Archives for category: Self publishing

Reedsy (via Book Business Insight and Digital Book World) provides this infographic on how to register copyright.

Why to do it though is a different story. Under US copyright law your book is copyright by virtue of its existence. It will always be covered by copyright whatever you do, or don’t do, so some of the ten reasons for registering given here by FindLaw are actually benefits you hold whether you pay your registration fee or not. Registration has one basic benefit: “You can’t sue for copyright infringement or get an order from a judge to make somebody stop using your work unless your work is registered either within the three months after your work is first published, or before the infringement first occurs.” If you worry that such a thing might happen then you should pay your $35 and feel secure.

But note: timing is important.

See also my earlier Copyright registration post.

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People will go on about this. In crude terms publishers can be said to have wrested control of pricing back from Amazon, who were allegedly loss-leadering ebooks. Unsurprisingly publishers have an interest in their books (in whatever format) not being sold too cheaply — they are after all all profit seekers, even not-for-profit university presses who, like any publisher, have costs which must be covered if they are to continue in business.

The commentariat often moans about this, mocking publishers for charging so much that nobody’s going to buy their product. The commentariat is mercifully free of any need to cover the costs of creating a book. Its members also gaily play the other side of the street and complain about publishers’ meanness in paying royalties at far too low a rate on ebooks which after all, they claim, have no costs associated with them, so 70% of revenue ought obviously to go to the author. Why should these guys care that they are asking for 30% of lower and lower prices to be all that will keep publishers afloat: after all, they claim, if you lower retail prices sales will increase, so that a 30% piece of the huge pie will represent so much more than the larger current slice of a smaller pie. Sounds like it might be reasonable — except that it’s not. Selling your books for $1.99 may well increase the sale, but it will in almost every instance not increase it enough to compensate for the loss of revenue. An example like the sale at 20p of 250,000 heavily discounted ebook copies of The Life of Pi represents a bonus sale of a book which has already covered its costs with regular print sales. Would that all our books could get to that category: but they don’t.

Sales of ebooks have indeed slowed, and I’m pretty sure the major explanation for this is price. Whatever these commentators think, selling fewer copies at a higher price is not in and of itself a crazy policy. It’s hard to reprice a physical book, but you can switch the price of an ebook up and down as often as you want, and starting off fairly high is the obvious way to go. It’s the time-tried way too: for years publishers tended to publish in hardback and then follow up with a (cheaper) paperback a year or two later. The ebook is just another format, but allows for easy price adjustment as there’s no physical stock that needs to be stickered when the price is changed. But there are costs, and if they are not covered bankruptcy inevitably follows. Such, one often feels, is the animus of the commentariat that this is an outcome that they’d welcome.

Recently we’ve had a flurry of rhetoric driven by a Daily Mail article reporting that Amazon had called for publishers to reduce their ebook prices. Unfortunately (and unsurprisingly, and all too typically) this article reports on ideas which come out of the writer’s brain rather than anyone at Amazon’s mouth. The Digital Reader corrects the record. What Amazon was actually advancing was the anodyne and undeniable comment that setting a lower price may well be a good way for an unknown author to get attention. It obviously is. Can we go too low? Of course we can, as The Writers’ Workshop reminds us: the strategy works best when no one else is doing it!

Publishing Perspectives has derived a price list for various publishing services from Reedsy’s data.

  • Developmental Editing: $989
  • Editorial Assessment: $674
  • Copyediting: $703
  • Indexing: $500
  • Query Letter Review: $325
  • Proofreading: $513
  • Book Cover Design: $586

Reedsy Marketplace is an online network of freelance publishing professionals. The numbers above are the median number for each function. More detail can be found at Reedsy’s blog site, where the editing numbers get further broken down by genre and word-count.

I’m not sure what Query Letter Review implies, but it looks to be relatively well remunerated, as indeed are the editorial functions in general as opposed to the basic production ones. I have to imagine that a Query Letter is one pitching a book to a publisher or agent, so no doubt it has to contain a detailed outline which makes it clear why anyone would want to buy the planned book.

Most of us in publishing spend little time thinking about the contracts with authors which form the basis of our stock in trade.

Many publishers use a standard contract, adding any peculiar issues as additional clauses at the end. Big trade books will tend to have contracts negotiated clause by clause by publisher and agent. These will usually cover only a license to publish — in various specified editions. A university press on the other hand may “buy” the copyright from the author in return for royalty payments or a fee. In crude terms this just reflects the relative value of a bestselling novel and an academic monograph. Effectively it means that when the book goes out of print, publishing rights will probably revert to the author in the trade world, while the copyright remains with the academic publisher. An academic publisher will rarely refuse to revert copyright upon being asked though. The arrival of print-on-demand production has affected this part of the contract: if the book never becomes unavailable, rights need never revert. Agents are no doubt tying reversion to a rate of sale now.

You should remember (because we all know this don’t we) that you should always read your contract and would be wise to get legal advice on it. You never know when your book is going to go viral, so think about rights you may be casually giving up. What looks anodyne today may turn out to be a big pain tomorrow. Hergé apparently assigned publishing rights to his work to his publisher in 1942, and this has cast into doubt millions of dollars-worth of merchandising rights. The Digital Reader has the story. As Tintin was first created in 1929, Hergé (1907-83) doesn’t have the excuse that he was a young writer unaware of future demand for his works. Maybe he needed to raise cash in a hurry.

There’s a great deal of aggro in the self-publishing/indie community about the iniquity of publishers and their rapacious contracts. But every deal is a negotiation, and it’s up to authors to keep negotiating if they are unhappy with some of the terms. Sure the power balance favors the publisher: all the more reason to bargain hard. Publishers really have no incentive to be so hard-nosed that they alienate every one of their authors. After all, at the end of the day there are always other publishers, including potentially yourself. Any publisher’s editor will be expected to sign a certain number of books each year: they, as individuals, cannot afford to allow every negotiation to end in acrimony. Sure they’ll push for the most favorable deal they can get: so should the author.

The Authors Guild currently has an initiative under way aimed at revising several of the boilerplate clauses that publishers typically import into their contracts. It stands to reason that standard contracts need to be revised from time to time as new technologies and distribution options alter the shape of our business. Publishers can I think be relied on eventually to respond to market forces, and change clauses in their standard contract which no longer make sense. Much of the frustration in the indie community stems, I think, from the slow pace of change. This may not be desirable, but is surely understandable, especially in cases where the clause needing change is one which benefits the publisher! What looks like rapaciousness is all too often laziness and incompetence. Still, why should an aggrieved author feel better about laziness than greed?

Discoverability is vitally important. On the other hand discoverability is almost irrelevant. Both of these statements are paradoxically true.

Here are two blog posts, each taking the opposite side. The first one, from Publishing Perspectives of 20 March 2013 about Search Engine Optimization and Discoverability tells you you’ve got to do it. This is of course true: if you don’t get the metadata out there nobody on-line will ever be able to find your book.  But as Joe Wikert points out, at The Average Joe, 27 April 2015, there just aren’t people out there saying “Gee, I wish I could discover more content”. So it’s easy to get trapped into thinking discoverability is going to help sell books. It isn’t: but lack of discoverability will surely prevent sales. You’ve got to write a book people want to read. Getting them to realize they want to read it is of course the secret sauce. Having got their attention, then you need to ensure that the people can actually find your book.

See also Metadata and discoverability and Metadata glossary.

 

There was a flurry of concern a few years ago about agents elbowing in onto publishers’ turf, and getting their clients books printed without the benefit of a publisher. We all seem to have gotten spine-stiffening injections since then, and now one doesn’t find the same panic among publishers. We have always had societies and clubs publishing, and we have become accustomed to bookshops and libraries doing their own printing and publishing. We are now much more relaxed about the fact that anyone at all can publish a book, so why should literary agents be left out.

In 2013 Porter Anderson had a little series of posts about agent-assisted publishing at Publishing Perspectives. Here they are: The first, the second, the third, the fourth, and the wrap-up.

Amanda Luedeke at MacGregor Literary Agency (link via The Passive Voice) says it is now “ridiculously easy for any schmuck to pound out a terrible novel and send it to the best editors” who don’t have the time to read them all. Saying “send your terrible novel to me, you schmuck” hardly seems like a winning marketing slogan, but alienating a few awful authors might not be too damaging I guess.

Agents have long provided an invaluable service to the publishing industry by prescreening manuscripts. It was always a natural step from there to providing editorial services, ranging from rewrite to copy editing and design. And now that typesetting has become virtually (or potentially) a side effect of copy editing, producing press-ready files is clearly a logical progression. So what’s so sensitive about the next step, getting the books printed? If we want to allow an agent to do this task for us, why not? From a publisher’s point of view the beauty of having agents do stuff is that they tend to be paid by authors.

As Ms Luedeke points out the role of agents in publishing is not as an alternative to the Big Five, it’s as a sort of service to authors. Many of these are going to be self published, and can use all the help they can get.  However one wonders why a self-published author would need the services of an agent to negotiate a contract with their self-publisher self. Just shows the twists and turns going on in the business.

Joe Konrath, (in a comment on the following story at The Passive Voice) informs us “Signing with a publisher is like getting into the car with a drunk driver. You really can’t be surprised when they crash and cripple you.” It should not need restating that many authors demonstrably do appreciate having a publisher. They keep getting into the car. Those who don’t share that appreciation have other options now that we’ve “invented” self-publishing, the equivalent perhaps of the bicycle. Isn’t that the end of the story? Apparently not, if you look at the many comments. This sort of excessive hatred of publishers no doubt comes from the exaggerated expectations that some authors have allowed themselves to build up.

Merritt Tierce wrote a well-reviewed novel, Love me back, in 2014 and now bitterly complains at Marie Claire that people have stopped buying her book, something she seems to think is her publisher’s fault. “Publishing is always moving on. Foolish poet that I am, I didn’t realize how hollow that would make me feel. But of course publishing is moving on. Because publishing is also an industry, employing people who need to pay their own utility bills.” The moving on appears to have included issuing a paperback edition the year after the hardback came out, so I don’t think Doubleday can be said to have dumped a disaster. Indeed Ms Tierce discloses that her book sold 12,000 copies, which didn’t earn out her advance — (a nice, generous advance for a first-time author). Some of the comments at The Passive Voice, to be fair, do point out that 12,000 copies for a first novel is actually a rather good performance — certainly not Mr Konrath’s crippling car wreck!

Her problem is “I would like to be paid to write. I would, right now, sign in blood a contract that would pay me $40,000 a year for the rest of my life. No advances. No royalties. No freelance checks, no honoraria, no prize money, no film or TV options.” Who wouldn’t sign up for this deal? Heck many of us might sign up for less than that. Indeed many do: it’s called a job in book publishing. Get over it Ms Tierce. It’s not Doubleday who’s forgotten about you, it’s book readers. Let’s assume the 12,000 who bought your book all liked it — what do you expect they should do? Go out and buy a copy of the same book every month? No. Write another. Maybe it’ll sell beyond average expectations just as your first one seems to have done. Maybe it won’t. If the book is good the credit goes to you. Where do you think the blame should go if the book isn’t?

Being a novelist isn’t a job.

 

Here’s an interesting piece on why self-published books tend not to get reviewed. According to the review editor quoted (he is talking about children’s books) there are just too many of them; many aren’t that good; many don’t have a sense of their real audience; many self-published authors don’t have a clear idea of their market. Any journal just cannot afford to spend the hours needed to sift through the hundreds of thousands of potential offerings which they would be inviting by soliciting indie books. I suppose if there were any method by which a good self-published book could easily be identified from the mass, then it would be safe for review media to cover them. It’s the finding and analyzing them that’s prohibitive. I have seen one or two self-published books reviewed in traditional review media, but these must have resulted from the coincidence of the editor’s hearing by chance about the book. There just isn’t any mechanism for a regular scrutiny of the universe of self publishing. We all, and review editors in particular, may well be the losers because of this, but the stark reality is if the author is the publisher, there will be an irresistible tendency for all geese to be described as swans.

The traditional book trade has evolved methods by which such pre-sorting gets done. At The Washington Post “we’re getting about 150 books a day. A day. And these are books that had to find an agent. And then a publisher. And then were professionally edited. And now are being professionally marketed by people with money on the line. Many of these books, of course, are bad, but many — far more than we can review — are interesting, engaging, informative, moving, timely and/or newsworthy for various reasons.” Note in this sentence that one of the “methods” that traditional publishing has evolved is an acceptance of the brutal fact that not every book, not even every good book, will get reviewed. We are accustomed to accepting that you can’t win ’em all. If you are publishing your own work, accepting this is obviously much, much harder.

Maybe the self-publishing world will settle down and develop a means by which a similar sorting methodology can be achieved. But just as self publishing is a different business than traditional publishing, so unfortunately will the reviewing of self-published books probably have to be done somehow differently. That we have not yet worked out what this means surely doesn’t mean we never will. One probable route is the on-line review, though just how readers can become aware of reviews they might be interested in is a hard problem. A sort of crowd-sourcing Goodreads model may end up being the answer. Of course, getting your book reviewed is one kind of problem: getting it favorably reviewed is a horse of a different color. Businesses, and no doubt individuals, have not always been above trying to get the fix in. Well at least review integrity is secure in California, where they’ve passed a law imposing a $10,000 fine on companies which seek to enter contracts prohibiting unfavorable on-line reviews. Gigaom brought the news.

 

According to Publishing Perspectives ISBNs cost £89 (US$117) singly or £149 (US$196) for 10. No wonder lots of self-published books dispense with them. Now that you can get them on-line in UK as well as in USA, one wonders why they have to cost so much.

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This chart comes from a report by Bowker trumpeting the increase in indie publishing. (Click on it a couple of times, and it should enlarge adequately. Or just follow the link to the Bowker report.) But of course it doesn’t tell anything like the full story as it is just a report on ISBNs issued — which is what Bowker does. Almost 80% of these ISBNs are for print books with Amazon’s own CreateSpace as the consumer of almost three quarters of those. One can see how having an ISBN on a print book might be a good idea — otherwise it’s going to be hard to get it into established distribution channels — but an e-book can thrive without such help. There seems to be no real way to measure the true extent of the self-published e-universe, but we can rely on its being more than 153,160 titles in 2015.

Of course we have to acknowledge that nevertheless, almost three quarters of a million self-published ISBNs represents a huge number of books. I despair of finding what the real number of self-published books might be.

For those who may want to know how an ISBN is constructed, and what its various bits signify, my post Bookland EAN & ISBNs may be helpful.

We tend to think of self publishing as a recent phenomenon, but if you were in Oxford in June 2014 you might have gone to this presentation on Self-publishing in 18th-century Paris and London. Naturally things were not exactly the same in those days. You might want to argue that it all looks rather like the subscription publishing I wrote about previously. The current explosion of self publishing results from the invention of the e-book, though of course lots of writers still get their books printed, either through services like Lulu, Blurb, or Amazon’s CreateSpace, or still in many cases by contracting with a regular printer. But digital is the big difference-maker, and many commentators keep weighing in on the “to do, or not to do” question as if it was important in some real way.

Why is it that the question “to self-publish or not?” stirs up such emotion? What does it matter to you that this person decides to publish their book by themselves, and that person goes to Simon & Schuster? You might as well try to get an emotion-choked debate going on the folly of choosing a publisher with fewer than 206 employees, or a publisher with more than two “r”s in their name, or a publisher more than half of whose employees have blond hair. Now if anyone wants passionately to be published by blonds and blondes only, they are perfectly free to go ahead and seek out a solution to their mania. I can’t see why anyone else has any need to complain. Some people will favor self publishing; others won’t. Some people find controlling the entire publishing and marketing process by themselves empowering and gratifying. To others it’s a bore. End of story — surely.

The current flurry of nonsense is provoked by Ros Barber who writes in The Guardian an utterly rational explanation of why a (serious) literary writer shouldn’t touch self-publishing with a barge pole. Ed Renehan at Medium reacts in an emotionally-charged manner to what he sees as the snobbery and elitism of Ms. Barber’s post. Mr Renehan maintains “In the end, the publishing imprint is not the brand. The author is the brand.” One could possibly agree with that I guess (though Penguin was certainly a strong brand for me in my youth), but it’s hard to work out what it has to do with choosing to publish on your own or to go with an established house. For those keen to follow up even more reactions to the piece, here’s a round-up from The Digital Reader. After all this spilt ink all we can really conclude is that we’d be surprised if Mr Renehan didn’t self-publish his next book with his own indie imprint New Street Communications, and similarly surprised if Ms Barber were to self-publish her fiction (though she does apparently self-publish non-fiction). This certainly makes a huge difference to the world!

In 2014 Eoin Purcell’s blog published a thoughtful piece entitled “Why traditional publishers should surrender to self publishing”. It’s all rational and responsible in tone, but it is based on the proposition that the “war between self publishing and publishing, [is] over and authors (who are the major self publishers and hence the foot-soldiers, commanders and field marshals of self publishing’s forces) have won it.” I can assure Mr Purcell that nobody in publishing has ever thought they were in such a war. If the slightest hint of battle had ever arisen, we would never have considered self publishers the enemy. We spent all our time finding books, getting out the books we were about to publish, trying to get people to buy them, and making sure the older ones remained available. We might feel some pique that this or that competing publisher had beaten us to this or that book signing, but self publishing wasn’t a perceived threat. (I do realize that this will only be regarded by the indie promoters as further evidence of the stupidity of traditional publishing. They aren’t however any more likely to be correct in all their assumptions than I am.) A more genuine threat than authors opting for self publishing is their failure to complete this manuscript, their failure to deliver that manuscript on time, or even the failure ever to start writing the manuscript. We acknowledge the existence of hundreds of other publishing houses and recognize that authors can always decide to publish elsewhere or even do it themselves. God knows there are enough books out there for all of us.

Mike Shatzkin naturally has sensible things to say about all this. When an author should self-publish. . . is a thorough and sensible survey of the whole issue. Digital Book World proves that marketing is the secret sauce: if you can and want to do it, self publish; if you don’t, don’t. For those addicted to compromise, a sort of half-way house, agent assisted publishing, is well described in this 2013 post by Melissa Foster on the Jane Friedman blog. A different sort of half-way house, the in and out kind, apparently called hybrid, is discussed by Porter Anderson at Thought Catalog.

Give it all a rest folks: there are lots of ways to publish, and one kind doesn’t have to kill off the others for them all to run merrily along.