What The Heck Do They WANT?

by J.D. Rhoades

A few days ago, a tweet (or maybe it was a blog post) from the extremely cool and uber-talented paranormal suspense writer Kat Richardson pointed me at this cartoon from fantasy writer Jim C. Hines:

It was one of those observations that's been, in the words of Jimmy Buffett, "so simple it plumb evaded me."

Sometimes the discussion on book blogs can get a little, as they say, "inside baseball". Some of us talk about e-publishing and platforms, royalty rates and market shares of various formats. Some of us talk  about process and outlining and marketing,  and we make predictions and projections and pontifications about the future of publishing. It's interesting to writers, both currently published and pre-published,  because knowing about and discussing this stuff is part of our business.  It's interesting to some readers, because they like seeing how the business works (or sometimes how it doesn't work).

But I get the feeling that there is a larger mass of readers out there--Hines' "average readers"-- who couldn't really care less about why Amanda Hocking went with St. Martin's or whether Barry Eisler made the right decision to self-pub or whether Joe Konrath is the Antichrist (answer: probably not). They may not even read book blogs, and it's highly doubtful they read Publisher's Weekly or Galleycat. They're the equivalent of Richard Nixon's "Silent Majority": the "real' Non-"elite" folks who  every politician of every stripe claims they  represent. 

Which leads us to the question: as authors, how do we reach these people? And what the heck do they want?

The knee-jerk response "they want a good book" is glib but empty, because no one agrees what consitutes a "good book," at least until enough people like something enough that it sells a great number of copies. In that case, however, there'll probably be a considerable number of people who'll tell you that no, that top-ten bestseller is not a good book; it is, in fact, absolute crap, while this book over here that sold less than a thousand copies is, actually, the best book ever written.

It gets even more confusing when you begin to realize that the people whose job it is to determine what that great silent-but-hungry mass of consumers wants often don't really know either. We've all heard the multitude of stories about writers rejected by dozens of publishers who went on to become bestsellers. And how many times have we seen the author that was supposed to be the Next Big Thing in publishing turn out to be the literary equivalent of the Segway? (You remember the Segway. It was supposed to be the future of personal transportation, "transforming the way you work, play and live," according to the company's website. So, do you own one?)

Even some of the things you'd think would be reliable predictors of popular success sometimes fail us. Our Alex has brilliantly explained the idea of "high concept": those ideas that have already staked out a place in our "mental real estate" so that when you see one, you go "Yes. That. Want that."

 As an example, she uses PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN. Because everyone knows pirates, right? They're cool.  Everyone wants to see a movie about pirates. So explain to me why POTC became a franchise while 1985's CUTTHROAT ISLAND bombed so badly that it took Carolco Studios down with it.

It even has a monkey, for Chrissakes!

Likewise, one series of  YA books about young wizards at a magical academy spawned multiple sequels and made its author one of the richest women in the world; another, earlier one...well, they're doing okay, but they didn't make Diane Duane a millionaire, more's the pity.

Yes, that "average reader" (or viewer) is an enigmatic critter. They want something just like something else, only different, and every now and then they want something really different.   The only way they speak is with their cash or plastic, and they seem to be saying something different all the time.

So, since no one really knows what's going to be big and what's going to bomb, what are we to do? Why, whatever makes us happy and gives us pleasure to write. Unless you can tell me what readers really want....

We Don't Know Jack

Traditional publishing (aka Big Publishing, Legacy Publishing, etc) is in decline, probably on its way out entirely, or at the very least, doomed to become a niche market like vinly records.   You only have to look at the success of independent e-publishers like Amanda Hocking to see that. They're dinosaurs and their business model is bad for writers. The only sane thing to do is e-publish.

Except:

Amanda Hocking, the darling of the self-publishing world, has been shopping a four-book series to major publishers, attracting bids of well over $1 million for world English rights, two publishing executives said.

People who think they're going to duplicate the sucess of outliers like Hocking and J.A. Konrath are fooling themselves.  Traditional/Big/Legacy publishing may have its problems, but it can still do things that self-publishing can't. The only sane thing to do is try to find a traditional publisher and let  them handle the whole package, including e-books.

Except:

 In a recent interview, novelist Barry Eisler said he turned down a $500,000 book deal and decided to self-publish his work.

The revelation came in a 13,000-word interview with novelist Joe Konrath. Eisler last published with Ballantine Books, but his self-publishing experiment began with “The Lost Coast,” a $2.99 short story. Konrath quipped: ‘Barry Eisler Walks Away From $500,000 Deal to Self-Pub’ is going to be one for the Twitter Hall of Fame.”

So who's crazy? The young woman who's had enormous success with electronic self-publishing who's now seeking to publish with a "Big 6" house, or the NYT bestseller who's decided to forsake the comfortable traditional route and light out for the digital frontier on his own?

Damned if I know. Right now there are an awful lot of self-proclaimed "experts" telling us with complete confidence how the publishing business is going to go and where we'll be in the next ten years. But, you know, "experts" in publishing  have been confidently predicting what the public wants for decades. Orwell's ANIMAL FARM got turned down by a publisher because "it is impossible to sell talking-animal stories in America." Theodore "Dr. Seuss" Geisel was told his first book was  "too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling." And so on.

Meanwhile, remember John Twelve Hawks? He was supposed to be the Next Big Thing. THE TRAVELER was supposed to be the next DA VINCI CODE. Heard much about him lately? Me neither.

Almost exactly two years ago, I wrote here about a panel of industry experts who'd frustrated a conference audience because, in the words of a commenter who was there, "there wasn't an ounce of new think going on." In that piece, I  quoted one of my favorite thinkers on New Media, Dr. Clay Shirky of NYU:

During the wrenching transition to print, experiments were only revealed in retrospect to be turning points. Aldus Manutius, the Venetian printer and publisher, invented the smaller octavo volume along with italic type. What seemed like a minor change — take a book and shrink it — was in retrospect a key innovation in the democratization of the printed word. As books became cheaper, more portable, and therefore more desirable, they expanded the market for all publishers, heightening the value of literacy still further.

That is what real revolutions are like. The old stuff gets broken faster than the new stuff is put in its place. The importance of any given experiment isn’t apparent at the moment it appears; big changes stall, small changes spread. Even the revolutionaries can’t predict what will happen. Agreements on all sides that core institutions must be protected are rendered meaningless by the very people doing the agreeing.

Two years down the road, and while there are any number of opinions delivered with complete assurance, I can't say that we're any closer to really knowing any of the answers. We don't know for sure what big changes are going to stall, or which small changes are going to spread. People are going every which way, and no one knows if Eisler or Hocking has made the smarter decision...or if, indeed, one can be said to be smarter than the other.

There is this to consider, though: in the end, decisions about what's going to sell are always made by the buyers, the readers, not by the so-called experts. Decisions on what works are made from the ground up,  not the top down, no matter how we may convince ourselves otherwise. 

So, 'Rati: seeing as how we're all experts, and all fools, tell us: who's crazier, Eisler or Hocking? Are they both crazy like foxes? Look into your crystal spheres, cast the bones,  and tell us: what's the future hold? Not what you want it to be...what's it going to be?

Lay some prophecy on me, brothers and sisters.

Turning 40 and Missing Bouchercon

by Alafair Burke

This Friday is October 16, significant to many people, I’m sure, for a variety of reasons.  Odds being what they are, someone reading this is probably having an anniversary.  Or a birthday.  Or a new book published.

According to the handy dandy Interwebs, this Friday will mark a number of important historical events: the guillotining of Marie Antoinette in 1793, the births of Oscar Wilde and Eugene O’Neill, n 1854 and 1888, respectively, the beginning of the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, and the launch of Ross Perot's infomercial in 1992.

But I have my eye on this Friday for two reasons.  First, it’s the Friday of Bouchercon weekend.   There’s no shortage of terrific programming for the weekend, and Friday is chock full of good stuff:   2009 Anthony nominees for short story, like Sean Chercover and Jane Cleland, discuss their work; panels on setting, plotting, and noir (oh my!); talk of police procedurals, PI novels, series characters, and women in the genre; and, of course, Michael Koryta’s interview of guest of honor (and god of writing) Michael Connelly.

 So much for a photo with both Michaels at the same time

I think I just felt a tear roll down my right cheek.  Why?  Because I won’t be in Indianapolis.  Nope, no Bouchercon for me this year.  Why not?  Because the second reason I’ve been eyeballing the approach of October 16, 2009, is that it marks the fortieth anniversary of my birth.  I believe that makes it my fortieth birthday.

When I first realized last winter that Bouchercon fell on my birthday, I assumed I’d go.  Given the timing of the annual conference, I’ve had Bouchercon birthdays before.  I spent my 33rd at that memorable hotel in Las Vegas.  My editor took me off-site to see Tom Jones where I was not the only birthday girl, but was apparently the only one who held on to her lingerie.

But as early 2009 whizzed by and my travel plans went left unmade, I realized I was procrastinating for a reason.  I was trying to guess how I’d feel on the big day.  I was imagining my own future state of mind.  Stupid idea.  Speculating about the future is risky.  Understanding one’s current mood and its relationship to external factors is also imprecise.  Throwing the two together was…well, stupid.

Several months ago, past-me imagined future-me on October 16, 2009, and did not like what she saw:  Me wandering around alone at Bouchercon; sitting at my signing table, saying goodbye to the last person in my modest line as the crowd waiting to see the author next to me tried to mask its pity; sobbing into my martini at the bar as I realized I was officially half way to eighty, well over a third of the way to dead.

Bummer, huh?

Turns out past-me sucks at both remembering the past and predicting the future. 

As Bouchercon approaches, I find myself recalling not those past moments of humble pie (almost) every rookie writer experiences at Bouchercon -- meandering around with a hotel map and a conference brochure as the seasoned vets exchange enthusiastic and kissy welcomes and hold court at the bar.  Instead, my mind is flooded with good memories of friendships formed and a love of writing shared: the Reacher Creature parties; that amazing panel in 2006 with Ken Bruen, Laura Lippman, and fellow Ratis, Cornelia Read and Zoe Sharp; the night these guys became my pals and we smiled like people in a toothpaste ad:

Bouchercon Chicago with Ben Rehder, James Born, and Barry Eisler And, although October 16 is still a few days off, it looks like past-me also got the future wrong. I don’t feel like crap about 40 after all.  I have an amazing husband and two kickass jobs.  I get love from good friends and my awesome dog.  I ran twenty-five miles last week, which I couldn’t do when I was 30.  Or 20.  And I live (and get to write about) the coolest city in the world.

If I cried at the Bouchercon bar about entering a fifth decade of this life I've got, I’d deserve to get my butt kicked.

Yet for reasons I had months ago, I won’t be in Indianapolis.  I’ll be having a different kind of fun: that husband and a few of the good friends I mentioned will be hanging out at a beach house, frying a turkey.  Today’s me predicts Friday-me will have a fabulous time.

But I’ll miss you folks who are going to Bouchercon.  I hope you’ll use the comments to remember the past or predict the future.  What are some of your favorite Bouchercon memories or most anticipated Bouchercon events?  Feel free to throw in some birthday chat as well.  You never know…Friday-me might need the encouragement after all.