Ah, the Writers' Life

A writer friend, Lissa Halls Johnson, sent this to several of us writers/editors. Totally cracked me up. Not, mind you, that I'm like this. Not at all. Not even a littl-

Hey! An email!




Peace, all.

Are Print Books Dead??

Remember the musical Oklahoma? Gordon MacRae singing to, of all people, Rod Steiger: "Poor Jud is daid, poor Jud Fry is daid..."

Well, the way folks have been talking lately, I'm waiting for the new musical, "Digital World," where a Gordon MacRae-esque editor will stand next to a book and sing out, "Poor print is daid, poor print books is daid, they're lookin' oh, so tattered and passe..."

Seriously, I keep hearing the rumblings:

Digital is taking over.
No one is buying print books.
Brick-and-mortar bookstores are closing every day.
The future of publishing is uncertain.
What does this mean for authors?
How will this change our contracts?

And on and on the questions go. The person sitting next to me on my flight to Nashville last weekend even asked me about this when she found out I was in publishing. We had an interesting conversation about it all, especially I heard some of these same doom-and-gloom thoughts from her.

I just smiled, and pointed to her lap. "What are you reading there?"

She held up her book--not her Kindle, mind you, her BOOK--and we talked about the author. Halfway into a sentence, she stopped, looked at the book, then at me.

And then she smiled.

"Now, look around us," I said. "How many Kindles do you see?"

She hopped up and, on pretext of heading to the oh-so-spacious bathroom on the plane, took an informal poll. Upon her return, her smile was even broader. "Two. On this whole plane, only two."

"How many books did you see?"

Smile shifts to grin. "Too many to count."

"So is print dead?"

She settled back in her seat, hands caressing the cover of the book in her lap. "I don't even think it's sick!"

Agent Steve Laube brings a voice of much-needed reason to the whole discussion. Be sure you read the comments, too. Good stuff.

So no, print's not dead. It's not even on life support. In fact, as my friend on the plane finally concluded, it's not even sick. Sure, things are changing. That's the one constant in life: change. But we authors and editors and publishers need not fear those changes. Far wiser to understand them, what's behind them, and how we can take them in stride.

Peace, all.

Karen

More Changes in the Publishing World

Ah, publishing, that glamorous world of 7-figure advances (8, if you're REALLY big); long lunches at expensive restaurants, all on the publisher's ticket; world-encircling book tours; and mongo book launch parties where the only thing more lavish than the food is the cost of the author's pen as he signs his books for the teeming masses...

Well...that's how it looks in the movies. And, to be fair, that's how it was--and is--for a select few. I confess, too, that in the 26 years I've been in publishing, I've done my share of wining and dining (okay, not literally "wining"!) authors, both prospective and those already on our list. Taking a group of authors to an expensive restaurant is just a way of showing appreciation.

At least, it was.

Several articles have been written lately about a new "austerity" in the world of publishing. Now, publishing has been called a lot of things, but austere? Hardly. Until, according to the NY Times and this site, now. As I read these articles, I couldn't help but wonder if this coming "austerity" wasn't actually more a coming back to reason. Just like the publishers who are stepping back from massive (or any!) advances--a move we started seeing in '07 among publishers such as HarperCollins and supported by, among others, Mark Taylor of Tyndale in his thoughtful, thought-provoking letter to ECPA Members. (I know this letter stirred a flurry of fury from agents and authors, but I can't say I disagree with Mark. Seems too many forget publishing is a shared-risk proposition, and books not being profitable doesn't help anyone. I know there's more to being profitable than earning out an advance, but it's a definite factor.)

So, where does that leave us? Acquisitions lunches at Burger King? Author dinners at Denny's? Nickle and diming ourselves, and our authors, to death? I can't see that happening. But here's what I do see: publishers are taking a far harder look at what it really costs to be effective in publishing. And while some may find it hard to believe, those I know in publishing are trying to determine what most benefits not just the publishers, but the authors and their readers. In today's economy, everyone is hurting, and we all need to tighten the belt. I see that as simple wisdom, so long as the decisions made are done strategically and with consideration for all parties. I don't want to see authors mistreated or devalued any more than I want to see publishers going under.

So I'm curious. What do you think? Where should we tighten the belt? What do you see as wise and strategic moves for publishers and authors in the face of an ever declining economy?

How can we make publishing a win-win proposition?

Can't wait to read your thoughts!

Karen

More Notes from the Road

Wonderful, wonderful Palm Sunday service here. It's been a bit cold, but we sat outside anyway. I snapped a shot to show you what it looks like where we were sitting, at the back of the auditoriumand realized I caught Robin Jones Gunn, Patsy Clairmont, and Jan Silvious sitting there on the second bench/pew from the back (Robin's peeking behind Patsy to grin at me, Jan's on the other side of Patsy). (Okay, okay, the picture's so small you can't tell it's them. Trust me. It is. Really!) Anyway, it was nice outside. We could hear everything from inside the auditorium, and we got to listen to the wind whispering through the Redwoods all through the service. At one point I looked up and the tops of the trees seemed to be dancing as we lifted our voices in songs of praise. What an amazing setting for thanking God for all He's done for us.

Now, you notice the blue sky in the background? First day we arrived here, Dave Talbott, the conference host, warned us that bad weather was on it's way. Not just cold, but by Sunday we'd be clobbered with hail! Were we worried? Not on your life. We just said we'd pray the bad weather away. Mount Hermon has that effect on people. All this beauty in nature around us reminds who is really in control. So we determined to pray the bad weather away. The temp dipped, but every day so far here's what we've seen:


We've had blue skies and even some sunshine. Not a single hailstone has shown up. Yay!

I'll fill you in on more of Mount Hermon later. For now, let's get back to our adventures on our way to the conference grounds. As I said, Robin and Marion were coming in a day later than planned, so Julee and I stayed another day with Francine, Rick, and dear ol' Shabah. So Wednesday dawned bright and early, bringing another call from Robin. The doctor told her she was in no shape to travel, so she couldn't come to SanFran to play with us. After some weeping and wailing and whining on our part, we told Robin of course she should stay home the extra few days to gain strength before coming to the writers' conference. We promised to take good care of Marion, rang off, loaded up the car, and hit the road for SanFran.

On the drive down Julee, who'd met Marion when she went to England last year with Robin, regaled me with stories of Marion. "You'll love her! Just watch for a pixie of a woman with a crown of white hair and a lovely smile."

An hour or so later, we'd arrived at our hotel, The Stanford Court, which was ensconced on Nob Hill. With an hour or so until Marion's planned arrival, at which time we'd hie ourselves across the street to tea at the Fairmont hotel, Julee and I went to check the lay of the land. The cable car stop was right on the corner, so we hopped aboard (I kept waiting for the Rice-a-Roni song to start!), and rode down the hill to the financial district. Happy day, there were Starbuck's galore! So we stocked up on coffee, walked around a smidge, then back on the cable car to go await Marion.

Well, her arrival time came. And left. An hour past the scheduled arrival, I went to cancel the tea. I mean, sure, Marion would probably be game to try and make it. After all, she's English and tea is always welcome. But Julee and I talked it over and we figured after the storms, delayed flights, possible turbulence on the LONG flight over, she just might prefer a bit of a rest.

As I was turning from the concierge's desk, in walked someone who fit Julee's description to a 'T' walked in. It was Marion, and she was all Julee has said and more. Fun, in a far better mood than I would be after all she'd endured, and game for an adventure. So once she was settled in her room, we made our way back to the cable cars and went on to Fisherman's Warf. We walked and talked and soon felt like fast friends. Dinner was at Bubba Gumps--Yummy!--and then we grabbed a cab back to the hotel. Now, I must confess that the cab was...well...okay, let's be honest. DISGUSTING! I don't know what the stains on the seat were, nor did I ask. But short of levitating, there was no way to avoid sitting on them. Once we got back to the hotel we agreed. No more cabs! Some adventures just didn't deserve repeating.

I'll share more tomorrow, but the night is wearing on and I lead early morning worship here at Mount Hermon. Which means hitting the hay far earlier than usual to ensure I'm at least somewhat coherent at 7 a.m.

Blessings to you!

Karen