do.

Editor skills aren’t some magical capability that’s unattainable to writers. Anyone with the right motivation can learn quality editing. It’ll surprise you how much improvement creeps into your work just by having an editor’s mentality in the back of your mind. This isn’t to say you should do everything yourself, although I am one of the apparently few people who believes you can successfully do it that way if you’re willing to be meticulous and put in the time. It’s always better to have multiple sets of eyes go over your work. Just don’t ever forget that you’re in charge. It’s your story, your world, you make the rules.

I’ve said before that many people, probably most, don’t truly understand the dynamic shift going on right now. Many of us still approach the new possibilities as simply an extension of the way things were always done. It’s not. Digital is a genetically different business than traditional, though they may appear similar today in the early stages, they really are quite divergent, and growing more so as time and technology expands. Old models can be adapted and find a niche, but nothing translates easily and without effort. Don’t hold to any particular dogma, and that especially includes slavish devotion to an editor.

Tell your stories, the way you want. It’s been a long time since writers have had that ability on a wide scale. And don’t listen to the naysayers screaming in comments sections all over the web about having your work “properly vetted”. That’s a holdover from a past that, quite frankly, limited and exploited the writer. It also served to homogenize much of the content. You ever wonder why so many cookie cutter books, both in substance and tone, exist? That, my friends, is the work of editors. Nobody can steal a writer’s voice more effectively than an editor. Nobody can suck the life out of a story better than an editor. That’s not to say editors don’t have a place, they do. It’s just a far less influential one than it has been.

Editors are not higher on the literary food chain than writers. They are little more than a hired hand to provide a specific service on the writer’s terms. They are your employee. You’d do very well to remember that, even if you have to block out the shouting of those who don’t yet see that things have changed.

Oh yeah, about that “lazy and not a complete writer crack,” sure, I was shooting over the top, just trying to get your attention, but I’m sticking to it. Prove me wrong. Please.

Published in: on August 25, 2012 at 9:46 pm  Comments (14)  
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The Great Lie Behind DRM: Just like that, a little truth seeps out…

Yesterday, I ran across this piece by internet maven (and author) Cory Doctorow detailing the contents of a letter sent by HatchetteUK and its imprint Little Brown to its writers who also publish in other territories with publishers who don’t use DRM, principally Macmillan imprint Tor, presumably. It set off a bit of a pissing contest with Little Brown’s CEO Ursula Mackenzie. In the letter, Hatchette makes a rather interesting demand of its writers, that they force their publishers in other territories to place DRM on their ebooks. Here’s Doctorow:

“I’ve just seen a letter sent to an author who has published books under Hachette’s imprints in some territories and with Tor Books and its sister companies in other territories (Tor is part of Macmillan). The letter, signed by Little, Brown U.K. CEO Ursula Mackenzie, explains to the author that Hachette has “acquired exclusive publication rights in our territories from you in good faith,” but warns that in other territories, Tor’s no-DRM policy “will make it difficult for the rights granted to us to be properly protected.” Hachette’s proposed solution: that the author insist Tor use DRM on these titles.

“The letter also contains language that will apparently be included in future Hachette imprint contracts, language that would require authors to “ensure that any of his or her licensees of rights in territories not licensed under this agreement” will use DRM.

Let’s forget for a moment that territoriality, once essential in publishing, is quickly becoming threatened by digital encroachment, and will soon be little more than yet another publisher-inflicted hindrance between readers and the books they want, if it isn’t already. (It probably is.) Primarily, I was a bit taken aback, as was Doctorow, by the audacity of a publisher dictating in pretty forceful, albeit polite, terms to writers what they can do with rights the publisher doesn’t own. Doctorow himself said, “Hachette has balls the size of Mars if it thinks it can dictate what other publishers do with titles in territories where it has no rights.”

He’s absolutely right about that, and, if it had been me who received one of those letters, I’m pretty sure my two-word reply would consist of the terms “piss” and “off.” If you’d like to tell me what I can do with the rights to my work, then buy them. Otherwise, you’re entitled to your opinion and I’m entitled to laugh at it.

Anyway, Doctorow went on with his usual anti-DRM line, one I personally find a lot to agree with. This, in turn, spurred Mackenzie to release a statement clarifying their position, taking a few jabs at Doctorow in the process. Here’s Mackenzie, as reported via The Bookseller:

“In the statement, Mackenzie confirmed that the publisher did plan to change the wording in its
contracts, but said the modification was designed to make the position clearer and that “variations” on the boiler-plate could be negotiated.

“Our new wording is clearer and we will, as always, negotiate variations of that wording with the many parties with which we trade, nearly all of whom agree with the basic principles of our DRM policy.”

So Hatchette is going to make you follow their terms whoever you publish with, in whatever territory, whether they own the rights or not, but don’t worry, it’s only negotiable boilerplate. Go back and read that second paragraph from Mackenzie again. I’ll wait. Sounds negotiable, doesn’t it? Especially the parts about variations of that wording and the various parties who nearly all agree with their position. Sure, you can negotiate to your heart’s content, you just can’t actually change anything substantive. Sounds perfectly reasonable.

Mackenzie goes on, and here’s the kicker, for me at least. In her spirited condemnation of Doctorow, she let slip a dirty little secret about said DRM and what its real purpose actually is. (Hint: it’s not fighting piracy):

“Mackenzie, who is also president of the Publishers Association, was critical of Doctorow’s position on DRM, saying that it contained “the usual long list of anti-DRM arguments”. Mackenzie stated: “We are fully aware that DRM does not inhibit determined pirates or even those who are sufficiently sophisticated to download DRM removal software. The central point is that we are in favour of DRM because it inhibits file-sharing between the mainstream readers who are so valuable to us and our authors.”

You get it now? They know DRM has no effect on piracy, and they know it doesn’t stop people with the moderate technical knowledge to do an end-around. They use it specifically to handicap what their good, paying customers can do with their legally purchased ebooks. Nice. At least, for once, I can say someone from big publishing was actually honest, for a change. If I owned that company, Mackenzie would have a pink slip on her desk this morning, along with a security guard standing by to make sure the front door didn’t hit her on the ass on the way out. Even if I willfully supported using technical means to screw the people buying my products, I would be incensed that the head of my company openly admitted it.

There, in a nutshell, is the giant lie beneath the concept of DRM. It has nothing to do with anything but creating constraints on the majority of the ebook buying public, then profiting from those artificial restrictions. If readers really were valuable to them, as she says, they wouldn’t treat them so poorly. Their value isn’t in a loyal customer relationship sense, but in an overtly exploitative one. Most of us out here paying attention already knew that, of course, it’s just a little surprising to me to see someone perpetrating the DRM fraud to openly say as much.

Mackenzie goes on:

“We are glad that we have adhered to a model of selling e-books one by one at fair prices and protected by DRM. This model is working very well; although some would like us to change it, the risks are huge and the upside is negligible.”

Of course she’s glad. She’s not the one paying overpriced rates for intentionally handicapped products. Fair prices from who’s point of view? Again, she let something slip. It’s their higher than needed pricing structure that’s protected by DRM, not the IP itself. How can you even begin to justify ebook prices anywhere near print prices in the same sentence that you admit to purposefully limiting them, effectively removing much of the tangible value that exists with a print book? You can do it because this has a lot to do with defending print. Charge higher prices while offering less value with ebooks makes print look better by comparison. That’s the theory, anyway.

Doctorow, apparently always thinking ahead, actually had a response to this in his piece before she even wrote her’s:

“If the Big Six thought Wal-Mart and the other big-box retailers had them over a barrel, just wait until the DRM vendors do to them what they did to the music industry before it abandoned DRM in a Hail Mary attempt to get some competition back into the music retail market.”

Yes, by all means, let’s follow in the music industry’s footsteps with DRM, because, you know, it only very nearly wiped out their business, but hey, this is publishing, we know best, right? Who was it that spurred all that damage to the music industry, again, after DRM locked themselves into a platform? Oh, that’s right, it was Apple, who leveraged their dominance in the mp3 player market with the iPod to redefine digital music sales. This is also the same Apple who’s iBookstore agency pricing arrangement has gotten publishers into serious, potentionally deathly hot water with anti trust investigators.

It’s also the same Apple who’s currently dominating the tablet market with the iPad. In 2012 alone, Apple is responsible for 64% of the the tablet sales for the entire planet, more than six times as many as the second place company, Samsung. By the way, Apple is also suing Samsung for those tablets, with chances of a win looking pretty good while doing it. Smartphones are also fast becoming an ebook reader of choice for many. Guess who’s a major player in that market too? Apple’s iPhone. Oh yeah, let’s totally lock ourselves into DRM in an environment where Apple is the dominant device manufacturer. What could possibly go wrong?

Not only is DRM ineffective against piracy, and easily circumvented, its only effective use seems to be exploiting paying customers who lack the expertise to get around it, as Mackenzie basically admitted. But much like publishers exploiting these poor, unsuspecting readers, DRM also serves Apple’s purposes as the dominant device manufacturer, which they will use to exploit publishers much like they did with the iPod and music companies. And all the while, the entire industry ties itself in knots over Amazon, just like the music industry did with Napster while simultaneously handing the keys to the store to Apple. This would all be hilarious if it weren’t so damn serious.

It reminds me of a line from the recent remake of Battlestar Galactica, “This has all happened before and it will happen again.” Unfortunately, while it had a good, often great run, the finale of that show ultimately sucked. Hopefully, publishers will wake up before it’s too late or find themselves facing an ending much like it.

Correction: Originally, I stated that the iPhone was the leader in smartphone sales. Turns out, they are actually third, trailing Samsung (who Apple is suing over their phones, as well as their tablets) and Nokia, who is falling precipitously but still a good ways ahead of Apple in marketshare. My confusion was probably spurred on by first hand observation. Of the 30 or so people in my immediate circle with smartphones, easily 2/3 have an iPhone (I don’t. I have an HTC. I’m contrary like that) and I’ve heard most of the holdouts suggest that they’ll be getting an iPhone on their next upgrade. Maybe they’re just more popular here in Maryland, I don’t know, but everybody and their brother seems to have one, particularly younger people. Also, I can count the number of Nokia smartphones I’ve seen folks with on the extended fingers of one hand clenched in a fist. Even so, my point stands. Apple’s marketshare on phones is growing, even if they’re not yet at the top. They’ve got Samsung tied up in court on patent related issues and Nokia is falling backwards. It’s not out of the realm of possibility the iPhone could reach #1 in the not-too-distant future. Their tablet is unquestionably dominant, however, and when talking about ebooks, the tablet is king.

Sunday Randomness: Thoughts on DOJ suit, indie poaching and writer autonomy

Over the past few weeks, my mind has bounced around several issues relating to the book industry without settling on any particular one long enough to formulate a blog post, so I thought I’d patch a few thoughts together in semi-brief snippets.  Well, brief as much as I do brief, which is to say probably not very.  Here we go:

1. The defenders of the price fixing publishers in the DOJ antitrust case are totally full of shit.

On a few instances, I’ve directly broken down what I felt were the misguided defenses of the allegedly collusive agency pricing agreement of the largest publishers and Apple. At this point, it seems a futile exercise because the rationalities used to defend the action have become increasingly rigid and pertaining of such twisted logic that they’ve ceased to even make enough sense to try and honestly refute.  Just in the past week, I’ve read numerous letters from the Author’s Guild, the American Booksellers Association, the Association of Author’s Representatives, Barnes & Noble and numerous pundits to the DOJ decrying the proposed settlement terms for the three accused publishers who want to get this overwith and move on.  I’ve also read the responses from Apple, Penguin and Macmillan–the three principles left defending the case.

Somehow, no one involved in this case knew anything about the actions of anyone else involved yet they simultaneous knew that agency wouldn’t fly, and they personally wouldn’t have entered into it, if everyone wasn’t on the same page.  So we’re left to believe that all of these various large corporations independently took actions they knew required others to take identical actions to work, yet none of them knew what the others were doing.  Yeah, ok.  Totally reasonable.  I’m more convinced now than I was before that those who fight this all the way are screwed.

As for the settling defendants, how happy do you think they’ll be if all that impassioned anti-settlement rhetoric coming from traditional publishing interests works and they get thrust back into the roles of active defendants?  The folks arguing to kill the settlement may, in effect, be giving a death sentence to one or more of these publishers.  Besides, given the fairly obvious collusion, settling this and moving on seems to be the best possible approach.  Fighting this will be a long, drawn out, expensive war of attrition that Amazon and others will feast on by continuing to reshape the market while they waste precious time, coin and focus defending a failed price fixing scheme that, really, only served to benefit the upper, upper echelon writers and publishers anyway.

Those fighting the settlement are still harping on about the diverse literary ecosystem arguments, as well as the death of literature, choices for readers, copyrighted expression, vibrant competition and numerous other doomsaying phrases, despite the fact that there’s ample evidence that none of those things are true.  Somehow, according to them and some numbers from B&N that I find just slightly fishy, agency pricing has caused ebooks to drop in price now, even though it actually upped prices 30-50% in many cases, and despite the small matter that the scheme was put in place with the specific intention of raising prices. 

The part I like best, though, is the one where some anti-settlement mavens have decided it’s ok to punish the collusion (if any existed, of course) just so long as the DOJ doesn’t end the resulting agreements from that collusion.  This is a great precedent, and I say bring it on!  How awesome would it be to be able to rob a bank, get caught, be punished for the crime but you get to keep all the money?  Hell yeah!  I might even consider doin a couple years for auto theft if I knew the $150,000 Maserati I stole was waiting for me on the outside. 

This is an absurd argument. Agency in this case never, I repeat, never could have been instituted the way it was without the collusion of publishers.  It could not have happened.  In what alternate reality does it make any sense at all to let the results of an illegal conspiracy, that could not have existed without said conspiracy, stand?  Sorry guys.  I know you all are pretty desperate for someone to step in and check Amazon so you won’t have to be inconvenienced by, you know, having to compete or anything, but there is simply no logical reason for these agreements to be left in place.  Besides, they’re only locked out of agency for two years.  That doesn’t sound aggregiously irresponsible. Actually, it sounds like a fitting punishment to me, being barred for a time from the very actions you colluded to bring about.

Of course, I also don’t happen to believe that the death of their price fixing scheme will result in the dire consequences some predict. Actually, I believe just the opposite. Agency pricing, used as it was by the parties it was, had a negative effect on the ebook market as a whole. I think it slowed adoption, slowed growth in the sector, limited any pretense of actual retail competition, and took a pretty good sized chunk out of the wallets of readers unnecessarily. But again, all of that is what they wanted, and it’s exhibit A for how and why they had to collude to get it. Don’t buy the B.S. line about agency fostering competition or protecting a vibrant bookselling ecosystem. This was nothing more than a poorly executed scam to protect the print ecosystem they control by way of hindering the real competition from the digital side, nothing more.

As a side note, the DOJ has apparently been eating their Wheaties. Now, they are also pursuing an investigation into most favored nation clauses in cable tv contracts and looking into whether data caps instituted by ISPs, many of whom also sell cable tv, specifically target streaming services to protect their cable bundling packages. Yet again, here’s an industry–cable tv–that would rather keep its customers paying more to stay locked in to what they want (bundling) rather than give those paying folks what they want (unbundled pay to watch only what they want when they want.) The ebook antitrust suit along with this new effort are, alone, reason enough for me to vote Obama even though I’m not a big fan for many reasons. A Romney DOJ, I don’t hesitate to say, would drop these efforts like a bad habit and that would be an enormously bad thing for anyone not a corporate titan or busying themselves suckling at the tit of one.

2. I don’t really understand why indies would sign traditional deals once they start finding real success.

Call it the Hocking Effect, or the Fifty Shades of Greed, whatever, but it seems like the hot new thing in traditional publishing circles is to poach self published writers once they begin to show some serious sales. I understand why publishers are doing this; they’re struggling, losing ground, their power base is fading, and their ability to produce new literary superstars is failing. What I don’t understand is why the self published writers, having generated their own success stories, are turning around and handing that success over to a corporation under pseudo-exploitative terms before they ever realize the full benefits of their efforts. Upfront money is the obvious answer, but to me, that seems short sighted. There’s also the “I wanna be in bookstores” excuse, but that’s just as short sighted as the money angle, if not more so.

The only way this makes sense to me is if the writers in question didn’t really want to be in business in the first place, and only entered self publishing out of necessity. I’d just like to know what degree of low self esteem do you have to suffer from to hand over your own, independent, hard-earned success to corporations and bookstores who wouldn’t have given you the time of day before you busted your ass to earn your own way?

Now, I don’t want to begrudge anyone making this choice, everybody’s got their own reasons for the decisions they make, but if I get to the point where I’m finding enough independent success that publishers come calling, they’d better have hat in hand with contract terms where I’m in creative control, I make most of the profit, and my rights are only limited to the book(s) in question and then only for a limited time, five years tops. The industry is simply changing too much, too fast to sign lifetime copyright agreements. In short, I’m trying indie for real, not as a backdoor for a contract. My intent is to find success. The very last thing I’ll be doing is sacrificing my rights, my freedoms, my money for corporate free riders who wanna piggyback on my hard work. Not gonna happen.

There are some indie champions out there who’s work I respect very much, like Dean Wesley Smith, for instance, who believes the bookstore system can still thrive and ebooks will top out at about 30% of the total market. As much as I love his writing, and agree with much of what he has to say, this is one area I have a very different view. I just don’t see how bookshops have much of a life left. Digital isn’t going to stop at a third of the market. In the long term, I believe it’s going to be the market. If print somehow manages to hold on to 30%, I’ll be surprised. Technology is pushing hard in the wrong direction for purveyors of paper and ink. It’s really just a matter of time before print is winnowed to two categories–print on demand and the high end specialty craft books that are more display objects than reading material.

How far are we, truly, from book kiosks like redbox video rental machines? Yes, we have the Espresso machine today, but it’s still in the early stages and still very expensive. The cost of that is only going to fall. And once we can buy a print book or two at reasonable prices from a boundless catalog during a trip to the grocery store, what’s the point of dedicated book shops on a wide scale? Make no mistake, POD is the future of printed books. That makes the bookstore argument from indies ring a bit hollow to me. I’m not convinced bookstores on any significant scale will still exist in 10 years. From a business standpoint, the last thing I want to do is have my work locked up in a system designed and built to exploit a sales avenue that is on the way to obsolescence. Maybe I’m wrong and bookstores will be thriving for years to come, but that’s even more reason to limit the length of any traditional contract. I just don’t know. And if they’re still there in five or ten years, nothing’s stopping me from signing another contract. But if they’re gone, or severely diminished and I’m in a lifetime copyright contract, I’m screwed. I’d prefer not to be screwed.

The book selling market we have today was close to unimaginable five years ago. What will it look like five years from now? Can anyone say with any degree of certainty? Stay flexible, my friends, and don’t get locked into long term deals with anybody. Unless, of course, they’re handing you a truckload of no-strings-attached money. Then all bets are off. And when I say truckload, I’m talking well into seven figures, paid in full, up front. Probably not gonna happen, so my original point stands. Build for your own success, and when you find it, don’t sell it out for short term gain, especially in a market changing as rapidly as this one.

3. Does anyone represent the interests of writers?

The Authors Guild sure as hell doesn’t. Neither does the literary agent group AAR. Bookshops don’t. Publishers don’t. The DOJ antitrust suit is about readers not writers. About the only group that actually gives a damn about writers is readers, and then only so long as you’re producing work they want to read. For the one absolutely essential class of participants in publishing, writers sure do get shit on quite a bit. We’ve been turned into fodder used and tossed aside to provide a living for any number of middlemen. Yet somehow, we don’t get to benefit from our work until all these other groups get theirs. Whatever tablescraps are left over, then we might see some. Maybe.

We’ve been infantalized, conditioned to believe that we’re dependent on these hangers on or else our work would never be good enough to see the light of day. We can’t edit, we’re told. We don’t have the skills to recognize quality design, they say. We would never sell anything without a publisher marketing it for us, so I’ve heard. Many writers have even allowed themselves to be sold so far down the river that they actually accept the “validation” of being published as a badge of honor rather than the condescending slap in the face it actually is. Even higher education ingrains in us the belief that we don’t deserve or simply won’t earn a good living, perpetuating the starving artist model.

When so many writers simply don’t believe this is a business first, last and always, and that we are the fuel it runs on, and that we deserve fair treatment and to be paid on par with our level of importance to the industry, we’ll continue to be second class citizens, fresh meat for the publishers’ grinder, as it were. I can’t say this enough…digital has flipped the script. Writers and readers are all that matter, everyone else is in the process of being marginalized. They’ll fight it tooth and nail, of course, but that doesn’t mean we have to help.

Writers are the publishing industry, period. Everything else about it built up around us and our work. Over time, we became trapped inside this framework of termites that continued to eat away at our creativity, freedom and bank accounts to the point that many of us actually still believe publishers positions should be higher than writers in the ecosystem. They’re not and they shouldn’t be. The changes going on today have given us the opportunity to leap back to the forefront. We gave that position away once, we shouldn’t waste this second chance.

The fact that there really are no institutions that represent writers ahead of the ecosystem that exploits us should tell us all we need to know. There are none because we controlled ourselves, we willingly abdicated our proper position in the industry and allowed others to dictate how, or even if, we work, live and survive. Nobody’s looking out for us because we’ve never demanded it, and we stopped looking out for ourselves long ago. In the digital future, the cliche “Content is King” is more true than ever. And he who makes the content should be wearing the crown. We’ve got a chance to usurp the throne we once abdicated. Let’s not waste it.

The Five-Tool Player: Writers should break with tradition to become the industry’s versatile superstars

For writers these days, many things have changed. We all know it. More opportunities exist now than ever before and many of them necessitate acquiring and putting to good use skills we’ve never had to really consider before. This can be seen as a liberating development or a very concerning one, depending on your point of view. If you’re a newbie looking to break into publishing, these new skills may be seen as simply an essential part of the process. If you’ve already had a 30-year career, and developed a process that you’ve got down cold, it may well be that the new realities seem like just an added pain in the ass, extra work you never had to worry about before now dumped right in your lap screwing up the system you’ve been perfecting for decades. But that doesn’t change the way things actually are. To quote a fairly popular sci fi property, as many writers and publishers are learning every day, resistance is futile and getting more so every day.

There are an ample number of writers out there on the web more than willing to share their knowledge, insights and advice to anyone who will listen. Hell, you could spend ten hours a day reading up on all the different takes on what new writers need to do to find success these days and not run out of material for weeks. Yet even with many of these writers steeped in the new order of things, a few long standing beliefs about the role writers should play continue to be perpetuated. These notions, while rooted in some legitimate facts, I believe are holdovers from the previous regime where writers, in many cases, allowed themselves to be underestimated and infantalized. It’s understandable, as we could avoid tasks that sometimes included drudgery we didn’t want to deal with and it simultaneously allowed the publishing industry to build up additional layers of “necessary” assistance helping to cement their self-proclaimed central positions in the content creation process.

While writers today have the potential to be freed from the shackles of the traditional industry in many ways, we also can be freed from the layers of unneeded outside “help” that have been accepted, largely, as weigh stations between writers and readers over the years. Here are my opinions on three of the biggest, and often most controversial, myths of the writing process that, thus far, seem to be tagging along into the new reality.

Marketing is too time consuming for writers

It’s too time consuming to promote yourself and your career? You know what else is time consuming? Getting up and going to a job for eight to ten hours a day every day for your entire adult life. You want to build a career in the entertainment industry, you’re going to have to do some heavy self marketing. You can’t expect someone else to do it for you, no matter how much they claim it as an advantage of throwing in with them. To be sure, publishers have an ample history and the resources to take care of promoting your works. That’s not at issue. What is at issue is whether or not you, personally, will be graced with any of those resources or efforts. Far too frequently, the answer to that question in no. Besides, one of the first things publishers are looking for these days in an author is a platform and/or a following. If you don’t already have one, you can be damn sure they’ll require it of you. Don’t care for blogging, tweeting, facebooking, pinteresting or what have you? Too bad because you’ll be doing it anyway, either for yourself or at your publisher’s behest.

You don’t have to fight it, however, and it doesn’t have to eat up all of your time. Blog once in a while. Tweet occasionally, leave some comments on other sites. And write. One of the truest statements I’ve seen come out of self publishing thus far is that the best marketing you can do for a book is write another kick-ass book. Everything else can be handled in increments.

You don’t have to spend eight hours a day pouring over Twitter, just a little time and effort when you can. Remember, everything you do online, no matter how large or small, adds to your digital footprint. That footprint is where fans and customers are ultimately found. A blog post once a week or so, a few tweets a day, a comment or two on any articles of interest is all you really need. Do those things consistently and, before you know it, you’ve built yourself a platform.

Once you have that, everything else you do simply adds to it. Do a blog tour, create an online site for direct sales, do a Goodreads promotion, etc. Whatever you come up with, and there are nearly infinite means of exposing your work to new potential readers, it all adds up. You don’t need 12 hours a day of marketing, just consistency. You’re books aren’t on a limited time schedule any more, you’re promotion doesn’t have to be either. And don’t ever forget that each new piece you publish is, in effect, part of your marketing efforts. Overlapping duties is a great way to save time.

Writers can’t design professional quality covers or art for their work

I like graphic designers. Some of my best friends are designers. They each have a certain artistic flair and approach uniquely their own, and many of them do magnificent work. But one thing I’ve learned is that the real artistry in design for publication is knowing how to manipulate the software. It’s not an unreproduceable skill, it’s a learned one that experience helps grow. Maybe you can’t draw, but that doesn’t mean you can’t manipulate art, images and fonts into a compelling piece. And that goes doubly for layouts for ebooks and print. Learn a little html, and you can easily crank out well formatted books in any digital file-type you like. Learn InDesign, or some other page layout software, and you can do print layouts for POD quite easily. You’d be surprised how easily.

Design seems like such an intimidating process, particularly if you’ve never tried. But once you get the hang of it, you soon find yourself stretching the basic skills and pushing yourself to figure out how to do some cool effect or other that you’ve got envisioned in your head. As your skills grow, you’ll be amazed how many things you can pull off on a professional level of quality that you had always thought was unreachable to you.

Developing the basic skills is the easy part. Learning to fit various design elements together seamlessly and effectively is tougher. Practice, practice, practice is the only way, and believe me, you will be glad you did. Adding an artistic-execution eye to your work also helps fully develop your understanding of a piece and can aide you in better marketing for it. Just as great writing is an important element in promotion, so is great art, particularly a stellar cover. Learning design isn’t impossible, far from it, and it can add to your overall package, improving both your understanding of the work and how it should be promoted.

Writers can’t edit their own work

This is a big one. You see it repeated everywhere, from the most jaded traditional publisher to the most optimistic indie. To that, I say, “Nonsense!” This, to me, has never made a lick of sense. You’re the writer, you crafted these sentences yet you can’t properly copy edit them? Absurd! Of course you can. More than that, you should. A writer who relies on others to produce clean copy free of errors is only doing half the job, in my opinion. One caveat to this is that it is always better to have multiple sets of eyes look a piece of writing over before it is unleashed on the world. Is it better enough to justify dropping some heavy coin down for it? That depends. If you develop the patience and skill to produce clean, grammatically sound copy, then it may not be in many instances. But this isn’t something that just suddenly happens. You aren’t born with magical typo-seeking editor skills. You have to work at it, but once you do, you can eliminate or seriously cut down on the need for extensive outside copy editing.

Now, what I’m talking about here is strictly editing for mistakes. Typos, grammatical problems, perspective errors, etc. Editing for plot and story content is an entirely different matter. For that, you absolutely need extra points of view. But, and here’s the crucial thing, you don’t need a professional editor for the content side of the equation. All you need is a beta reader or two or three. Someone you trust to read analytically and take notes. They don’t have to pour over the manuscript word for word, just for overall concepts, plot flow and character issues. I would even argue that having content reading done by actual readers is preferable to professional editing in that sense. Your target audience is regular readers, after all.

The two largest justifications for the belief that writers can’t do their own editing are that you know what you were trying to say with your story so well that you can’t see what you actually said, and that typos will slip by because your mind tends to be too familiar with your intent so it fills in whatever blanks you may have left. These two occurrences, while somewhat related, do have merit from a certain point of view, but there’s a solution to each. For content, beta readers will see what’s actually on the page (or the screen, if you will). If there are flaws in your logic, portions where characters acted against type or unrealistically, or holes both large and small left in your plot, your beta readers will point those out. For the technical side, there’s a straight forward solution as well. Write the story, do a thorough read through or edit and then put it aside. A couple weeks or a month later, pull it back out and pour over it nice and slowly, word for word. With a bit of practice, the distance you put between drafting and copy editing removes the familiarity blunders and lets you see what anyone reading the piece would see.

A good editor can be worth their weight in gold, but they can also be rare. An average or mediocre editor doesn’t bring very much to the table you can’t do for yourself and costs you extra money. No one knows and understands your particular style like you do. No one can properly follow the pace, tone and feel of your sentence structure better than you. If you have an editor you’re comfortable with, both in terms of what they bring to your work and what it costs you, by all means, use them to your full advantage. But don’t confuse any editor for a good one. And the more capable you are of crafting and polishing your own clean copy, the less you need to rely on outside help that may or may not truly be all that helpful.

Remember that editing a manuscript is a two part process–technical and story. The better you become on the technical side, the less hassle you will encounter preparing a work for publication. The notion that writers can’t adequately copy edit their own work is just wrong. Editing is a crucial part of the writing process. Without possessing those skills, you’re not fully developing your writing powers.

Defenders of traditional publishers like to tout the benefits they bring to the table, foremost among them are marketing, art design and editing. As such, a system has developed over the years where each of these three areas has been gradually taken away from the writer’s control and we’ve had it ingrained in us that it’s in our best interest to do things that way, that we just don’t have the skills to do them ourselves. Writers have been both underestimated and purposely sheltered by those beliefs for the sake of someone else’s self-interest for a very long time.

Editors, designers and marketers introduce layers of separation between the writer and their work, making the finished book more a product of the publisher than the writer. This is the mechanism used to justify keeping the writer’s share of the proceeds underneath the publisher’s share, despite what you might hear about writers being the costliest part of the publishing process. Don’t believe it. The publisher’s cut and the infrastructure costs used to justify that cut are the greatest expenses in publishing. Remove the necessity of some those infrastructure costs and that removes the justifications to keep the writer’s cut from actually becoming the highest expense in publishing, as well it should be.

It’s wonderful that we now have the opportunities we do, but this added potential also carries added responsibilities. We must expand and improve our skills if we are to truly circumvent the established process for getting work to market, and continue to cultivate new, profitable models for selling our wares. It’s great if you have the relationships and money to acquire first rate design and exceptional professional copy editing. But that doesn’t mean we can’t fill in some of those gaps on our own. Writers need to understand that we, now and increasingly in the future, are more in the position of publishers. As such, we must truly grasp the implications of every aspect of the process between first draft and publication. The more of those elements we can do ourselves at a high level, the better our understanding of the underlying reasons for those skills and how they contribute to the whole, and the better our chances of finding success.

We don’t necessarily have to do everything alone, nor am I advocating that in all cases, but we should at least know how. Don’t let anyone, however good intentioned, tell you that you can’t do it because, with some few exceptions and a modicum of effort, you can. Specialized skills are nice, but the level of specialization that has developed over the decades in big publishing happened because the financial framework existed to allow it, and it served publishers’ ultimate ends to make writers but one link in the chain of production they lorded over rather than a partner in the process.

The real question you have to ask yourself is what kind of writer do you want to be? In baseball, prospects are often given the highest ratings for being five-tool players, or players whose skill sets are diversified across the spectrum of abilities (power, average, speed, defense and arm). Writers in the future have the ability to be five-tool players in our own little field of dreams, those five tools being writing, editing, design, marketing and distribution. When one of those prospects finds success on the diamond, they quickly become the cornerstone under which a winning franchise can be built. If writers in large numbers cultivate all the tools needed to get from writing to reader, we, too, have the potential to become cornerstones of our own winning enterprises. Otherwise, we remain one-dimensional players better suited to remain as one of several specialized contributors to a lineup rather than the centerpiece and driving forces we all now can be. Should we strive to be the versatile, all-around great player or the power hitting DH who is slow on the bases, can’t play the field and puts up almost nothing at the plate but home runs and strikeouts? Which player do you think has the greater opportunity for lasting success?

Don’t allow long-standing prejudices about what you are and are not capable of underestimate your worth, value or potential as a writer. The one thing publishers fear more than Amazon is the thought that writers of all stripes will one day figure out that we are just as capable of successfully taking on all the tasks that have been made to seem insurmountable. Ignore the propaganda that says you can’t do something, and you may well discover that you absolutely can. What could be more liberating than that?

Bass Ackwards: NYT’s David Carr somehow manages to get everything wrong

Ever since the U.S. Dept. of Justice first dropped hints of taking antitrust actions against Apple and several publishers over what is quickly becoming the agency pricing debacle, there has been a noted increase in hit job articles ripping Amazon flooding the net. After the much-rumored lawsuit was actually filed last week, those efforts ramped up considerably. But perhaps the single worst, most misguided one of these missives came yesterday from David Carr in the New York Times. I thought I’d seen everything in this regard but when I read his piece yesterday, I was absolutely dumbfounded how someone with the skills to be a regular contributor to one of the most prestigious newspapers on the planet could get, quite literally, everything so completely wrong. About the only accurate thing in his article was the spelling of his name in the byline. Here goes:

That’s the modern equivalent of taking on Standard Oil but breaking up Ed’s Gas ‘N’ Groceries on Route 19 instead.

What? Five of the six largest publishers in the country (all six after Random House allegedly was threatened and coerced into jumping in) plus the largest tech company on the planet, one several orders of magnitude bigger than Amazon, colluding together to price fix is the equivalent of Ed’s Gas & Groceries? This is so completely absurd a statement that it almost doesn’t need to be refuted. Almost. Wow, what an amazingly disingenuous thing to say! Six companies with combined resources that far outstrips Amazon joining up to, openly and admittedly, stifle competition from the online retailer is no small thing to sneeze at.

Let’s stipulate that there may have been some manner of price-fixing here, perhaps even arranged in “private rooms for dinner in upscale Manhattan restaurants.”

Oh, okay, let’s do that. Let’s stipulate that there may have been some collusion and price fixing going on. Hate to break it to you, but those actions are illegal! What are we supposed to do, simply ignore it? Look the other way while a genuine innovator from outside the traditional industry gets attacked illegally (maybe if we keep pointing that out, it will sink in eventually) by companies who have largely sat on their hands, fat and happy with their “chummy little business” as Carr calls it? Sorry that it’s inconvenient to your worldview, but the entire point of the Sherman antitrust act was to prevent competitors within an industry from combining their market power to hamper competition. That is precisely what seems to have happened in this case, and the primary reason the DOJ got involved is because the publishers in question were too arrogant to keep their damn mouths shut about it!

(Amazon) leaned on the Independent Publishers Group in recent months for better terms and when those negotiations didn’t work out, Amazon simply removed the company’s almost 5,000 e-books from its virtual shelves.

No, Amazon was in negotiations for a new contract when the old one was up. They failed to reach an agreement, so they had to pull the books because, I repeat, the contract was up! If Amazon had continued selling their books with no contract, that would have been illegal. Besides, IPG isn’t a publisher, they’re a distributor. Distributors are still somewhat useful in the print market, but in ebooks, they represent an unnecessary and inefficient expense that increases prices and little else, something Amazon didn’t want because, you know, they seem to actually give a shit about not gouging their customers. How useful is IPG in the ebook market? Well, combined, the publishers in their membership earn, on average, about 10% of their revenue from ebooks. The rest of the industry is more than double that and growing. Did Carr ever consider that maybe Amazon wanted better terms because they actually wanted to sell some damn books!

The Seattle Times just published a series with examples of how Amazon uses its scale not only to keep its prices low, but also to keep its competitors at bay.

The only thing I’m going to say about this is of course he referenced the Seattle Times. Over the past few weeks, they’ve made one-sided hit pieces on Amazon a virtual art form. At this point, I’m almost curious to find out if the Times has gotten any large donations or influxes of cash from any particular Manhattan addresses recently.

Remember that it was only after agency pricing went into effect that Barnes & Noble was able to gain an impressive 27 percent of the ebook market.

No, Barnes & Noble earned that marketshare once they actually decided to genuinely compete in the ebook segment. The Nook device was generally well received, they smartly leveraged their physical stores to push devices and ebook sales to customers, and generally made a real effort. Funny how much easier it is to gain marketshare when you actually try!

If the decision to charge the publishers was good for competition, why has the stock price of Barnes & Noble dropped more than 10 percent since Wednesday?

This is another easy one. B&N is still inextricably linked to the print ecosystem. Agency pricing, at its core, a point Carr has apparently missed entirely, was a protectionist racket to slow digital growth and artificially prop up print. So B&N stood to benefit from the illegal collusion. This model goes away, and there’s nothing to stop ebooks from quickly jumping up to 50%, and very likely much more, of the industry’s revenues.

B&N is still saddled with a ton of physical stores that can quickly become an albatross around their neck when (not if) print sales continue to decline. That’s why there’s been rumors floating around that they will soon be spinning the Nook portion of their business off, so it doesn’t get dragged down with the stores. There’s also the little matter of B&N allegedly taking retaliatory action at the behest of Penguin against Random House to pressure them into joining agency as well. At this point, they’re lucky they aren’t named as a co-conspirator. Any of these are perfectly understandable reasons for their stock to decline.

Amazon views e-books as cheap software sold to animate device sales, in this case, the Kindle.

Here’s my favorite piece of pretzel logic making the rounds of Amazon haters these days. Apparently, they don’t care about losing money on ebooks because it drives kindle device sales. But wait, I’m pretty sure I’ve read somewhere that Amazon is taking a loss on device sales. So, apparently, Amazon is selling ebooks at a consistent loss in order to drive device sales at a consistent loss. And conversely, depending on who you ask, they’re selling devices at a loss to drive further ebook sales at a loss. At some point, you’d think someone would realize how absurd this logic is. I don’t care how much money Amazon has, they have to make a profit on something!

The problem is they aren’t really selling ebooks at a loss, only select ones (NYT bestsellers in the pre agency days, for instance) as loss leaders to get customers into their system and buy any of the hundreds of thousands if not millions of other books that aren’t discounted below cost. They might be selling devices slightly below cost today, but the tech is only going to get cheaper. Besides, some of the cheaper Kindles are ad supported which mitigates some if not all of those supposed losses. And that’s not to mention the profits on all those books that aren’t priced below cost they sell on those devices.

Publishers are pissed because, while they sat on their hands and had fancy dinners discussing ways to undermine ebooks, Amazon identified and executed a rather impressive retail plan to attract tons of customers, sell lots of devices and boatloads of books, all while keeping prices low and raking in the cash. Sorry for your luck, but I’m pretty sure this qualifies as “you snooze, you lose.”

The counterargument to the publishers’ position runs like this: why should consumers be saddled with paying an extra few dollars just to keep competition alive?

I’ve made bunches of counterarguments to the publishers’ positions over the past couple years, and read bunches more. Never once have I seen that one. If he changes the wording to read “to keep certain competitors alive” then he has a point. Why should we, as readers be saddled with artificially high prices so Macmillan’s outdated and inefficient business model can survive, for instance? We shouldn’t. In reality, the agency deal was all about stifling competition by forcing all ebook retailers to homogenize pricing at high levels across the board and protect print sales from erosion at the hands of ebooks. It’s all about picking winners and losers on the retail side, and on the product side. In the end, customers get to pay extra to have a cartel of publishers decide for them what they’re allowed to buy and from whom. Agency has stopped untold numbers of retail pricing models and experiments from happening, from package deal, group offerings, subscription services, and who knows what else could have been developed?

It has very effectively stifled competition in the retail market. Don’t believe me? Look at Google. They were gung ho to get into ebook retailing in a big way before the agency debacle. Now, they’ve dropped out of the market altogether very likely because of the restraints agency placed on real retail competition. When everyone uniformly has the same products at the same prices, it becomes an enormous barrier for entry to anyone who doesn’t already have an established ebook store and associated device. So agency really only served to lock online ebook retail to a select handful of players already in the game–Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, and to a lesser extent, Kobo and Sony. Agency didn’t increase competition in ebooks, it hindered it.

Richard Epstein, a professor at the New York University School of Law, pointed out, “It is not clear that lower prices are necessarily in the long-term interests of the public at large.” He said that lower prices work both ways, spelling “low costs to consumers and low royalties to authors.”

No, it is clear that low prices aren’t in the long term interests of publishers who still insist on expensive, outdated and inefficient products. It is also clear that lower prices are in consumers’ interests, both now and in the future. And as to his second point, here’s a slight illustration to how wrong he is. In strictly the current traditional model, he may be right that lower prices lead to lower royalties for authors, but that’s only because publishers want it that way. On a $15 agency ebook where the author gets a standard 25% net, that author makes $2.62 per sale. On a $4.99 ebook sold directly through Amazon, the author gets $3.49 of each sale. That is a rate $0.82 more than the traditional author on a book 1/3 of the price. My math skills may be a little rusty, but that kinda looks 67% lower price to the reader and a 25% higher royalty at the same time per sale.

Robert F. Levine, a lawyer with an extensive practice in publishing, said, “There is not a drop of new capital coming into this business. The margins are low and there is almost no growth, so you end up with a rather small industry, with a handful of companies and a handful of players.”

Is this guy looking at the same industry everybody else is? Ebook sales have been growing in triple digit percentages the past few years. Sales of devices have exploded. The whole DOJ lawsuit stems from the manner in which Apple brought its weight and resources into the market. There are hundreds if not thousands of independent authors selling their wares now that never could have before, and many more of them than the mainstream industry and its defenders will ever admit are making money doing it that’s nothing to sneeze at. Publishing is a growth industry again, for the first time in a long time. If anything, the agency model actually slowed that growth slightly, but that’s pretty finished now, however the suit ends up. The only way it worked in the first place was if all those publishers colluded to make it happen. They’ve already fragmented with three settling, and will stay that way for at a minimum two years. But by then, it may be irrelevant what any of these companies wants to do. Besides Apple, Penguin and Macmillan could all still be tied up in court at that point, too.

The problem with this line of thinking is that, prior to digital, publishing already was an industry dominated by a small handful of players; the so called Big Six, the few big box retailers, and two or three distributors pretty much called the shots. There’s more diversity in book publishing right now than there’s been in a long time and, despite all the hand-wringing over a theoretical Amazon monopoly, that diversity seems poised to continue expanding.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a little thrill when I found out on Amazon that I could get an e-book version of “Fifty Shades of Grey,” the No. 1 book on the New York Times best-seller list, for just $9.99. But after a week of watching the Justice Department and Amazon team up, I’ve learned that low prices come with a big cost. Maybe I’ll order it at my local bookstore instead.

Interesting example. An essentially self published ebook and POD paperback that grew out of fan fiction that traditional publishing never would have touched in a million years before the DIY way spearheaded by Amazon produced a bestseller. In addition, in the past, you’d have had to order it specially because, being DIY, the local bookstore almost certainly would never have considered stocking it. And even if they did, it would have ended up spine-out on a back shelf somewhere, virtually out of sight, out of mind.

So what was all that Carr was saying earlier about Amazon wiping out competition and the publishers championing it? Seems to me, he’s got that all ass backwards.

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