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Archive for the ‘Opinion’ Category

Where’s The Fun?

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010

It’s been a long time since I felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect of watching tv, but tomorrow night sees the UK first showing of season 4 of The Big Bang Theory – a new-found favourite of mine – and Friday is the UK premier of The Walking Dead, which could be the best show of the decade, if you’re into zombies. Most of my friends who would be interested in these shows have already seen them, having watched low-quality versions from the torrents/newsgroups/bloke-down-the-pub. I prefer to wait though, as the anticipation is part of the experience; I want maximum value from these broadcasts.

It’s got me thinking, though, about the perceived value of entertainment media, and how the work of teams of talented people, over a year or more, is now considered disposable when viewed in the context of the torrent of freebies available online.

Maybe the answer is in finding a way to monetise the experience surrounding the product, rather than the product itself, but that leads me to think that the only money is in the medium – the technology – and not in the message. The message used to be everything; now it’s the added value. As an amateur writer/filmmaker/musician, it pisses me off, as it makes me think there’s no point trying to build a career out of what I love; I have to accept a conventional day job – either working for myself or a company – and relegate my other endeavours to hobbies. I’m not at that point yet, but like I said, it’s on my mind.

Today, I was asked to shoot some video for youtube, and not wanting to do a half-assed job, I offered to record some music for the soundtrack too. I love this kind of project – pure creativity, and zero business. It’ll be fun, and nothing more than that, so I’m in. I am concerned about the devaluing of creative media, and its implications for me, but maybe the bigger question should be, ignoring the wider business world for a second, what do I want my creative life to be? And this video project, right now, is it.

 

Value = x

Monday, October 18th, 2010

Ignoring religious texts – which I’m not touching, even with a virtual ten-foot pole – it’s safe to say that if you saw someone burning a book, most people would react in a negative way. Disbelief, discomfort, anger, pity – whatever the extent, most people wouldn’t feel happy seeing the cover of even the cheapest, nastiest paperback curling as the flames took hold.

And yet most people will throw a magazine, with the same cover price as a paperback, into the recycling with no more regret than if it was used toilet paper.

Why is that? Seriously – it’s not a rhetorical question. I really need to know, as it might be the answer to my problem of having a houseful of books I’m unable to give away. I had to buy my first comic box at the weekend, as I’ve no more room on my bookcases for any more single comics. As in 32 pages. I don’t have room for 32 more pages, yet I can’t give any books away. They’re not worth enough to make the effort of selling them worthwhile, and I could re-buy any I wanted to re-read, so it’s not a financial decision. And it’s not about the pose-value of owning so many, as I happily display the complete shite alongside the classics. I just feel very, very uncomfortable at the idea of giving them away.

I’ll happily recycle a magazine, even though the (admittedly transient) content will be lost in its current form, unlike a book, whose text will live on, somewhere, forever. There’s just something about books – something that’s more than the sum of the pages and ink and glue and cover.

I don’t know what it is, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot, as I juggle books from shelf to shelf, trying to find an inch of space in a zero-sum game, looking at my Kindle, and its ultimately-disposable contents. And it’s something that other people should be thinking about, as it’s a property that’s missing from eBooks, and magazines, and electronic magazines, and pay-to-view news sites. I honestly dont know what it is – this value – that printed books have, but regardless of how the percentages of paper vs digital book sales skew, eBooks will never have it, and readers will never pay print prices for it.

 

Why I Don’t Care About Piracy

Saturday, October 9th, 2010

I’m not at the level of sales and exposure where piracy is even an issue, but reading a lot of discussions about eBook piracy this week caused me to consider my position on the subject, and the upshot is that I don’t care. I care about piracy as a consumer, but I want this to be a quick post, so I’m not going to start a rant on that one, but as an author – a content creator – it’s just not an issue for me.

There are many reasons for piracy, from being cheap (actually, the least common I’ve noticed), to frustration with territorial release-windowing, to lack of easy access to content. Usually it’s some combination of the three.

As I released Make a Move myself, there is no release-windowing, and I’ve made sure it’s as widely available as possible. So that just leaves the prices tag. $2.99/£2.20 is the kind of price no one can argue with; if you think that’s too much, you’re not going to buy it at any cost. So I’m confident I’ve done everything I can do to make my book available and affordable.

I can see why publishers are worried though. I believe that the extent of piracy is directly proportional to your cover price or, more accurately, perceived value. As a reader, I hope they deal with the issue in a more mature way than the film distributers have (guys, you do realise that the only people forced to sit through your “don’t pirate films” stings are the people who paid for the DVD, right?) but they’re against the clock; the longer they wait in making books easily available on all platforms, the more chance they’ll alienate customers and devalue their offering once it is available.

 

Conflict in the Comfort Zone

Thursday, September 30th, 2010

I’m conflicted.

A couple of weeks back, I started wondering if I should start submitting Make a Move to publishers again. It was never my intention to stop; I decided to put the book out myself to have some fun while waiting for responses, but the process has taken so much of my time that the submissions have fallen by the way. Then a couple of people independently asked about my submission status, and that confirmed that I needed to give it more brain time.

The problem is, I like where I am right now. Not in a “indie ’till I die!” kind of way, but I like the creative freedom that I have. I’m not a writer who worships the process; writing has always been hard for me, and I have to force myself in front of the computer most days. What I do love is how the stories and characters make me feel – how they make my readers feel. I love ideas – how they collide and coalesce into something amazing. Books let me capture these experiences and share them, but they’re not the only way.

Right now, I’m working on a script for an indie film – nothing major, just a 10-minute short – that features a band. I’m also writing/playing/recording the music for the soundtrack. Thinking about the roll-call of musicians in the fictional band, I realised that the soundtrack would need to feature the instruments they play (I have a keyboard player, there need to be keys/synths in the music). The reverse is also true; I can’t have characters playing instruments that I (or the multi-talented @theanonwonder and @jooleemarie) can’t play, as we wanted to do the music ourselves, without bringing anyone else in. I love that relationship between the reality of the music and the fiction of the film – it gives me the restrictions I need to produce my best written and musical work. The situation transcends story.

I love working this way. I fires me up. I have the best job in the world. I’m just not getting paid for it…

But would an advance on Make a Move change anything? I’d be contractually compelled to write the second season of the book, instead of being able to rely on the understanding of my readers while I get the film done. And I’d have more money, but not enough to give up my day job, which I like. I’d have print distribution, which would get my books out to more readers, but unless the goal is financial reward, more readers isn’t a goal in itself. Sales of the book are far from stellar, but I know the best way to drive more sales is to get the second book written and published, which I can currently do at my own pace.

I think the main reason I still want a book deal is that I love the publishing industry. Yes, I said it. Even though I find their output largely unreadable, and I’ve often said bad things about the way they operate and the mistakes they’re (in my opinion) still making, I love the concept of the institution of publishing. I guess it’s the same way people still see a need for the royal family; they’re a flawed institution, but they’re important just because they are. And as I love publishing, I feel like I should play my part in the big machine, even if I’m not convinced it’s the best path for my career as a writer, or for Make a Move.

Like I said, I’m conflicted.

 

The Face of Publishing?

Tuesday, August 10th, 2010

Within the context of a digital distribution model, it’s hard for readers to see the value a publisher adds to the process of getting a book from an author to market, which explains, to some extent, the reading public’s reticence to swallow the current baseline of new-release eBook prices. I can’t say I blame them. Publishing’s problem is the same as most creative arts; the value-add comes from intellectual property rather than raw materials. There’s nothing to show in return for their cut of the cover price.

For, um, ever… publishers have maintained this image – a faceless institution, it’s inner workings only revealed in aspirational sit-rom-coms from the US whose leads need a “serious” profession – and it’s mostly been a successful position to take. Now, though, I think it’s holding them back from evolving into the new age of publishing. In a global market in which customer loyalty is closely tied to brand, publishers have no tangible entity upon which to build a brand. Their product is branded based on the author name on the cover or the characters within, and their employees – the editors, typesetters, salesmen, marketers, designers, etc. that represent the true worth of the company – are unseen. Could you name a single editor working for one of the big six? Could someone browsing Amazon with no interest in publishing beyond the books under their mouse pointer?

Could you name a record producer?

I can name a few. They stand just behind the band when it comes to claiming responsibility for the quality of an album. Some would say they deserve more credit than that.

So why don’t book editors – their literary counterparts – command the same respect? No one, no matter how vehemently they champion the self-publishing cause – can deny the benefit of the input of a good editor. But the people working within publishing houses, specifically the big six, aren’t good editors; they’re great editors. They’re literary surgeons working at the top of their field. They can make a good book great, and a great book legendary. So who the hell are they?

As the deluge of content that self-publishing has permitted lands on eShop shelves, people are looking for curation to filter that flow. Crowd-sourced filtering will be the primary mechanism (recommendations and reviews) but there’s still a need for champions – people to identify and promote good writing. I’m not talking about tastemakers (oh, how I hate that term); I’m talking about authoritative voices. People whose opinion is established, tested and trusted. That’s the kind of value you can hang a brand on.

Yet the publishing houses still seem reluctant to open their doors – just a crack – to show us the inhabitants and workings of the chocolate factory. As marketing budgets for new books shrink, the money available to market the parent company seems tighter still.

Or is the publishing industry hiding its stars on purpose? If an editor could make an eBook a hit by offering their patronage, and a mega hit by working with a vetted, paying author directly, what’s left for a publisher to do that a freelance cover designer couldn’t?

With the need for a publisher already being questioned by many authors, what use for them would an independent, respected, branded editor with an impressive cv and an overflowing list of potential clients choose?

 

Top 5 Things I Learned About Being Interviewed on Video

Monday, August 2nd, 2010

Now that the second part of my author interview video is edited and uploaded, I thought I’d share some insights I gained about the process of being interviewed on video, both from my recollections at the time, and from having watched the video(s).

  • Close, or cross, your legs (one for the guys – women seem to have this down already).
  • Leave your face alone.
  • Speak more quickly than maybe feels comfortable.
  • Encourage your interviewer to ask direct questions.
  • Give direct answers.

Not that I’m not happy with the finished product – it’s been a great way to communicate some of what I feel about writing, and about Make a Move in particular – and Chris and Julie did a great job on the audio and video editing, but I’d sum up my reservations about the video with a bonus item to my top-five list:

  • Have a practice run and get used to being interviewed, and then don’t upload the results to a universally accesible video hosting service.

 

Contra-Inception

Monday, July 26th, 2010

I’ve been mulling over the film Inception since I saw it last week, but I’ve found it difficult to pin down why I was so disappointed as I left the cinema. It had the spectacle, the cast, the action, and that mind-bending story, but I felt it was lacking something, and I didn’t know what. The torrent of praise for the film on the internet hasn’t helped in my search for “the problem”, as aside from being universally positive, it’s mostly focussed on the mechanics of the story.

I’ve been in the techno-doldrums this week, lamenting my dependance on technology (and an internet connection) at the expense of real-world experience. I know I need to be online pushing my book, and my day job is all about computers, but it’s too easy to become disconnected from real life. I’ve not been feeling very creative this week, and I think it’s down to not unplugging enough (yes, I can appreciate the irony of that as I type this blog post into my web browser…). Digging around in these thoughts, I realised what my problem is with Inception: it lacks humanity – that vital element that sits at the core of great stories.

Possible Spoilers

Aside from Cobb (he has Very Big Issues to motivate him) not one person has a reason for following him on the task. They’re all cyphers – character archetypes who fill a need in the narrative. There’s a mumbling that Christopher Nolan’s films lack heart, and are cold as a result, and I don’t entirely disagree with that, but Inception goes way further. It’s entirely concerned with the HOW? at the expense of the WHAT? and WHY? So I put on my thinking hat, and tried to fill in those blanks myself, and it was then that I realised why Nolan’s characters aren’t human, why they need to be only cyphers – it’s because the core idea of the film is so abhorrent, the only way to keep it under the radar of most watchers is to dehumanise it to an abstract concept.

Now, I don’t read the Daily Mail, and I’ve watched some seriously moody fare in my cinema-going life, so I’m neither easily offended nor a tub-thumping cine-fascist, but Inception pissed me off. It pissed me off bad. It pissed me off enough to write a pseudo-review on my blog, which is something I never wanted to do. And it pissed me off because of the answers to those two questions: WHAT? and WHY?

  • WHAT? They kidnap a man, whose only crime is to be the heir to a globe-spanning energy conglomerate and, without his permission, fundamentally modify his personality by injecting an alien idea into his subconscious. If this were technologically possible, I imagine the crime would be swiftly classified as a form of rape on a par with date rape: the victim doesn’t have to endure the horror of the attack, but the after effects  - the resulting knowledge – changes them forever, in fundamentally damaging ways. All rights to the contents of their mind (body) are dismissed as the attackers chase their goal.
  • WHY? Money. Somebody pointed out the line Ken Watanabe says about the conglomerate nearing superpower status, but I’ve got one word for that. Antitrust. Maybe pre-Enron, pre-global-economic-meltdown, that would be a defence, but not now. Now it’s just about corporate greed.

So I’m not surprised that the characters were so lightly sketched; if you got to see their true characters, motivations and moral frameworks, you’d probably hate them, leaving only LeoNolan DiChristopher to root for as he wades through the guilt of having previously mind-raped his wife to death.

He’s one sick puppy.

 

A Little Piece of History Repeating

Monday, May 31st, 2010

A sixteenth-century stately home is the last place I was expecting to be impressed by new technology, especially after I had my first play with an iPad at the Apple Store on Friday, and was thoroughly underwhelmed, so I hope you can forgive my inflated sense of irony after a weekend of contradictions.

Lyme Park, in Cheshire, is home to a book from the fifteenth century – the Lyme Caxton Missal – an instruction manual for clergymen. It was the first English book to be printed in two colours – a technique beyond English printers of the time, resulting in the printing being outsourced to Paris where the knowledge resided to achieve this feat of advance printing technology. The two colours (red and black) were used to convey the content of what the preacher should say (black) interspersed with instructions as to what he should do (red), which means that the technique had a useful purpose and wasn’t just for show.

The book’s available to view in the house’s library, but it’s under a lot of glass, so its entertainment value is limited. In order to allow people to fully explore the book, the National Trust have installed three computer screens in the library, which are effectively eBook readers. They’re not like any eBook reader currently being touted as the end of the printed word though – these things are cool. The displays are touchscreens – 17″-19″ at a guess – and the application is completely bespoke. The page-turning animation is as smooth as I’ve seen, and the functionality to zoom and navigate is both intuitive and useful. The core text is in Latin, and the option is available to pop-up a translation, or have an audio file play a reading back through attached headphones. All of the added functionality really served a purpose, and the experience was immersive; something more than just reading a book.

I chatted with the attendant in the room, and he commented that he appreciated the irony of reading a 500-year-old book on something so cutting edge, but it was something else he said that piqued my irony gland. He mentioned that the church at the time the book was printed feared the advent of mass-printing, as lower costs and increased availability would allow books into the hands of the peasant class, and subsequent education would make them less amenable to control. I’m not comparing that situation with the current watershed in the move from eBooks as a niche format to something gaining mass-market acceptance, but it does highlight the fact that the idea of restricting development of a technology, or availability of a resource, due to the needs/wants of a controlling elite isn’t a new one.

I’m not trying to get political, or suggest that the publishing houses aren’t acting in everyone’s best interests as they work to find a sustainable business model in the advent of widespread electronic distribution of books. I’m not even sure I have a point to make. My reason for writing is simply this: as I stood, surrounded by some of the oldest books in history, exploring a truly impressive piece of content-presentation software, I realised that the current impasse in the move to reasonably priced, non-release-windowed eBooks is just details. The content of those books – the art, inspiration and creativity – is going to find a way to reach its audience regardless of how hard the gatekeepers fight to hold it back. It’s not going to happen tomorrow, and it’s probably not going to happen soon, but it is eventually going to happen. And everything between now and then will just be history.

 

The Importance of Being Indie

Monday, May 24th, 2010

“Writers need to stop defining themselves by their publisher, or lack thereof. “Indie” is becoming a meaningless affectation.”

@glecharles, 1:00 PM May 19th

I really, really wanted to agree with this when I read it. It resonates with how I feel about my book and what I’m doing – that I’m competing with all books, and not just the independently produced ones. I’d never send my book for review by a publication dealing only with indie books; I’m putting Make a Move up for the Pepsi Challenge against every book out there, and I’m competing on story, character, dialogue and ideas, knowing that my editing and printed product are comparable with anything the mainstream can offer, and won’t let me down. The quality of my book is more important to me than any label I could attach to it, or myself.

And in a perfect world, that would be enough.

Thing is, if you don’t label yourself, someone else will. And that label is “vanity publisher”. It happened to a writer friend of mine last week; she was enquiring about whether attending a seminar on book marketing, targeted at publishers and held by a respected outfit in Manchester, would be of benefit to her. The reply she received told her that there would be little of interest to a vanity publisher. Nice.

This stereotype – the vanity publisher – was weak ten years ago, outdated five years ago, and is now just tired. Even its irony value as an inaccurate, mindless cliché sustained by a supposedly creative industry has faded. It’s time it ended.

I read Zoe Winter’s blog post over at IndieReader.com about how the term “indie author” is starting to catch on, and how indies with the skills and drive to produce a quality product need to stand up and define what it means to be an indie. I agree with her assertion of what it means – or what it should mean to be an indie author – and I’m committed to playing my part on all counts, but I’m skeptical about one thing, and that’s how far we, as indies, can push the title. I “officially” adopted the title of indie author when I changed my About page recently, but I didn’t do it because I needed to feel like part of a movement, or I was looking for validation, or I was yielding to peer pressure; I did it for the reason anyone running a business should do anything: because the customers asked.

I run Google Analytics on this site, and I monitor what people are searching for when they find me. Know what my most frequent search term is? “indie novel”. I don’t know specifically what these browsers want when they search for indie novels, but I hope they want the same thing I did when I used to search the “contemporary” section of a bookshop: something new, inspiring, raw, alternative, edgy – exactly the kind of books that are struggling to get book deals as publishing pounds are redirected to easier sells. So these readers are searching for something, and they’re finding me, and they’re sticking around to explore the site and download my sample episode (okay, I admit it, I have a data fetish).

So there is an indie movement in books, but it’s the readers who are driving it, not the writers. We have no control over where it goes, other than to do our utmost to give the readers print books and eBooks of the quality they deserve. And as for the title of “indie author”, its your choice whether to adopt it, but given the energy, enthusiasm and acceptance of the indies I’ve met since I published Make a Move and started this blog, it’s one I’m proud to accept.

 

How To Be Cool

Sunday, April 25th, 2010

It’s not possible to be cool; it’s only possible to be thought of as cool.
That was something I worked out a long time ago, something that’s since flavoured my perception of all things deemed worthy of my limited attention. Being cool has nothing to do with writing, as authors are generally considered uncool, but it has everything to do with the subjectivity of brands. If you’re marketing your own book, you’re creating a brand: you. You have control over that brand through what you do and say, and what you do and don’t reveal about yourself. What you don’t have control over is how that brand is perceived.
Writers are a predominantly solitary breed, so a common approach to building a brand would be to plan, create, execute and then sit back, safe in the knowledge that you have created a good thing. The benefit of this isolationist stance is that you’ll never know if you were wrong. It could be that your brand is so finely crafted and astutely executed that you’ll perceived as the literary equivalent of Eric Clapton from the second your website goes live, in which case you should probably give up writing and go make six figures a year in advertising. Chances are, though, that you’re not making as good a first impression as you could, and the perception of your work suffers as a result.
So How Can I Be Cool?
I already told you – it’s not possible. It’s only possible to be thought of as cool, and in the absence of the powers to pull off the Jedi mind trick, there’s only one way to achieve the perception of coolness, and that’s to engage your readers in the development of your brand. Give them every opportunity to feed back on:
Your blog posts – good or bad? too long or too short? too tame or too sweary?
Your book cover and marketing materials – it took a 1cm drop of my book title to change the perceived message of my book, and I didn’t spot that – someone else did. It really is the little things. 1cm was all the difference between a contemporary slacker-thriller and a Clive Cussler knock-off.
Your social media – you might think that last Twitter update was biting satire, but there’s a fine line between satire and just being a cock.
No matter how long you’ve been working in solitude on writing the book, you have to let others get involved once you go public. I get the impression that too many indie authors are working in a vacuum (I can’t think of another way to explain some of the ridiculously high prices on Smashwords, coupled with typo-ridden synopses) and that’s not a good place to create a brand that’s going to have broad appeal.
Let’s go one further; how about letting others design your brand? I recently shot an author interview that will be online in a few weeks (volcano, ash, technology shipments, tedious story…) and my only role in designing the piece was to put the team together and show up with cake. The list of questions and the final edit are out of my hands, because that’s the only way I can produce something that shows me and my writing as perceived by others.
Will I come across as cool, and thus enhance my brand and the perceived value of my writing?
You tell me.

It’s not possible to be cool; it’s only possible to be thought of as cool.

That was something I worked out a long time ago, something that’s since flavoured my perception of all things deemed worthy of my limited attention. Being cool has nothing to do with writing, as authors are generally considered uncool, but it has everything to do with the subjectivity of brands. If you’re marketing your own book, you’re creating a brand: you. You have control over that brand through what you do and say, and what you do and don’t reveal about yourself. What you don’t have control over is how that brand is perceived.

Writers are a predominantly solitary breed, so a common approach to building a brand would be to plan, create, execute and then sit back, safe in the knowledge that you have created a good thing. The benefit of this isolationist stance is that you’ll never know if you were wrong. It could be that your brand is so finely crafted and astutely executed that you’ll perceived as the literary equivalent of Eric Clapton from the second your website goes live, in which case you should probably give up writing and go make six figures a year in advertising. Chances are, though, that you’re not making as good a first impression as you could, and the perception of your work suffers as a result.

So How Can I Be Cool?

I already told you – it’s not possible. It’s only possible to be thought of as cool, and in the absence of the powers to pull off the Jedi mind trick, there’s only one way to achieve the perception of coolness, and that’s to engage your readers in the development of your brand. Give them every opportunity to feed back on:

  • Your blog posts – good or bad? too long or too short? too tame or too sweary?
  • Your book cover and marketing materials – it took a 1cm drop of my book title to change the perceived message of my book, and I didn’t spot that – someone else did. It really is the little things. 1cm was all the difference between a contemporary slacker-thriller and a Clive Cussler knock-off.
  • Your social media – you might think that last Twitter update was biting satire, but there’s a fine line between satire and just being a cock.

No matter how long you’ve been working in solitude on writing the book, you have to let others get involved once you go public. I get the impression that too many indie authors are working in a vacuum (I can’t think of another way to explain some of the ridiculously high prices on Smashwords, coupled with typo-ridden synopses) and that’s not a good place to create a brand that’s going to have broad appeal.

Let’s go one further; how about letting others design your brand? I recently shot an author interview that will be online in a few weeks (volcano, ash, technology shipments, tedious story…) and my only role in designing the piece was to put the team together and show up with cake. The list of questions and the final edit are out of my hands, because that’s the only way I can produce something that shows me and my writing as perceived by others.

Will I come across as cool, and thus enhance my brand and the perceived value of my writing?

You tell me.