Recently I was having dinner with a friend who doesn't work in publishing (and isn't an aspiring writer). He brought his Amazon Kindle to show off, and since I'd seen one before, I approached the situation with a certain blase attitude. (Please, I know so much about that device already, what are you really going to show me that will impress me?)

For Kindle entertainment purposes, we started a hypothetical argument about a random book, in this case Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer. Right there at the dinner table, we turned on the Kindle, searched for the book in Amazon's Kindle store, and downloaded the full text of the book in seconds, for about 50 cents. (For those who don't know, the Kindle is a wireless device; you don't have to sync it or connect it to a computer to download new books. Plus there is no fee associated with the wireless service. If you have the device, it simply works without further subscriptions or payments.) I believe you can download the entire works of Shakespeare for a couple dollars. Bestsellers are priced higher, at 9.99.

In the past couple months, I've received more questions than usual from writers who want to know about e-publishing trends. And I always have to ask in return: Well, what kind of e-publishing do you want to know about? Around 2000, the major publishers (before the dot-com fallout) launched new divisions dedicated to e-books, and they all failed. At that time, there wasn't a device like the Kindle, and no standard format for e-books. Plus the reading experience (as far as reading on a screen) wasn't very advanced. Many writers, when they ask the e-publishing question, are really asking about that debacle.

Others are really asking about e-publishers (e.g., Hard Shell Word Factory) who base their business on acquiring and selling e-books (and sometimes releasing them in paperback). These publishers have had some challenges in proving their legitimacy, but the best of them have a very targeted audience and serve that audience well (e.g., Ellora's Cave).

And still others think of e-publishing as what an author might do to self-publish on the cheap (like posting your novel in PDF form on your own Web site or through a company like Lulu).

The problem, perhaps, is that "e-publishing" is becoming an old-fashioned term. That term doesn't make sense any longer. All publishers (from traditional publishers to e-publishers to self-publishers) should have a strategy for their book (or their content) that takes advantage of multiple formats or at least delivers it in the one format that most of the audience wants. Any publisher that cannot provide content (or a book) in digital format will lose readership and sales. And so now you see publishers rushing to digitize all of their content, and store it in such a way that it can be sliced/diced to suit customer demand and pushed out through many different channels.

So back to the Kindle. It is flawed (it's a first-generation device after all), but the experience of using it immediately gives you a vision of how people will consume content or buy books in the future. I have three hefty bookshelves at home, and most are filled with titles that I've kept for reference for 10 years. Would I have been happy to see those stored on a Kindle instead of boxing them up eight times (because that's how many times I've moved in the past 10 years)? Absolutely.

Eventually, all books (from all publishers) will be available in digital form, and the only details to hash out are whether you will receive the electronic version for free when you purchase the print book, or if electronic books will be sold more cheaply than print books, or whatever. I have yet to see any organization figure out the economics behind it, and for the most part, e-books from traditional publishers have been priced too high (until Kindle). However, one publisher that has consistently had the most enlightened and progressive strategy is O'Reilly (which also runs an excellent conference for publishers called Tools of Change).

In some cases, readers will only desire the content in digital form (and never in print form), and everyone knows that traditional print runs will be greatly reduced and in some cases completely disappear for certain types of work. Yesterday, I read in the New York Times that there are no plans to print a new edition of the Oxford English Dictionary. Of course it will continue to exist, but in digital form. I don't consider that a trend as much as the biggest paradigm shift in book publishing since Gutenberg.

New York magazine has published an article on Random House's Peter Olson, who will soon be stepping down from his position as CEO. It provides a quick overview of what Olson did to change Random House, but why, perhaps, his changes did not lead to the company's longterm success. Of course there are many measures of success, and this article greatly simplifies matters, but the most interesting tidbit:

Random’s size became a liability. Even with megahits like Bill Clinton’s memoir and The Da Vinci Code, the company’s annual revenue has been stagnant. To maintain its 20 percent share, the company has to publish around 2,000 titles, while more-efficient rivals like Hachette do under 500 titles for about 10 percent of the market. It’s a quarter of the work for half as much market share.

The publishing stars of the last ten years were small, crafty outfits able to exploit a niche: Miramax had a magic touch with publicity, Judith Regan’s company-within-a-company made the most of the cable-TV freak show, and Regnery mined conservative politics. Demand driven by product and publicity—Oprah, The Daily Show, and Today—replaced distribution. Margins followed. Olson’s company was too big to easily adapt.

So I take away two lessons for the future of publishing:

• Publishing more titles doesn't mean we profit more. (Less work can actually be better!) We must be aware, we must be intentional in what we are publishing.
  
• The mantra I repeat to writers/authors: Exploit a niche. Exploit a niche. Exploit a niche. You have to know what you're about, be passionate about it, and not ask forgiveness for it or be embarrassed by it (think Judith Regan).

I was catching up on my reading this past week, and stumbled upon this gem from a Poets & Writers interview with literary agent Nat Sobel:

"I don't get too many form rejection letters anymore. I usually respond by sending my own form rejection letter to the editor. I tell the editor, 'Our agency no longer accepts form rejection letters and we have decided to remove you from our submission list.' … The editors who tell you specifically what it is that they didn't like about the book are valuable. And you don't get too much of that."

It might be comforting for writers to know that even wonderful agents (like Nat Sobel) can have a difficult time receiving a (or any) response from editors. I have to say, though, that I never dreamed an editor would send a form rejection to an agent. (I don't even send form rejections to authors!) It just feels like bad business, especially if you're counting on agents to send you their best stuff, and if you want them to see how you'll do a good job as, well, you know, an editor, an editor being someone who can actually respond intelligently to someone's work and recommend changes (although Nat says there are two kinds of editors these days: the acquiring editor and the hands-on editor who also acquires, the latter being in short supply).

The interview with Nat is very lengthy, but every word is worthwhile. Highly recommend.

This past week, I've been putting the final touches on a Fall 2008 title, The Serfitt & Cloye Gift Catalog by Bob Woodiwiss, from TOW Books. It's a parody of the gift catalogs you probably receive from luxury retailers. Here is one of my favorite catalog items. (Illustration by Andrea Jensen.)

FICTIONALIZATION
For anyone who’s ever dreamed of being a character in a Jane Austen novel. For the fiction lover who feels that in reading Yossarian’s, Gatsby’s, Karenina’s, or Portnoy’s story that she is reading her own. For the person who always thought she’d pour her heart into the creation of a great book one day, but now knows there’s a faster, easier way. Yes, for all these literature lovers and more, may we suggest Fictionalization. With Fictionalization, you give the gift of fictional life. Because your name (or the name of whomever you should choose to designate) will replace the name of your favorite fictional character throughout any classic, near-classic, or pulp novel. Name substitution will begin with a newly published edition that will replace all existing editions and shall continue in perpetuity, that is, in all subsequent printings of your selected title for all time. Demand is already hot, so make your reservation now. Titles already in production include Flaubert’s Madame Winfrey, Burroughs’s Murdoch of the Apes, and Shakespeare’s Rosie O[’Donnell] & Juliet. Hundreds of other titles available. Fictionalization: from $100,000 (Friar Tuck level) to $100 million (Jesus Christ level).

In today's PublishersLunch, there's a news brief on third-quarter results at HarperCollins; as usual, Jane Friedman gives her analysis:

"The one soft spot is Zondervan, which is not a new story," Friedman says. "What's going on in the CBA ... is pretty scary," she observes, adding that "the CBA is really diminishing and I'm not one who thinks it's going to recover any time soon." With Christian customers buying more product in the general market, Friedman says that Zondervan's books need to "have the content and look for the general market." Friedman believes that "what Nelson is doing is absolutely correct" in trimming and refocusing their list and says "we're also looking at our title count. Zondervan has to publish fewer books and focus on more of the books that have the potential" to work in the general markets. On the brighter side, Friedman notes that "spirituality is going through the roof," with the company benefiting via the Harper One division.

What genius that both Jane Friedmans are in agreement over Nelson -- and reducing title count!

Just this afternoon, I finished assembling the first draft of our conference program (WDB/BEA Writers Conference on May 28, 2008).

It features:

• what agents are looking for in the pitch slam
• full descriptions of all breakout sessions

Click here to download the PDF.

Just yesterday Galleycat referenced a Bloomberg article, "As Books Fill Dumps, Publishers Target Return Policy" by Edward Nawotka.

The article is a good overview of the book publishing industry's return policy -- or a good overview of how wasteful and insane it all appears to outsiders.

Here are the basics, for those unschooled in returns:

• All books are sold to bookstores on a returnable basis. Books can be returned at any time, for any reason, for full credit.
• Today the industry-wide return rate is about 30 percent. That means 30% of books that are shipped to stores are eventually returned to the publisher. (Returned product may be resold, remaindered, or destroyed.)
• When thinking about book sales, authors should always think in terms of "sell-in" and "sell-through." Publishers sell the books INTO the stores, but those books haven't actually sold until they sell THROUGH the register into the hands of a consumer. Book authors may see reassuring sales figures on their royalty statements during the first 6-12 months of release, but those sales figures may actually DECREASE if returns are heavy. Some publishers even reserve the right (in an author's contract) to withhold royalty payments as a reserve against anticipated returns.

What particularly caught my eye in the Bloomberg article was a quote from a Publishers Weekly editor, Jim Milliot. He comments on an effort by Robert Miller at HarperCollins (run by publishing genius Jane Friedman!) to create a new imprint that will work on a nonreturnable basis, among other innovative things. He says:

"It would require Random House or HarperCollins to develop an entirely new business model, and that is not going to happen."

Aside from the fact that the book business is undergoing tremendous change due to advancing technology and digitization of content, is publishing's current business model exactly a desirable or profitable one? Isn't it about time that we found a way to do business that actually makes sense and doesn't waste millions of dollars?

We have to develop an entirely new business model—fast—if we want to keep readers (even grow readership?), if we love books, if we love our jobs. (To see another publishing company that knows how to transform a business model, see my previous post about Thomas Nelson cutting back its list.)

Last week I was corresponding with an aspiring book author, Vicki, who is interested in attending the BEA/WD Writers Conference, which I help organize. She asked the following:

We have written a self-help book, neither one of us has been published before, and we would not be considered "experts" in our field.  We would not only like to sell our book, but we would also like to hold workshops based on the book.  So with that tiny bit of information here is my question ... Should we self-publish and sell the book through workshops or look for an agent and a publishing house to publish the book for us?  A grass roots marketing campaign through workshops is how we originally thought we should go, but then we always go back to the question of whether or not to look for an agent and go that route.

From what I have been reading the author is required to do all of the info gathering leg work, come up with a marketing plan, and then market their book. So what is the benefit of going through an agent and publisher?  If we are going to have to do all of this type of work anyway - why not just do it for ourselves? The agent may or may not help with some of that - they seem to mostly shop the manuscript around.  The publisher seems to print the books only. Or am I mistaken in the roles of writer, agent, and publisher?

There seems to be so much conflicting information out there.  Trying to interpret it all can be a little overwhelming at times.  This is how I have finally broken it all down in my head.  If we self-publish we pay to have the book edited, we layout the book, we pay for the publishing costs, we come up with a marketing plan for the book and workshops and we market them ourselves, we put the book on Amazon and a few other sites, we deal with orders and shipping, and we deal with ordering more books from our publisher.

If we go the agent and publisher route we pay to have the book edited, we do the market research on our type of book, we come up with a marketing plan based on those findings, we find an agent (I can see where The Writer's Workshop could considerably cut down the time this would take), the agent shops the book around and then if we are picked up - a publishing house publishes the book, we market the book based on our plan or a revised plan, the publisher tries to get the book on as many shelves as possible, and I don't know how the workshop aspect would work.

I guess the third option would be to self-publish and then when we have sold so many books and held so many workshops then look for an agent and publisher.   This route would probably get us closer to the "already been published" status that is more appealing to agents and publishers alike. However, I am still not clear on the benefits of an agent and publishing house other than possibly the book being on more bookstore shelves and not having to deal with shipping and receiving.

I know I dropped a HUGE question on you. I think we are just too close to the process to see a clear path.  So any directional advice that you feel comfortable in giving we would greatly appreciate.

I could probably write an entire book in response to this one question, but I wanted to be succinct, and sent Vicki the following.

I don't think you're mistaken about what a publisher does at all; it's true you end up being responsible for marketing, promotion, publicity --  and the burden is definitely on you to ensure the book's success.

The bottom line here is that if you decide to publish the book yourself, how will you distribute the book and get it placed in stores nationwide? (This is exceptionally difficult.) Are you willing to sell it out of the back of your trunk and fight for every bookstore to stock it? Plus, as you've noted, if you want a traditional print run (rather than a print-on-demand book), you have to pay the costs associated with warehousing, fulfillment, and order processing. It's basically like running a small business -- very time consuming and requires a skill set that's very different from writing a book. Most people tire of it quickly.

A traditional publisher lends your book credibility that self-publishers have to earn and prove every step of the way. And it's easier to get others to pay attention to your book if you are traditionally published -- e.g., reviewers, media, other professionals, etc.

However, if you think that 75% or more of your book will ultimately be sold direct to consumer, at workshops, then self-publishing is probably a smarter way to go. Then it really doesn't matter if your book is stocked anywhere.

That's a pretty brief answer to what is indeed a big question, but that is what it boils down to. While finding a publisher or agent takes time and effort, the self-publishing path requires the same investment -- if you're doing it in the best way possible.

Considering the brevity of my answer (and the many facets of the question), I told Vicki I would open up the conversation on my blog. Would love to get your comments (as Vicki would)!

I like to tell new people I meet that I have at least one horribly embarrassing moment every week -- as far as my personal life. In my F+W life, I have about one mortifyingly embarrassing experience every 3-6 months, depending on how much I'm paying attention. (Often I discover the terribleness long after the fact.)

Some concrete examples?

As far as my personal life, during my vacation last week, I was staying in a country cottage in France (tough life, I know), with a functioning fireplace. It was one of the few ways to heat the cottage on a chilly evening. So on that first evening, I was crouched by the fire, with an afghan wrapped around me. When I stepped away into another room, I glanced down and wondered, Why do I see glowing embers on the floor?

I was on fire -- or, that is, the afghan was on fire. In the end, no one was hurt except the afghan, but I had to explain to the cottage owner what had happened, and I was lucky enough to find a similar afghan in town, so I bought it as a token of my deepest regret. (I also said Je suis desolee as much as possible. I found that in France saying Je suis desolee can resolve many problems.)

Now to the real meat you've been waiting for -- my recent professional embarrassment.

Right before I left on vacation, I received a book proposal from an agent. There was lots of interest in this particular book, and it was clear that by the time I returned from my vacation, the book would be sold.

Before I continue with the story, though, some background on how F+W Publications works: When an acquisitions editor has decided she wants to publish something, she must seek approval from a board (primarily sales and marketing people). This board meets weekly to approve projects and requires at least two things for approval: (1) a completed proposal information sheet (what the book is all about, who the author is, and marketing info, among other things) and (2) a cost estimate and profit-and-loss (P&L) statement. At F+W, it sometimes can take 2-4 weeks to get a P&L. (Editors can't prepare them; they must come through another dept.)

In this way, F+W is a little strange or different from other publishers; it is a legacy process, something that's been in place for 20+ years. When I first started at F+W in 1998, these board meetings were held once a month. It was only recently that they became a weekly occurrence.

But the point is: It can be a lengthy process, which isn't exactly helpful for editors who need to make offers quickly. So you find work-arounds.

So regarding this hot project that arrived before my vacation: I decided to take the project to our board without a P&L. If they were enthusiastic about it, then I felt safe discussing an offer with the agent. And the board was in fact enthusiastic, so I told the agent what we could offer, she accepted, and I went on vacation.

Of course my big mistake (and it was such a basic one) was not ensuring the agent knew that it was not a done deal for us until I had that final approval (with the P&L). This wasn't an agent I'd worked with before, either, so that only exacerbates a bad situation.

So the project is still awaiting final approval (my vacation has slowed down the process immensely), and the agent is confused and upset (justifiably so) that the deal is still pending. Once again -- unintentionally setting fire to something. (Unfortunately, repeating je suis desolee will not be as effective in resolving this.)

No matter how long I'm in the business, I'm always learning new lessons.