For some, an ebook is simply a different means of content delivery. They will enjoy the latest bestseller or their favorite author’s latest story in either digital or print form–it’s all the same to them. They want the story, and they want it when they want it. For others, an ebook is an opportunity to make changes in the process of publishing–for them, time spent hunting down out of print backlists of favorite authors, or missed books in a series, or even classics from the next fifteen-year overnight sensation, is only a process they engage in because it’s currently the only way to find that awesome book from 1994 whose title you can’t remember. These readers question why the access to the content requires an expiration date when it no longer requires a physical manufacturing process. And for still another group of readers, an ebook is an opportunity to change the way we experience a story.

No one is sure yet which of these groups has the closest guess to right as to what the future holds. But it would be crazy not to at least try to imagine what could be.

We still see ebooks through the reference lens of print books. But what if it doesn’t have to be that way? What ways could the benefits of instant online gratification find a way to enhance our reading experiences? What makes an ebook a unique experience, and what could make reading an ebook not simply different from reading a paperback or a hardback book, but better?

Whether from bad dreams, a too-cold bed–even when there’s a cat curled up on someone’s head, or “I heard a noise, Mom, our house is haunted, I swear.” (and no, the house isn’t haunted, it’s three years old and the place used to be a farm and a pasture, if we’ve got the ghosts of anything, it’s cows, squirrels, and the spirits of soybeans past, now go back to bed), my nighttime visitors will snuggle for about ten minutes, just until they fall back asleep, and then–off come the covers.  It gets me to thinking, these late-night invasions, and I’ve been thinking about covers lately.

Book covers, that is.

One of the persistent concepts I toy with on a regular basis is a question I keep asking myself.  How are ebooks different from print books? Followed up with the more interesting question of how can ebooks be more different from print books?

Both Alien Communion and Jolly Rogered have awesome covers.  Liquid Silver is one of the better houses for providing classy, quality covers, and they did so long before some of the other houses left the Poser-art covers behind in favor of photomanip and original artwork.  Each of my books has an excellent cover, as do many e-only and e-first releases.

But why just one?  I mean, ebooks can be found and “shelved” in multiple places, under multiple keywords, and under multiple sub-headings.  I see reissued print books in stores with updated covers, covers differing between hardback, trade, and mass market paperback editions, and books repackaged with movie stills.  I see books repackaged under different auspices–they started life as one genre or subgenre and after the movie came out or the hype exploded, they re-emerge with new covers to appeal to a larger audience attracted to a more general marketing appeal.

But all that takes time and money in the print world–a publisher has to seriously consider whether or not to create a new print run of a book when the old one might not have sold through, leaving extra stock with older covers on the publisher’s books. But things happen faster at the speed of electrons.

Not to say cover art is free in the world of epublishing–artists should be compensated for their work whether they paint in pixels or pastels. But if you write something cross-genre, say, Science Fiction Romance *cough* ;P then the online sales of your story aren’t limited to one shelf or the other, and perhaps your cover marketing ought not to be limited, either.

Every author wants to attract more readers, and the genre shorthand of visual cues on covers can help to reach a core audience within a genre, who knows what they’re looking for and knows what the cues mean.  But why limit that attraction to a single genre when cover cues can be used to reach multiple genres?  I’d love to know if anyone’s tried a simultaneous release with different covers–with a print or an e-book.  If so, was it a successful or wise decision? Do you feel you’ve reached more readers?  Do you feel multiple covers would give you the chance to reach more readers if you write cross-genre?

As a writer, it is mega-important for you to figure out your own personal flavor and brand of gut-rot.  I know, ewwwww, right?  But writer’s gut-rot can eat into your work and your writing and your career until you wake up one day and realize that this thing you once loved, you now hate and don’t know why.  So many writer-friends have told similar stories about something in their process, their career, their writer’s life, or elsewhere that unequivocally rotted out their passion from the inside. And if something is rotting in there, it needs to change.

That gut-rot might be a step in your process, like plotting (or not plotting, or the way you plot), or the efforts you put into promo (whether or not you’re published yet), a particularly draining critique group, a toxic business or personal relationship, or even unreasonable personal expectations (I’m not saying aim for the ground, but if your goals include “NYT bestseller list” or “XYZ publisher acquires me/puts me in lead title slot/spends millions on promo for my title” you are making your success dependent on factors not wholly in your power to control.

Which brings us back around to my broken streak.  It started last year, when I was whinging to Mr. Xandra about my six whole readers (honestly, I’m not sure if there are even six of you out there, LOL!  And I wasn’t whinging about you, I was whinging about the lack of more of you) and why didn’t I see more traffic to my blog. Pragmatist that he is, shut me up by telling me, “Duh, readers want something to read.”

Yep.  If it wasn’t for the hot air, my head would collapse in on itself sometimes.  I mean, I knew this stuff, I’m a smart chick, right? (Don’t answer that)

So I very quietly made a promise to myself that, come hell or high water, I’d make sure to post something in my blog once a week.  If I couldn’t post on the same day (which I often can’t as schedules for moms of little kids are fluid, at best, regimental at worst, and neither offer much in the way of free, quiet, quality, tranquil time in which to ruminate intelligently a la blog), then I’d use the handy-dandy magical “schedule post” button to make it cleverly look like I was showing up once a week, even if I was neck-deep in edits (which I was at one point) or otherwise occupied (several times).  I have (mostly) kept to this goal, and the goal remained something that would be in my control.  Last week, I should have scheduled my post earlier and been done with it before my troubles hit, but it’s a lesson I shall take with me into this week.  I can’t control how many blog readers I get–that’s up to anybody who stumbles across this out-of-the-way cul-de-sac of the internet.  But I can make it a place where readers have something to read.

Now, speaking of something to read…there’s a story that isn’t writing itself.

I’ve been submitting manuscripts since 1998.  Granted, I write slow, and many of my submissions have been to traditional publishing (and via snailmail, to boot), so it’s not as if glaciers move much slower than the process. Every time I do this, I get a little thrill of accomplishment and let myself breathe a sigh of relief at a job done.  But the more I do it, the less time that satisfaction at something being finished feeling lasts.  At first, it was weeks or even a month that I could ride the high of finishing a manuscript and putting together a submission.

Now? I take the rest of the day “off” and clean my bathrooms.

By the time I hear back on this one, it will have been old news.  I’ll be mid-way (optimistically) into my next project.  On a different track, and riding a completely different train of thought.  The process of publication is a long one.  An author’s existence is front-loading at its finest.  The bulk of our creative work is done before the process can even start.  Of course, once it does, it’s not a downhill-coast to mad profits by any stretch.  At the same time we’re “resting” on our laurels over a completed work, we’re percolating the artistic coffeepot for the next project, while simultaneously anxiously awaiting revisions, edits, copy, and covers.  And that doesn’t even mention the promo.

A writer’s life is constant running ahead of the curve.  Or trying to.  When there are years between creation and publication (and even more years between publication and payment), you’ve gotta have a few things in the hopper to keep you going.

It almost went unheard amidst the exciting chatter about what it was like to get “the call,” work with an editor, decide whether to hire a publicist, and to do that all-important thing every writer wants to do after the first sale–order swag (oh yes, we love the shinies.  Pens, fridge magnets, bookmarks, little bitty bubble bottles with the name of our book stuck to them, hell yeah, we love that shit).  It almost went completely under the radar amidst the talk about how making the USA Today list or the Waldenbooks list or even, gasp, the Times or the Times Extended can change your career (and simultaneously have no effect on your life, because people still don’t recognize you at the grocery store).

She spoke those quiet words, and silence swept the room for just a second.  Things returned to normal shortly afterwards, of course, but those words tucked themselves away in my brain, only to resurface years later after I’d gotten “the email” and wondered, “what next?”

I knew I wasn’t going to be one of the ones who immediately ordered a bazillion pens (but damn, did I want to.  I never say no to a pen).  I didn’t have the budget, and kept my head firmly on my shoulders–no spending more than I’d likely make, and epublishing being what it was at the time, I knew I wasn’t likely to win the lottery of a runaway hit (and even if I did, the digital version of “runaway hit” does not a millionaire make).  I chose Fridge Magnets (next to pens, I love fridge magnets–my refrigerator keeps ice cream cold and also serves as filing cabinet and art gallery), and I did so acknowledging that most of my promo should happen online, where my books are.

I made a website and started a blog.  I created a sig line and haunted forums where writers and readers gathered.  I joined yahoo groups.  I guest-blogged, group-blogged, and blog-toured.  Guess what?

That’s right.  It ate me alive.  I ran contests–although not nearly as many as others have, and without nearly as many of the hair-raising results.  I participated in chat loops and author chats where the emails flew fast and furious and ate up gigabytes.

And I hated it.

Yeah, that’s right.  I couldn’t stand getting on the loops and talking up because it felt so damn fake.  I wanted to sell my book.  I still do want people to buy my book (and read it and like it!), but I have never been one of those people who enjoys talking myself up.  I feel like a fake and I feel like a dork.  Sure, put me somewhere where the subject matter is something I got something to say about and yes–I’ll talk your ear off.  Eventually.  But only after I’ve lurked forever and feel like I have something meaningful to say.  And reading for me has never been a large-group experience.  I like a book, I’ll tell a handful of people about it, but I don’t gush over it to all and sundry.  Video games, yes.  Books–no.  They’re an intensely personal experience to both read and write.

I didn’t want to be yet another voice screaming out, “Look at me! Look at me!”

That’s why I don’t make appearances on loops much.  Occasionally, I’ll post an excerpt, blurb, or rarely, an announcement, because I feel like excerpts and blurbs have value–they are samples of my writing.

I know that’s probably not the right way to do it.  I should be chatting, getting involved with readers, making connections and making friends.  But friends and connections are about more than squee/agree posts on a chatters’ loop. And they should damn well be a hell of a lot more than thinly disguised marketing efforts.  We all brand ourselves as authors with catch-phrases and taglines (I’m guilty of it myself), but at some point, the advert is over.  What you have left, then, is the writing.

And if you’re eaten alive by the promo, what’s left over for the writing?

It’s easy for a writer to become obsessed about finding reviews–it can really kill your writing time to spend it hunting for mentions of your name or your book’s title, and it’s easy to get lost in the idea of the book you’ve written to the detriment of the book you’ve still got to write.  But when you receive a happy bit of news like this, it can be just the thing to kick start your day.  Hearty thanks to Night Owl for taking the time to read and review Jolly Rogered.  I know I’m one of a great many, and it means something that someone took the time to read and review.

During my time in RWA (I joined in 1996), the organization has consistently advocated for, and educated thousands of aspiring authors on, the traditional means of achieving publication within the romance novel publishing industry.  Which is, to sum up, a fairly straightforward process when viewed from the outside.  It goes something like this: 1.)write a great book with a love story and a happy ending, 2.)send that manuscript to agents and editors of houses who publish romance novels, 3.)sign a contract for an advance and eventually collect royalties after your book has come out for sale in bookstores, and 4.)PROFIT!!!! (Yes, that last is an internet meme joke, and by rights, number 3 should be “???” but if I have to explain, it’s probably not as funny as I think it is, but this is my blog and this is how I ramble roll).  This process was a consistently-modeled (if not easily replicated) process, and could be counted on to be not only the current best practice within the industry, but really, the only practice in the industry that would achieve the results of number 4.  But as the past few years have shown, the only constant is change.

With emergent technologies, the prevalence of digitalization, and the opening up of internet access to more people within more social classes as well as physical locations, great change has come to commerce, and publishing is included in that change (big fat duh, I know, but bear with me).  Within the romance publishing industry, challenges mounted to the current best practice, and those challengers have proven viable.  RWA has remained consistent in championing the industry’s current best practice, and I understand why, even if I don’t agree with it.    But at some point, the scales tip, and what was once a conservative approach eventually turns to resistance to change out of habit.

When that happens, and after the resultant time period required to steer a ship of the White Star Line the size of the RWA, the organization’s policy must necessitate a shift from pure advocacy to advocacy with equal parts emphasis on education.  The tl;dr of this is that RWA must now step up to take a more proactive stance to educate its members on the different processes by which they can derive a respectable income from their writing.

When the brouhaha first started, I was honestly surprised at how many fellow chapter members showed little understanding of why vanity press is the oldest scam in the publishing book.  I realized that because of RWA’s strict focus on the one-way current best practice, understanding of other routes of publishing (both good and bad) not only suffered, but fell off the radar altogether.  RWA has well-insulated its members from shady business practices, but it has done so at the cost of members even being aware of those practices.  We’ve lost some of that “caveat scriptor,” and it’s to our detriment.

Epublishing is finally firmly entrenched in the public awareness.  It’s approaching–if it hasn’t already approached–the tipping point of saturation.  And there’s a business model for writers in there that’s been proven via persistence.  But there’s still a lot of room for abuse, and the RWA has a unique opportunity here to step up via education of its members to prevent that.  Taking a proactive stance offers RWA the opportunity it’s never had before–to help craft a new best practice model that benefits its authors, with profitability and career advancement for all.

The minute you press “Publish” on your first blog post, or the minute you make that heart-pounding decision to show your work to somebody who could, one day, maybe give you some money for it, is the minute where you have to become Savvy.  Writers groups speak a lot about writing “the book of your heart” because it’s a phenomenon that broadsides all of us at different times.  Even when we think we’re ready for it and facing the cutlass with both eyes open, only to find out it’s the cannon from the side that’s just pounded us to hamburger.  And what’s that cannon loaded with?  Nothing more or less than the lead shot and gunpowder of The Market.

As writers, we signed up for this gig to, well, write.  Now when we want to share our work with the world, it turns out that we have to do things that are the opposite of writing.  We have to pay attention to markets.  We have to promote.  We have to be aware of whether or not the words coming from our hearts and the stories begging to be told are morsels tasty enough to be fed to the beast that thrashes the calm waters of our creativity and devours unsuspecting sailors when plucked from the riggings of their tiny, tossed boats.  The Market…will eat you alive if you let it.

Every writer has to find his or her own fine line to walk between the appetite of The Market, and the uncut purity of self-expression.  It’s important to understand that The Market is never the same beast twice.  Sometimes it can be fed, placated with some morsels of marketability in your works.  Other times, it is a demanding maw that can, if you allow it, suck out all the soul from your work in exchange for safe passage through troubled waters.

That isn’t to say that The Market can’t be negotiated with.  There are many tools in the writer’s belowdecks good for navigating The Market’s hungers.  The first is to stay informed.  Its twin is to stand firm.  A writer who completely writes to The Market is often chasing from behind, pursuing a beast that is faster and sleeker than can be overcome.  Some writers can catch up to that beast close enough to harpoon it from the backside and let it pull them along.  Other writers find that The Market’s path carries it close enough for them to leap and catch a wild ride, if they react quickly enough.  Still other writers may find that The Market’s main body is far away from them, save for one of its many adjunct limbs that may be stalked and tamed for a time.  Some writers will steer far away from the thrashings of the beast and concentrate on smaller, calmer waters.

Each of these paths has its benefits and disadvantages.  The beast-hunter can only ride for the length of the harpoon rope, and a sudden change in the beast’s direction can mean a quick and messy scuttle.  The leapers can only ride for as long as the thrashes take the beast close to their home waters, and should they find themselves moving in a different direction, it is the beast that will leave them behind, no matter how hard they pull and how tight they hold.  And the limb-tamers can too easily find themselves severed from the beast in its efforts towards self-preservation.  Those who navigate the calm waters away from the beast will never see the action that the beast’s movements bring to their sea.

Staying informed will help the writer track the beast that is The Market.  Standing firm will help the writer track the limits of what their craft can take in pursuit of the beast.  How much of Jack Sparrow and how much of Captain Ahab you want to be is up to you, the writer.

But especially in the online world, books have more competition.  Or I should say different competition.  At home, one can pick up a book and begin reading, or bypass the book and pick up a game controller, or turn on the TV or PC or stereo, pop in a DVD, change the channel, or decide to take a walk or bake a pie.  Online, it is much easier to click on an excerpt and get sucked into a good story…but it is just as easy to flick the mouse over another tab and click away…to a music site, YouTube, or heaven-help-us-all, popcap or facebook (and that’s only the SFW-rated stuff–nevermind what you can do without the fear of the boss looking over your shoulder!).

An epublisher that wishes to navigate the online terrain nimbly enough to keep from falling flat on its face will need to take much in stride, and to be able to make it look easy.  What does that mean, exactly?  It means that, in short, you must make your product easy to find, fairly-priced, and instantaneous to buy.  As an author, I try to do that as much as I’m able.  I might miss the mark, I dunno.  I hope that plenty of excerpts and easy to find buy links will do what they are designed to do and entice the reader into clicking “Add to Cart.”  But as I’m not my own vendor, I can only go that far.  An epublisher–which acts as vendor of digitally-published books–needs to make the buying process an easy, instant, and secure experience.  As a reader, I don’t want to have to click through many pages, or my interest fades.

As a reader, I have certain categories of story that interest me–I actually do pay attention to those “if you like X, try Y” suggestions some places have on their product pages.  And in spite of my deep and intense loathing (brought about by frustration) of iTunes (which I no longer use, but did for as long as my gift card had money on it), the iTunes algorithm did a very good job of finding songs similar to the ones I liked–and a lot better of a job remembering/discovering the (sometimes-obscure) names of the bands and songs that I couldn’t be arsed to look up.  As a result, I bought music I’d normally just sing along to on the radio.

My point is–ebooks are a consumable entertainment.  Make it so they can be devoured easily, in bite-sized guilt-free pieces, and at impulse prices.

I was going to blog about Harlequin opening its digital publishing doors as Carina Press.  It was a relatively small wave, only notable because of the backing of the large traditional publisher and some digital publishing heavy-hitters on its staff.  But that move was eclipsed by a tidal wave of the shitstorm known as Harlequin Horizons.

The venerable Grande Olde Dame of romance publishing has partnered with a vanity publishing service known as Author Solutions to create “Harlequin Horizons.” They are marketing it as “self-publishing” and selling dreams between slices of snowy-soft white bread.  Breathless marketing on the site (which I’m not linking to and not giving legitimacy to, even for my six readers out there–Hi, you guys!) heaves with moist declarations of making your dreams come true and being the center of attention at booksignings, about showing the world you are a Serious Published Author through a hardcover copy of Your Book in your sweaty little hands.  My bosoms heave just thinking about it.  I mean…it’s–it’s Harlequin!  You, too could be a Harlequin Author…for the modest price of seven hundred bucks.

Now, if no one else has told you this yet, allow me to be the first, and to be undeniably clear when I say YOU DO NOT PAY SOMEONE TO PUBLISH YOUR WORK.  If someone walks up and offers you a discounted price to publish your work, refer to the words in caps.  Money flows TO the writer.

There are lively discussions, with input from Malle Vallik, the Harlequin rep with the misfortune to draw the short straw and become the spokesperson for this fustercluck, at Dear Author and Smart Bitches, where I’ve posted comments among many voices much more erudite and knowledgeable than mine.  If you aspire to write stories and publish them for public consumption in any way, shape, or form, you need to read both of these threads, along with the Writer Beware blog entry, and the thread at Absolute Write‘s forums.  Yes, the comments and threads are long, but anyone who is interested in either publishing a story or making a career (main or side) of writing, cannot afford to tl;dr this.