It’s The End Of The Publishing Industry As We Know It

This post was originally featured on Gerald Brandt’s blog on 01/07/2011. Thanks, Gerald, for letting me share it with your readers.

There’s been a lot of discussion lately about the death of the publishing industry. There are those who applaud its supposed imminent demise, those who decry it, and those who deny it’s happening at all.

It’s no secret I have no great love nor admiration for the traditional publishing industry. I believe they have gotten old and stodgy and way to settled in their ways. Their emphasis on the bottom line has given rise to a lot of same-old-same-old garbage taking up space on bookstore shelves. While they shower their big name authors with support and riches – most of whom, in my humble opinion, couldn’t come up with a fresh idea for a story if their lives depended on it – they toss their mid-list and debut authors into a shark filled pool with neither life vest nor spear gun and expect them to survive if they hope to get a contract for another novel.

This emphasis on the bottom line has also narrowed the hoop of fire any aspiring author must jump through to the point that unless you’ve written something that’s been written a dozen times before, your chance of even getting an agent, much less a book contract with a major publisher, are somewhat less than that snowball’s chance in hell. I doubt that some of the great ones like Vonnegut, Heller or Salinger could even get published today. Can you imagine a world without Slaughterhouse-Five, Catch-22 or The Catcher in the Rye?

Recent technological advances have begun to rock this boat of complacency and rocking it hard. eBooks, eReaders, Publish On Demand, book reading applications for cell phones and the ability to get the book you want when you want it from the Internet is taking its toll on the publishing industry just as it did on the music and movie industry.

In addition, the ability to self-publish has opened the floodgates to all the wannabe authors out there. I’m pretty sure this last is not entirely a good thing. A lot of really crappy books are going to get ‘published’ but then, a lot of crappy books already get published by the traditional publishing houses so I suppose it’s a toss-up. But that whole can of book worms is not the topic of this post. If you’re interested, I’ve touched on this subject briefly HERE, and will no doubt touch on it again at some point on my blog.

The point I’m trying to make here is that I don’t believe the publishing industry is dying. Some of the big six publishing houses may bite the book dust, which may or may not be a good thing, but the industry overall is not dying: it’s changing.

What I’m seeing is the rise of small, independent publishers like my publisher, Rebel e Publishers. These small publishers straddle the fence between the bottom line and publishing exciting, creative books from new authors with new ideas and a fresh perspective, a perspective the traditional publishing industry has all but lost. As newspapers and magazines are dropping their book review sections, I’m seeing the rise of high quality book review blogs like Book Slut, Book Wenches, Un:Bound, Clover Hill, Women24, Author Poppet and Will Write For Love. Sites like Good Reads, Author’s Den and Red Room are out there connecting authors to the most vital part of their, sometimes insane, urge to write: readers.

For the last few decades, the marketing department’s of the major publishers, with their voodoo logic of what the reader wants, have been the gatekeepers to what actually gets to those readers. This is changing and that, I believe, is a very good thing because, in the end, it is the reader who is truly the gatekeeper. Write a good book, get it edited by a competent editor, find a graphic artist to create a great cover, get it reviewed in as many places as you can and the readers will find you.

That is the way publishing should be.

No Comment

Writing a blog post is like conversing in a dark room. You’re fairly sure there are others in the room but they so rarely respond that you begin to doubt yourself, wondering, for all the effort you’ve put into your posts or into the look and feel of your blog, if anyone is actually paying any attention.

I know I’m getting traffic on this blog and that traffic has been increasing since my first novel was published in September and I’ve been posting on a more regular basis. Granted probably half that traffic is spammers and they do comment, a lot, but I doubt they actually read the posts they comment on. And, considering the level of grammatical and spelling errors in those comments, I have my doubts as to how many of those spammers actually can read. English, anyway. But that’s another story.

Half the joy of writing, for this writer anyway, is being read. Call me vain, but I long for communication with those who have read my words, whether it be in my novels, short stories or blog posts. I’ve also put a lot of effort into the look and feel of this blog. I feel a blog should be more than just a place to post ones thoughts. It should be, as well, a jumping off point to other sources of information.

So, you can imagine how please I was to receive an email from a teacher, imho the most noblest of careers one could have, informing me that she has been referencing my author birthday pages. She is teaching her kids about finding resource pages to help them with homework and has found my author birthday pages helpful. How cool is that!

Then, and this is one of the things I love most about the Web, she noted a link one of her students had found that directed me to an article about one of my favorite authors, R. L. Stine and his Goosebumps horror fiction book series (and yes, I have read several of them). This is a page I likely would never have come across on my own. It was informative, with many links to additional information, and was a joy to read.

So, I would like to sincerely thank Ms Brookes for her email and Taylor for finding the link.

And Taylor, this ones for you: Classic TV Series and Books: R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps. Keep up the good work.

Blank Screen Fever

I have a bad case of Blank Screen Fever. Back in the pre-computer days, this might of been thought of as Blank Page Fever. It’s similar to the White Line Fever truckers get when, after driving and staring at that never ending white line down the center of the road, they become mesmerized by it and could end up with their truck’s shiny side down and them in the hospital or, worse, in a coffin.

Blank Screen Fever doesn’t have quite the same physical hazards but it can tear apart your heart and soul and send your self-confidence packing to parts unknown.

I’m an erratic writer. I have no schedule. I write when I write. The rest of the time I’m either thinking about what I’m writing or ignoring it altogether, my nose deep in a book. I have plenty of ideas for my next book, five I could outline to you right off the top of my head.

There’s Bad Bucket and The Church of the Dung God, a piece I started awhile back. It already has about 14,000 words and should be the logical place to go. Then there’s Dust Storms May Exist and a serial killer novel I’ve been toying with, both of which have under 2000 words. I came up with a new idea a week or two back, Cape of Storms, that I like but I have no idea where the plot is going so I’ve set that aside. There’s one more that I think about a lot but will probably never write. Not that I don’t want to. I’m just not sure I have the skill or the patience to pull it off.

The problem is not ideas. It’s getting started on those ideas that is proving difficult.

Back before I published my first novel, I rarely had a problem getting started. I’d get an idea, a title, the end, and off I would go, whether it be short story or novel length. Since being published, something has changed. I noticed the edges of that something when I shifted over to my second novel. The first draft of that was essentially complete so the rewrite was more a massive editing job than a start-from-scratch one. Now, it’s finished and in the hands of my editor and I feel this need to start a new one and that is where I am really feeling the pressure.

Part of this is winter. I don’t do winter well. And part of it is that feeling you get, standing at the bottom of a very tall mountain and knowing you have to get to the top. It’s a daunting thing to start a new novel; finding the time, finding the will, finding the words. It’s enough to make you freeze up like a mouse when the shadow of the hawk passes over. But it’s something more than that this time.

I got some very good reviews of Stealing The Marbles. I can remember while editing Meter Maids Eat Their Young feeling fearful as to whether MM could live up to the reviews STM got. Now, staring at the blank screen that is my third novel, that fear has magnified a hundred fold. I know this is my internal critic (I have an internal editor as well but it only works when I do) nagging at me and trying to tear me down. I know as well that I should send that internal critic packing, perhaps to wherever it is my self-confidence has fled and hope that my self-confidence gets the hint that it is needed back home.

As someone once said, this too shall pass, and I know it will. I just wish to hell it would hurry up.