My last post was timed perfectly to coincide with the recent news that Authonomy.com, a site owned and operated by HarperCollins as a means to encourage community between aspiring authors (and to act as a means to expose themselves to those authors without the need to rely so heavily on literary agents, which is something more and more people are finding an impasse these days due to the "gatekeeper" phenomenon I mentioned last entry), is to close its metaphorical doors on the 30th of September this year.
It's a pity; I joined Authonomy many months ago, but hadn't found myself in a position to submit anything up till now (I'd like to blame a lack of time and energy for the process for this, as trying to gain a foothold in graphic design in a place like New Zealand, where the population and therefore the opportunities are rather limited [those gatekeepers again...] plus work as a neonatal intensive care nurse are both time-consuming and require a lot of physical and mental investment...but it's at least as much to do with my fear that my work just isn't good enough, and that hurdle is a far greater one to clear), and now I've missed the boat. As a means of access to opportunities for both HarperCollins and aspiring authors, Authonomy is an excellent idea - a community site actively run and engaged with by a publishing company in an attempt to overcome the roadblocks and naysayers that would otherwise keep good creative mind and skills shut away from the world seems perfect.
The trouble is, though, that as HarperCollins stated in their blog, over time community engagement has waned and the number of new titles that began as uploads to the Authonomy site and have become real-life books has decreased along with that. HarperCollins clearly isn't finding the community is fostering the opportunities it desires, and as any well-designed and well-helmed business knows, if needs aren't being met by an aspect of the business model but resources are still being invested into it, then it really is throwing good money after bad to keep it going. I'd like to assign human emotions to the corporate entity that is HarperCollins and imagine it actually doesn't like the idea of cutting Authonomy off - I truly believe it doesn't. But alas, even the most sentimental company has to be somewhat willing to dock useless appendages before they turn septic and start slowly poisoning everything else.
So where are the authors going? Or where are they not appearing from? Where's the new work? There's no way people just aren't writing, not telling stories, not putting fingers on keyboards and pens on paper. Stories are definitely being told. I can't help wondering that it might just be that the sheer amount of energy that seeking acceptance from a publishing company takes, as well as the overwhelming reality that most people will not be published by a reputable publishing house regardless of how well-written their story is (for reasons like demographic appeal, for instance; remember the Harry Potter reference I made last time? If the story is true it literally took a child saying they wanted it published for the book to be published, but prior to that it was assessed as not being appropriate for the target market. Unbelievable, right? I think this is the fourth or fifth reference I've made to the gatekeeper phenomenon in this entry so far), is working against the awesome efforts HarperCollins went to in seeking the establishment of a community-focused method of finding new material and new content creators, and is certainly working against those publishing companies who deem themselves more exclusive and don't have such initiatives on the go. Put it this way: sure, receiving a "thanks, but no thanks" in isolation isn't necessarily too hard to deal with, but in the face of rejection after rejection after rejection, not seeking that rejection (because that's what it starts boiling down to) is the far more sensible option.
And you know what doesn't offer only the discouragement of countless rejection letters? Self-publishing. There are drawbacks, as I touched upon last entry. There are the attitudes many people have regarding it, there are the limitations of exposure, there are the risks that a story that could be great if just given the right critique from industry experts will be sent out into the world in good form instead, and there are the tribulations of design (which is where someone such as myself would come in, just as a suggestion...), among many other things to consider when making the decision whether to self-publish or not - but in the end, the idea of feeling as though one has made a contribution to collective culture and the idea that one is at least marginally successful creatively are far more positive for a great many people. It's totally understandable.
For a moment there I was thinking to myself "yes, but if everyone self-publishes, then the checks and balances won't be in place. Horrific grammar and bad writing will proliferate. Surely society will collapse!" - and then I remembered that people communicate horrifically all the time, and bad writing already proliferates even with the current system in situ. And who's to say that writing a story and having it published need be a mark of brilliance? Nobody takes the attitude that someone who can paint a mediocre picture is somehow marring art; the entire point is that sometimes art is appealing, and sometimes it isn't, and whether it is or isn't depends on who views it and what they both give to and take from it. Maybe writing is the same, or it could be.
At any rate, the main point here is that I'm disappointed that Authonomy is shutting down, and I hadn't predicted it - but that I'm not surprised about it. It makes sense. Being the determining factor in one's own success is of huge appeal to people, and the undeniable truth is that by engaging with someone (or something, like a publishing house) who is 99.99% certain to tell you what you're doing or have done is not good enough, success is turned from attainable to unachievable. Success is a totally subjective thing, of course - one person's success may be selling 10,000,000 copies of their work, while another person's success may be just seeing a bound copy of the work they poured their heart and soul into while working crappy hours with high stress just to make ends meet. Who doesn't want success in life? Who wants to be told "no" time and again? Nobody. Kids hate being told no, and as it turns out so do adults, even if they understand it far better than they would have growing up. And rather than putting themselves out there to be told no - even if they might actually be told yes - they seek yes.
It's sad that the yes that Authonomy might have led to for a lot more people is being turned into a this site no longer exists. But that's what happens when people don't want to read another no. I'm absolutely assuming Authonomy is a casualty of the leap many people have taken into self-publishing, of course, and that may not be the entirety of the story - but it's a definite factor. If you seek yes and have a way to find it, that's the way you're likely to go, even if your yes is a lot smaller than that of a publishing company. A little yes is a great deal more success than none at all, isn't it?
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Gatekeepers: the trouble with publishing (and self-publishing)
I may have mentioned it before (and also I may not have...), but recently I designed the cover for the book of a friend of mine, The Good Slave. It's going to be self-published, which I realise many people remain critical of because for some reason the business model of publishing, which is irrevocably bound up in the business of money-making, is taken to be bound up in the business of publishing good literature.
Not that it isn't, in some way - as in, certainly one could equate a book being published by a company that wishes to make money and therefore will only invest in quality products with a book being published because it is quality; and conversely, there are many self-published books that really might have benefited (greatly or otherwise) from being critiqued a bit more strongly and perhaps more objectively before they were published.
However...there is a certain amount of error in assuming that having money thrown at a product is the same as that product being certified of quality. We've all read books that serve a purpose and perhaps are over-filled with clichés which frankly wouldn't have made it through edition if the point of the endeavour wasn't part of a greater promotional model. I've read a couple of books associated with a certain franchise of games that has itself gained notoriety and reputation for being things of quality, give or take different definitions of "quality" used for each different game; the books themselves are entertaining enough, but they suffer the same predictability of phraseology that riddle so many so-called epic story-telling genres today. It detracts, at least for me, from the story itself - one can't roll one's eyes and read simultaneously, right? Not that I actually do roll my eyes, and I hope I don't sound like I'm being too negative - it's more that it's something I notice, and because I notice it I'm taken out of the story.
There's a lot of wiggle-room, of course - if a book is set in a certain time or is supposed to conjure up certain imagery, then use of language to paint that imagery and be indicative of the time makes total sense. It's when it comes down to a stilted sense of drama that it become an issue. It's when the word patterns becomes clichés in themselves - something which I've spoken about before. Resorting to the same old, same old by way of how someone speaks or how a secret is revealed isn't something that stories should do.
Ultimately I think that's part of the reason people shouldn't just assume a book is of lower quality because it's self-published, and it's certainly a great part of the reason people shouldn't just assume that a book that has been professionally published is good.
I'll absolutely offer the disclaimer that one person's good is another person's bad, and vice-versa. I'd never want to pretend that my opinion is more important or more justified than anyone else's - why would I? It's pointless trying to tell someone else who literally perceives something in an alternate way to me that their perception is one of error - because, for one thing, they could say the same of my perception, and for another, diversity of experience and perception is something that I don't feel is celebrated enough. But then...that's the point really: the old view of being published by a company of repute may be enough for some to regard a book as a thing of quality might mean they won't regard a self-published piece of work as comparable...but there are plenty of those out there who aren't so hung up on the status symbol of a publisher's logo on the spine or on the publishing information page.
Don't mistake me: I'd love to be published by a reputable publishing house, as it will mean the greatest possible exposure of my work to eyes and minds that might want to read it. Who wouldn't want a wide net cast on their behalf? The troubles with this are several, though, including that it's about as easy to win the lottery as it is to have something you've laboured over for years, possibly, deemed worthy enough of publishing. As I said, a publisher is only partially motivated by promotion of the literary arts in engaging in actual publishing; there's a large amount of economic toing-and-froing that must go on, and in the end if there's any doubt that a book will be a good investment, the publisher just won't invest. Everybody's heard of the Harry Potter books, and almost as many people have heard of the struggle J.K. Rowling went through before a publisher's daughter requested of her father that he publish the first instalment of the series. He wasn't going to, otherwise, because he didn't view it a wise investment - as didn't the however many authors (many, as my understanding goes) the manuscript had been sent to prior to that. Imagine if the series had had to be self-published? Would it have had the same success? No, probably not - but not because of quality of work, but because of exposure, or lack thereof.
Beyond this concern, though, is the fact that once someone entrusts a work of one's own creation to a faceless publishing house (for unless they're small-time they are indeed faceless, as any multi-national corporation becomes regardless of how much they might want to remain seen as a caring, personable entity that wants your money only because it costs money to love you so much), one actually loses creative control of the work. The words can't be changed (though changes can be requested), but the visual representation of the work in question becomes the task of a graphic design and marketing team, and is only partly, if at all, the business of the author. I'm all for giving graphic designers work (I've studied it myself and remain in the process of trying to break into the industry) - but the truth is an author's idea of how they'd like their story visually represented may be taken into consideration...or it may not. Ultimately the marketing team are going to be able to strong-arm most authors (or at least, new authors) into following their lead because, after all, they know best what consumers respond to.
I know what it's like - as a designer with freelance jobs I do invest in the projects I do in order to work in partnership with clients, because often clients have ideas but don't know the different aspects of design they must consider, or whether their design idea is the best to achieve what they want. But that doesn't mean it isn't a partnership - the designer is hired to design something, but good design isn't just the designer sitting down and drawing something out and then telling the client the design is finished when they've decided it is. Good design involves how they client sees their product, or themselves, or whatever it is the design is being created for, as well as the designer's skills, including their advice and their creative direction. Design isn't just about doing what the client wants without investment on the designer's part, and it definitely isn't about the designer telling the client what the client wants. When I designed my friend's book cover there was a lot of back-and-forth messaging - I felt I'd cracked it, but he wasn't quite as happy...and so I'd make another alteration. Long-distance this sort of fine-tuning can present hurdles, but they're cleared easily enough if communication remains free and open - and it did. I might have felt I'd arrived at a good outcome, but because he wasn't quite so pleased, there was more work to be done (a lot of it had to do with balancing brightness and tones in the art - the intent for now is for a digital piece ready for an e-book reader, and so the brightness on my laptop screen wasn't identical to that of the standard brightness it needed to be tailored for. The same thing happens for print design: you have something super bright on your screen and when you print it out it's dull and dark, purely because you're not dealing with the same parameters in one format as you are in another). In the end my friend, who was in this case my client, was the one who decided whether the cover was finished or not - because it's his story, and his vision. And I was able to deliver something he was extremely pleased with, and that made me feel I'd done a great job.
The question is, though, one of who gets to claim the title of client in the publishing sphere. Is it the author, who wants to be published and who has likely been turned down by other publishing houses before? Or is it the publisher, who gets to accept or dismiss manuscripts for publication? Power relationships, in which one party is in a far less powerful position in comparison to the other, are a real phenomenon even when it comes to writing and invention: after all, you have to be able to argue why someone should part with their money in order to get that money, and if you push it too far (say by refusing to acquiesce to your publisher's desires regarding the images on the cover of your book), you might end up being told to sling your hook. It's your product, but the fact is you're just another aspiring author and the publishing companies have their choice of investment. They hold the power.
As a friend of mine say, publishing companies (and companies like them) are gatekeepers: they get to decide who to let through and who to bar from entry, and they don't have to actually explain their perspective. It's a useful comparison, and a very apt one. It's also depressing, if one stops to think about it, to consider that the world loves creativity but the amount of artistic ability that gets ignored or dismissed by those who get to say yea or nay because of what their perception of market tastes are. That's a whole lot of stifled creativity.
Not that it isn't, in some way - as in, certainly one could equate a book being published by a company that wishes to make money and therefore will only invest in quality products with a book being published because it is quality; and conversely, there are many self-published books that really might have benefited (greatly or otherwise) from being critiqued a bit more strongly and perhaps more objectively before they were published.
However...there is a certain amount of error in assuming that having money thrown at a product is the same as that product being certified of quality. We've all read books that serve a purpose and perhaps are over-filled with clichés which frankly wouldn't have made it through edition if the point of the endeavour wasn't part of a greater promotional model. I've read a couple of books associated with a certain franchise of games that has itself gained notoriety and reputation for being things of quality, give or take different definitions of "quality" used for each different game; the books themselves are entertaining enough, but they suffer the same predictability of phraseology that riddle so many so-called epic story-telling genres today. It detracts, at least for me, from the story itself - one can't roll one's eyes and read simultaneously, right? Not that I actually do roll my eyes, and I hope I don't sound like I'm being too negative - it's more that it's something I notice, and because I notice it I'm taken out of the story.
There's a lot of wiggle-room, of course - if a book is set in a certain time or is supposed to conjure up certain imagery, then use of language to paint that imagery and be indicative of the time makes total sense. It's when it comes down to a stilted sense of drama that it become an issue. It's when the word patterns becomes clichés in themselves - something which I've spoken about before. Resorting to the same old, same old by way of how someone speaks or how a secret is revealed isn't something that stories should do.
Ultimately I think that's part of the reason people shouldn't just assume a book is of lower quality because it's self-published, and it's certainly a great part of the reason people shouldn't just assume that a book that has been professionally published is good.
I'll absolutely offer the disclaimer that one person's good is another person's bad, and vice-versa. I'd never want to pretend that my opinion is more important or more justified than anyone else's - why would I? It's pointless trying to tell someone else who literally perceives something in an alternate way to me that their perception is one of error - because, for one thing, they could say the same of my perception, and for another, diversity of experience and perception is something that I don't feel is celebrated enough. But then...that's the point really: the old view of being published by a company of repute may be enough for some to regard a book as a thing of quality might mean they won't regard a self-published piece of work as comparable...but there are plenty of those out there who aren't so hung up on the status symbol of a publisher's logo on the spine or on the publishing information page.
Don't mistake me: I'd love to be published by a reputable publishing house, as it will mean the greatest possible exposure of my work to eyes and minds that might want to read it. Who wouldn't want a wide net cast on their behalf? The troubles with this are several, though, including that it's about as easy to win the lottery as it is to have something you've laboured over for years, possibly, deemed worthy enough of publishing. As I said, a publisher is only partially motivated by promotion of the literary arts in engaging in actual publishing; there's a large amount of economic toing-and-froing that must go on, and in the end if there's any doubt that a book will be a good investment, the publisher just won't invest. Everybody's heard of the Harry Potter books, and almost as many people have heard of the struggle J.K. Rowling went through before a publisher's daughter requested of her father that he publish the first instalment of the series. He wasn't going to, otherwise, because he didn't view it a wise investment - as didn't the however many authors (many, as my understanding goes) the manuscript had been sent to prior to that. Imagine if the series had had to be self-published? Would it have had the same success? No, probably not - but not because of quality of work, but because of exposure, or lack thereof.
Beyond this concern, though, is the fact that once someone entrusts a work of one's own creation to a faceless publishing house (for unless they're small-time they are indeed faceless, as any multi-national corporation becomes regardless of how much they might want to remain seen as a caring, personable entity that wants your money only because it costs money to love you so much), one actually loses creative control of the work. The words can't be changed (though changes can be requested), but the visual representation of the work in question becomes the task of a graphic design and marketing team, and is only partly, if at all, the business of the author. I'm all for giving graphic designers work (I've studied it myself and remain in the process of trying to break into the industry) - but the truth is an author's idea of how they'd like their story visually represented may be taken into consideration...or it may not. Ultimately the marketing team are going to be able to strong-arm most authors (or at least, new authors) into following their lead because, after all, they know best what consumers respond to.
I know what it's like - as a designer with freelance jobs I do invest in the projects I do in order to work in partnership with clients, because often clients have ideas but don't know the different aspects of design they must consider, or whether their design idea is the best to achieve what they want. But that doesn't mean it isn't a partnership - the designer is hired to design something, but good design isn't just the designer sitting down and drawing something out and then telling the client the design is finished when they've decided it is. Good design involves how they client sees their product, or themselves, or whatever it is the design is being created for, as well as the designer's skills, including their advice and their creative direction. Design isn't just about doing what the client wants without investment on the designer's part, and it definitely isn't about the designer telling the client what the client wants. When I designed my friend's book cover there was a lot of back-and-forth messaging - I felt I'd cracked it, but he wasn't quite as happy...and so I'd make another alteration. Long-distance this sort of fine-tuning can present hurdles, but they're cleared easily enough if communication remains free and open - and it did. I might have felt I'd arrived at a good outcome, but because he wasn't quite so pleased, there was more work to be done (a lot of it had to do with balancing brightness and tones in the art - the intent for now is for a digital piece ready for an e-book reader, and so the brightness on my laptop screen wasn't identical to that of the standard brightness it needed to be tailored for. The same thing happens for print design: you have something super bright on your screen and when you print it out it's dull and dark, purely because you're not dealing with the same parameters in one format as you are in another). In the end my friend, who was in this case my client, was the one who decided whether the cover was finished or not - because it's his story, and his vision. And I was able to deliver something he was extremely pleased with, and that made me feel I'd done a great job.
The question is, though, one of who gets to claim the title of client in the publishing sphere. Is it the author, who wants to be published and who has likely been turned down by other publishing houses before? Or is it the publisher, who gets to accept or dismiss manuscripts for publication? Power relationships, in which one party is in a far less powerful position in comparison to the other, are a real phenomenon even when it comes to writing and invention: after all, you have to be able to argue why someone should part with their money in order to get that money, and if you push it too far (say by refusing to acquiesce to your publisher's desires regarding the images on the cover of your book), you might end up being told to sling your hook. It's your product, but the fact is you're just another aspiring author and the publishing companies have their choice of investment. They hold the power.
As a friend of mine say, publishing companies (and companies like them) are gatekeepers: they get to decide who to let through and who to bar from entry, and they don't have to actually explain their perspective. It's a useful comparison, and a very apt one. It's also depressing, if one stops to think about it, to consider that the world loves creativity but the amount of artistic ability that gets ignored or dismissed by those who get to say yea or nay because of what their perception of market tastes are. That's a whole lot of stifled creativity.
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