by Sophie Perinot
“Nothing is original, even in sin.” Somebody said that. I
thought Oscar Wilde, but I've had surprisingly little luck pinning down the
attribution. Doesn't matter for these
purposes, trust me.
Here’s the thing see,
the publishing world as we know it is coming to an end!!! (Gosh I wish I
could chant that while holding a sign on a stick). What world isn't? Things change in all industries, all the
time. Back when the paperback was first
introduced there was a tremendous amount of hand wringing. And we all remember the hysteria that
surrounded the e-book and the supposed extinction of the paper book. Who can forget this heady moment when,
approximately 2 years after the Kindle was introduced, the Guardian trumpeted
the news that Amazon was selling more e-books than paper ones? Oh yes, the
paper book was doomed, until someone recently, helpfully, pointed out (by gum
it was the Guardian again) it was making a comeback (“Whisper it quietly, thebook is back …”).
But I don’t really want to talk (aka argue, because wow
there is a lot of yelling going around) about whether these are end times. Because
I think, as a writer, there is a more interesting question—what are you going
to do about it?
For the purposes of
this blog-post let’s assume publishing is the Titanic. It is sinking. It wasn’t supposed to, it was supposed to let
you quit your day job and make you a legend in your own time (not that it ever
did that at any point in its history for a vast majority of writers), and now
it is going down into frigid waters (with historically inaccurate sharks for
good measure). This is your moment to decide what to do and THERE IS NO ONE RIGHT
ANSWER. I picked the Titanic metaphor
for a very specific reason—and no, I am not a fan of Leo and I am not going to
start humming Celine Dion. In this
particular metaphor I am a proud member
of the orchestra. I can’t figure out
where the lifeboats are, and even if I could, well, I am a writer. Come hell—or in this allegory very high water—I
have at least a couple more stories in me that have to be put to paper. If somebody told me “your next publication
date will be your last, after that you won’t be able to get your words printed
on toilet paper with a crayon” I would still finish my wip, I would polish it
and tie it up with a bow before trunking it.
I would go down clinging to it (maybe bop a couple of sharks with it as
I sank).
None of us can be sure we will survive in the new (make that
the new, new, new to the 10th power) age of publishing. Nobody was certain in the past either folks. I
believe there is a certain dignity in pursuing your craft to the best of your
abilities when things seem dire/hopeless.
It is an exercise in character.
And I say again (before I get tackled to the deck and pummeled in my
last minutes) I am not suggesting this is the route for everyone. But if you are of my mindset, pull up a
chair, take off your life jacket (it is cumbersome anyway). Let’s ignore the screaming and the abominable
listing of the deck that makes it hard to keep the laptops from sliding off our
desks, and let’s write the best thing we’ve ever written in 2015.
Gentlemen, ladies, it has been a pleasure playing with you.
2 comments:
Books aren't going anywhere, not anytime soon. The big questions center on format and distribution: digital or paper? publishing house or self? bookstore or internet? Or some combination of all the above. You are quite correct, though: we have to decide, and the nice thing is, we have a lot of choices available.
Happy New Year!
What's the new publishing era looking like?
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