Tag: the Noise

Why I am not afraid of the Noise part II

A recent op-ed in the Wall Street Journal titled “Cherish the Book Publishers–You’ll Miss Them When They’re Gone” has ignited a firestorm across the indie publishing community.  The post’s basic argument is that the ease of self publishing and the end of New York as the gatekeepers of quality will make it harder for readers to find the truly worthwhile literature amid the flood of crap that will inevitably overwhelm us all.

Joe Konrath fired the opening salvo; in characteristic fashion, he decried the op-ed as hogwash and blamed jealousy among traditionally published writers for the perpetuation of this myth.  He concluded that while the “tsunami of crap” is real, it is ultimately irrelevant.

His advice? “Don’t write crap.”

Michael A. Stackpole responded by examining the much more dangerous fear of authors worried about the coming flood; the fear that their own work is crap, and not worth putting out.  After examining what we mean when we call something “crap,” he concludes that the really bad stuff will sink to the bottom…

…not because of a rising tide of crap, but because they deliberately swim toward the bottom, open their mouths, and willfully suck.

And the rest of us will happily swim past the effervescent markings of their demise, moving on into the golden age.

Kris Rusch’s take on the issue was perhaps the most instructive of all.  First, she used her own experience as editor of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction to completely blow out of the water the idea that editors are arbiters of good taste.  Editors buy what they like; when they try to predict what the public will like, more often than not they fail–and when they try push their own reading tastes onto the public, they make themselves irrelevant.

She concluded that the only truly relevant “gatekeepers” are other readers–that word of mouth is still king, and because the traditional publishing system treats books “like produce, taking them off the shelf as if the book will rot after a month,” indie publishing is much better suited to help the good stuff rise to the top.

David Gaughran responded next by pointing out all the ways that indie publishing and the ebook revolution are enriching the literary world.  He concluded that the only people hurt by these changes are the middlemen–that both writers and readers only stand to benefit.

Well.  Like I said, it’s quite a firestorm.

So what’s my take? I already posted my thoughts on why the original argument is invalid–that fear of the Noise, aka the “tsunami of crap,” is a specious reason not to epublish.  However, I think that the real issue goes much deeper than that.

The most fundamental divide between those who embrace the ebook revolution and those who fight it is whether or not they trust readers to find the truly great works of literature on their own.

The obvious question, of course, is what exactly constitutes “great literature.” As a lover of genre fiction, I measure the quality of literature by the impact it has on readers; that when readers can’t stop talking about how awesome a book is, it’s a good book.  For that reason, I’ve never put much credence by Twilight bashers; paranormal romance might not be my thing, but Stephanie Meyer struck a chord in a lot of people, and that certainly counts for something.  In other words, story is King.

Putting it that way makes the argument somewhat circular.  Can we trust readers to find the good stuff on their own?  Yes, because readers read what they love.  But what about that literary piece about a depressed writer who has a sexual affair that completely changes his life?  Well, I guess it just wasn’t that good.  But they would have loved it, if not for all that genre crap flooding the system!

As for readers getting swamped, I think the system itself prevents that.

First, readers browse by means of tags, search terms, categories, top seller lists, “also bought” lists, etc.  They follow book bloggers and take recommendations from friends.  When they find a book with an attractive cover, they click on it, give the book description a cursory glance, and perhaps check a few reader reviews.  If their curiosity is still piqued, they download the free sample to their ereader.

Up to this point, no money has been spent.  Readers can download as many free samples as they want, of anything that catches their fancy.  When they finally get around to reading the sample, they can decide whether they want to buy the book.  If they do, all they need is to click a button on their ereader, and the book is theirs.

Once they finish the book, the ereader prompts them to leave a review (at least the Kindle does this–not sure about the others).  If they enjoyed it, they can give a favorable rating which helps other readers find the book.  If they don’t, they can give an unfavorable rating which warns others to stay away.

What is happening is nothing less than the democratization of literature.  Therefore, it should come as no surprise that those who trust readers will embrace the new system, while those who still cling to editors-as-gatekeepers will reject it at all costs.

But can we really trust readers?  Yes, if we believe that story is King.  If readers and writers are collaborators in the literary experience, and the truly great literature is that which has the greatest impact on its readers’ lives, then it stands to reason that readers must be the ultimate judges of quality.

Therefore, if we truly believe in the power of story, we cannot help but put our trust in the readers.  And if that’s true, why shouldn’t we rejoice in the revolution?

I sincerely believe that we are witnessing the dawn of a great golden age of literature.  The invention of the ebook is at least as revolutionary as the Gutenburg press, perhaps a great deal more.

The only ones who have anything to fear from the revolution are those who have built their livelihoods by pushing their own arbitrary tastes on others.  Frankly, that’s nothing less than cultural tyranny–and with the democratization of literature, we no longer have to put up with it.

Viva la Revalucion!

Why I am not afraid of the Noise

One of the biggest concerns for writers considering indie publishing is the fear of being drowned out by “the Noise”–all the obnoxious crap that will inevitably pile up because everyone thinks they can write a book.  After all, if anyone can self publish, anyone WILL self publish, including all the hordes of terrible, terrible writers.  In such an environment, how will anyone find you?

I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and reading a lot of author blogs to hear their take on this issue.  While I was afraid of the Noise at first, I’m not that worried about it anymore.  Here’s why:

1) The Noise has always existed.

The Noise is not a new problem.  Anyone with a printer and/or internet access can submit their stuff to agents and editors–and they do.  It’s called the “slushpile.”

Under the old system, good stories would never find their audience unless they got picked up by one of a handful of editors.  Problem is, this creates a huge bottleneck that only amplifies the Noise, making it even harder to get noticed.  Editors outsourced the slushpile to agents, but this only made it worse, like adding an extra level of bureaucracy to an already inefficient system.

The way I see it, if I’m going to have to fight the Noise one way or another, I would rather have direct access to my potential readership than be forced to submit to an overworked editor who doesn’t have time to give my work fair consideration.

2) Epublishing gives books more time to find their audience.

Traditional publishing works on the “produce” model, where new books have only a few months on bookstore shelves before they’re pulled to make room for something new.  In sf&f, it’s more like a couple years for paperbacks, but it’s still the same thing.

If your book doesn’t find its audience in those first few months–and therefore doesn’t sell very well–it’s considered a failure. With epublishing, though, there’s unlimited shelf space, and that means the book will ALWAYS be available.  It might not sell for the first few months, but that’s okay–it has as much time to find its audience as it needs.

I believe that given enough time, the good stuff always rises to the top of the heap.  I would rather follow the model that gives me that time, rather than gamble on the arbitrary timetable established by the traditional publishing establishment.

3) The revolution is social.

At LTUE this year, Tracy Hickman astutely pointed out that bookselling is no longer about creating artificial marketing hype so much as making a direct and personal connection with the reader.  With modern social networking platforms, writers can connect directly with their audience in a meaningful, peer to peer manner, expanding their readership naturally.

If we still had to rely on old, top-down marketing models, the Noise would certainly be a problem.  But with social networking, the audience is becoming much more interconnected, revolutionizing word of mouth and making it easier for writers and readers to connect than ever before.

4) Success comes at a much lower threshold.

For my purposes here, I’ll define “success” as making a full time living as a writer (>$20k/yr, though that will probably change when I’m married).

Under the old model, a $20k advance for a new writer like myself would be quite good, especially in my genre.  However, that money would get paid out over the course of several years, and I probably wouldn’t get a contract for another book until after the first book proved itself.

But the $20k is really just an advance against royalties, and the royalty rates run pretty low (<12% hardback, <8% paperback).  At those rates, I probably wouldn’t start to make a full time living until my devoted readership (those who buy my books in hardcover) numbered at least between 5,000 and 10,000.  And even then, my publisher might still drop me.

Under the current indie publishing model, though, the author gets a 70% cut.  That means that I could significantly undercut traditionally published books in price and still make more money per book. A $5 ebook earns as much at 70% as a $25 hardback at a 14% royalty rate, and will probably find its audience a lot faster because of the lower price.  With paperbacks, the difference is even more stark.

An audience of 5,000 is a drop in the bucket compared with the population of all readers.  The Noise might keep me from reaching everyone, but I don’t need to reach everyone to make a living–just a few thousand.

5) Transformational growth will greatly expand the market.

Right now, we seem to be on the verge of transformational growth in the publishing industry.  With epublishing, not only are avid readers buying more books, but more people are becoming avid readers.  This means that now, more than ever, publishing is NOT a zero sub game.

Sure, the Noise will get louder as more people self publish–but that Noise will also be spread out across a much larger market.  Even if my piece of the pie gets smaller, the pie itself is getting much, much larger, and that’s good news for everyone.

I have other reasons for not fearing the Noise, but these are the biggest ones.  Promotion is still a major question in my mind, but for now I’d rather get back to writing.  After all, that’s what I do–I’m a writer.