Mysterious Matters: Mystery Publishing Demystified

Would Everyone Please Stop Bitching About the Price of Books (Including eBooks)?

A romantic anecdote from 1980 that leads to some insights about book prices today:

That year, I was a young editor doing historical novels and learning the business. I found myself in a great little bookstore in Brookline, Massachusetts, that I used to frequent. The owners had a very good sense of the market and I used to run ideas past them as I attempted to figure out what the hell I was doing.

One day I was looking at the best-seller table and struggling with whether to buy a new book that was the talk of the town. I didn't have much interest in it, but I felt I SHOULD read it. (You know the feeling.) A young woman next standing near me caught my eye as I flipped through the first couple of pages. "Buying into the hype?" she asked. "Or struggling against it?" 

As she had a copy of the same book in her hand, I replied "And I might ask you the same question." 

She replied that she was on a limited budget and the waiting list for the book was a mile long at the library. Ultimately she gave me a smile, put the book down, and went on her merry way to explore other parts of the store. Though money was tight, her smile was more powerful than a simple slip of green paper, so I took two copies of the book to the front of the store and purchased them. I asked the owner for two bags, a sheet of paper, and a pen. I wrote a note: "I would love to discuss the hype and whether or not the book lives up to it. If you'd like to talk, maybe meet me here a month from today around 7 p.m.? Agatho." I then put the book and note in the bag, handed it to owner, and asked him to give it to the young lady before she left the store. Then I ran out as fast as my cowardly little legs would take me.

The young lady has now been my wife for 33 years.  

So as not to keep you in suspense, the book was Jean M. Auel's THE CLAN OF THE CAVE BEAR, and the cover price was $12.95. As I mentioned, the year was 1980.

I used CPI (Consumer Price Index) inflation rate to calculate what $12.95 in 1980 would be worth now, in 2015. The answer: $37.45.

So, if book prices had kept up with inflation, the way groceries, and houses, and everything else has, we'd now be paying in the area of $40 for a hardcover book.  But do we pay anywhere near that?  No, we do not. To use the stellar books from last week's post as examples, I am going to list their current price on Amazon. In parentheses are what you would have paid for these books in 1980:

THE DEVIL'S SHARE, by Wallace Stroby

Today's price in hardcover: $19.25 ($6.66)

Today's ebook price: $12.99 ($4.49)

 

GREEN HELL, by Ken Bruen

Today's price in hardcover: $18.63 ($6.44)

Today's ebook price: $9.00 ($3.11)

 

NEVER KILL A FRIEND, by Martin Hill

Today's price in hardcover: $20.45 ($7.07)

Today's price in ebook: $4.99 ($1.73)

 

TAKING PITY, by David Mark

Today's price in hardcover: $17.31 ($5.99)

Today's price in ebook: $5.99 ($2.19)

 

So, please take a close look at the (1980) prices. In 1980 I paid $12.95 for a copy of CLAN OF THE CAVE BEAR. That same year, I could have bought THE DEVIL'S SHARE for $6.66, TAKING PITY for $5.99, or GREEN HELL for $6.44.  In other words, hardcover books are HALF the price today that they were in 1980.

But let's not stop there. Let's also look at ebooks, which are insanely cheap. Today, in 2015, you have the chance to get a HARDCOVER original (traditionally a sign of top quality) for about a sixth of what you would have paid for THE CLAN OF THE CAVE BEAR in 1980.  NEVER KILL A FRIEND would have cost you a mere $1.73 in 1980.

Is it any wonder why we in the industry get so frustrated at the number of book grubbers who never want to spend a dime for books, who grab as many free books at conventions as possible (with the goal of reselling them as soon as possible), and who complain about us greedy publishers who just want to shake money out of the poor, unsuspecting public? (I hasten to add that I am not including library patrons in any of this. Libraries buy books. Publishers get revenue and authors get royalties. Those on limited budgets get to read good books. Everyone wins.)

The Internet Age has much to recommend it, but with it has come this bizarre expectation that all entertainment should be free. The number of illegal PDF's of my company's books all over the Web is sickening -- even more sickening is the number of people who have no compunction about downloading these books because, after all, they deserve free books, and why not stick it to the greedy publishers?

Madonna recently said that anyone who downloads any of her songs illegally is raping her. Her metaphor is not inappropriate.

 

 

Agatho, You Cheapskate!

A famous businessman (I forget who) once said, "I know half my advertising dollars are wasted. I just don't know which half."

Wise words, indeed. And said quite some time ago, in the days before advertising-based business models (think newspapers, magazines) started experiencing some major challenges. I recently picked up a copy of Time magazine - once replete with ads - and was moderately shocked to see how thin the publication has become. Now it's mostly content, not something I would complain about, since who buys a news magazine for the advertisements?

Fortunately or unfortunately, the book publishing business hasn't relied on advertising (within the pages of the books themselves) to support itself. So, I do think we are a step ahead of newspapers and magazines in that regard. (And, honestly, I don't think magazines and newspapers would be in their current pickle if they hadn't all been in such a rush to provide all their content for free online. What sort of bubblehead ever thought THAT was a good idea?)

As we watch markets adjust to new conditions, helping to craft them in the tiny ways over which we have some control (for example, my publishing house refuses to ever offer its books for 99 cents online), all of us are forced to examine our operating assumptions and to think about ROI (return on investment), the acronym we can't get away from. Before we spend any money, we have to ask ourselves: Will this help us sell more books? Will it help us increase our profits and keep us in business? Or will this send money down a sinkhole?

With that in mind, I've compiled a list of the things I will pay for, and the things I will NOT pay for.

THINGS I WILL NOT PAY FOR:

1. Reviews.  I will never, and I do mean NEVER, pay anyone to review any book we publish. Paid reviews don't matter and don't affect sales. They are a waste of time, a waste of money. Nobody takes them seriously. Most pay-for-review sites are taking advantage of those who take part in vanity publishing activities. Kirkus (shame on them, but heck--they DO have to pay the bills) now has a pay-for-review part of the magazine; nobody even looks at those reviews. ForeWord magazine occasionally sends our publicist an email saying that one of our books hasn't been chosen for review, but it HAS been chosen for the privilege of our paying them to review it. We laugh and wonder if they think we're some vanity publishing outfit. The only reviews that matter are those that you get for "free," because all others are paid advertising, pure and simple, and we know what most people think of THAT. I will pay people to review my books when three conditions are met: (1) Pigs fly, (2) Hell freezes over, and (3) Snowballs stand a good chance in the aforementioned Hades.

2. Author "tours." I know that many writers dream of the days when publishers sent them on book signing tours. And if I was with one of the big houses who is lucky enough to publish guaranteed best-sellers, I might spring for one. But from where I sit now - we just can't do it. Have you looked at the price of airfare, hotel rooms, and meals lately? Do you have any idea how many books we have to sell just to cover the cost of one night in a hotel room? Sadly but truthfully, people just aren't going to turn out to hear some author they've most likely never heard of and buy their book. We have better ways to spend our money.

3. Advertisements in the popular media. We simply can't afford advertisements in popular magazines and newspapers; and even if we could, the number of books sold as a result would not cover the cost. I think many writers think that advertising is the key to getting readers; it isn't. I know people who take out ads with their own money, post on every listserv known to man, and blog themselves silly who still can't sell more than a couple of thousand copies of their book. This isn't to say that I have the magic formula for making a book successful, as there's plenty of garbage that does quite well and plenty of wonderful books that get remaindered almost instantly.

4. Overnight mail. Was there ever a greater waste of money and resources than overnight mail? Listen, I love what I do, but most people can wait 2 or 3 days for their books without dying. In many cases, the cost of shipping is the single largest chunk of book revenue - it can even exceed the book's unit price (i.e., the printing cost per unit). Media Mail is what it's all about. I shudder to think what would happen if the USPS ever got rid of Media Mail. So let's not even go there.

THINGS I WILL PAY FOR (OR CONSIDER PAYING FOR):

1. Good cover designers.  I'm shocked by the really awful cover designs that I see (sometimes, but not always, done by small presses). In our visual and shallow age, there is no more important signal of a quality-published book than a good, creative, interesting cover design. Look at the best-seller list: Rarely do you see a terrible cover. Nothing makes a book look more cheap, or more unprofessional, than a poor cover design. I'm afraid that this comment will now make the self-published spend lots of money on cover designs; but please know that a good cover alone is not enough to make a book sell.

2. Bookstore placement. It isn't cheap, but I am willing to pay for book placement at Barnes & Noble and a couple of other large book retailing outlets. To do this, I would have to have the utmost faith in my book, as well as an aggressive author who is as much a self-marketer as s/he is a writer. No human being can go into a B&N and look through all the books in the stacks, their spines facing outward. Being on display says "Look at me," and it can be enough to turn a casual browser into a book buyer. Of course, the book has to have a great cover, a whammo opening page, and an attractive author (which is why you see so many author photos that have been Photoshopped into Hollywood-style images).

3. Quid Pro Quo. While I don't believe advertising works (except library advertising, and then ONLY if your ads are backed up by good reviews in LJ, PW, Kirkus, or Booklist), I can and do advertise in those magazines as a way of supporting them. And while subscriptions to each of those publications is a burden, we need to support them, their staffs, and their missions--so each year we shell out the annual subscription fee. In other words, if you want my scant advertising dollars, your best bet is to review a couple of our books, which then creates a sense of obligation in us to support you in return. (As I say this, I am glad that I do this blog anonymously.)

4. Google AdWords. What a terrific waste of money. I speak from experience. Never again. Maybe for yachts; not for products, like books, with razor-thin profit margins.

What about the Internet, you ask? Well, the jury is out. We do cautiously try things out every now and again; results have been mixed (the 50% to which the first line of this post refers). We're in the process of trying out a few Amazon programs - we'll see how those turn out. I do worry about Amazon and its predatory practices; we've seen what happens when a company becomes the only game in town (Microsoft, though it's only a matter of time before Apple eclipses them, and it may have already done so). But just as B&N is still the best venue for book lovers at a physical level, Amazon seems to be the best Internet space for book lovers, so I bow to pragmatism and do what I must.

 

 

 

 

John Grisham and the "Book Per Year"

I recently read an interview with John Grisham in the London Guardian. I'm not sure I'd include Grisham in my list of "mystery writers" - I think most would agree that he falls into the category of "thriller" writer. For me, the blockbuster mystery writers are Laura Lippman, Harlan Coben, Janet Evanovich, Patricia Cornwell, P.D. James, Ruth Rendell ....

In the article, Grisham discusses one of his secrets of success, a tip shared with him early in his career. An editor said to him, "The big guys come out every year." By that, he meant that Stephen King, Michael Crichton, Tom Clancy, et al. published a book a year, thus keeping themselves in the public eye. And, looking at the mystery luminaries in the previous paragraph, I think we can see that many of them do at least one book a year, and sometimes more than that.

I'm not sure Grisham is giving himself enough credit, though. Clearly, he's hit on a formula that people like. I don't read much Grisham; I want as little to do with lawyers as possible. But I've read a couple, and they've been fast and entertaining, with good twists and turns.

And, on the other side of the coin, there are writers whose fans salivate for years waiting for the next book. The late great Sarah Caudwell was one of them; and I wish George Dawes Green would write more. In a completely separate genre, Jean Auel's fans followed her over the course of (I think) 7 books and 30 years.

A book per year is a lot to ask of a writer; but I can think of many writers who'd love nothing more than being able to do just that. And yet, in and of itself, a book a year isn't enough to get you to the top. I can think of two dozen writers off the top of my head who've published at least one book a year (the late Dell Shannon/Elizabeth Linington used to do three) who never get out of the 5-10K range in terms of sales per book. That's respectable and can pay some of the bills, though perhaps not both the mortgage AND the car payment.

The publicist/marketer in me understands the need to stay in the public eye. There's something annoyingly fickle about the American public. It's a machine that has to be fed. With so many people (read: musicians, novelists, journalists, actors) vying for attention and those precious few top slots, "if you snooze, you lose." Look at Lady Gaga. Say/think what you will about her (I'm mostly a fan, even if she occasionally becomes tiresome), she knows how to keep the public interested. That's no mean feat. If we think of books as commercial products - and I do - then it makes sense to stay in the public eye, to keep building your brand. Michael Crichton knew this; so does Stephen King. Both, I think, also had the vocations to be professional, full-time writers, which doesn't hurt.

The other side of the coin, of course, is the question: How good can a book be when a writer whips it out in three months? With some writers, it doesn't matter. For instance, I like or love almost everything Joyce Carol Oates writes, and they don't come more prolific than that. But others (who shall remain nameless)... oh Lord, have the recent books been total garbage. As an editor, I say: Get them out the door, bring in the revenue, pay the bills, reward the staff. As a reader, I think: If this manuscript came to me as a first submission by an unpublished writer, I'd get out my rubber REJECT stamp by page 10. It is another curious American phenomenon that word of mouth about a book can be so bad and yet people keep buying more books by the same writer. (Think, for example, of a book that 1,500 reviews on Amazon, of which 1,000 or more have 1-star ratings.) Reading those reviews, I think hope springs eternal; devoted fans are hoping for a return to form for a favorite writer (this rarely materializes). Also, to give these writers their due, they have succeeded in crafting a basis and a character that keeps readers wanting to know WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. That is no small feat.

I have an author on my list - one of my favorites of my career. S/he is always brimming with ideas. The manuscripts come to me pristine. I feel like less of an editor because s/he just "gets it" and needs so little input from me. I say, "Give me more books." S/he replies, "Agatho, give me more money so that I don't have to work for a living, and you'll get more books." Alas - the constant dilemma. Because author X might be able to give me two books a year under two different names, but that doesn't guarantee that we'll be able to sell scads of them.  But we try, oh how we try! 

 

I Want Your Money

I recently had a few excellent customer service experiences.  (Bear with me--this will become relevant, I hope.)  I stopped at the garden center this past weekend and talked with some employees who clearly love flowers (my wife sent me on an errand for cyclamen, which I'd never heard of before...but it is definitely a keeper).  I spent way too much money, but our house is the better for it.  Then, just today, I called an inn to make reservations. The reservations clerk spent 20 minutes on the phone with me, walking me through the various rooms available, and was just sincerely enthusiastic about her place of business.  In a world of rudeness, it was a delight to experience such graciousness.

What I realized is that people who really enjoy what they do for a living are an asset to any enterprise, whether large or small.  The folks at the garden center advocated for cyclamen and verbena, the reservation clerk was an enthusiastic advocate for her inn, and I am someone who wants to share my "finds" (authors) with the world at large.  My job is tough, but it's fun too.

The gardeners, the inn, and I all have the same challenge: How do we get you to spend your money on our product?  At least where I live, there are a million small garden shops, so the competition must be fierce.  In this economy, too, flowers are too put on the list of things that aren't necessary so that we can pay for gasoline instead.  The inn has plenty of competition from other hotels, many of which are cheaper.  And my books are just a few among the tens of thousands published each year.  This sounds mercenary, but how do I get your money?  I need your money so that the company can stay afloat...and the authors need your money to compensate them for the long hours spent working on manuscripts.

I think this is where so many authors/writers miss the boat.  They need to understand that business is not about us publishing the book that THEY want to write.  It is about writing (and then publishing) books that people WANT to read.  And by that I mean, books they are willing to spend their money for.  How do I get them to buy a book by a new writer rather than an extra flat of impatiens at the garden center?  As you can imagine, it's a tough job.  Most people would rather stick with something tried and true (fill in name of best-selling series author) than take a chance on something new. 

A lot of people (myself included, sadly) are fond of railing against society.  Why don't "people" buy my books en masse?  Why do I get all those returns after six months?  Why am I not a best-selling author?  Why is it that people are willing to shell out $25 for a third-rate DVD rather than $10.95 for my high-quality book?  But this is thinking about things the wrong way.  It's our job as editors and publishers -- and writers' jobs as novelists -- to give people something they WANT to buy.  You and I may find a specific manuscript fascinating, but ultimately, it's the market that has all the power.  There's critical success (the satisfaction of good reviews on a great book), but that's very different than commercial success.  Unfortunately, none of us can survive solely on critical successes.

But what of publicity, you say?  No amount of publicity MAKES the reading public buy a book.  No one forced 25 million copies of The DaVinci Code down readers' throats.  Dan Brown tapped into something there.  As a point of comparison, look at a recent disaster, The Interpretation of Murder by Jed Rubinfeld.  Holt paid way too much for it, gave it good publicity, and watched it sink like a rock because it failed to capture the public's attention.  (It didn't help that Freudian psychology, on which the book is based, is decidely out of the psychological mainstream these days.)

So where does that leave us?  Still looking for the next big thing, I suppose, and hoping we can tap into such a deep chord in people that they will rush out and buy our books as soon as they're published, rather than waiting for used ones on eBay. 

<--- Above and left: Cyclamen.

These photos don't do justice to this amazing flower.  The blooms are stunning, and the foliage is lush, tropical, and interesting.  Mine are doing quite well in pots on the deck.  Attention authors: Please send me manuscripts with a floral theme!  "The Cyclamen Caper," "Sunflowers for Suspense," "Impatiens is a Virtue," etc.

"Entertain Us for Free"

It happened again this weekend.  The typical party scenario.  I am introduced to new people and asked what I do for a living.  Within minutes these new acquaintances are asking me for free books.  When I gently suggest that they buy them instead, I am given the cold shoulder, as well as resentful looks by the hostess.

I like to think I've mastered the art of educating people about how publishing works within the larger capitalist system, without being obnoxious.  (This weekend's hostess would disagree.)  I try to be polite, but here is what I want to say:

• You like music, you say?  Do you expect concert promoters to provide you with free tickets to concerts?
• You enjoy live comedy, you say?  Do you expect the management of Elaine's at the Seaport, or Catch a Rising Star, to let you in for free?
• You appreciate film/cinema? Do you think theater owners will gladly provide you with free movie tickets and popcorn?
• You adore opera?  Does Lincoln Center keep its doors open by providing free backstage passes to all comers?

OK, perhaps I am being a tad sensitive.  But at all adult levels of our society--from college students through the elderly--nobody seems to want to purchase books any more.  (The delightful outlier is young children, who often spend their allowances on books; but it's not as if children have direct purchasing power.)  How have we gotten to a place in society where people see free books as an entitlement?

Now, of course I am not talking about those on limited incomes, or library patrons.  I am talking about those who drive Mercedes and dine at upscale restaurants on a regular basis.  Those who will plop down $100 for a bottle of wine don't want to spend $14.95 for a trade paperback. 

This may be the diamond/water paradox in action.  Economists talk about this strange state of affairs, where people value something that's almost useless (diamonds) extremely highly, while valuing something essential to life (water) very low.  Thus we complain about our monthly $50 water bills while plunking down $45,000 for an engagement ring. 

I'm afraid books may have joined water in the category of perceived human entitlements.  We've all grown up with books, had them around us since our earliest days.  They're everywhere.  And because they're everywhere (like water), we don't see their extraordinary value.  We expect that they'll be there at no cost to us.

And yet we can't combine two hydrogen molecules with one oxygen molecule to create an unlimited supply of books.  Despite what Dannon and Poland Spring would like us to believe, water is water--it's all the same.  But every book is different, requiring a unique set of resources--author, editor, designer, cover artist, production department, printer, sales outlet.  We don't come up with a book formula and then mass produce them in various plants across the country.  (Well, OK, James Patterson does, but that's a different story.)  The final printed product provides the purchaser with hours of pleasure, or a lifetime of reference.   And all this for pennies per hour (all right, maybe a couple of dollars per hour for hardback novels).  Is it really so much to ask that the consumer be willing to pay for these benefits?

Of course, I speak from the perspective as a publishing professional.  I can't complain about a consumer looking to get a product cheaper by going into the used market, as I do it myself.  But my point is that this is not the car industry (and, as we all know, people will go without food as long as they can drive their leased, late-model cars).  There is precious little profit to be made in publishing, and we have to accept the likelihood of what may happen.  My predictions:

• The newly introduced HarperCollins model of no advances and no returns accepted may become the norm.  Hallelujah!  If this means that the Web becomes the only way to buy books, and traditional bricks-and-mortar bookstore must go away, then so be it.  (I'm sure I would feel very differently if I owned a bookstore.)  Let's face it--there is no other industry that takes back unsold inventory.  If you buy it, you should expect to sell it, and not pass on to me the cost of your bad decisions regarding your buying public. 
• Agents will become less and less likely to take on fiction, concentrating their efforts on the more profitable nonfiction markets.  The exception will be already established brand names.
• Authors will take on even larger roles in marketing and selling their own work.  As a result, some of the stigma of self publishing may go away.  If you think about it, it's odd that it hasn't already, as every other industry has welcomed self-starters.  Independent, self-financed projects are welcomed in Hollywood (think Affleck/Damon; Stallone).  Musicians set up Myspace pages, give away free MP3s, and work through word of mouth.  In the theater, there are many success stories of one-person shows written and performed by the same person.  In all these areas, the mavericks are admired.  In publishing, a self-published book is considered the calling card of a loser.  And yet I predict there will be more and more of it. There's no reason right now, for example, that Stephen King, James Patterson, and Mary Higgins Clark can't set up their own imprints and make a lot of money.  And that would be self-publishing, wouldn't it?
• Publishers will get stingier with "free books."  I personally advocate a model in which anyone who requests a reader's copy becomes ethically obligated to publish a review somewhere.   I do think it is all right (thought not ideal) for reviewers who are not compensated for their reviews to then sell the book in the aftermarket.
• Print runs will get smaller, and print-on-demand will grow.  To my mind, this development would re-balance the equation, with authors and publishers sharing in a product's success (and publishers not eating all the costs of a book that's flopped).
• Brand names will become even more important, and if you don't have a name already, it's going to get even harder to have your fiction published.  This is going to get worse before it gets better.
• The expectation that ANYONE can write a novel and become an instantaneous millionaire will, and should, go away.  The days when a novice writer could sit back, churn out a novel a year, and pay the mortgage on royalties are long gone.  In the novel writing business, at least, authors will need to see their efforts as a hobby, not a profession, for at least the first ten years of their writing "career," with the understanding that even after a decade, they may not be able to making a living by telling stories.  Publishing houses will stop enabling the belief that a first novel is worth $1,000,000 by returning to a model of low advances and higher royalties.

MWA and the Writers' Strike

With the Hollywood writers' strike drawing to a close, I realize that I'm a little late in posting on this topic -- and its relation to the mystery publishing business -- once again making me realize that I am a "bad blogger," as good bloggers are supposed to be very of the moment.  But I comfort myself in the belief that publishing is always several steps behind Hollywood, and society in general.  So, perhaps, I am right on time....

The Net has been abuzz in recent weeks with quite a bit of discussion of MWA (Mystery Writers of America) and their rules for "active membership."  For those interested in reviewing those rules, you may do so on the MWA Website at http://www.mysterywriters.org/pages/join/index.htm.  These rules, in effect, leave out not only many small presses but also traditionally published writers.  Part of the controversy, I think, is the membership tier structure, with a distinction drawn between "active members" and "affiliate members," which some feel equates to "first class" vs. "second class" citizens.

The whole topic is exceedingly incendiary, and there have been a lot of good posts in a lot of good forums on the pros and cons of the MWA policy.  Before I offer a few additional thoughts, though, I will say that this is America, and -- no matter how noble your motives -- when you seek to create a group or society that actively excludes a subset of people, you are bound to get into some trouble. 

An important point that's been missing among the emotional MWA Rules debate is a key fact regarding that organization.  The "W" in MWA stands for WRITERS; and the group is very honestly, and admirably, devoted to protecting the interests of published writers.  There is nothing wrong with such a mission statement, as writers do deserve to have their interests looked out for.  MWA does not, it seems to me, seek to protect the interests of unpublished writers, or aspiring writers, or the various publishing personnel involved in the mystery publishing business.  They want what's best for their writers; it's their raison d'etre.

But, as we all know, the interests of one group in a capitalistic society are very often in conflict with those of other groups.  And writers' interests do not always align with those of publishers.  The model supported by MWA is that of big publishing, with large advances and significant first print runs.  And, of course, such a model is what is best for writers, who then get paid a good amount of money, even if their book does not sell.  A larger first print run does help motivate the publisher to do more publicity and/or advertising for that title, as none of us really want boxes and boxes of books sitting in our warehouses unsold. 

But this model does not work in the publisher's favor.  I've blogged about this topic in the past, but the conventional wisdom is that 80% or more of writers do not earn out their advances.  That means, in essence, that they are getting paid for books that they haven't sold.  And certainly books that don't sell end up getting destroyed, pulped, or remaindered for pennies on the dollar -- which means that, at the end of the day, those 80% of writers are ending up quite a bit ahead of their publisher, who's most likely lost money in the process of bringing a writer into print and attempting to sell his or her book.

As you can imagine, this entire process stacks the deck against smaller and start-up presses (though, in the interests of fairness, if you look at the MWA approved list on the aforementioned URL, you will see a good number of smaller houses).  From my perspective as an editor, the most detrimental part of the MWA policy is not the restrictive approach to writers (some of whom feel genuinely hurt and disenfranchised by the policy -- but who must learn to get over such feelings, since being a fiction writer is really the equivalent of rejection everywhere you go) but rather the model it sets for the reviewing engines.  Some review publications have begun to accept only books published by the approved list for review; and to me, this is highly problematic, almost the equivalent of a Boss Tweed-type approach to publishing.  I call it the "Wal-martization of publishing"--only the biggest publishers, with the most market power, have the ability to play; and this model is (knowingly or unknowingly) supported by reviewers who seem, for reasons I can't quite figure out, rabid to make sure they never, ever review a self-published book.  I've seen self-published books, and the product is so instantly recognizable as different from a quality published book, I can't imagine that any savvy reviewer would be fooled for a second.   

What does all of this have to do with the Hollywood writers strike?  I read more than one posting from novelists, arguing passionately that the Hollywood writers deserve everything they are asking for, that such an outcome would guarantee writers being paid "what they deserve."  But this is comparing apples to oranges, and I want to explain why.

If you think about the worst, most ill-written, ill-conceived piece of schlock television (and I can think of many, having just been forced to endure an episode of "Extreme Home Makeover" that was the most blatantly emotionally manipulative piece of garbage I've seen in many a moon) -- you can also be sure of one thing: That a minimum of 500,000 more people have seen that broadcast than have read the typical novel by a first-time novelist.  Yes, indeed:  Of the 1,000,000 people who watched that TV show, perhaps two of them read the same novel, and maybe only one of them purchased it. 

Do you see my point?  "Writing" should not be compensated qua writing.  It should be thought of as a consumer product that is either consumed by the American public or not.  The revenue on a television show comes from many areas: advertising, product placements, cooperative funding, and the like.  Each time a TV show is aired, the airee must pay something to the producers/writers/etc.  The amount of money generated is truly staggering, and writers have a right to be paid for the dissemination and consumption of their intellectual property by the mass population.

But books are different.  There is one, and only one source of revenue to the publisher -- an American consumer purchasing a NEW book from a bookstore or an online Website (or, alternately, library sales).  And that revenue is really peanuts compared to our production costs.  To earn back an advance of, say, $10,000, a hardcover novelist has to sell about 5,000 copies of the book (speaking in the most basic of financial terms).  And most novelists can tell you how difficult it is to reach this number, especially in an era where most people are watching TV or surfing the Net rather than looking for exciting new writers to try.   So why exactly should publishers be in the business of paying large amounts of money to people whose products would be considered failures in any other type of business in the current U.S. capitalistic system?

As I've said before, if you really want to make a lot of money as a writer, novel writing isn't the way to do it. Yes, it is the way to do it for a small number of people.  But what are the odds of any new writer getting to that place, especially a writer whose name is unknown?  Quite small, as you can imagine.

I do not mean this to come across as dismissive or mean-spirited.  But one of the reasons I created this blog was to help writers, and anyone else who's interested, to see another side of the equation -- the publisher's perspective, which, sadly, is highly constrained by the reality of dollars and cents. 

The Cost of Free Books

I alluded to the implicit costs of "free" books in my last post ("The Value of Books"). I want to talk a little more about this topic.

"Free" books are free to everyone except the publisher.  When you consider that one book given away can result in anywhere from 2 to 10 fewer sales with the help of Amazon marketplace and eBay, you can see the significant negative impact, from a publisher's perspective, of giving away books.  Advance reader's copies do not have a bar code or a price on them specifically to prevent them from being sold through retail outlets, but that doesn't stop them from getting sold. 

I'm talking about monetary/bottom-line effects here, but there's a psychic cost as well.  In our society, it's tough to really put any value on something you get for free.  Think about those cheap calculators and pens that you get from local businesses or banks.  Do they really mean anything to you?  Of course not.  They're stupid pieces of plastic that have no intrinsic value, and you perceive them as such.

So what sort of signal does it send when writers and publishers give away copies of their books?  It sends a message to consumers that books really aren't worth much, which has led to the situation in which we find ourselves--the high costs of publishing significantly counterbalanced by the low price consumers pay for our product. 

And this is where editors and writers sometimes find themselves at odds.  Writers usually have two goals: (1) to make money from their writing (though, as I've said before, that's a very unrealistic expectation in fiction markets, especially for newly published writers), and (2) to get people reading their work.

Let's take these in order.

(1)  Of course no one is going to bring in any revenue by giving books to people.   By giving away your books to people who might otherwise buy them, publishers are denied the revenue they need to keep operating.  And you are deprived of royalties.

(2) Plenty of writers don't care about making money -- they just want a devoted readership.  They think the way to develop this is to give away a lot of copies of their early efforts, sometimes at their own expense.  It's true that this has worked for particularly savvy, hardworking writers who live on Listservs and the Internet, constantly pushing their own work.  But they've usually gotten these books free, or at cost, from their publishers--which leads us to the problems I outlined above.  If writers want publishers to stay in business, and their editors to stay in their jobs, they would be wise to consider alternate methods of building their readership.

Some would argue that I am being too "short-term focused" in my need to bring in revenue.  But I can't think beyond the short term when vendors have to be paid, the distributor has to get its pound (or ton) of flesh, and it's time to pay royalties. 

If I had my way, publishers would destroy all their obsolete inventory instead of basically giving it away to remainder houses.  Then you wouldn't see cheapie books all over the place and consumers would better understand the value of purchasing a book.

The Value of Books

Metaphorically, the value of books is infinite.

Economically, the value of books is much, much lower.

So how do editors/publishers negotiate the waters between the "real" value of books and the "dollar" value of books?  It isn't easy.

In a market system, one variable brings millions of pieces of market information together, and that is the price of a product.  Publishers want to charge as much for a book as possible; consumers want to pay as little as possible.  The prices settle where quantity demanded and quantity supplied meet. 

And, sad to say (from the publisher's perspective, of course), the prices have settled at a very low number.  While it's true that book prices have gone up in recent years (mostly due to the price of inputs, such as paper--as well as the massive advances that are the result of a very flawed agent-driven system), they are still very low when compared to the price of other consumer goods.  Mass market paperbacks run $5-$7; trade paperbacks, $10-$15; and hardcovers, anywhere from $21 to $28 (for fiction).  Now think about all the costs that it takes to write, edit, typeset, design, produce, market, and distribute each book, and you'll realize that even hardcovers bring in very little profit.

So, why these low, low prices?  Competition.  The market for fiction is monopolistically competitive--meaning that many people (publishers) are in the market producing basically the same product.  In strictly economic terms, a mystery novel is a mystery novel--what distinguishes one from another is packaging, author, advertising, marketing, and so forth.  But in a pinch, when one mystery novel isn't available, readers are just as likely to pick up another one in the same genre.  Think about it this way--If you go to the supermarket to buy a bag of Wise potato chips, and Wise is out of stock, aren't you going to buy a bag of Lay's or Ruffles instead?  So publishers can't really charge above the market price for any book, unless they have something really, really special on their hands.  People might be willing to pay a few dollars more for a new Stephen King book, but they're not going to pay more for a book by an unknown.

Prices are low, then, for a couple of reasons:

(1) A huge amount of competition.

(2) The generic nature of the product.

Now, if 75% of mystery publishers went out of business and the number of mysteries (and novels in general) published each year were to go down significantly, publishers could raise their prices.  People who wanted to read mysteries would be forced to pay the higher price to get their fix, and they'd perceive the value of these mysteries to be much higher because of their relative scarcity.  But we all know that's not going to happen.

Another serious problem from the publisher's perspective is used sales through the Internet.  In the old days, if you wanted a book you either borrowed it from the library or bought it at a bookstore.  There was no easy way to located a cheaper used copy.  Now it's as easy as pointing a mouse to Amazon marketplace.  It goes without saying that authors get zero revenue from used book sales, and authors receive no royalties.  Particularly when we are trying to break a new author, these used sales hurt our bottom line badly, reducing the number of new copies purchased (by some estimates) by 50% - 75%. 

Of course as publishers we can't expect consumers to subsidize our operations by purchasing only new books, when cheaper alternatives are available.  But the next time you purchase or swap a used book through the Internet, please understand the effects of these transactions on publishers and writers.

A lot of writers are fond of giving away complimentary copies of their books.  That's all well and good--but every copy you give away is one less copy that you sell.  On the positive side, of course, giving away free books does help to get word out about your book.  Our publicist tries to find the balance here, but it's tricky.  A few years ago we tried to do book club outreach for a couple of books.  We sent free books to book clubs around the country and tagged them in inconspicuous ways.  We waited a few weeks and then purchased used copies through Amazon marketplace and found that most of them were copies we'd provided free to book clubs.

Which brings me to the topic of reviews.  Most of the major review publications receive more books than they can ever review--and most of them end up in the used-book market almost immediately.  Personally I find the ethics of this practice questionable, except in the case of publications (especially on the Web) that get no advertising revenue and need to support their existence through used-book sales.  As an industry, we benefit from the existence of these review journals and Websites and understand that we need to subsidize them.

I will say this, however.  If you accept or solicit books from publishers that you have no intention to review, but every intention to sell, you are an immoral slug.

Economists talk about phenomenon known as the "diamond/water paradox."  In a nutshell, water is essential to human life and should be valued highly by the marketplace.  Diamonds are practically useless (except in some industrial applications) and should have almost no value.  (I'm reminded of Voltaire's Candide, with the children playing in the streets with diamonds and rubies, because the society is smart enough to understand that the gems have no value.)  A man dying of thirst in the desert would gladly trade his diamond ring for a glass of water.  That same man would never trade his only glass of water for the Hope Diamond.  However, diamonds are relatively scarce when compared to water--and therein lies their value.

We're in a similar situation with books.  They are the cradle of culture and essential to any literate society.  But there are now so many books that they've become almost as ubiquitous as water.  The average consumer sees them as interchangeable and therefore doesn't value them highly enough to pay more than $6.99 for a mass market paperback (of which a publisher must sell tens of thousands of copies to begin seeing a profit).   

So, if you are an aspiring (or even published) author, and you get frustrated with your publisher's unwillingness to spend money, I hope this post will help you understand better why we (1) don't want to give you hundreds of free copies to give to your friends and family; (2) send packages the cheapest way possible (the price of express mail is astronomical); (3) don't take out ads in trade journals that cost thousands of dollars; (4) can't support author signing tours that won't even come close to bringing in revenue equal to our expenses in the effort.

The Publishing Biz, Part 2

This will be my last post about the pastime of publisher bashing...then I'll move on to other things.  I've been seeing a lot of queries/manuscripts lately with the same types of problems, and I think aspiring writers will benefit from knowing about the mistakes they often make (as well as what they do right).  But for now, a few final things to get off my chest.

Some (not all - not many - but some) writers complain about the way they are treated by publishers and agents.  The usual complaint is that rejections are little more than rude brush-offs.  And yes, I can see why this is frustrating.  But you must understand -- we are not paid to critique your writing or provide tips for improvement.  There's just too much to do in a day.  Form letters aren't overly personal, but they do the job.  The standard reply -- "not a good fit for us" -- may sound like nonsense, but in a lot of cases it is absolutely true.  We see many good things that just don't work for us.  With a limited number of publishing slots, we can only take on manuscripts that are 10s, not 8s or 9s.  And the truth is that while we do see plenty of 8s and 9s, they still won't make it when we do get 10s (which we always do, sooner or later).

And yet there's a side to the story that isn't often told...which is how some writers (and agents) treat editors and publishers.  To put it simply, we are not infrequently treated as stepping stones, as people who exist to further careers and write large advance checks.   If we can't, aren't willing to, or don't provide those services, we can be dismissed just as summarily as agents and editors sometimes dismiss writers.

Here are just a few examples of things that have happened in our office over the last few months:

*Our assistant answered the phone.  On the other end was a writer asking about what types of books we publish.  She said she had a paranormal romance and asked if we'd be interested.  Our assistant said we don't usually publish those kinds of books, but our submission guidelines are on our Website.  The caller then harangued our assistant, asking why we are so "limited" in our publishing scope and complaining that our assistant wouldn't print out those guidelines and mail them to her.

*Some agencies still have my name as affiliated with the much larger house I used to work for.  The other day our assistant put a call from an agent through to me.  I expected to have an amiable chat.  Instead I was pitched a book with no preamble.  I couldn't get a word in edgewise, until the agent told me "And we're looking for a six-figure advance."  I told her that as an independent publisher, we simply don't play in that ballpark... I began to explain our editorial philosophy, and she hung up on me.  Yes, hung up the phone without saying good-bye.  And it's not the first time this has happened.

*Our publicist occasionally posts on listservs and newsgroups, and every so often someone recognizes his name.  Word gets out, and he gets emails from various people looking for favors.  Recently a woman contacted him to say she'd heard he was a publicist, and maybe he would be willing to talk to her writer's group?  He's quite good at those things, so he asked for more information about her group.  She responded by asking him which house he works for.  He told her, and she stopped writing back.  And we know why: She's not interested in dealing with anyone from a "small press."  We get this reaction not infrequently--We're not one of the big guys and we're therefore not worth dealing with.  The joke is on her, of course, as our publicist is exceedingly well known and respected, with more than two decades in the industry.   To some we are seen as a stepping stone to something bigger and better - or a last resort when Random House wants nothing to do with you.   (P.S. I'd never heard of her, but after this experience I googled her and found that she is published in an odd arrangement through a house that does not really do mysteries, but that she's been nominated for and won an award or two.  The message to me was clear:  She's already with a small house, and she wants out.  We're not St. Martin's, so we're not worthy of her continued efforts.)

I suppose because editors are the "face" of the publishing house to the world, it's convenient to have us serve as stand-ins for everything that's wrong with the industry (and I'm the first to admit that the industry does have its share of problems -- like every other industry).  But we are people, too.  We don't like rejecting people, or cutting books from our list, or telling an author that his/her new manuscript isn't cutting the mustard and won't be published.  A little respect would be very much appreciated...which is very different than butt-kissing, which we get all too much of.

To end on a positive note:  Most of the authors we end up working with are absolutely wonderful.  Some of my best friends are people whose work I have published. 

The Publishing Biz, Part 1

Bashing the publishing industry has become a pastime, it seems.  I lurk on or receive copies of various listservs and newsgroups, and I'm often horrorstruck at the number of people who exert huge amounts of energy in dissing our business.  The complaints seem to fall into several categories:

*We only want to publish books by people who are already established.

*We don't "support" the books we publish.

*We "drop" mid-list authors whose books don't sell.

*We put our money behind the "wrong" books.

I'm going to take each of these criticisms in order--and provide some info about the mystery publishing BUSINESS in the process.  But before I do, please note the all-caps treatment of BUSINESS.  Perhaps a lesson in capitalism is in order here.  Businesses that make a profit stay in business; businesses that do not make a profit shut their doors.  If you want publishers that stay around for a long time, you want them to make money.  That means making enough not only to pay their editors and their costs, but also to have a little left over for the stockholders (or, in the case of smaller presses, their owners).

*WE ONLY WANT TO PUBLISH BOOKS BY AUTHORS WHO ARE ALREADY ESTABLISHED.  That's not true.  It's not what we WANT to do--it's what we are often FORCED to do to keep that pesky revenue stream coming in.  What so many intelligent people stubbornly refuse to realize is that it's the revenue from writers like Mary Higgins Clark and Patricia Cornwell that give publishers the ability to take chances with unknown or up-and-coming writers.  So please stop writing bitchy reviews on newsgroups and listservs about their books, implying not-so-subtly that you can do better.  Without them, you wouldn't have a prayer of even having your manuscript considered.

Here's a hypothetical example that might give you a sense of the financial constraints that we editors face.  Let's say you have a book that's going to sell for $10.  Your distributor takes 55% of that, which leaves you with $4.50 revenue per book.  Now let's say this mystery novel by a first-time writer sells 2,000 copies (a generous estimate, because most first novels sell 1,000 copies).  That leaves you with revenue of $9,000.  Deduct royalties, the cost of typesetting, the cost of printing/binding (let's say $2.00 per book), the cost of cover design, and the cost of sending out ARCs (advance readers' copies)...and how much do you have left?  Not very much AT ALL.  So tell me, please, how editors like me are supposed to have our salaries paid and put our kids through college?  And what about the designers, production/traffic people, administrative staff, and other hard-working publishing types whose salaries are often lower than those of New York City waiters and bartenders?

So, please don't complain that we're looking for books that we can sell - or that people will buy.  I'll talk in a later post about how subjective editors' tastes are, but please stop complaining about the books we sign.  A lot of good books never make it to print--and if you go into any Barnes & Noble in America, you should be able to understand why.  The competition is INTENSE, and most books barely cover their costs.  It's a crap shoot.  If you're going to be in this game, you need to understand that, and you must NEVER (I repeat, NEVER) think that you are going to replace your current salary with income from writing.

*"WE DON'T SUPPORT THE BOOKS WE PUBLISH."  OK, think about this.  I work for a small press right now, but at the larger houses, most of the senior staff is bonused on how well their books do.  That means that we are motivated to support each and every title we publish.   We don't sign and publish books unless we like them and want them to succeed.

A lot of writers think that "supporting" a book means spending money on advertising and "author tours."  ADVERTISING DOES NOT WORK to break a new author, though it can be helpful in getting word out about a well-known writer's new book.  In 99 out of 100 cases, the cost of advertising does not even cover the number of additional copies sold.  And "author tours," while gratifying to the ego, are equally losing propositions.  Have you checked out the price of airline tickets, hotel rooms, and ground transporation lately?   Please tell me how I'm going to spend $10,000 on a three-city tour and recover my costs.  To cover that $10,000, I need to sell 2,222 copies of a NEW book (not through eBay, not through Amazon marketplace, not through Booksfree.com)--and I can guarantee you that there's no way that is going to happen.  So please stop bitching that I won't send you out on "tour" with your fountain pen to sign copies in specialty bookstores across America that might generate an audience of 25 people for you.

*"WE DROP MID-LIST AUTHORS WHOSE BOOKS DON'T SELL."  Yes, we do.  We're often sad to see friends and people we really like fall off our lists.  But do YOU take in and support all your poor friends and relatives?  We live in a society where decisions are made based on how successful you are.  The sad fact is that most writers don't find a loyal, steady audience.  You had your shot, which is more than millions of other aspiring novelists can say.  Now please stop expecting us to support your avocation because YOU want to write for a living.  These days, fiction writing should be considered a HOBBY that occasionally, once in a blue moon, brings in some revenue for you.  And if we keep publishing your books, even though they never sell more than X copies, that means some other writer isn't getting his or her chance.   And most editors have taken this job because we like finding new writers and giving them a chance.  It's not fair for you to expect that once you've been published, your publisher will rush everything you write forever more into print.

* "WE PUT OUR MONEY BEHIND THE WRONG BOOKS."  Please see above.  The sad truth is that a book by Paris Hilton is going to sell approximately 10,000 times more than yours, because people know who she is, and they don't know you from a hole in the ground.  This is no reflection on the work--it's a reflection on American society.  But it's the truth, and denying it won't do us any good. 

If you want the chance of making huge amounts of money through your artistic endeavors, you stand a better chance on American Idol.

Next time--more on the business, and the pastime of "publisher bashing."