Jon Clinch's Ink

Jon Clinch would have you believe that he is the best writer that you've never read. And, well, maybe, he is, but I don't know, because I've never read any of his fiction. I'm not sure if I will, either. Here, let me start at the end:

Unmediated Ink: Notes from the self-publishing revolution ends with samples of all of Clinch's novels,

and, having read through them, I can't say that any of the books appealed to me in the slightest. And, see, I really want to want to read Finn, his debut novel. It got all kinds of praise (from literary critics) when it came out, has strong reviews, everything that says it ought to be a good read, but I started reading the sample and, not only was I not hooked, I was turned off by almost everything there, from the present tense of it to the skimpiness of it. And I don't mean the descriptions necessarily but the phrasing. All of the book samples struck me about the same. So, as much as I want to be a Clinch supporter (and I do, because I like what he stands for), I don't know if I ever will be.

Back to the beginning:
Clinch's first novel, Finn, was picked up with a six-figure advance. Yes, six figures, and Clinch reminds us of this several times in Ink. It was put on several best book lists of 2007 and up several awards. Maybe this is why Random House opted out of doing any real marketing of the book. After all, being on all of the those lists (all newspaper book critic lists) used to mean that people would read it, but newspapers don't carry the same weight today as they used to, and Finn under-performed.

Still, that didn't keep Clinch's second novel, Kings of the Earth, from getting picked up on another six-figure deal. Kings also received critical praise and was named the #1 book on the 2010 summer reading list in O, The Oprah Magazine. [There was a time when that slot would have meant an instant bestseller, but, maybe, that mess with Frey hurt more than I knew about.] And, again, maybe that's why Random House let the book flop around like a fish that has flipped out of its fish tank; the book didn't sell.

And Jon Clinch wasn't happy about it.

And I get that. His publisher failed him. I mean, they didn't even make the attempt to market the books. [Let me be clear, here, this is why he believes you've never read any of his books. Because his publisher failed to market them.] So he struck out on his own, self-publishing three more books including this one. He figured he could do better. Except I don't really know what that means. Is doing better selling more books (I don't know if he's done that.) or is doing better making more money (because I'm pretty sure he hassn't done that (it's hard to beat two six-figure book deals))? He fails to clarify or, even, offer the results. Unless he's still waiting for the results. At any rate, he seems to be much more satisfied with the amount of control he has now.

Ink is roughly divided into three sections: the problems with the big publishers, how he went about self-publishing his own books, and the samples of his novels.

Section one is the most interesting; the only problem is that Clinch just sort of skims from topic to topic like a stone across a pond. He mentions various things, but he offers no actual data or information about those topics beyond his own experience. Which is valid, but, then, with the two six-figure books deals he had, it comes off as kind of whiny. At least to me. Like the kid holding a double-scoop ice cream cone stomping his feet and saying, "But, Daddy, I wanted three scoops!" The only exception he makes to this is when he talks about Mary Doria Russell and what Random House did to her over Doc (yes, you should go read that post). That's his one concrete piece of evidence about what he's talking about other than saying things like, "this stuff is happening to all kinds of authors." And it's not that I don't believe him, but it would have been nice to have seen something more concrete. To put it in scientific terms, he offered up a hypothesis without any experimental data.

The second section follows his process of self-publishing. I would like to say it's worth grabbing up just for this stuff, but, unfortunately, it's not. There are three things that keep the section from being useful: 1. the aforementioned six-figure book deals and the plenty of money to do whatever he wanted to do (as opposed to most self-published authors who have budgets that amount in the hundreds of dollars if they have a budget at all) 2. the fact that he already had a relationship with many bookstores due to the aforementioned books 3. his background in marketing and advertising. He was just able to do a lot of things that, probably, 99% of authors who are self-publishing will not be able to replicate. So, whereas it's interesting to see the path he chose, I can't say that it's useful.

He ends that section with some reflections about self-publishing and where it might be going, but, again, he doesn't go deep enough, just skims the topics. And, having experienced both traditional and self publishing, he offers no evaluation. The closest we can get to how he thinks the two compare is that he seems to imply that he will continue down the self-publishing path, although he never states that explicitly.

The final portion of the book, as I stated, is a sampling of his four novels. These being here strike me as a marketing move, and it's probably a good one. Traditional publishers have long been putting samples in the backs of books. These samples do take up about 40% of the actual content of Ink, though, which already isn't long. And, well, if it was a marketing move, it's one that failed with me. Whereas, before I read the sample, I was planning to get Finn, I'm leaning away from that now.

All in all, I'd say Unmediated Ink is only worth the read if you want a superficial glance at one author's experiences in traditional publishing. It's not that I don't agree with him; I do. I agree with almost everything he says, especially the part about traditional publishers only being interested in the "next big thing," but, without the data to support his claims, the book is nothing more than anecdotal. And that's unfortunate, because a more in depth look at the issues plaguing the publishing industry, especially from someone who has seen both sides, is way past due.

What Hope Do We Have? (an Indie Life post)

Those of you who have been around here for a while may have figured out that Mary Doria Russell is one of my favorite authors. Her first book, The Sparrow, is on my "Of Significance..." page and is one of the three books I think everyone should read. I reviewed both A Thread of Grace and Dreamers of the Day and will be reviewing Doc pretty soon here. The Sparrow has been optioned as a movie three times (once with Brad Pitt as the lead), but a screen play that satisfied both Russell and the potential producers has proven elusive. It also won several prestigious awards. Her latest novel, Doc, is in production as an HBO series.

Russell is a good writer. When I say "good," I don't just mean "good;" I mean she's an excellent writer. Her prose is wonderful; she researches her topics extensively; her characters are real. And, yet, except for hearing me talk about her here, most of you probably have never heard of her. And that's too bad, because she has deserved better than she's gotten.

See, Russell has been stuck as a mid-list author for a big publisher, Random House, since her first book. We all like to think that if you are with a big publisher that the big publisher is going to do things for you. Things like distribute your book and things like market your book. The publisher is going to make sure that people know you're out there, right? Well, not so much. As it turns out, the only people that get marketing dollars are the people that don't need the marketing dollars; everyone else is just quietly shuffled aside.

Let me give you a more specific example.

Russell was with Random House for 15 years and 5 books. During that time, none of her books were ever promoted. Nevertheless, her books made money. I say that they made money in that they (the publisher) made back its advance and  the books continued to profit. But they were never blockbusters. Then, in 2011, just before the release of Doc, Random House let Russell know that they were not interested in any further books by her, and they dropped any and all promotional activity on Doc. They gave her no reasons at all. They were just finished with her. [Of course, I have to wonder if it would have gone that way if they could have guessed about the HBO series, which didn't happen until after the release of the book.] As she says it, it was like having your spouse throw you a huge 25th wedding anniversary party and serving you divorce papers for dessert.

Russell is not an exception to business as usual; she is business as usual. At least for Random House.

If an author like Mary Doria Russell can be dropped by Random House as easily as one might drop a tissue into the trash, what hope do the rest of us have? Random House (and one can surmise the rest of the big publishers) is only looking for the "next big thing;" if you're not that, they don't want you. There is no more development of the mid-list author, no promotion of authors who aren't already big, no more time or space for anyone that is not grand slam. So what hope do we have?

Well, I'd say that our hope is not and, in many ways, should never have been in BIG publishing. Unless things change, the future of publishing is not with Random House and the other large publishing houses. The present, the right now, of publishing is barely with them, and it's moving away. Fast.

All of the things we used to need the publisher for are available elsewhere, now. Except getting our books into book stores, and, as it turns out, they're not all that good at that and, actually, never were. Here is some suggested reading on the subject.

My point, though, is this:
As writers, our hope does not lie in the big, traditional publishing houses. If you think you need them, they don't want you. If they want you, you don't need them, although you may not realize it. [E. L. James certainly didn't need them. Random House only wanted her because she was already a success; they did not make her one. They just tacked themselves onto the end of all the work she had previously done so that they could get a cut of the profits.] Writing and, by extension, getting your writing out to people is hard work. Random House and their ilk are not interested in doing the hard work, so you're going to have to do that yourself whether you're an "indie" or with a publisher. If you're going to have to do the work, why pay them to take your money?

Just sayin'.

The hope of authors, at least until something else comes along, is in building a community apart from the traditional publishers.

This post has been brought to you by Indie Life.

The Danger of Desperation (an Indie Life post)

For those of you who haven't noticed, there's been a big to-do in the publishing world in the last week or so. But, before that...

It can be difficult to be involved in artistic fields. There's so much angst over whether you're good enough, whether people will like your work, whether people will like you. It creates a huge drive for recognition. Confirmation. Validation. The desire for validation can be... distracting. The desire to be validated, to be told, "yes, you are good," can become the goal rather than doing the art. The need for an agent, for a publisher, more important than doing the writing and just making it available.

This need, this desperate grasp for someone unconnected to you to tell you that you're good, that you do good work, that your writing (art, music, whatever) deserves to be seen can make us do, well, stupid things. It can make us agree to things that our sane, rational minds would have us run away from. But, in that moment, that moment of someone saying to you, "we want you," you can forget to look at the situation and, instead, just say "yes! yes! yes!"

I've kind of lost track of the number of authors I've seen that have signed with some small publisher that said "we want you" but, then, left them to do all the work (editing, cover, marketing) only to keep a large part of any money that was made. And all of that with no advance. But the validation has been so important that many of them don't care. Or they do end up caring and regret the decision to go with the small publisher. It's a hard thing to deal with. And many small publishers count on that. Some of them even demand money from you.

But, then, most of us are at least somewhat aware of vanity presses and know to stay away from them, right? Right? Well, let's just be safe: if any publisher ever asks you for money to publish your book, don't just say "no;" run away as fast as you can, too.

Which brings us to the whole "to-do."

Just recently, Random House has established some new digital-only imprints. These imprints have been designed to take advantage of the new digital era but, from all appearances, at the expense of the author. The imprints seem to be specifically targeting new authors and pre-published authors. Authors who don't know their way around the publishing world. See, the big publishers almost never take unsolicited manuscripts; that means you have to have an agent if you want to get published by someone like Random House. But these new imprints? No agent needed. Anyone can submit to them.

And that one thing is going to be a huge draw for unpublished authors -- the chance to be published by one of the "big 6" without the need of an agent.
And Random House is set up to accept as many takers as possible, because, why?, it's digital only, remember?

You know that saying about when something is too good to be true...?
Yes, there is a catch... actually, there are a lot of them. All of them designed to squeeze the unsuspecting author like a grape.

1. No advance.
2. They charge back to the author all of the production costs. No, you don't have to pay anything up front, but all of the costs of editing, cover design, marketing; it all comes out of the pocket of the author.
3. They get to own your soul. Seriously. They own all rights to your work in every possible format in place you can think of. Well, at least, any place on Earth. They own all licensing options. AND they own the crack at any sequel you may ever write.
4. If your book is successful enough that they decide they want to do a print version of it, you get charged for all of that, too.

The whole thing is horrendous. If you really want to know the whole story, I suggest you read the following posts by John Scalzi, who also happens to be the president of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America:
1. Hydra
2. Alibi
3. The direction?
4. The Letter
5. The Response
6. Why advance are important
7. You have more power than you think

Look, I understand that it can seem a small thing to take terms that don't include an advance or any of these other things when you're trying to get in the door. After all, you're already not making anything, right? What can it hurt, and, at least, this way you have a chance. Right? And with a big publisher, too! But don't let your desperation lead you down the path of foolishness. Don't feed the big parasitic organism that's seeking to drain you of all of your creativity. In the end, it's just not worth it, no matter how "necessary" it may seem at the time. Desperation... it's a dangerous thing.

I strongly suggest that you go read those posts by Scalzi. Yeah, that's a lot of reading, but you'll be glad you did.

Update:
Random House, due to the huge outcry against the terms they were offering through these new imprints, has responded by amending  the terms they're offering in their contracts. What they're offering is still not great, but it's better than it was. You can read about the changes here and Scalzi's thoughts on them here. Again, this is strongly suggested reading.

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