In the year 2020, there will still be only three channels worth watching, the porn industry will be revolutionized by "Sarah Palin: Cougar Loose in Wasilla", and the big guys in publishing -- Macmillan, Random House, and the like -- will all be subsidiaries of Amazon. There will still be small, independent presses, but they will either grow ever smaller or stay right where they are in the big corporate scheme because competing with such behemoths would kill them. That's the nature of a successful corporation, for better or worse: Devour and conquer until you are an obscenely huge fish in a rapidly shrinking pond.
But don't worry, little villagers, all is not lost. In fact, it might be that, in the long run, the big guys are in deeper trouble than the indies. We could be at a new, exciting beginning.... if we want it.
New technologies like POD and e-books cry out to the small fries in publishing to carve out their own niches and thrive in them, consolidation be damned. Indie publishers have the opportunity to reap the ultimate Long Tail strategy: They can create the exact number of books they need on request, and live well of a relatively smaller but fiercely loyal customer base, one that last them well into the future.
With the advent of less wasteful, more financially prudent on-demand publishing virtually at our fingertips, it no longer makes sense to print books in bulk, most of which will rot in a warehouse at a horrendous expense. From the looks of things, the monster publishers either don't understand this or refuse to; their world will get smaller and smaller as the rest of us are freed to explore a brave new world that might well outlast them all.
A fool's hope, maybe, but one that keeps me going.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The Guerrilla model and you: partners in freedom
As I am writing my book report on Jay Conrad Levinson's Guerrilla Marketing, I thought it might be a good idea to actually read the thing. Imagine my suprise when I ended up actually enjoying and -- gasp!-- learning from this very welll-written, informative book.
The fundamental principles of guerrilla marketing are not unlike the "SMART Goals" outlined in class: know your audience and your product, have a strategy, and measure your results to determine what works and what doesn't. That you can do all of us on a shoestring budget using such media as blogs, webcasts and podcasts, and RSS feedds only sweetens the pot.
I especially like the notion, intrinsic to the guerrilla philosophy, that independant entrepreneurs can compete with the big guys using more innovation and passion than money. It goes a long way toward democratizing the publishing process and, broadly, the business world itself.
Plus, I finally did a book report that I enjoyed.
The fundamental principles of guerrilla marketing are not unlike the "SMART Goals" outlined in class: know your audience and your product, have a strategy, and measure your results to determine what works and what doesn't. That you can do all of us on a shoestring budget using such media as blogs, webcasts and podcasts, and RSS feedds only sweetens the pot.
I especially like the notion, intrinsic to the guerrilla philosophy, that independant entrepreneurs can compete with the big guys using more innovation and passion than money. It goes a long way toward democratizing the publishing process and, broadly, the business world itself.
Plus, I finally did a book report that I enjoyed.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Johnny Got His Gun
"What a hell of a thing, a wonderful, beautiful thing, to wiggle your toes."
It's an extraordinary line, one that can help yank you out of a depression, or at least think about everything you have to be thankful for. That's what it did for me about a year ago, when I read it in Dalton Trumbo's 1939 novel Johnny Got His Gun.
The book's main character, Joe Bonham, wakes up in a hospital bed after being hit by an artillery shell in the closing days of World War I. After coming to his senses, he realizes that the explosion has rendered him literally a shell of a human being: he is blind, deaf and mute, with no arms or legs, left alone in the dark with a fully functioning, but powerless, mind. As he struggles to remain sane and find some way to reach out to the world, he reflects on the life he lost and the one he might have had, the ultimate futility of war, and what connection he still has to his fellow human beings.
This is undoubtedly the most viscerally effecting book I've ever read; you're right there in poor Joe's head, feeling what he feels, wanting what he wants, needing a happy ending that will never come. The passages in which he finds out the true extent of his injuries hit you like a punch in the stomach. His realization that this non-life is the best he can ever hope for shreds your heart into pieces. His memories of his family and his last night with his sweetheart make you smile, albeit with a twinge of sadness. Finally, his resolve to keep fighting to be heard (so to speak) inspires a kind of angry, defiant hope.
Read it if you're even thinking about joining the military (shameless editorial comment -- deal with it). Read it if you want to challenge the way you think about politics, life, anything. Read it if you want somethinig beautiful to pass on to your kids. Just read it.
It's an extraordinary line, one that can help yank you out of a depression, or at least think about everything you have to be thankful for. That's what it did for me about a year ago, when I read it in Dalton Trumbo's 1939 novel Johnny Got His Gun.
The book's main character, Joe Bonham, wakes up in a hospital bed after being hit by an artillery shell in the closing days of World War I. After coming to his senses, he realizes that the explosion has rendered him literally a shell of a human being: he is blind, deaf and mute, with no arms or legs, left alone in the dark with a fully functioning, but powerless, mind. As he struggles to remain sane and find some way to reach out to the world, he reflects on the life he lost and the one he might have had, the ultimate futility of war, and what connection he still has to his fellow human beings.
This is undoubtedly the most viscerally effecting book I've ever read; you're right there in poor Joe's head, feeling what he feels, wanting what he wants, needing a happy ending that will never come. The passages in which he finds out the true extent of his injuries hit you like a punch in the stomach. His realization that this non-life is the best he can ever hope for shreds your heart into pieces. His memories of his family and his last night with his sweetheart make you smile, albeit with a twinge of sadness. Finally, his resolve to keep fighting to be heard (so to speak) inspires a kind of angry, defiant hope.
Read it if you're even thinking about joining the military (shameless editorial comment -- deal with it). Read it if you want to challenge the way you think about politics, life, anything. Read it if you want somethinig beautiful to pass on to your kids. Just read it.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Pediapress: "wikiality check" for publishing?
The other day at my other publishing class, we had a speaker who told the class about a new advance in the brave new world of internet publishing: pediapress, the wiki-based, DIY publisher that allows you to post that novel on your hard drive out into the big wide world. Or, at least, the sections of the big wide world that you tell people how to find.
On one level, this is pretty cool, at least a writing exercise; this is your chance to get your writing out there where people can theoretically see it -- for free, natch -- an excellent confidence builder for young and beginning writers. I can't get too excited about it, however, because it presents no real challenge to the publishing industry that needs so badly to be shaken out of its complacency.
Essentially, you enter your magnum opus onto the database as how ever many pages of wiki content, press the button, and hey presto you're published. This has its good points, such as allowing people to practice their writing in front of a virtual audience. It also creates a forum for viable talent to interact and learn from each other.
Now, here's that cynicism you've been waiting for. Pediapress makes you a published writer in the same way that wikipedia makes you an expert, and creates visibility for writers in the same way that an open mic night gives a musician a shot at the big time. Sure, it's theoretically possible that a talent scout from a publishing firm could be logging on, but do you really expect to get that call that changes your life from posting on a wiki?
Of course, pediapress could be a good thing for the pure, who-cares-who-reads-it joy of writing... kind of like writing in this blog (I'm still waiting on Random House to log on, though). In the end, however, nothing substantial has changed, so I can't get too excited.
On one level, this is pretty cool, at least a writing exercise; this is your chance to get your writing out there where people can theoretically see it -- for free, natch -- an excellent confidence builder for young and beginning writers. I can't get too excited about it, however, because it presents no real challenge to the publishing industry that needs so badly to be shaken out of its complacency.
Essentially, you enter your magnum opus onto the database as how ever many pages of wiki content, press the button, and hey presto you're published. This has its good points, such as allowing people to practice their writing in front of a virtual audience. It also creates a forum for viable talent to interact and learn from each other.
Now, here's that cynicism you've been waiting for. Pediapress makes you a published writer in the same way that wikipedia makes you an expert, and creates visibility for writers in the same way that an open mic night gives a musician a shot at the big time. Sure, it's theoretically possible that a talent scout from a publishing firm could be logging on, but do you really expect to get that call that changes your life from posting on a wiki?
Of course, pediapress could be a good thing for the pure, who-cares-who-reads-it joy of writing... kind of like writing in this blog (I'm still waiting on Random House to log on, though). In the end, however, nothing substantial has changed, so I can't get too excited.
Friday, February 19, 2010
E-Mail ads are the devil. The devil, I say!
As you might imagine from the title of this post, I have never to the best of my recollection bought something online because of an e-mail ad, for pretty much the same reason that I don't take candy from strangers or eat food that's been on the floor for more than five seconds: because it's dangerous and unhealthy.
Oh, I buy things on the Internet, yes sir, and I suppose I've been just as suckered in by the upselling on Amazon and the iTunes store as anyone. But I hit the "junk" button the minute I see an ad for a free 10-day trial, 15% off ink toner, or discounted pills of any sort in my inbox because I did not invite these folks into my inbox and I don't want them to return. There are some serious vermin out there on the web, and once you feed them, they keep coming back.
I will give my information to a site I have actively decided to visit for a product I went there to find. That's it. Anything else is just asking for trouble.
Oh, I buy things on the Internet, yes sir, and I suppose I've been just as suckered in by the upselling on Amazon and the iTunes store as anyone. But I hit the "junk" button the minute I see an ad for a free 10-day trial, 15% off ink toner, or discounted pills of any sort in my inbox because I did not invite these folks into my inbox and I don't want them to return. There are some serious vermin out there on the web, and once you feed them, they keep coming back.
I will give my information to a site I have actively decided to visit for a product I went there to find. That's it. Anything else is just asking for trouble.
Friday, February 12, 2010
A Heart for Any Fate
Young adult reading might be a booming market right now, but by any literary standard, it's in trouble. The days of Lois Lowry and Judy Blume are long over, and I honestly don't see how their successors could encourage kids to read (I'm no great fan of wizarding schools, and I'm sick to bloody death of pale teenaged vampires making out in the fog). That's why I'm so happy to have discovered Linda Crew's A Heart For Any Fate, published in 2009 by our very own Ooligan Press. It renews my faith in the Young Adult genre.
The novel is based on (limited) research on the actual King Family, a brood of pioneers who embarked on an ill-fated journey from Missouri to Oregon, the fabled West that sets protagonist Lovisa King's heart pounding. At 17, she is already something of an old maid, living only for her family and shunning the older men set on chaining her to a stove. For her, "West" is "The sound of a wish in a single word" -- a wish that is sorely tested as the family's wagon train takes an ill-advised trip down the infamous "Terrible Trail". The already precocious Lovisa will be forced to grow up as she and her family are hit by every challenege, setback and tragedy that was a sad fact of life for the pioneers.
Kids will love this, even if it is historical fiction. And yes, it's historical fiction, so what? It's a real testament to Crew's talent that a family of pioneers circa-1845 relate so easily. Sure, some of Lovisa's problems are set in the time -- starvation, diptheria, buffalo chips -- but her key dilemmas are ageless: find me one who hasn't been jealous of older siblings, resentful of parents, and insecure about the opposite sex. King does it all without making her heroine a girl-power anachronism; Lovisa is spunky and opinionated, but she still fits in with the morals and mores of the time.
Get your kids, nieces and nephews away from damn Twilight and give them this book. I can promise you they love it, and they will have a slower time outgrowing it.
The novel is based on (limited) research on the actual King Family, a brood of pioneers who embarked on an ill-fated journey from Missouri to Oregon, the fabled West that sets protagonist Lovisa King's heart pounding. At 17, she is already something of an old maid, living only for her family and shunning the older men set on chaining her to a stove. For her, "West" is "The sound of a wish in a single word" -- a wish that is sorely tested as the family's wagon train takes an ill-advised trip down the infamous "Terrible Trail". The already precocious Lovisa will be forced to grow up as she and her family are hit by every challenege, setback and tragedy that was a sad fact of life for the pioneers.
Kids will love this, even if it is historical fiction. And yes, it's historical fiction, so what? It's a real testament to Crew's talent that a family of pioneers circa-1845 relate so easily. Sure, some of Lovisa's problems are set in the time -- starvation, diptheria, buffalo chips -- but her key dilemmas are ageless: find me one who hasn't been jealous of older siblings, resentful of parents, and insecure about the opposite sex. King does it all without making her heroine a girl-power anachronism; Lovisa is spunky and opinionated, but she still fits in with the morals and mores of the time.
Get your kids, nieces and nephews away from damn Twilight and give them this book. I can promise you they love it, and they will have a slower time outgrowing it.
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