What a depressing day for publishing

Ugh, publishing is doomed, and apparently, it's no longer fun.

First up, we have the hella long article in New York Magazine, which asserts that, basically, we're all screwed. Some choice quotes:
Yet in recent years, more accurate internal sales numbers have confirmed what publishers long suspected: Traditional marketing is useless.

“Media doesn’t matter, reviews don’t matter, blurbs don’t matter,” says one powerful agent. Nobody knows where the readers are, or how to connect with them....

Marketing a book these days is like playing a slot machine;
hitting one 7 won’t get you a dime. “There has to be this constellation of events,” says Daniel Menaker, whose departure was tied in the press to the low sales of Benjamin Kunkel’s much-ballyhooed debut novel, Indecision. “Not only a Times Book Review front cover but Don Imus talking about it and Ellen Pompeo actually reading the book on-camera. And Barack Obama has just bought it.”

Augh, so true! In fact, I think I have mentioned these points before in some of my rants. Not to mention, the book has to be in stores. The book can be reviewed everywhere, but if it's not sitting on a table at B&N, it's probably not going to sell giant numbers. Which brings us to point #2...

This matters because the following response from Barnes & Noble CEO Steve Riggio is only technically true: “We buy every title published—our business is a long-tail business—less than 5 percent is from bestsellers.”

Editors insist that plenty of books get skipped. Richard Nash, head of indie publisher Soft Skull Press, estimates that one in twenty are passed over, though ten to fifteen copies are shipped into their warehouses in case there’s a special order. Many more are getting smaller initial orders than ever. That’s a very long, very skinny tail.

I'm gonna agree with Nash here. Also, sometimes they might buy 500 of a book. But 500 copies for all of the stores? Not helpful. It means that book is either sitting in a carton in the warehouse somewhere, or shoved on a back shelf. Moving on...

It’ll be rough going in the meantime; some publishers will transform, some will muddle through, some will die. And there will, no doubt, be a lot of editors for whom even this diminished era will look like the last great golden age, when some writers were paid in the millions,some of their books produced in the millions, and more than half of those books actually sold. Book publishing is still a big-league business, and that’s a hard thing to let go of. “There’s something terrible,” says an editor at a prestigious imprint, “about admitting that you’re not a mass medium.”

Oh, god. This was the golden age? Not according to Al Silverman. His new book, The Time of Our Lives: The Golden Age of Great American Book Publishers, Their Editors and Authors, defines the golden age as the period between 1946 and the early 1980s, the period "when 'books were most beloved by a reading public.' Soon afterward, the great 'bookmen' stepped aside and the bottom-liners of business took over."

(NY Mag also references the decline when publishing became about conglomerates rather than taste: "In its heyday, publishing was a vast array of mom-and-pop shops, in which the pops tended to be independently wealthy. Their competitive advantage was not efficiency or low costs but taste....By the nineties, five big conglomerates were divvying up the spoils and their lucrative backlists. Many of the smaller companies that had been struggling, like FSG, Ecco, and Crown, were flush with corporate resources. But in exchange, they gave up final say in how they’d publish their books—or even what books they’d publish. And suddenly an industry accustomed to 5 percent margins was being run by media moguls aiming for double digits.")

Crap. I guess I was about 20 years too late. I imagine the old days of publishing were a bit like an episode of Mad Men. As Gawker puts it, "It can be difficult to know you're in a golden age. You might be too busy working. You might be too caught up in the hum of everyday life. You might live in Omaha. But here's a hint: there are usually a lot of white guys in bow ties smoking indoors." Now, that would have been fun.

--Ladytron

Oh, Deathtron

In response to Deathtron's latest, I just had to say something. It's quite possibly all the lemon vodka thingies I've been having tonight, but I agree. I do. And it makes me a little bit sad that this is my job. Because some days it does truly suck. There are authors or bosses who can suck the life out of it - and make me doubt that I'm any good at it. And I hate that. It pisses me off more than I can say, especially when it's one of those authors that I have made a priority. Deathtron is right in the fact that we're all overworked, and that there are just too many damn books for anyone to do a decent job. But when one of the authors who I have focused on, who I have pitched to hundreds of outlets, who I have gone above and beyond for...well, when they question my "commitment" to a project. Yeah, it's enough to make me want to throw in the towel.

But...there is something great about some authors that makes it worth while. The ones that appreciate every little thing you do. Unfortunately, some authors are horrific. You can try and try, and no one cares about the book - and the author thinks it's because you're not putting the effort in. That you're emailing instead of calling, or not calling or emailing enough. And the fact is, that at least from what I've experienced, that people you are pitching to either want the book or not. And I'm not going to mess up my relationship with a reviewer because Author X thinks the best way to handle it is to call them everyday. I know that reviewers and producers are overworked as well. Mostly because people like us are harassing them everyday with books or stories they don't care about. But I like to think that it's understood that I'm going to try this idea out on you, and if you don't like it, then I won't bug you again. And the times I do have a story you like, then we will get along splendidly. But, I'm sorry, authors, I'm not going to make someone so irritated that they NEVER want to like a pitch I send them in the name of harassing them about your book.

Yes, your book is important. I get that. you wrote it, it means a lot to you, and I'm publicizing it. If I'm freelance, then I took it on and I obviously want to do a good job because it's my name and my reputation. If I'm in-house, I want to do a good job so I don't get in trouble. WE ARE TRYING. And calls about how you think maybe we could try harder, or maybe we're not doing it right...well, it's not a motivator. It's a turnoff. The authors that are appreciative for what I do, I work that much harder for them. Because I want to prove that I'm worthy of their thank yous. Those of you who criticize....well, I feel guilty and then angry. And it eats away at my self-confidence. And I don't think you want a publicist who is doubting him/herself.

So, yes, Deathtron, there are times when publicity can be a soul-crushing job, and if I had the balls and/or money to leave it, I just might. But, at the end of the day, I do it for those authors that appreciate me. And for the rush of getting the perfect placement for one of my favorites. And for now, those moments of glory are enough for me. And I hope that it will continue to be. And I hope that authors and bosses will keep this is mind (ha ha, 'cause I know that sooo many of them are totally reading this. sigh) - because I've watched people that I know are fantastic at their jobs being broken. And I hate it.

We do it because we love books and we love our jobs. Please stop ruining it for us. Or we'll all end up like Deathtron. And I, for one, would like to retain enough optimism to keep this up until I'm head of a department with much, much more money.

--Ladytron

Jessica Roy and the Literati

I feel like I should post about this, but I'm not even really sure why. By now, most of you have probably read it - and the Gawker/Jezebel/n+1 scene's reaction to it. But to sum up, NYU student, blogger, and want-to-be literati Jessica Roy wrote a piece about her experiences hanging out with the Leon Neyfakh and Keith Gessen crew for New York Magazine's Daily Intelligencer.

As a publicist, I'm not part of this scene (although, we all do occasionally overlap. new york is strangely small in that way), but it sums up what I've heard a lot of people say about the industry as a whole. A number of people I've worked with have confessed that they rarely befriend people at their jobs because said co-workers are too pretentious. And it can be true. There are those people that don't have TVs and only listen to NPR and read the Times, and scoff at people like me for watching the Hills. There is a bit of aura of superiority - we publish books after all. We educate people. We produce a product that is meant to make a difference.

Which, if you think about, is kind of ridiculous. Can we really feel superior to the people over at Glamour or Maxim when we're publishing books like "Stuff White People Like" or "lolCats"? It's not as though we're in search of the next great American writer. We're in search of the next great bestseller. And I'm sure Leon or Keith can feel superior to us because, well, Leon covers the industry rather than taking part in it, and Keith runs a "high brow" lit magazine. Oh, and they're writers and highly educated.

The whole thing is just silly. And it's even more silly that we all write about it. That I'm writing about it. That people in New York have become so self-involved with ourselves that we think such things are news-worthy. Emily Gould is not famous. Nor is Keith Gessen. They are famous in a select circle of people, but because of sites like Gawker, the New York media has somehow become convinced that they are. No better than a Julia Allison type fameball, but they can feel superior to her because they've gained their fame for "deep insights" and books, rather than dating columns or talking about celebrities on national TV shows.

I don't really know my whole point with this, except that it sits badly with me. It bothers me that a 20 year-old girl was holding these people up as role-models and for what she wanted to be. Look, I read Jezebel and Gawker as much as the next girl - probaby more. And I find it hilarious. But, I would never wake up in the morning and say that my goal is to be Moe or Tracie. Or Sheila or Choire or Nick Denton. Well, maybe Nick Denton. He does have a really sweet apartment.

It just saddens me that these are the people that college students are looking up to. That these are our mentors. And that, as the book industry, we encourage it by continually publishing their work. People who tumblr and post rants and write pieces about themselves...aren't there better, more-talented, and less self-involved writers out there? Or is that just a contradiction in itself?

--Ladytron

Gag

From Publishers Lunch:

Former editor of Gawker.com and author of a recent NYT Magazine cover article on her life online Emily Gould's AND THE HEART SAYS..."WHATEVER", called "an honest, searching and wry set of recollections that together weave a picture of what it's like to be a young person in New York City in the early 2000s," to Amber Qureshi at Free Press, in a pre-empt, for publication in 2010, by Melissa Flashman at Trident Media Group (NA).

Gawker says the deal was for a million. Gould (via Galleycat) denied the figure, and Ron reports that the deal may or may not be closer to $350k. Either way, Emily has a lot more money than I do. And that makes me angry. Does anyone know how much Sloane's book went for?

Do tell,

The Editor

Random tidbits that are upsetting me.

I forgot to eat breakfast, so I feel stabby.

Emily Gould is shopping a book.

John McCain's campaign has a facebook game - and I actually downloaded it.

Keith Gessen is being interviewed on "Bookworm."

The Old Hag got a book deal based off of Jezebel posts (actually, I really like those posts, but a book, really?? Although, I suppose it's no more ridiculous than this. Or this. Or this.)

Cody's is closing for good.

My authors who refuse to understand why an established indie bookstore wouldn't want a debut, non-local author for an event. (sorry, no link for this. it just is)

The existence of The Shack, and how it will encourage thousands of deluded "writers" that they too can become bestsellers with no publisher, no support, and no publicist.

U.S. News & World Report's list of ways to deal with an office of 20-somethings. And the comments that other old farts added. Seriously, just give us some money and some respect, and we'll all get along just fine.

It's Wednesday - scientifically proven to be the longest day of the week.

Blech,

The Editor

mediabistro = bad party hosts

I've been to a lot of parties in my time. Publicist and all. I've organized some for authors, I've attended those organized by friends. I've gone to awards banquets, thank you parties, anniversery parties, charity parties, receptions for this and that. And, really, my expectations are really never high. Have alcohol readilly available. If there is food, wonderful, but not necessarilly expected. Just really really hoped for.

So, when I attend a party held by a company that was sold for $23 million a couple years ago, I kind of expect it to be a pretty awesome party. Um, no. I showed up about 6:45, 15 minutes after the party was supposed to start. No music, no food, no bartender. A bunch of mediabistro staff members standing around awkwardly. I didn't even have a magazine with me. So I went with the old stand-by and just pulled out my phone and started texting people to look busy.

I think the bar probably opened up a little after 7...over 30 minutes into the 2 hour party. There was one bartender. He had no cash. No bar back. It took about 5 minutes per person to get your drink. The line was soon wrapped around the room - and I'm not even exaggerating. Oh, and of course, the alcohol was NOT free. So basically, I spent half the night in a line, spent money I didn't have, and met random bloggers and mediabistro employees that had nothing to do with books. I did spot the galleycat crew floating around, but all in all, the event felt more like a mediabistro employee party rather than a meet-and-greet. I learned absolutely nothing, I spent too much money on alcohol, and when I left, I was so hungry, I went home and ate a lot takeout that was very bad for me. Thanks a lot, mediabistro.

--Paige Sexie