Last week demonstrated that few people note, or especially care, about the publisher behind a given book, which means that it is a distinct minority that pays attention to the colophon, the little logo printed on a book’s spine. Knopf has a sleek borzoi, Harper a torch, and Random House a rather distinctive house. For anyone who has ever puzzled over where those symbols originate (or fans of generally useless trivia) here is the provenance of the little house on the big books.
I think we all probably suffer from information overload, and I know that those of us who work in publishing are often even more inundated. At this point, I’ve stopped adding to my RSS reader, and I’m actually taking off all the things I never get around to reading. And, though I love technology and all it affords us, I’m generally trying to pare down. So I was fascinated by this Ars Technica article I found this week. To sum up, Oxford University Press has created a scholarly, peer-reviewed search engine that allows users to find worthwhile articles on specific subjects. Now, instead of wading through pages and pages of Google results to find out what to read on, say, Menander of Athens, you can find out what the authorities think you need to know. And with the curators of each section listed, you can decide for yourself if they’re expert enough to trust.
And while that’s publishing-related enough to mention, it brought to mind some of the ongoing discussion about the future of trade publishing. There’s been talk lately that publishers are on the way out, as authors can now just publish directly through several ebook and POD options. But with statistics like the most recent ones from Bowker stating that over 1,000,000 titles were published last year, I believe publishers and editors become all the more necessary. No one has time to find what they want out of a million titles, so readers will expect someone to help direct them and narrow their choices. That job is going to fall to publishers, their imprints and their editors, all of whose names will be more important in the future as readers will expect that each name means something. It’s not just the amazing editorial, design, publicity and marketing that publishers bring to the table; it’s also the simple act of separating the wheat from the chaff. In a world of information overload, it’s hard to put a price on that service.
But am I just being a publishing Pollyanna? I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter.
So much of life has to do with timing: where we go to school; who we end up with as a partner or a spouse; what job we end up with. And, there is no business where this is more true than in publishing.
An author has an idea, finds just the right agent who “gets” that idea and who then finds the right publisher to publish that book at just the right time. There are so many good examples of this–and, of course, there are negative examples as well.
This week, for me at least all of this really rang true:
I sold a novel that one of our best and oldest clients had been working on for five long years to just the right editor and publisher.
I sold another book just a week after I sent it out on submission–it was an idea that just happened to strike a chord right now, from an author who wrote a brilliant proposal and it went to a publisher who really got it.
Trying to beat the rush out of town for the London Book Fair, I also quickly closed two other deals. As it turns out, I didn’t have to hurry. As a result of the unpronounceable volcano, many of my colleagues had to cancel their travel plans.
Still, timing is everything.
Two recent stories in Publishing Perspectives caught my eye: first, that the number of self and micro published titles has risen to the staggering figure of 764,448 in the last year; the next was a story about whether consumers feel a sense of allegiance (or actually notice) the name of a book’s publisher or imprint.
Taken together, the stories seem to capture two countervailing impulses in publishing. For many writers, the decision to publish without backing from a major house–whether by choice or necessity–expresses a fundamental confidence that it is the author, not imprint, who is the “brand.” The latter article (which is more impassioned argument for than clear demonstration of) points to imprints that have built for themselves a recognizable brand identity. The articles cites Knopf, Vintage, and Penguin Classics as imprints that readers may deliberately seek out, or at the very least, spot and have a baseline assurance of quality.
So, I’m curious to know: How often, or have you ever, bought a self-published book? Have you self-published a book yourself? To what degree to you pay attention to a book’s imprint? Are there imprints that you swear by?
Following up on my post last week about not taking anything for granted in this business, I had a meeting with an editor this week from Atria Books, and she shared a story I loved and wanted to pass on. She told me about a book on her list, a first novel, that has been doing very well since its release last month, and has become a bit of a sleeper hit over there. She also told me that part of the reason for the book’s success is because a major bestselling author (who happens to be edited by this editor) read the book and endorsed it. Most of the time, that’s where it ends, a great blurb and everyone is ecstatic! In this case, the bestselling author loved the book so much that she offered to host a contest of sorts where anyone who produced a receipt confirming purchase of the first novel indicating a particular date of sale would receive a signed copy free of charge of one of her books. I’m told that not only did she keep her promise, but she wound up sending out hundreds of signed copies on her own time and at her own expense. This goes above and beyond the call of duty, but it illustrates to me a wonderful camaraderie that exists in books. Authors willing to help other authors, and really remembering to give back when they’ve already made it. It’s such a simple lesson, really, but one that bears repeating and often. This story has stuck with me and made me feel great about publishing and the decent, kind, generous people who inhabit our world. Can any of you figure out what first novel and which bestselling author I’m talking about? The clues should lead you there if you are so inclined. I will send the first person who solves the puzzle a copy of one of my books. Hint: I (unfortunately) do not represent either author. Good luck!
Publishers Marketplace ran a link to the Harvard Business School Working Knowledge interview with former Random House CEO Peter Olson, whose class at HBS uses the publishing industry’s hype/hate relationship with the e-book as a semester-long case study.
The whole article is worth a read, but one passage struck me as particularly noteworthy. With regard to the price skirmishes over e-book pricing, Olson points out that the customer has not been given much of a say. He continues: “I don’t know of many successful examples of pricing a product based not on what it costs or what people want to pay for it, but based on another format that is completely different, just because you want to keep that format alive.” Youch.
Publishing is a peculiar, and some might say, poorly conceived business. I’ve often thought it would be interesting to issue an invitation to assorted big-thinkers, (economists, management consultants, authors, agents, editors, plus all the students in Peter Olson’s class) for their plans to “fix” publishing—redesigning this ad-hoc business into something self-sustaining, or at least, an industry whose death is not forecast on a daily basis. Of course, I realize such schemes might or might not have any bearing on reality. Back when I worked at a publishing house that was part of a larger entertainment conglomerate, the sleekly suited management consultants from McKinsey and Co. favored us with several visits; in each case our role was to answer their questions, then speculate among ourselves how much they were being paid.
I was flat out amazed at how little our well-compensated interlocutors seemed to know about publishing. Perhaps their ignorance was in fact their strength, and they could see, de-Toqueville style, the assets and liabilities we local yokels failed to perceive. Without knowing how things are done, how things have always been done, they were free to critique our ways, and offer comprehensive recommendations. My favorite being “Publish more bestsellers.” I recall that one consultant asked me what I could tell him about market testing. My mouth hung open for a moment before I replied “only that publishers don’t do it.” So far as I know, focus groups are not convened on behalf of books. What might this look like? AOne could create one easily enough on-line, and indeed, the book-to-blog phenomenon is the closest that publishers come to “market testing,” ascertaining that there is some quantifiable readership for a given subject.
Now that Harper Studio has been shuttered, I wonder if their innovative idea of attempting to do away with returns will vanish along with it. Returns are, of course, a prime example of the way in which how things are done seldom reflect best practices. As you probably know, booksellers can, at pretty much any time, return unsold stock for a full refund from the publisher. The return system was dreamt up during the Great Depression to entice booksellers to stock shelves that might otherwise have remained empty; knowing that the books came with a money back guarantee lowered retailer’s risk and essentially propped up their business. Now, however, some 70 years later, the same system is in place. Abolishing it makes good common sense, but it would send shockwaves through the industry. Booksellers would certainly reduce their buys, and likely demand a deeper discount. But we might move closer to a tenable model…
So, I’m throwing open the doors to the big thinker among you. Any ideas to reform the whole (or even a part?).
Anyone, anyone?
Well, I’m not sure they’ve actually got “skillz,” but they’re proving that they know how to have fun and don’t take themselves too seriously. In this video, the staff at Peguin rap, sing and dance a parody of Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind.” While I don’t think they’ll be winning any Grammys, and I hope they’re keeping their day jobs, it’s an amusing publishing video! Enjoy.
[UPDATE: Sadly, it’s been taken down. According to Publishers Lunch, it was never meant for public display. Not entirely clear what they did mean it for. Hope you got to check it out before the magic went away! – Lauren]
April 1, 2010, marks not just April Fools’ Day (quite possibly my least favorite day of the year, in close contention with Halloween and New Year’s Eve), but also the day that the “Agency 5” switch to the agency model (see my last post for more on this). I think most of us knew the transition wouldn’t be smooth, as entirely changing your business model in, oh, three months, isn’t exactly easy. And indeed, there are some hiccups along the way, with Hachette Kindle books temporarily missing, and Penguin unable to close a deal with Amazon (we received an email from Peguin regarding the issue this morning). There’s still some tension between Amazon and publishers, as evidenced by the response from Amazon regarding the missing Hachette titles, and there will be more carefully worded missives publicly traded in the days to come.
Amazon can’t be happy with the iPad reviews that rolled in last night, either, because in several of them (great round up here at Gizmodo), the reviewers mentioned that they preferred the iBooks reading experience to that of the Kindle. I am officially excited for Saturday.
March 30, 2010 
DG&B 
Amazon, Apple, distribution, e-books, future of publishing, Michael, opinion, price wars, publishers April 3 is right around the corner! For those of you who don’t pay attention to, well, any form of media, that’s the day that Apple’s iPad finally hits the stores. And, being the nerd that I am, I have to say I’m pretty excited. I love product launches, and Apple does them like no other. (I was very disappointed by the lack of excitement surrounding the launch of the Palm Pre when I went to purchase it on day one last year, but I digress.) I think our readers know how this relates to books, but in case you don’t, Apple is launching their iBookstore that day, as well. They’ll be offering books from all the major publishers, with one huge exception: Random House. When Steve Jobs announced the iPad back in January, he said that 5 of the 6 biggest publishers were onboard for the iBookstore. The absence of Random House was conspicuous, but they released a statement afterwards saying that they were working on an agreement with Apple. I’d assumed there’d be one in place by this point, but it looks like the iBookstore could very well launch without the largest trade publisher on board, as reported by the Financial Times. Honestly, I was really surprised. Until last week.
That’s when this article popped up on an iPhone fansite. It purported to show the working iBookstore, along with the prices. And the price for 27 of the 32 listed bestsellers that day? $9.99. The same price that publishers have been fighting against in the Kindle bookstore. I was thrown for a loop. The reasoning behind the to switch to the agency model was to take control of pricing and get rid of the expectation that ebooks cost $9.99. But here we were at that price again. Then, only two days later, a new screenshot showing most (but not all) of the bestsellers at $12.99. Color me confused. This pricing kerfuffle brought to mind this New York Times piece about publisher agreements with Apple. The piece suggests that Apple wanted the flexibility to drop prices for hot books that would be majorly discounted in print. As of today, it’s not at all clear what iBookstore pricing will be on April 3.
Thinking about the possibility of an ebook sold at $9.99 is troubling. In the agency model, retailers act as an “agent,” selling books at prices determined by publishers and collecting a percentage of each sale (30% in most cases). Authors are generally being offered a percentage of the net income from these sales—publishers are pushing for this to be 25%, so we’ll roll with that number for the purposes of this argument. In the agency model, with a book priced at $9.99, authors will earn $2.50 per book or less. Compared to the $3.75 they currently earn on a $25 hardcover (15% of list price), this is a dramatic reduction. Comparing this amount to what authors would earn under the current ebook market conditions is nearly as depressing. In the current sales scheme (the consignment model), a retailer is buying the book for about a 50% discount, then selling it at whatever price they like. Assuming the same $25 price list price for the ebook (which is pretty standard) and same 25% royalty for electronic books, the author receives a royalty of $3.13. (The question of why they would receive less than they do on the hardcover in this situation could be a blog post in itself.) If ebooks eventually make up 50% of the market (a number I believe is possible), that royalty arrangement will radically alter author compensation. That, obviously, concerns me. I’d really like to hear more directly and transparently from publishers on this issue. What effect will these arrangements with Apple and Amazon have on authors? It seems, from the Financial Times piece, that Random House may soon be having these conversations. But what about the other 5? Is it wrong of me to expect a little more openness? This makes me all the more impressed with John Sargent at Macmillan and his willingness to blog about their plans, admitting what they do and don’t know.
So, is there something in the Apple agreement that we don’t know about that Random House does? Or is it just, as Mike Shatzkin thinks, that Random House is trying to maximize their profits in the short term with the idea that they can jump on the bandwagon if the iBookstore takes off? We’re going to learn a lot more about all of this in the coming days.
On April 3, I’ll be picking up an iPad for myself (no willpower!), downloading the iBookstore, and most definitely tweeting about the experience. If I have important publishing observations, I’ll post them here, too. Looking forward to hearing what you all think about this.
I was chatting with some colleagues about assorted misconceptions about publishing, and I thought I’d pass along three.
1) In the name of writing an arresting, throw-down-the-gauntlet type of query, insult the agent to whom you are writing. Every so often I get a query that dares me to look past my own evident myopia/mediocrity/corporate co-option and read a project so mind-blowing that it will challenge everything I presume to know. Although it’s true I am near sighted (and entirely open to earth-shattering literary experience), I’m always a little astonished that anyone imagines contempt might be an effective conversation starter. I do wonder whether the writer in question started out composing less strident letters, and has simply grown bitter over time. If so, I get it. Rejection is excruciating, and who wouldn’t love to craft some cutting cri de couer? Satisfying? Certainly. Self-sabotaging? Probably. Calling an agent a tool seems a poor way of hiring one, but perhaps even Pyrrhic victory can be sweet.
2) I often hear it bandied about that it is harder to get an agent than a publisher. Comforting as this may seem, I feel fairly certain it’s not true. To find representation, you must convince only one person that your story is well-crafted, saleable, and worthwhile. To get a book into print, you generally need to convince a battery of people with disparate tastes and interests, a long, highly particular history of success and failure selling books, and improbably high sales targets that your work is worthy and commercially viable. Most slots on a given list are carefully guarded, and awarded to people who can play some active role in rounding up readers. In the case of business books, an “active role” might take the form of a “buy-back” in which a company or foundation commits in advance of publication to buy ten or fifteen thousand copies. Quite a deal sweetener, also something like the publishing equivalent of Stone Soup. The house brings the stone, but the author brings all the other ingredients, including a baseline of sales. Getting an agent means recruiting a single (albeit tenacious) ally; getting a contract means winning over a whole team.
3) Once you have a publisher, your book will be available in bookstores throughout the country. Not always the case. Publishing houses, even those with great distribution, are not solely responsible for the number of copies shipped. They may announce an ambitious first printing, but the bookseller accounts have a say in how many copies they will take, how many stores will stock it, and for how long.
Any misconceptions that you have encountered/discovered? I’m happy to add to the list.