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[publishing] Strange Horizons fund drive

Signal boost, and, well, because they’re worth it

Long-time online magazine Strange Horizons is having their annual fund drive once more. They’ve always relied on crowdfunding to pay pro rates, and have become a leading market for both aspiring writers and established pros. Click on over drop ’em a dime if you got one.

Also, I’ve donated a prize, as have many other folks. So there’s some fun and cool stuff waiting for you once you’ve donated.


[publishing] R.I.P. Marty Greenberg

Various sources report that editor Martin H. Greenberg passed away yesterday, roughly while the Locus Awards were going on. He published me a lot, and has been a great influence on the life of anthologies in our field.

Rest in peace, Marty.


[personal|publishing] Things are good some days

Interesting day yesterday in my publishing life. Almost none of which I can actually announce yet.

  • Got some good news about one of my books.
  • Finished and submitted Sekrit Projekt
  • Revised and submitted two short stories
  • Received same-day acceptances on the Sekrit Projekt as well as both short stories

Plus the usual array of Day Jobbery, Dad stuff and ongoing personal life.

Also, [info]the_child said to me at one point yesterday, “If you went back in time and became a seventh grader, I’d totally date you.”

I took that as the compliment she intended it to be, and majestically ignored the various other assorted ramifications of that statement. She’s singing in The Magic Flute this Thursday and Friday, and is acquiring theatre quirks.

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[books|publishing] Tales for Canterbury

Tales for Canterbury

New Zealand’s Christchurch experienced a debilitating earthquake on February 22, 2011. Since then, editors Cassie Hart and Anna Caro have done an amazing job of pulling together Tales for Canterbury, a fundraising anthology to benefit the victims of the earthquake, with all proceeds going to the New Zealand Red Cross Earthquake Appeal.

The line up contains a variety of authors and a fantastic blend of stories, all of which focus primarily on the themes of survival and hope. Authors include Brenda Cooper, Neil Gaiman, Gwyneth Jones, Jeff Vandermeer, Sean Williams, and me, among others. Here’s the full list of contributors.

Tales for Canterbury is now available for pre-order as an ebook (in pdf, mobi, and epub format) and as a paperback. It should be published in April, so you won’t have long to wait for it. For more information, see the anthology’s blog.

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[personal|publishing] Updatery of this and that

Walked this morning, as the weather was up in the high 20s. An old moon rode low in the eastern sky, accompanied by Venus looking particularly bright. Rabbits rustled among the frozen leaves along the Papillion Creek Trail. I did not see my breath, but I felt it.

Just beautiful.

In other news, I am flying home tomorrow. I shall see both the_child and calendula_witch, which will make the day a very good one, indeed.

In other other news, various publishing-related events have occurred this week, almost none of which I am quite prepared to discuss in detail yet. Let’s just say some foreign rights were involved, as well as two short fiction acceptances, and firmer news of a small press book contract. All will be announced in due time. Also, sadly a Sekrit Projekt about which I was excited has gone to the Great Sekrit Projekt Outbox in the Sky, so that will never be announced. Luckily, there’s always more to do.

Sold anything lately?

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[publishing] METAtropolis: Cascadia – now it can be told

We’ve known for a while who the narrators of METAtropolis: Cascadia were slated to be. Now it can be told… Audible.com has provided an all Star Trek cast!

In order of appearance:

  • “The Bull Dancers” by Jay Lake
    Narrated By: Rene Auberjonois (“Odo”)
  • “Water to Wine” by Mary Robinette Kowal
    Narrated By: Kate Mulgrew (“Capt. Kathryn Janeway”)
  • “Byways” by Tobias S. Buckell
    Narrated By: Wil Wheaton (“Wesley Crusher”)
  • “Confessor” by Elizabeth Bear
    Narrated By: Gates McFadden (“Dr. Beverly Crusher”)
  • “Deodand” by Karl Schroeder
    Narrated By: Jonathan Frakes (“Cmdr. William Riker”)
  • “A Symmetry of Serpents and Doves” by Ken Scholes
    Narrated By: LeVar Burton (“Geordi La Forge”)

I am so stoked…

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[publishing] Reviews

Yesterday I tweeted a link to a very negative review of Green. (That link is in this morning’s Link Salad as well.) The review closes with my favorite book diss I’ve ever seen applied to anyone’s work. I mean, it’s a freaking brilliant combination of disgusted ennui and visceral dislike for a book, distilled into an amazingly simple phrase.

Louise Marley responded via Facebook with You’re braver than I, Jay. I shove negative reviews under the rug, where no one can ever find them. And I know a number of very smart writers, thinking specifically of Dean Wesley Smith at the moment, who strongly advise that one never reads reviews.

Louise and Dean are right. But I’m weird. Because bad reviews don’t bother me at all. In some ways, I enjoy them more than good reviews.

In part, this is because any review, especially from a reader (as opposed to a formal review outlet like Publishers Weekly or Locus) means that someone cared enough personally about the book to talk about it public. Even if they come to bury the book, not to praise it.

More to the point, reviewers that are unhappy with a book often tell me more about what I did in the book than happy reviewers. Not that I haven’t received some brilliant, incisive praise in my day, and been deeply grateful for it. But when someone complains about specifics (such as this reviewer complaining with useful detail about the fight scenes in Green) that tells me that I had a failure of research, imagination or narrative control. Or possibly all three. At least with respect to that reader. The next time I write a fight scene, I will have more to consider.

But even when a reviewer just says, “Nope, not for me, didn’t like it at all”, that’s ok with me. Because I believe right down to the bedrock of my writer’s soul that the story belongs to the reader. It doesn’t matter what I intended, or thought I executed on the page, or what any other readers thought. If a reviewer (or any reader) doesn’t like the book (or story), that’s their experience of it, and they cannot be wrong. It’s their experience.

The only partial exception to any of this rubric is reviews where the reviewer missed text on the page somehow, and drew conclusions from that. Which I can’t do anything about either, and don’t get bent out of shape about, but is frustrating, because I’d much rather be dissed for something I wrote than something a reader thought I wrote but didn’t. (That’s a general life rule for me.) It doesn’t come up often, and certainly isn’t the case with the review linked above.

I suppose I’m missing a piece in my head that almost all writers seem to have, the piece that cringes at criticism in reviews. Maybe that’s because I began my professional career in advertising, where your ego is ground down with a sandblaster very early on. Or maybe all those years of writing, critiquing and rejection before I ever got published wore it away. Or maybe I’m just an attention whore who likes to see my name mentioned under any circumstances so long as they spell it right. I don’t know. I do know that I find reviews entertaining, and bad reviews especially entertaining.

And no, that’s not a challenge to you wits out there.

How do you look at reviews? Do they inspire or discourage you? Do you even read them?

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[publishing] Yet another dip into ebooks and licensing

A long post of my own in response to a very thoughtful comment from here on my ebook post this morning

I sympathize with your annoyance with the more cranky of the e-book aficionados. We’ve run afoul of some of them ourselves.

Yes, I did battle on the Kindle forums for a while. That was rough sledding.

But I counsel you to think long and hard before embracing the notion that books are fundamentally “licenses.” Think about the kind of society we’ll have if nobody actually owns their books.

I may need to choose my words more carefully. Or rethink, yes. Because I do believe that when you buy a book, you own it. DRM causes more problems than it solves from that point of view. But you own the book in the same sense that you own a DVD, or a print of a piece of art. You own the delivery medium, that instance of the channel as it were, but you don’t own the rights to reproduce or distribute it further. That’s what I mean when I say “license”.

This is just as equally true of, for example, owning a Braun toaster. You own that instance of the toaster, and (unlike DRM ebooks) it can’t be legally taken away from you except under rare circumstances, but you don’t own the right to build more Braun toasters. So again, in a sense it’s a license rather than unrestricted ownership. It’s just that very few of us have the capability to reproduce Braun toasters, while anyone who can handle an ebook in the first place has the theoretical capability to reproduce it, and there aren’t too many more steps between owning a print book and reproducing it. That’s a technical limitation, though, more than a philosophical limitation, and with the rise of small scale fabbing and 3D printers, there may well be pirate toasters in a few years.

As someone else pointed out, when Stewart Brand said “information wants to be free,” he wasn’t saying “information ought to be free.” He was pointing out that the cost of replicating information is dropping constantly. This is the same point Cory makes: absent the collapse of civilization, it is never going to get harder to make copies of stuff, only easier.

Agreed and understood. As above, re the Braun toaster.

If we conflate the demanding whiners with the people who are trying to get us to notice the locomotive bearing down on us, we make it less and less likely that we’ll actually get off the tracks in time.

Also agreed. I’m not trying to whine, nor to poke whiners beyond some basic grumbling about civility and assumed motives. I’m trying to understand it. My own position has moved a lot in the past two or three years, and definitely still developing. But the “license” concept is an attempt to address the core value here, which is not the delivery mechanism, but the contents thereof. I’m just not smart enough (yet? ever?) to figure out either how to frame it or how it might be addressed.

It is going to get easier and easier, never harder, to make copies of things. Effective DRM is a technical mirage. What are we going to do about it?

Again, the core value problem applies here. What are people buying/downloading? A delivery format? A story? A fusion of the two and more? For that matter, what value in a perfect copy? It’s the origination of the story that has value, not the reproduction. If, as suggests by way of a thought experiment, we had a state-sponsored arts system and the compensation of content producers were handled outside the commercial processes of licensing and reproduction, this whole debate would have a very different tone.

Sure, lots of whining ninnies with king-sized senses of entitlement say foolish things. But refuting them does nothing to change the material reality we’re up against.

Fair enough.

Nor does asserting the fact that writers ought to be decently compensated. Of course writers ought to be decently compensated. So should janitors, waitresses, and hospital orderlies. Often they’re not. It’s a problem.

Frankly, we’re not decently compensated now. This is not a complaint (nor a jab at your employer and my publisher), just an observation. Jerry Oltion once told me he calculated his lifetime hours against his lifetime earnings, and decided he’d have made more money pulling shifts over McDonald’s over the years. I suspect my own curve is not much better, and won’t be unless I manage to jump much higher up the list some day in terms of my sales numbers.

But there’s a wide gap between “decently compensated” and “uncompensated”. The entitled ninnies seem to view authors as fungible commodities, but as discussed, we can set that aside. By the same token, this isn’t my primary income. I’m more concerned with how we make this work over the long run than I am with maximizing my compensation. Which is to say, I’m more concerned with maximizing my readership while preserving some level of compensation. Because yes, like janitors, waitresses and hospital orderlies, this is work.

A lot of people’s lives were wrecked when containerized shipping eliminated, in just a few years, the need for armies of stevedores and other dock workers. [snip]

I take your point, though there are better analogies. Ebooks don’t eliminate the need for content producers the way containers eliminated the need for stevedores.

Writers are lovely people, but nothing in the rules of the universe exempts them from being similarly flicked aside by the invisible hand.

And here is our first significant point of disagreement. Without writers, or some close equivalent, where does content come from? Individual writers can be flicked aside by the invisible hand — entire genres have been flicked aside. But writers as a class, meaning, content producers, still have a role. And I don’t see the invisible hand eliminating that, any more than I see the invisible hand eliminating iron mines, whatever we choose to do with the iron. Or the stories.

This kind of change isn’t a good thing or a bad thing, it’s just a thing.

As above, I think you’re a little wrong-tracked here. Stevedores were a value-add in the shipping chain, a delivery format, if you will. The product in the containers (or crates) is what matters. And yes, buggy whips gave way to automobiles, but people continue to require transportation. Ice cutters lost out to mechanical refrigeration, but people still need cold. Likewise story content.

[lifted from another comment by you in the same thread:] The real challenge is the competition from ubiquitous free reading matter of all sorts. If we want to survive doing the kind of work we love, we had better stop standing around telling one another how our status as brilliant Creators of Original Material means that everyone should keep giving us money just because we’re brilliant Creators of Original Material and besides authoring is hard.

That may be what I said, but it’s not the point I’m trying to argue. Mea culpa. The point I’m reaching for is that the original material will be created somewhere. Maybe the flaw in my thinking is believing that it has value, as opposed to randomly available ubiquitous free reading matter of all sorts. To me, this is where the editorial proxy comes into play. Speaking loosely, that editorial proxy is how the reading matter gets filtered and selected for value. But it’s that very same editorial proxy that’s being undermined at least as much or more as the auctorial role. Disintermediation has been grinding publishing down for years, as I see it. And there’s a lot of readers, as well as quite a few writers, who seem to like it that way,

Asserting that our work is too valuable and that people ought to pay us better will do exactly as much good as dock workers asserting that the world should just forget about that containerized-shipping idea.

In this, we agree.

You can sneer at the people trying things like selling t-shirts or e-books of their backlist, but at least they’re trying something.

As previously stated, it’s not my intent to sneer at that. I happen to be competent in both domains myself. But, per my belief that content has value, I place a much higher value on the content I create than on the processes of t-shirt design or format conversion as executed by me. That’s a personal choice, not intended to be a comment on the pursuits of others. But those pursuits do strike me as a distraction from what I do best, and what most other writers do best.

PS: As a point of heuristics, I find it useful, whenever I find myself claiming that I’m “caught in the middle,” to stop and ask myself whether this is actually the case. All too frequently assertions that one is “in the middle” merely reflect the limitations of one’s individual perspective, in which we naturally think of ourselves as being at the center of all things. In fact if writers are “caught” anywhere in this rolling complex of change and argument about change, they’re “caught” in one of the many edges of the problem. Claiming to be “caught in the middle” is really a kind of self-valorization and doesn’t make us or anyone else any smarter about what’s actually going on.

An excellent point, and one I need to think on further. What I had in mind when I said that was the relationship between the author, the publisher and the reader. If one is invested in the current trade model, as both you and I are, then from my point of view as the author, I have almost zero control over marketing, pricing or distribution, except in the sense that I can choose to withdraw my content from my publisher and do something (or nothing) else with it. So when people argue with me about ebook pricing or availability on my titles, all I can do in the current moment, under my current contracts, is point to Tor and say, “Well, talk to them.”

And you’re right, that’s not the middle, that’s an edge condition. At the same time, my name is on the book. My brand. People who aren’t in fandom don’t necessarily even register Tor or Macmillan. So readers hold authors responsible for publisher marketing and pricing decisions. Hence the one-star review problems on Amazon, for example, where readers who haven’t even touched the book are punishing authors for things the authors have no direct and little indirect control over. That puts the author back in the middle between the publisher and the reader, but without the ability to effect change at either end of the transaction.

My point on this is not to launch into a jeremiad or to self-valorize. It’s to say that within the trade publishing model, my choice as low midlist author is essentially binary. I can participate, or I can not participate. I have precious little power to directly influence the terms of the transaction between the publisher and the consumer, nor the packaging and pricing of my books. To get back to my original point, I control the content, but not the delivery channel, or the licensing mechanisms surrounding that delivery channel.

And ultimately that’s what we’re arguing about, collectively. How to manage the delivery channels. As you say, content will come from somewhere, whether or not it’s me personally.

More to think on, more to think on.

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[publishing] More on ebooks, pricing and licensing

As I observed recently [ jlake.com | LiveJournal ], The perennial “ebooks should be free, charging for them is theft” argument is now playing out at io9.com.

There is a fair amount of supportive commentary there, but also quite a bit of the usual arrogance, ignorance and acrimony about why ebooks should be free. It seems to boil down to the idea that the author/publisher is greedy and doesn’t deserve to be paid twice for the same content. This is closely coupled to the misconception that ebooks obviously don’t cost anything, and therefore charging for them is theft.

As I said before:

When you buy a print book, you aren’t buying the content, you’re buying the edition. Otherwise everybody who bought a hard cover would be entitled to a free paperback, a free audiobook and a free movie ticket if the book were filmed.

This is driving me more and more toward my nascent view that a book (in any format — print, audio, ebook, what have you) is a license, not a product. The story is the product. The format is a delivery channel. The ebook “debate” gets obscured by the long-running and rather sordid experience of the music industry, as well as the whole bit torrent culture of pirate video. I’m also increasingly coming to view “information wants to be free” as a pernicious meme, as it completely devalues the content Producer to the short-term benefit of the content Consumer.

In the long run, would I write even if I weren’t paid? Sure. I did for years before I was paid. But why should my writing, if it has value to readers, be free? The thing I always want to ask ebook activists is whether they’re comfortable with their work product being free, simply because I don’t think I should have to pay for it? Tom Tomorrow touches on this in his cartoon this week.

And you know what? I’m not going to sell t-shirts or something. I’m not even interested in doing format conversions to sell my backlist online. I’m a writer, damn it. My best and highest value is writing.

It’s insulting and demeaning to be called a liar and a thief by readers who don’t know anything about the processes of publishing, copyright law or professional ebook production, and yet are certain of both their facts and their moral high ground. It’s the Dunning-Kruger effect in full deployment.

I’ve always said the story belongs to the reader. I believe that in the bottom of my heart. Story is not an economic right, however. Buying a hardback then paying for an ebook is no different from buying a hardback then paying for a paperback or an audiobook. But there’s a growing culture online deeply invested in denying that, and they’re very happy to demonize authors as part of their denial.

Note, please, before you comment, that I am not making an argument for any particular price point on ebooks. I am also increasingly coming to favor the idea of bundle pricing, which is in line with my view of books as licenses rather than products. I think ebooks should be cheap, and possibly free if promotional considerations indicate. But that’s a decision for my publishers to make as part of their marketing process, not a natural law of information, nor an entitlement of the reader.

I think the hardest part of this discussion for me personally is getting people, especially the activists, to see how caught in the middle authors are. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve been told I should just switch publishers, or force them to change my pricing. That kind of thinking is another example of the profound disinformation and ignorance about the process of publishing, and how it colors the passions of readers.

People want to read. I want them to read. Writing is work, just like plumbing, law, medicine, retail, bus driving, teaching or anything else. Like any work, it should be compensated according to its value. When you want your ebook for free, you’re devaluing writing to nothing.

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[publishing] The value of ebooks; or contents vs container

The perennial “ebooks should be free, charging for them is theft” argument is now playing out at io9.com. Still thinking through the licensing issue I raised recently, I said the following:

When you buy a print book, you aren’t buying the content, you’re buying the edition. Otherwise everybody who bought a hard cover would be entitled to a free paperback, a free audiobook and a free movie ticket if the book were filmed. It would unethical for you to steal the paperback, pirate the audiobook and sneak into the movie. Why is it ethical for you to pirate the ebook?

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