The Publishing Contrarian

The publisher arrives at her office and boots up her computer. Her password doesn’t work. No big deal she thinks, those security-obsessed IT guys must be making everybody change passwords yet again. She reaches for the phone to tell them she is being denied access. Strange, she thinks, that she should have to leave a voicemail message. She’s so important and no one is responding to the neon flashing of her name in Caller ID.

She shuffles around her office, sipping her latte, fairly paralyzed without access to her computer and fuming because she can’t get to her email. At some point she notices the sound of cardboard boxes being dragged across carpeting and down the corridor between the cubicles. The sound grows nearer and louder.    Ah-hah, she thinks, at last they are getting rid of that #$@%^ down the hall. But no, the sound of sliding boxes inches ever closer. Good heavens, she wonders, why in the world are they are stopping outside my door?

Yep, it’s Judith Regan’s turn to be frog-marched to the curb. 

Frog-march: to seize from behind roughly and forcefully propel forward –Merriam Webster Online Dictionary.
 
In the Wicked Witch’s experience frog-marching usually involves two hulking guys on either side of you, practically lifting you off the ground by your elbows while your feet go through the motions of walking. Not unlike the frantic paw action of the family dog being lowered into the swimming pool.
 
Did Judith Regan make anti-Semitic cracks? According to The New York Times yesterday, Rupert Murdock personally ordered Judith Regan’s ousting. Not, evidently, because of the O. J. Simpson book debacle over If I Did It, but because of comments Ms. Regan made in a phone conversation “with a company lawyer on Friday that…were deemed anti-Semitic….” Slurs are never justified, but are utterly incomprehensible in a milieu where many of your colleagues, not to mention most of your bosses, are Jewish. (Here, let me hand you your own gun to commit professional suicide.) 

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“Greetings, my name is [–] and I’m the director of [–], you are slated to do a book signing with us…. I want to know if you are a black/African American person.”

The above is an email message posted by author Millenia Black on her blog Millenia Black—Taking Care of Business. Click on the link above and scroll down to March 13th to see the entire posting.

This blunt email message sent Black into paroxisms of indignation. She felt her race was nobody’s business when it came to book promotion and she was incensed that the director of the bookstore would even dare ask such a question. So insulted was Black that she canceled her appearance and left the director in the lurch, forced to locate an alternative author to make an appearance. And 25 out of 26 commentors joined the rage-in:

“The frickin’ nerve of some people! I’d make sure this idiot looks like the dumb shit he is.” – Lynn Ray Harris

“I think I would call the store and ask to speak to the manager. I would try to get the person who did that FIRED!!!” —Anonymous

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“Scan this Book!” was the title of Kevin Kelly’s feature article and “manifesto” in the The New York Times Magazine on May 14th. The article was about Google’s hell-bent-for-leather scan-athon of the books from five major research libraries and what this massive effort portends for the world (a digital universal library), for publishers (business model implosion) and for authors (books as loss leaders).

• For the world at large, the digital Universal Library will rescue long-neglected, long-lost, and long-forgotten books: that’s good. I’m all for the UL or DUL. The scope dazzles me. Even though I am one of the “well-booked” per Bill McCoy, GM of Adobe’s e-publishing business, I want the info of the world a click away and I want to be able to drill down until the bit snaps. Beyond my own egocentricity, I empathize with the “billions of people world-wide who are underserved” by having limited or no access to books, but can boot up a computer. Here, let me contribute my old books, those written by me and those on my shelf. Let me read the “marginalia” (is that a word you can say in mixed company?) that Kelly predicts will make my books even more valuable to the world. Let me click away madly and locate 32 million books, 750 million articles and essays that humans have published, as the article says, “since the days of Sumerian clay tablets.”
• As a result of the impending business-model implosion, the inflexible, traditional publishing industry will be sidelined: that’s their personal problem. Free online books on Web sites, in publishing blogs and in The Universal Library will require that the industry trash its stone-age business model and stop throwing good money after bad to shore up the crumbling status quo. All the free books online right now — not to mention the prospect of 32 million free books online — should have Peter W. Olson, Jane Friedman, Jack Romanos and David Young, Presidents and CEOs of Random House, HarperCollins, Simon & Schuster, and Hachette, respectively, marshalling the troops, not circling the wagons. “Publishers, be very, very afraid,” the editor of The New York Times Magazine warns on the front cover.
• Authors will now have the opportunity to capitalize on having written a book, rather than being forced to rely exclusively on paltry royalties: that will be reward enough, and those rewards can be enormous. “Digital technology has now disrupted all business models based on mass-produced copies, including individual livelihoods of [authors].” The publish or perish crowd in science, medicine and academe write books for credibility building and ivory tower scaling. Business people who write books about their industry want a published “leave behind” to get a leg-up on the competition. Sure, they’d like to make money off the sale of individual copies of their book, but that is a secondary goal. As free online publishing spreads and The Universal Library grows, the author who writes a book with the primary goal of selling tens of thousands of copies is going to find a smaller and smaller paying audience. But writing books has its rewards, even if not one copy of the book is sold. For some authors like Val Landi, selling the movie rights to his book A Woman from Cairo may be the biggest and best payoff. Cathy West, a Bermudian author who writes for the Christian market and has bimonthly chapters of Just a Little Walk on her Web site, may or may not make money directly from sales of her book, but she may be rewarded in some other way, tangibly or intangibly, in some manner or another, as she casts her bread upon the water. Steve Clackson, although he was absolutely pilloried by a few writers critiquing his novel, Sand Storm, two weeks ago after he posted a few chapters of his book online, may not ever find a traditional publisher, but writing a book and self-publishing online may get his book picked up by the Universal Library, eventually, and who knows, maybe his fortune lies in some anti-terrorism-related venture or screen writing assignment in Hollywood. The Wicked Witch of Publishing is happy to have written three nonfiction books ages ago and to have been “well-published” by HarperCollins, St. Martin’s Press, Pocketbooks, Berkley Books and a variety of foreign publishers, because it helps her land big contracts for big bucks in the corporate world, and it makes her, shallow creature that she is, so bewitching at cocktail parties.

Perhaps it is time to demand a reversal of rights right now for midlist, backlist and deadlist books that publishing companies have dismissed, neglected, forgotten and allowed to go out of print. These old books and still new books languishing in the bowels of some distribution center, could be freely and generously given to the Universal Library for scanning (copyright waived!) and be one-click-available to all potential readers, literally forever.

Perhaps ignoring the traditional publishing companies as they skip merrily along their own well-trod path to who knows where is the best approach.

Perhaps all those writers who faced the patient blank page everyday and nevertheless created a living, breathing book, but couldn’t find a traditional publisher, should self-publish right now online, and reap some of those rewards that are just out there ready to be discovered. 

Note from the Wicked Witch of Publishing: Leave your email address if I don’t already have it! I try to send a quick email out when I put up a new posting. Also, the Wicked Witch of Publishing is up to no good! Again! If you are a first-time author with a manuscript languishing in the slush pile, definitely leave your email address so the Wicked Witch can get in touch with you to help you with a new service she is offering in a week or two. (Click on “Email” under “Pages” on the sidebar).

What a morning: up at 5:20 a.m., pawing through my closet trying to find my black suit, holding black stockings up to the light to see if they are run-free, donning my black trench coat and grabbing my black attaché case and black umbrella to head like a homing pigeon for The Harvard Club on 44th Street in New York City.

I was invited to a Breakfast Business Meeting sponsored by The Harvard Business School (or The B-School, to you!) with “Media Guru” Steve Murphy, President and CEO, Rodale, Inc., and “change agent,” as he was billed.

The Harvard Club is, well, The Harvard Club. Lots of large portraits on the walls. Lots of club chairs scattered about. Lots of dark wood. Cavernous rooms. Bow ties. My late mother once said to me that men who went to Harvard always managed to drop Harvard into the conversation within a minute or two of meeting you. It is absolutely true!

But I digress.

Quite a few people were from out of town, which surprised me given the nightmare of crossing a bridge or entering a tunnel into Manhattan between 6 a.m. and 8:30 a.m. The lucky Wicked Witch, however, could stumble over, bleary-eyed, from her apartment to The Harvard Club, and she did just that, spurred on by the thought of a free feed, networking and fodder for the blog.

Once there, I checked my coat (or else!), lowered my screechy voice to a library-like whisper, and ascended to the third floor meeting room. Coatless and name-tagged, I took the opportunity to load my plate with pound cake, fill a coffee cup with decaf and reconnoiter. (Where were the bacon and eggs, grits, bangers—for you UKers—or pancakes? I was so disappointed…and hungry.)

To my left Meredith Corporation and a handsome “conflict mediator.” To my right a job hunter. At the next table all suited up and a little closer to the speaker, The Wall Street Journal and Beneficial Capital Corporation.

At the start we (about 40 of us) were admonished that we could take notes, but that answers to questions we asked would be off the record. Uh-oh!

We were also told that if we asked a question, we should say our names and identify the company for which we worked. In this town, you are where you work. Uh-oh! Uh-oh!

Believe it or not, I can be discreet, so I’m not going to give you the details of Steve Murphy’s comments, not that it was a tell-all, by any means. Actually, he was quite disarmingly charming and seemed guardedly candid. I think it is okay to say that early on in his chat with us, he got applause when he announced he had been a literature major, but not at Harvard. There was also some talk about “silos,” having nothing to do with where you store, say, corn, but everything to do with “silos” of corporate culture. (Huh? B-School patois, no doubt.)

Q&A Time! Those publishing types who are members of the “heads down” crowd, kept their heads, well, down. (All the better to huff and puff later.) The Wall Street Journal gave his name, said where he worked and asked a question that went way over my head. The man from Beneficial said his name and company and held forth about magazine publishing and books, and mentioned…the Internet. Ah hah! Now was my chance. I raised my hand. Pick me. Pick me! Steve Murphy did. Uh-oh!

“Lynne Scanlon, Blogger, The Publishing Contrarian,” I announced. Heads swiveled. (Infiltraitor!) I also quickly threw in my B&N credentials and, just in case that wasn’t enough for the Wall Street Journal guy, I let them know that I was also an author—unlike most of them, I’ll bet!—with St. Martin’s Press, HarperCollins, Berkley Books. You can’t drop this info with a thud often enough into a conversation when you are dealing with self-important publishing execs of which, of course, I am one. Pecking order is everything.

Since the Internet had been mentioned, I had no choice but to reveal to the now-rapt audience that I had immersed myself in the literary blogosphere for months. I felt strongly, I said, that bloggers like Michael Allen of Grumpy Old Bookman (one of the top 10 literary blogs—peck, peck) who only self-published, and Bill Liversidge of Pundy House, with his online novel and his April 3th posting called “More Thoughts on Becoming a Publisher,” might, just might, portend a seismic shift in the publishing plates undergirding the industry.

For good measure, when I bounded up to Steve Murphy and elbowed all the other sycophants out of the way, I pressed The Publishing Contrarian business card into his outstretched hand. I had a quick personal chat with my new friend “Steve” (!) and told him I had jotted down on my card the name of a book written by Rigel Crockett that Rodale had published last year, Fair Wind and Plenty of It. Rigel is one of my commenters. I said to Steve: This is a very good book. You need to look at it again!

The only comment I feel comfortable reporting, given the admonition not to blab, was Steve’s final comment to me. I don’t want to read more into it than I should, but I think it was pithy and memorable: “Thank you for coming up to say ‘hi’.”

How did I do?

Let’s stop fooling ourselves that all of the men and women in the upper echelons and inner sanctums of publishing are serious about overhauling the industry. They’re not. The fire in the belly that once propelled many of the entrenched old-timers is burning out and the damper is half-shut. They seem to be more concerned with big paychecks, stock options, bonuses, Callaway Golf Clubs, tee times, the Beach Club, the status quo and The State of the Prostate.  

But how about those young Turks at Google? Fire in the belly raging 24/7 and forcing  change upon the publishing industry. Let’s take the hint about management and innovation from CEO Eric Schmidt. We all know their 70/20/10 approach to business. We do, don’t we? We have read something other than Publishers Weekly and publishing blogs like this one, yes? Seventy-percent time spent on core business, 20% time spent on adjacent business, and 10% time spent on “things that are truly new.”

• How about new, cooperative contracts that allow authors to buy groceries. 
• How about new, tough criteria to cut down on dreck used to fill publishing quotas?
• How about new, open-ended time frames to market marketable good books.
• How about new, multitalented people to replace the “it’s-not-my-job,” myopic, uni-talented people. 

Of course, we can’t expect all the chairmen, board members, CEOs or presidents to relinquish power. We don’t want that. (Power is everything at the Beach Club.) They’d really get their plus fours in a twist if we tried! And dare I say that we would meet with an unfortunate accident as the wagons circled. In point of fact, they have the legacy knowledge, political savvy, deep pockets, and access to other powerbrokers that are critical to publishing and to change in publishing. But we need ALL of them to embrace change, not be indifferent to it, resist it, or just give lip service to it. And at a less elevated level we need to get past the bitter internecine feuds and territorial imperatives that pervade publishing houses and discourage innovation and derring-do.

And then, of course, there’s the option to call Google’s Help Desk. 

A favorite quote: If you’re not the lead dog, the view never changes.

Does anybody know what it’s like to work at Barnes & Noble in the corporate offices on Fifth Avenue in New York City? I mean in the building opposite the famous Barnes & Noble bookstore at 17th Street & Fifth Avenue. Are brothers Chairman Len and CEO Steve Riggio on premise? Do you get to elevator-speak with them? What are those guys like, anyhow? Are they knee-slappingly funny? Whose big black limo is that lurking just around the corner all day long? 

Hand raised and waving frantically! I know! I worked there as a marketing consultant with the title Director of Marketing, Special Sales. Remember the buzz about Great Expectations–Your All-in-One Resource for Pregnancy & Childbirth by Sandy & Marcie Jones in late 2004? GE was published, gasp, by the spawn of B&N, Inc., none other than Barnes & Noble Books! I was asked to slap that baby on the fanny and send it out into the world to compete against arch enemy Peter Workman’s What to Expect When You’re Expecting.  

You do know, don’t you, that B&N Books has very aggressive and smart publishers who crank out hundreds of books a year and a stable of young (or not so young!) sr. editors and just plain editors who are always casting about for nonfiction book ideas to feed the monster and tilt the P&L toward the P. I won’t call it a sweat shop, but I’m telling you, it’s busy and fast-paced in that warren called the 7th floor.  “I have a reputation for burning people out,” one publisher told me–to the sound of teeth being sharpened for a morning meeting. 

There are books stacked everywhere: on shelves, on filing cabinets, on desks, on the floor, in the lunch rooms (”Catfight on 10 for free books!”) and in the arms of the chairman, the CEO, the president, editors, publishers, and messengers moving across floors and between floors.

I think of B&N Books as being about as traditional as a publishing house can get, ordering up ”meat and potato” books, but trying to fly under the publishing radar screen to avoid making independent bookstores and traditional publishers any madder than they already are! What audacity! Having hundreds and hundreds of maximart bookstores and a clickin’ good website AND self-published books from B&N Books and, yes, Sterling Publishing, to make sure the coin-of-the-realm continues to trickle upward and that readers can find anything and everything they want and need related to books, books. books. 

And, it’s true, you do get to ride the elevator with Len and Steve. I did. I chatted amiably with Len (Mr. Riggio to you!) about golf (my nephew caddied for Len at Atlantic in Bridgehampton; initiation fee $300,000?) and Italy (a B&N employee won a fabulous trip; no it didn’t include an all-expenses-paid shopping spree, Len said.) Len is one sharp dresser. Very natty. And he’s quite charming. Or he was to me, anyway. I don’t know why everyone walks around mumbling: “You don’t want to make Len mad. Don’t make Len mad.” I also rode with Steve, but my mouth was duct taped each time before I was allowed to enter the elevator with him.

For lots of fun info about B&N, a trip to their online Annual Reports makes for great reading. They’re practically bodice rippers. I particularly like the part where everyone pats himself on the back because a book has sold 10,000 copies.  As an author, only 10,000 copies sold would assure me of yet another year in the poorhouse. Yes, Len and Steve would see my body plunging past the 10th floor windows at 122 Fifth Avenue if one of my books was considered a raging success at 10,000 copies. As a publisher, 10,000 here; 10,000 there; 10,000 copies x hundreds and hundreds of self-published books…well, you can do the math and work the profit margins.    

You can guess who the limo belongs to, can’t you!

Here are some topics I’m mulling over for future posts: Wrestling over the reins with Google. (Oh, that’s right, they’ve already got them.)

Editor/author and agent/author contracts. (Are you getting into bed with a partner or adversary? Should you have sex with the lights on and your eyes open?)

Well, you get the idea!