Publishing, Generally

There is a lot of anxiety in corporate publishing--and rightly so. After all, as the The New York Times reported today, the industry is suffering from a distinct lack of Harry Potter (incidentally, the publisher of Doubleday--where I worked for a couple years--is quoted in that piece) . In large part, though, the industry has itself to blame for its current difficulties. They're applying a business model that functions relatively smoothly on things like soft drinks, automobiles, and sneakers to books, which are arguably works of art. In other words, the entire business is constructed around the idea of a brand. You want to create a brand author, say a Stephen King, and then sell millions of copies of King's books to keep your business going.

On the surface, that makes sense--from a crass, corporate mentality, I mean. But, after all, the wheels of the market are what currently make the world go 'round, or so it seems. So let's take it as a given that you run a large publishing house, which is itself a conglomeration of smaller houses--gobbled up in acquisitions--like any other business. After all, these big houses are just pieces in larger parent companies. Naturally, there are stock holders who want their dividends to increase: i.e. each year, you need to make more selling books than you made the year before. How do you do this, they ask? Easy: you print only bestsellers and you regularly raise the cover price.

Here's the problem, though: there are a finite number of people who read/buy books. The publishers have stumbled onto a loophole with YA and children's books. That is, adults who don't read much will actually buy books pretty frequently for their children. However, the economic model of infinite returns is incredibly short-sighted and self-destructive. And I'm not even talking about its effects on the 'art' of books; as in, sales departments and chain bookstore reps actually influencing the content and presentation of material. We've gotten to the point at which books are essentially chosen by 20-something editorial assistants--because the full-time editors are so busy handling their titles that are in production and making sure the books don't see their content and distribution gutted--and are then tinkered with by marketing, publicity, and sales departments.

"Beneath the vast indifference of heaven..."

You want more profits from books? Sell a better, wider range of books and spread your profits more economically among a wider distribution of options so that when J.K. Rowling decides Harry has had enough, you aren't left floundering. But that won't work, you say. People won't buy more than a couple books by brand name authors. Sure, they won't: if a hardcover costs $40 a pop, I'm not going to take a chance on a new author. Lower the prices. You're telling me that in this age of global distribution and print-on-demand and instant sales tracking, you can't coordinate to print a larger range of titles at a lower cost?

In short, the problem with treating authors as a brand is that, unless they die and leave their fictional universe open to any work-for-hire come-along, you're left expecting the consumption of art to behave according to a rational business model. Essentially, the current publishing paradigm has gotten very good at squeezing a square peg into a round hole. A certain number of people will always read, but what they want to read won't remain the same. A greater number of available titles at a lower cost--including, by the way, a greater variety of formats, such as graphic novels--would improve corporate publishing's long-term economic outlook, and would be beneficial to the art as well by allowing a wider range of authors to reach their audience.

Don't tell me this is what's happening right now, because it isn't: track the marketing and publicity dollars. Spread it more evenly and you're better off in the long-run.

End Rant.