And I still missed half a sentence in the course of things. On the first page. Awful, huh? Then, in the course of edits, at one point, I saved and closed the file for the night. The next day, I reopened the file and found out that my straight quotes/smart quotes settings had been reversed. Cue Xandra frantically combing through the entire story looking at every single quote.

And to top that off, I just realized, I forgot to put the blurb at the top of the document. Cue Xandra’s hair falling out. Head, meet desk.

It’s beyond doubt that piracy hurts authors.  Unfortunately, no one’s yet been able to quantify how much.  And just as it’s hard to prove a negative, no one can really determine whether or not it’s a one-to-one correlation between illegal downloads and lost sales.  I’m operating on the generally-accepted idea that the majority of “pirates” would not have purchased an ebook if they weren’t able to get it free.  I’m also operating on the assumption that most people don’t go out of their way to get something for nothing unless they are either hard-up, or just assholes.  In small-scale marketplaces, and in much of the world, and for much of the world’s history, “value” is a fluid concept.  My own experiences in countries outside the US, and at small market venues like flea markets, yard sales, bazaars, and other individual transactions, along with the haggling scene in Monty Python’s Life Of Brian suggest that this is not an unusual state.  Bargaining, dickering, haggling, back-and-forth–are all dialogues that help interested parties determine agreed-upon value of something.  Value that both parties in the transaction can live with, if not celebrate.

This to me suggests that there are some parties out there who find no value in an electronic file.  But there are many, many parties who do, and those are the parties I care about reaching.  Of course, I can ‘t do that if I can’t feed my cat.  The problem is, essentially, how to compensate authors of creative works without punishing those who want to compensate while at the same time penalizing or neutralizing those who actively work to deprive the authors of said compensation.  I’m not talking about somebody who emails a copy of one of my ebooks to their best friend in an, “OMG you HAVE to read this!” email–hell, I want to find those people and shake their hands.  I’m talking about wholesale pirates–people who go out of their way to actively divert customers away from a legit venue and into a not-so-legit one.  People who chop and scan books or burn pirated DVDs extracted from the factory prior to shipment of the release in mass quantities.

One of my key thoughts on the matter is this–most people won’t pirate if it’s easier to find something legitimately.  And more significantly, if people feel the cost of acquiring that something is fair, they will pay it.  But that’s the key, isn’t it?  The value of that something has to be a fair and reasonable value, and neither fair nor reasonable is easily quantifiable.

Quantifying the effect of piracy on the ebook market in simple financial terms also presents an incomplete picture.  We can’t really understand a way around piracy until we understand better the full value of a creative work, and it can’t be accurately measured in simple sales.  And we will lose the battle against piracy if we choose only to measure it in financial terms, and ascribe its only value in the commercial.  If one thinks of a lost ebook sale, what comes to mind is a single copy of a book, say, a mass-market paperback.  Valued at 4.99-8.99, it most tangibly represents what we tend to think of as a book, and it most tangibly also represents about six ounces of pulp paper, cardstock, ink, and glue.  If someone walks out of a store with a paperback stuffed up their shirt, they’ve walked off with about six bucks worth of raw materials.  It’s the intangibles that count, and the intangibles that make up the majority of the book’s actual value.  Enough people believe that a book is the sum of its raw materials and some vague quantity of “a little more” for what’s on the pages.  We know different, and so do they, if you get them to think about it.

Getting them to think about it is the hard part.  Artists do not have that much value in our culture.  Mention that you want to be an artist to your relatives in the tender college years and you’ll get a variety of responses, most of which will encourage you to study something “worthwhile” or “more reliable.”  Mention that you want to make a living off artistic pursuits, and you’ll be encouraged to find a “real job” you know, just to “fall back on” (translation, you’re expected to fail, and on the off-chance you do succeed, you won’t see enough money to be a contributing member of society and you’ll therefore become a drain on it).

Part of the problem is that art is so tied to commercial endeavors, at least in the publishing world.  In the past, there existed an idea of patronage–an artist’s expenses were subsidized by a patron (aka a wealthy noble)–the artist’s food, shelter, materials, and equipment were paid for, leaving the artist free to create works which were shared with the public, and in so doing, bestowing upon the patron the respect and accolades one would receive for enabling the continuation of the arts.  Oftentimes, in payment for the patronage, the subject matter of the artist’s work could be directed by the patron, mutually beneficial for both individuals to a certain extent, and potentially censorious in another.  If it became enough of a problem, though, an artist could find a new patron more receptive to his or her subjects of interest.

I have no interest in being a kept woman, any moreso than I am currently kept (by people I’ve either married or given birth to).  I do, however, have an interest in being both read and fed.  I can’t change the way our culture views art and the creation thereof, but I can think about trying to encourage a few minds at a time to think about where the real value is in the things they own.

She made her way to the door on shaking legs that screamed in pain and yanked the door open. Behind her, she heard Kenneth’s startled shout. “Holy–sh–Stop her!” She ignored it and fled clumsily into the night, aiming for the thick copse of trees that served as a picnic area for the complex’s workers on break.

The door slammed open behind her just as she reached the trees. She darted to her right, hoping to throw them off, but barked her shin solidly against what must have been the picnic table. She couldn’t keep a cry from escaping her lips.

“Over there!” The voice was too close.

She stumbled around the picnic table and ran again, reaching the deep shadow of the building next door. Behind her, she could hear what sounded like an entire army literally beating the bushes for her.
Her heart slammed into her chest, making the pain of her limbs throb in time to its beat. She forced herself to slow down, knowing that she was more likely to escape without sudden movements that would draw attention to her whereabouts.

As she approached the corner of the building, she heard a sound a little ways behind her and froze. She turned carefully around, needing to see whatever seemed to be on her trail.

Arms, out of nowhere, snaked around her nude body, one pinioning her arms to her sides, the other one covering her mouth with a hand. She was pulled around the corner of the building, out of sight of her pursuers.

Hot breath blew over her ear, sending chills throughout her body. “Screams are best reserved for pleasure, Lady. Do you understand me?”

She nodded. His voice triggered memories in her–hot, sweaty memories of earlier, before the world went to hell. Her body responded, liquid heat centering in her abdomen. The ache in her joints turned hot. She leaned into his body, aware of the hard ridges of muscle pressed against her shoulder blades, her buttocks, and her thighs.

Ez’iri smiled, her forked tongue flicking between pointed teeth. “Tai’en took it upon himself to ensure my protection. It is his right as a member of my family.” She stood next to the second bay. “Although I suspect his curiosity about humans motivates him more than concern for my safety. This way, of your pleasure.” She motioned to the third bay. “And of yours, Physician Kenneth’en.”

Buhlmeier would get a kick out of the way Ez’iri mangled idiom, she thought. Ez’iri began asking her questions, interspersing them with explanations of the instruments she was lining up. The Alcaini were interested in the sensitivity of their skin, and the strength and structure of their bones. Rayne answered the questions as best as she could, noting Kenneth’s nervousness.

Ez’iri noticed, too. “Your mate–he does not approve?”

She frowned. “He’s not my mate. Hasn’t been for years, in fact.”

“My error.”

The portal opened and several other Alcaini females joined them. The tone of the lead female could only be that of a teacher lecturing students. Some things were universal, Rayne thought ruefully, as she noted the bored looks on some of the faces of the rear guard.

As the examination continued, she noticed the Alcaini women shooting strange looks at their guard. During a break, she asked Ez’iri about it.

Ez’iri rolled her eyes and shrugged. “My kinsman is something of a legend among our people. No one has seen him take a mate.”

“Hasn’t met the right girl yet?”

Ez’iri smiled, her skin bluing with amusement. “I know how your people feel about mating. But it is not the same way my people feel. Mating is something we share. We do not hide it like a…” she searched for the word…”shame?”

“Sin, you mean.”

“Yes! It is not a sin to us.”

“It isn’t to us, either,” Kenneth interjected. “We’re just private about it.”

As fascinating as the Alcaini were, she couldn’t comprehend this part of their culture. She would probably never again have a lover, because of her need to keep her desires private–a culture that saw things the complete opposite boggled her mind.

“Tai’en has more in common with humans in that respect. However, for us, it is a sin that he chooses not to mate.”

“Shame,” Rayne corrected. “Unless you mean that his not mating is a punishable offense.”

“A shame, then. None would dare punish a warrior. Tai’en’s decision, however shameful, still brings honor to our family, because he holds it with honor and strength.”

“So you value deep convictions?” Kenneth asked.

Ez’iri frowned. “Deep…I do not understand.”

It was Rayne’s turn to search for words. “Tai’en will not change his ways, and it is honorable that he doesn’t, even if his decision is not.”